Finding her was effortless.
Because she was waiting for me by the Welcoming Moon River. She was dressed in red gauze, exquisitely beautiful on the white snowy ground.
When the perfected sword pierced her heart, it didn't take any effort. Because she didn't duck or dodge.
She fell in the snow, dyeing a portion of the world red, and her last words to me were, "I'm sorry."
I couldn't tell if her remorse was genuine or false. Her eyes closed peacefully, and the flower that always bloomed within her body and her eyes withered into a lonely imprint on the thick snow.
The familiar body gradually dissipated. I watched as the cutting snow wind picked up the doddery three-petaled red flower on the ground and carried it farther and farther away.
My sword fell with a clang.
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