He didn 't walk much. It was true that he went where he was needed and he exercised as much as necessary to keep in proper fighting form but other than that? Tobirama didn 't walk much. For the most part he stood in the bow of his ship and let the wind tug at his hair, wondering if he should get it cut and then wondering if he should let it grow, letting his mind fill with anything other than thoughts of the dwindling numbers on the inside of his left wrist.

Spending his time at sea was lonely and exhilarating all at once, a prison made of nothing but freedom. With the sea beneath them and the wind pulling them wherever she would it was something new every day yet always the same old, same old. Tobirama could admit freely that he loved the juxtaposition of piracy. What he could not admit to any but himself was that he had gone to sea to avoid his numbers.

After all, who was he going to meet out here on the waves with nothing but empty map for miles in any direction?