It was during a cold sunset when Saika Magoichi nearly succumbed to his exhaustion. As the sun began to sink, Magoichi realized that his time was limited. Limited to what, he didn't know. He didn't have an idea of what he is doing nor what his purpose of living was anymore. He simply lived day to day, as if life itself is just a dream. The time that passed before him seemed insignificant, blurry yet seemed to last forever. He had been stubbornly running for a long time from a fate he, in the depths of his heart, knew he cannot escape from. His defeat, capture and execution was imminent, him running away would only prolong a period of confusion and conflict. He gambled everything he ever had with a daring assault at Azuchi Castle. He thought he had won initially, but reality kicked in faster than the speed of a bullet, and he realized that he had lost everything he ever had. As the ghosts of his past and the turmoil that erupted even further throughout this war-torn land began to creep up on him, his life began crumbling down. He used to revel in not having a goal, living day-by-day as if he had so much life ahead of him, but now, it seemed to mock him. Life seemed like an elaborate trap that he could't get out of. He feels as if he was watched by a group of people, all laughing at his current predicament. Though what was left of his personality refused to admit it, he knew he was lost. He was lost in the forest and lost in his mind.

Magoichi shouldered the burden of being the man who killed Oda Nobunaga, the fool of Owari. The Demon King who was well on his way to unite the land through strategic warfare and brutality.

Most who were close to him during brief times of peace, closed and locked their doors when he came seeking to find a place to hide. They pretended to be away, visiting their families or doing trivial things such as sight-seeing. Nobody wanted to be associated with an assassin. Though when the Demon King was alive, people condemned him, criticizing his idiosyncrasies, his insistence to allow Christian missionaries into the land, and his sheer brutality and inhumanity when it came to warfare. Most people wanted someone to stop his ever-growing power, yet nobody had the courage to kill the king of demons. They condemn famed heroes of the time, expecting them to have superhuman qualities that they do not have. People expected famed and brave warriors to be able to kill the Demon King, but none stood up against him. Some men claimed to plot conspiracies to kill the demon, but very few were carried out. People who challenged Oda Nobunaga were silenced by just a look from him and nobody had the courage to kill the demon. Finally, after years burning with the desire of revenge for his fallen comrades, Saika Magoichi began a lone attempt to end his personal war with the demon.

He pulled the trigger, with mixed emotions filling his soul. He left with a bitter taste in his mouth and a feeling vocabulary could not express in his chest. He wasn't a fool, he knew his actions would cause people to become divided into praising him or loathing him. Oda Nobunaga's followers were the most loyal in the land, they would surely locate and kill the man who sniped their lord. Along with the men who sheltered the assassin. Some people commended him on his brave assault and tried to support him while others shunned him, fearing the threat of execution.

Magoichi forced his knees to support his weight as he clumsily stood up again, putting a hand on the bark of a tree to help himself stand tall. His feet until half of his knees were covered deep in the chilling embrace of snow. He took a strong stride forward, aiming to reach a hopefully nearby village before sunset. His optimism begun to fade after a terrible string of bad luck seemed to plague him. Magoichi was a fairly realistic person, not believing in folklore nor superstitions. He believed the spooky ones to be constructed just to scare children into doing what they're told and the others as an old wives' tale. He did though, believed in lady luck. It grieved his soul entirely when he found out that she was no longer smiling upon him. He wondered what he had done to incur her wrath. Could it be that she preferred the coldness and inhumanity of the fool of Owari above the charms and good-looks of the wild gunman? Women were always difficult to predict.

Magoichi walked further, his body aching after days of traveling without rest. His torn gloves pathetically tried to give warmth to his numb, blood-stained fingers. He had wrapped a long fabric around his neck and head to provide himself with some warmth though he resembled much like that of a ninja. He didn't quite understood the general way of thinking of a ninja. He had met quite a few during his time as a wanderer and their characteristics have always struck him as odd. Some had a mother complex, others had unhealthy obsessions with their lord, shadows and even chaos. He had never met a ninja who was not eccentric in their mannerisms.

Magoichi gripped his musket tightly in his hands, it was his only steady companion throughout his escapades. His musket felt heavier in his hands than it had ever been. He felt the urge to just toss the iron aside and succumb to his fatigue, die amongst the thick pile of snow in the middle of a forest, his body never to be found. He shook such grim thoughts away from his mind and with his strong will, he took more steps forward. His terrible mood was not elevated by the towering trees that surrounded him, reminding him how humans are dwarfed compared to the grander and mysterious natural surroundings. The trees and mountains have been around since the dawn of time, yet they have never squabbled over who is most rightful to rule the land. Humans, who dominated the land long after the creation of mountains and trees have been fighting amongst each other for as long as recorded history. Magoichi smirked at the irony that the most intelligent creatures in the land are the only ones prone to such selfishness and idiocy.

Amongst the many different types of pain that was assaulting his being, one pain stood out the most. The worst of his troubles was that he deeply craved for the presence of another person by his side. Rightfully, another woman by his side. He had always preferred the fairer sex to accompany him throughout his journeys should he feel lonely. Yet, as fate dictates, he was traveling alone, aching for the presence of grace and womanly affections. Right now, he thought, he would even settle for that violet-red haired girl who used to linger in his presence. Even if she was too young for his tastes.

He wondered what her name was. Was it Garasha? Garuda?

Gracia. He remembered. He remembered everything they went through together. To be frank, it was more like what he went through with her watching him from behind. Well, that sounded a bit more creepy than intended.

Pain and exhaustion suddenly caught his knees. He fell face down on the thick snow beneath him, dropping his musket as he fell. Struggling to rise up again, Magoichi suddenly laughed out of frustration. He couldn't control his laughter, though he feared that he might have finally lost his mind. At the end of his laugher, he cursed loudly and clearly. Cursed at his damn luck, cursed at the selfish people who lied to him, and cursed at the fact that he was most probably going to die of either hunger, dehydration, hypothermia, fatigue or from his wounds. Maybe all of them at once considering the how hard he's pushing himself. Even he had his limits, he couldn't laugh his problems away anymore. He would be laughing forever had he tried.

Shivering, he picked up his musket and began to breathe aloud as he brought himself to sit and enjoy the company of a nearby tree. He leaned against the hard surface of the tree and winced in pain as every ache in his body threatened to kill him. Heavily breathing, he slowly opened his coat and the clothes beneath it to reveal an incompletely healed bullet wound near his shoulder and collarbone. He saw dried blood stains on the bandage covering it and painfully gasped as he accidentally touched the wound with his hand. He gritted his teeth as he binds the bandage tighter. He was careful not to become reckless or else he would risk to re-open the wound again. He knew that wound could kill him if he's not careful, it was a painful reminder of the difficulty of running away from the pawns of the Demon King. His health was failing and he needed a desperate change of plans.

He took out a canteen made of tanned deer hide and desperately drank the cold water, realizing that his supply of water was running thin. He kept the canteen inside a small bag that was slung on his back along with some food and his stash of bullets. The harsh blow of the wind slapped his face fiercely as he gripped his coat tightly, trying to exude some warmth throughout his body.

He knew he had to keep moving to survive, but he couldn't. He could barely move anymore. He needed a moment to recollect his thoughts and relax his tense body. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He knew he would not see another sunrise if he fell asleep. To die after coming this far was never his intention. He simply needed relaxation.

He finally stopped and think about the impact that his actions had caused, the people he left behind though it was difficult for his worn-out heart to feel relief, not seeing the chaos that ensued because of his actions.

Amongst the chaos developing in his head, he was reminded of a promise he made. The warmth he felt just by thinking of her reminded him that she was the reason he kept on surviving. He promised to meet her again, under the falling petals of the cherry blossom tree. He smiled, for the first time in days, revelling himself into the times when his life was much simpler.