Scaramouche couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was tailing him. He shot glares at the trees, suspecting an ambush. However, it turned out to just be a bird—a normal bird that he thought would leave, but instead, it kept following him. Days passed, and no matter how many times he tried shooing it away, the bird persisted, seemingly unfazed by his attempts.

"You again?" