Merely days into it, and the noise was simply too alien for Oroku. It was clear the young man was quite perturbed by the closed and boisterous atmosphere, leaned against an outer wall in the middle of the ship. He was bright enough to realize that trying to hide himself in the back wouldn't do much for blocking out the voices of everyone on board. Rather, it'd bring a bit more attention to him. If he acted as unassuming as possible within their midst, more easily influenced individuals would be more inclined to see his obscured face and heavy clothing as 'normal'. Still, with his height, armored pieces, and completely invisible face, it was impossible to avert everyone from staring. Oroku simply kept his head bowed, reflective of his old home.
Even in the most busiest moments of the day, the loudest it got was the patter of feet on a wooden porch and a "clunk" of the bamboo rocker just after. It was serene, peaceful, lonely. The cacophony he faced here was much too strange and disturbing, but it seemed he would have to adapt. At the very least, they were to descend into a forest soon enough; a place he was quite fond of. Underneath his mask, Oroku's eyes twitched in annoyance, itching to do something that could distract him from the stares. A long bout of push-ups, normally his modem of calming down, was certainly not appropriate here. He did his best to look internally, to drown out the voices within someone else's; someone who was familiar.
"How long will you be gone?" Oroku could clearly see her dead-pan face, arms held at her back politely and patiently. She had asked him with such neutrality, he might think she were devoid of anything but seriousness. It was disheartening, seeing someone further gone than himself, turned so by his own hands. It had already been announced days prior, and yet his little sister approached him only in the few hours that remained. He desired more emotion, friendliness, an embrace. It seemed hypocritical to him, then, that he might not return such actions himself. Ask and get, and give nothing back but a business-like reaction. Such was the very reason she had turned out in that way.
She was bruised, covered in several bandages and a patch upon her left cheek. The innocent, loveable face he had grown with had become dirtied, fierce, and dead. Oroku muttered something under his breath to himself, much too quiet for anyone to hear.
"Might jist start killin' 'ere. Git a warm up." Oroku's head tilted up, staring towards the homely faunus. A eager scowl cast over his face, the ogre's words enticing. Might the rules allow it, Oroku would have easily approached and offered to remedy his boredom. Beyond Grimm, other people like himself were the most satisfying to do battle with. Grimm did not train, they did not hold honor, and they cared little for victory besides a animistic idea of "survival". As such, testing his might against a fellow human (or faunus, it mattered little to him) unleashed an even greater satisfaction. To what extent was his training greater than another families? Unfortunately, there were few moments he could ever test such a proposition.
”Why? Are you gonna try and get that one for your partner? He's big so he'll probably be easy to see." Oroku turned to his left and gazed at the distanced pair of students whom he heard. Tracing the fox-eared faunus' attention back to the ogre, he scoffed. It wasn't a bad idea, he thought. Dim-witted as he appeared to be, a good pair of muscles was not something to turn away. Still, he seemed obnoxious, loud-mouthed and, once again, not very bright. Oroku would not work with him if he could avoid it.
It wasn't like he had much a choice in the matter anyways; it was up to chance, it seemed, who they would partner with initially. Falling from the sky, he could very well direct himself in the direction of some favorable student, but even then, it wasn't a guarantee. Oroku looked about the room, surveying every student's face with detail. Which ones looked competent, which ones capable, which ones a combination of both? He could hope on the honor of his works that he might land and come across someone similar to his own caliber. Success would not be lost on the inability of a chance partner. If they were too slow...
He never questioned his methods.