In Pursuit of Dreams

[Oros]

“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.”
--Lawrence of Arabia

Oros had found a guide to take him across the Land of Wind. A local, his face weathered by years spent traveling across the shifting landscape, carrying wares from village to village. He was the hands and feet that carried the heart and mind of the giant foreigner, who sought the achievement of his dreams beneath the oppressive torch overhead. The sun beat down on them both, along with the caravan they traveled with from the small border town into the heart of the country. He ate the local cuisine, subsisted on small sips of the rich spring water (along with his own Inuzuka buffers against dehydration), and felt his skin blister as he journeyed with the group. And he slept underneath the stars, which spread across the sky endlessly. That was one part of the journey he appreciated. It was obvious that he was not one of them, but they all knew the exact answers to his questions.

For Oros was not the first foreigner to arrive with a sword strapped to his back, in search of the masters.

His guide separated them from the caravan on the third day, leading him down an ancient road from a civilization whose name was known only by the scholars. Oros pondered for the briefest of moments what grand city it might’ve led to at one point, but then he refocused himself on the present. The dead and their secrets would help him little right how; he sought the instruction of the living.

They drew short of a complex that sat alone, just off the ancient road. It was a towering structure that seemed to compete with the nearby plateaus for dominion over the sky. The Dojo for the Burēdono Kenseijin’s lost discipline. He sought a master in the original forms as well, but this one was first on his list.

The Busōsen Dojo.

“I will camp beneath its shade,” his guide said, gesturing to a spot off to the side. “Tomorrow, I leave, master or no master.”

Oros nodded. They were the instructions of a man who understood the importance of one’s time. “Tomorrow, then.” The giant replied, continuing down the road. The broke a part at the steps of the complex, the guide heading around the corner to pitch his tent, while Oros ascended the flights to the main entrance.

No one greeted him in the small foyer as he entered, and there was no indicating evidence on the walls or floors that marked this building a training dojo. All was silent, except . . . yes, Oros could make out the subtle sounds of activity down the hallway to his right. Not bothering to wait, the giant followed the sounds, down the long winding hallway that eventually opened up to a wide, open training floor. Dozens of students knelt in a ring around a single demonstration floor, where an elder stood with hand on the hilt of his sword opposite a clay dummy. Oros felt the eyes from other instructors seated off to the side, but the students did not look back, and the master in the center was focused on the exercise ahead.

Oros made no commotion as he slung the fullblade off his shoulder, leaning it against the entranceway. He moved to an empty space with the other students, katana strapped to his hip like everyone else, and knelt with the class. A brief scan of the room highlighted the diversity of the demographics. Age, gender, and locality played no role in one’s pursuit to learn the style. There were children, grizzled soldiers, and old women looking to hone themselves today. As per usual, Oros was the largest in the room.

Silence. Then, suddenly, the master exploded forward. The clay dummy exploded, cut in half at the waist as the swordsman passed, and it was only when he came to a stop that the man had even drawn his blade. The master slid to a stop, deliberately sheathing the blade, as the dummy shattered against the packed earth floor. The man scanned the room, eyes lingering over Oros for a second longer than anyone else, before he finally spoke. “Pair up.” The room exploded into movement as the students moved to find their partner.

And Oros was the odd man out.

“Welcome to our dojo, Jotunn” The elder swordsman said as he moved to stand beside the giant, who rose stand beside the man. Oros had over two feet on him, but it was not likely that he could make the man feel small. Not when he wore a blade on his waist. “Dare I ask what you seek from us?”

It seemed like such an obvious question at first glance, but Oros hesitated because of that. The slow-minded student answered, ‘to learn the sword,’ because his view of the world was too literal, whereas the honest man declared his intention for wanting to learn in the first place. Power. Money. Revenge. Reasons that outnumbered the stars in the desert’s sky. Oros was neither such individual, but nevertheless he was expected to answer. To stay silent was to become a student not worth teaching at all, because they presumed to know what was best already.

“Growth,” Oros answered.

The master nodded. “And do you intend on staying with us, then?”

Oros shook his head, reaching into the pocket of his belt. He flashed the headband that marked him a shinobi, before quickly tucking it away. Save for times of war, there was an unspoken rule of neutrality between the nations in regard to their soldiers seeking martial training. Still, there was no need to broadcast his affiliations to those in the room who might be paying attention. “I leave tomorrow.”

“Ah, well then I’m sorry to say that I do not think we will be of much—”

“What is your name, giant?” A new voice called out from behind them. The pair turned in unison.

The newcomer was older than the master standing beside Oros, with a shorter, stockier build to him. In his left hand, he carried a piping hot mug with freshly brewed tea in it. He sipped at it, all the while waiting for the big man to answer.

“Oros,” the giant replied.

