Before Tomaru had much time to size up his opponents, the Great Hall faded away and he appeared in a new land, not unlike his own. He took a deep breath of the cool, refreshing breeze and thought that it was a shame to bring violence to such a tranquil place. Then again, this was all just a dream. He calmly took a step onto the giant bridge that ran across the river, assuming that this is where he was to fight, and then something changed in him. There was no alteration of his movement or his expression, nor did the light in his eyes alter in any way, but any being with an inkling of spiritual awareness would know that the man that was standing on the bridge was not the same man that had been standing in the village.

He looked at the buildings. What were they made of? At what temperature would they burn? The bridge was sturdy, how much Ki would it take to break it? Which way was the river flowing? How deep? How fast? Tomaru asked and answered all of this questions in one second, and on the next second he was thinking of ways to use that information to kill his opponent. And that was the only missing piece. But, he could do nothing about that until the fighter appeared. He took several steps forward onto the bridge, then raised his hands, the left one slightly extended, the right one drawn back, and waited in his Tsubame stance with a seemingly endless well of patience.