<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">T</span>he overwhelming urge had pestered him for quite some time. He had no desire to indulge in his seemingly unbreakable habit but to no avail he once more broke. Slowly reaching down with a quiver, Souma grabbed the almost empty box of off-brand cigarettes and hesitantly pulled one of them out from the pack. This addiction had overtaken the entirety of his life. What else did he have to live for? In a district of over ten million people he was alone. At least he felt alone. He was surrounded by people that were too wrapped up in their own business to even notice the once great man sitting against a building with nothing but weapons of his past to keep him company.<br/><br/>Souma placed the cigarette in his mouth with care (as if it were something that needed handled with care). He slowly raised a lit match and placed the dim lit flame at the tip of the cigarette, slowly inhaling and then with an exhale from his nose smoke formed a bit of a fog in front of his face before dissipating. He told himself countless times that this habit had to be broken, yet he lacked the willpower to actually let this habit of his go. He held the cigarette close to his face so that he could use minimal effort in smoking it. As if it took him a massive amount of effort to indulge in this habit anyway.<br/><br/>His head was lowered and his eyes were raised. With nothing else to do, he watched people go about their days.<br/><br/>Cars raced by in the street, obviously going much faster than what they were intended to go. It was usual for everyone to be in such a rush. People were always in a hurry. Almost fifty years of his life were spent scurrying about with the attitude that things needed to be done quickly. He wasted so much time rushing and took the little things in his life for granted (exactly the way these ordinary citizens were). He was a bit jealous of these people for getting to live their lives the way that they wanted to. He missed the fast paced lifestyle even though he resented himself for living it.<br/><br/>He was exhausted.<br/><br/>Souma hadn't eaten in a couple of days, spending the last of his money on cigarettes and not food. He hated the idea of having to eat all the time. It was a tedious task for a man that hadn't a penny to pay for a meal. Not like anyone was going to help him out and feed him. Ronin were looked down on. The once great name he had was all but diminished and to the hustle and bustle of this world, he was nothing. Just a waste of life that had all but lost its only purpose. Another inhale of the smoke and a sigh as an exhale led him to stand up and slowly make his way north. No purpose other than to see what he could come across. He needed to collect a bounty in order to give himself nourishment and sustenance. "What a droll life I must live, eh Karin?" He said to himself as he gripped the locket in the secret pocket of his robe.