“Well, Oros, where Master Jinsin cannot help you, perhaps I might. But believe me when I say this: my students never walk away unbroken. Do you think you’re the exception I’m in search of?”

Oros grinned, his fangs showing. The old man seemed to appreciate that response. “Very well, then. I’ll humor you. If you still remain with his come the morrow, I’ll even depart with you, and train you in the place from whence you came.” The giant nodded, hand drifting towards his sword, but the old man shook his head. “Set that aside with your other blade; you won’t need it, for now.”

The old man led Oros out the room after that to a more private training space. Then, for the next twelve hours, he pushed the giant to his very limits physically, mentally, and emotionally. There was no time to eat and drink, only persist against the onslaught of exercises and wearing down by the old man’s harsh words. Oros could see why the man’s students broke, and perhaps the giant would as well one day. But not today, not when he sought his approval.

When nightfall came, the old man left Oros, but not before telling him to stay in his place there, knelt on the floor. The final test, on whether or not the giant would stick around. It was the worst night of sleep he had had ever had, in such a position, but he willed himself to persevere. And, with dawn bleeding through the windows, it was where the old man had found him again.

“Moto,” The old man said as he looked down at the bruised man kneeling before him, again with a mug of tea in hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Oros. Where are we off to, then?”

“Waterfall,” Oros replied, pushing his wearied body up into a standing position. “But, first, we go to Sasori Shiti”

Moto laughed, and walked out the room. He understood the significance of the statement.

They were headed to where it had all begun.

[Oros]

Unlike the Busōsen Dojo, which sat alone in a secluded corner of the Wind Country, the Burēdono Kenseijin dojo was nestled just inside the western city of the sprawling city of Sasori Shiti. A tall, narrow building that was not unlike a sword, it cast a long shadow across the thoroughfare passing by it, cooling the street peddlers and shoppers as they passed to and fro. Oros stood on the sidewalk opposite it, Master Moto standing beside him, sipping at some local brew of beverage that he had purchased from one of the stalls nearby. The giant was quickly coming to realize that this would be a common scenario for the swordsman.

“Well they’re not going to look out the window, see you with your big sword there, and send a master out.” The old man said, taking a sip of the beverage. Oros noted, as he pulled the clay mug away, sand clinging to his facial hair, and wondered for a moment whether it had been there before or after the drink. “I’ll be back at the tavern when you finish up,” Moto added, wiping the sediments away from his face with the back of his hand.

Oros replied with a grunt, and stepped into the sea of people passing by. They quickly parted, allowing the giant man with his giant sword safe passage to the far side. From there, it was a simple walk to the front doors. A receptionist greeted him from behind a desk, a smile on her face. “Welcome to the Dojo of the Sword Saints,” she said, rising to her feet. “How I can help you?”

“I seek a master,” Oros replied, eyes glancing around the room instead of focusing on the woman. All things considered, this place had a more modern vibe to it, despite being one of the oldest styles of kenjutsu in the world. Perhaps it was its close proximity to a city that spurred its adaption compared to isolation of the prior dojo.

“Right this way, sir,” She said, gesturing to a set of doorways at the far end of the room. “Most of the masters should be taking their breakfast right now, so it would be the easiest way for you to address them all at once.” She led the way after that, with Oros following in beside her a moment later.

The dining room where the masters dined was strange to the giant as he entered the room. There were twelve men in the room besides him, each one dining alone at the head of a table designed for six people, wrapped around the room in a crescent shape. Swords of all shapes and sizes sat beside them, leaning against the table. The conversation had been strong amidst the men and women, despite the awkward layout, but it ceased when Oros arrived. Then, he could see the point of the room; it allowed every single master to stare at you, no matter where you stood in the room, without the need to shift or crane. Perfect for the interrogations of prospective students.

It was a good thing, then, that Oros preferred to speak boldly when he chose to, front and center. He moved to the middle of the room, eyes passing over every single master before he spoke. “I seek training.”

A moment, of silence, and then the man on the table on the furthest right spoke. “Why?”

The man was middle-aged, balding on the top of his head with what he had left pulled into a knot on the back of his skull. Lean and gnarled, the man had a nasty scar that ran down the right side of his face that had blinded him in that eye. He had finished his breakfast already, and for dessert he had chosen a pungent tobacco strain, smoked through a long narrow pipe that looked to be make of black glass. A pair of katanas sat at his right hand.

Oros tapped his right eye in response. “So something like that doesn’t happen to me,” he replied, much to the shock of several of the men and women in the room. A tension fell across the space, but Oros did not brace for the aftermath; he had only spoken truthfully.

And then the blind man chuckled, cutting through the serious air. Leaning back, he gestured to the seat opposite him. “Come,” He said to Oros, before looking around the room at the peers. “I lay claim to the giant,” He declared. After a moment, conversation resumed between the other eleven, as Oros moved to take the seat offered him. He removed his pair of swords, leaning them against the table in similar fashion.

“What is your name, giant?” The man asked, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the tabletop.

“Oros,” the giant replied, resting his own hands against the table. He noted from the texture that it was in fact not wood like he had first thought, but expertly carved stone to appear wooden.

“Well, Oros,” The swordsman said, adding a bit of bite to the name. “Care to hazard a guess how I got this scar?” When the giant did not respond for a few seconds, the man continued. “I fought a man who was much smaller than you and far more dangerous. Care to visit his gravestone with me after breakfast?”

Oros grinned; he was not upset despite the man’s attempted insult. The giant knew that his ability did not quite equal his size these days. His potential, however, was boundless. “Imagine how dangerous I would be then,” Oros said, removing his hands from the table and leaning back, “if I was both?”

“Perhaps,” the swordsman conceded, bringing the pipe to his lips again. He exhaled the smoke through his nostrils like that a dragon who guarded his vast hoard of wealth and knowledge, deciding where the puny human in front of him was deserving of a portion of it. “Have you ever even used the swords you carry?” He asked, gesturing to them.

“Not once,” the giant admitted, glancing at them. “Thus, I have no bad habits and no preconceived notions. A blank canvas on which to paint the world’s next masterpiece.”

“I paint in fire and blood, Oros. Does that truth disturb you at all?”

No, sir,” Oros replied, “It embodies me.”

After a moment, the swordsman smiles. “Very well. Consider yourself the next student of Master Kayos. I will warn you, before we even begin, that I will break you before this is all said and done.

Kayos probably was not expecting the laugh that followed from the giant. “You’re not the first person who has said that to me this week,” Oros said, pushing himself to his feet.

“So about this gravestone . . .”

[Oros]

The West Wind Inn was in a raucous uproar, fueled by the ale freely poured and the energy of the younger patrons. A dance floor had been created in the middle of the room, where couples young and old drifted through the space, their feet guided by the music in the air and their hearts by the one opposite them. This had forced everyone else who was not partaking to settle in the cramped tables and booths on the outskirts of the floor, but Oros had his two grizzled companions still found that a wide berth was given to them there, sitting in the far corner of the room. No one wanted to disrupt the trio and draw their ire and, more importantly, their swords. Thus, they were left alone save for the lone barmaid that swung by the table periodically to check on them.

Oros watched her leave, his eyes passing up and down her slender frame with an emotion that he had not felt often in life. Yet, no matter how far down his eyes drifted, they always returned to the woman’s beautiful head of hair, the waves of curls falling to her shoulders. The giant could just imagine his hands twisting those black strands around his finger, before gently drifting down the back, feeling it arch in response to his touch . . .

“Ey,” Kayos blustered, slapping the meat of his palm against the tabletop to startle the man. “Stop drooling over the poor girl, giant. It might come off as you wanting to eat her instead of make her acquaintance.”

Oros bristled at the comment, but he couldn’t get a defense out before Moto replied, a smile cracking his wrinkled face. “Its partially our fault, you know, for not teaching him how to court properly. We are his masters, after all.”

Kayos snorted, jabbing a finger at the elder swordsman. “Trust me, giant; never take bedroom advice from a man who’s trained in Busōsen. Their answer to everything is whipping out the sword and finishing it all in an instant. Sure you’ll get the job done, but I promise you that you won’t find any repeat customers that way.”

Moto laughed, unable to offer up a retort, which only made Kayos laugh even more. The two swordsman were well beyond drunk at this point, indulging in the local brews while Oros had to stick with water. He grumbled to himself, telling himself not for the first time that he’d stop paying so much attention to the girl. But then she passed by the table and Oros locked eyes with her again.

And she flashed him a smile.

The swordsmen did not miss the exchange. Moto spoke first. “A smile’s a good thing, kid, if you know how to follow through with it.”

“With finesse,” Kayos said, nodding and tapping his dead eye. “Perhaps without drawing attention to any scars or deformities you might notice.”

“A dance,” Moto said, sliding aside to leave the big man space to move past. “Ask her to a dance. Hell, we’ve drank enough already to buy the girl a break.”

Oros hesitated, so Kayos slapped the giant across the middle part of his back, between the shoulder blades. “Your masters demand it of you. Consider it a chance to practice your footwork.”

That sent the two swordsmen into a new fit of laughter, and Oros knew his only escape from this incessant heckling was to leave the table. Pushing to his feet, the giant weaved through tight corners, tracking the girl by the bar, where she stood watching over the room in case someone needed assistance. She spotted Oros walking over and flashed him another smile. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “I could’ve come to you. You didn’t have to come all this way just to get your friends their drinks.”

Oros glanced back at the men, who were staring at him with thumbs up in the air for morale support, and then returned his gaze to the girl. “They actually asked me to tell you that they were buying a round for the bar,” The giant said, holding his hand out. “But I don’t drink, so I was hoping to exchange my drink for a dance, instead.”

The girl hesitated, looking at the bartender for affirmation first, before she nodded with a grin. “I’d love to,” she said, taking the giant’s hand and guiding him to the dance floor.

The next song was a local one, with a choreographed dance that Oros did not know. Thankfully, his partner knew the steps and guided the big man around the floor with a grace that he did not know he possessed. Meanwhile, he provided a strength that allowed him to perform every dip and lift with ease, unlike some of the smaller men nearby. The pace quickened, and black curls and braids went spinning as the pair moved to keep up, until finishing with a loud solo from the percussion. Oros dipped her spontaneously once, for good measure, which elicited a laugh from the girl.

Oros pulled her back to a standing position, glancing around the room, which had all been served their round, at the expense of his unknowing masters. “Oros,” the giant said, nodding to the girl.

“Marie,” she replied, offering her hand; Oros shook it, admiring the smoothness for a moment before breaking contact. “You from around here, Oros?”

The giant shook his head, “I leave tomorrow.”

The girl frowned, more deflated by that than Oros would’ve expected. “It was a pleasure then. You’re quite the dancer.” She said, offering him a curtsy as they vacated the dance floor.

“I’m staying here tonight, though,” Oros said, gesturing to the staircase across the room that led to the upper stories. Second floor, first door on the left. In case you wanted to dance again.”

The girl blushed, and smiled again. Despite himself, Oros smiled too.

Moto and Kayos were about out of it when the giant returned to his table, that last round putting them over their limits. The giant helped them both up the stairs, one on each arm, and let them to their rooms for the night. Hopefully they’d sleep it off by the morning. Then, he went to his own room, settling in for bed himself. He wasn’t expecting Marie to come, and he had gotten out of his clothes and underneath his blankets when he heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Oros mustered, his mouth suddenly dry.

Marie ducked in, shutting the door behind her. She had a wicked smile across her beautiful face. “I’ve come for that dance, Oros.” She said, eyes glancing down at the pile of clothes by his bedside.

Oros reached down, groping for his pants, but stopped when he noticed the girl pulling her top over her head; he wasn’t going to need it after all.

“Don’t let me break you,” she whispered, as she climbed into the bed with him, with scant a cloth left on her.

“Many men have tried,” Oros replied, not realizing how that came off until it had already escaped his lips.

Thankfully, Marie giggled, and didn’t allow such a thick-headed response ruin what became Oros highlight of the whole trip.

---

“My goodness, is it always this bright out here in the morning,”

Oros was ahead of the group and he did not catch whether that was Moto of Kayos who had said that. Could’ve been either, really, with the hangovers they were battling. The giant, on the other hand, was feeling more refreshed then he had had in a while. His mind drifted back to the last sight before he had left the room. The way the sun bled through the window, casting an orange glow on the bare of her back facing away from him. Oros had left a part of him behind in that room, but he left, nonetheless. His time in the Land of Wind had ended.

Now it was time to return home, to the village, and continue his duties as a shinobi as well as his growth as a warrior. The two men griping behind him were going to help with that, too.

[Travel to Land of River]

[Cadoc]

Moved to the land of thee river

[Oros]

The party's pace was quicker returning to the Land of the Waterfall than when Oros had left it with the priest, Theoric. Not shocking, really, once a little thought was put into it. Up until this point, the giant hadn't thought about the man until now, and he wondered how the priest had fared returning back home. And, more importantly, what lies he might've told his followers and his peers upon his return, to cover up the bitter truth that they had uncovered. At the end of the day, it didn't rightfully matter to the big man; he had completed the mission that had been given to him, and he would give his report upon his return, unafraid that it would be overshadowed by Theoric's life.

Cutting north, Oros, Blitz, and his two masters continued towards their destination, with one country between them and the home stretch.

[Travel to Land of Fire]

[Christoff]

Moved to Fire

[Oros]

"What should we expect once we're in your Village?" Moto asked as walked down the road carrying them north to Waterfall Country. Both he and Kayos had learned the giant's identity in the first days of their journey together, but neither had addressed the elephant in the room up until now.

Oros shrugged, glancing the old man's way. "We go to the Embassy. They'll give you the necessary paperwork to enter the village." That was speculation, of course; this was the first time the giant had attempted something like this, bringing a foreigner to Takigakure. He knew taking them immediately there would constitute treason, so the Embassy was the next best option. The actual vetting process, though, Oros had no idea.

"We'll know soon," Oros added, nodding to himself. "Its not much further." Indeed, not much further. At least to the border, that is.

[Travel to Waterfall Country]

[Christoff]

Moved to Waterfall

[Oros]

[Exit]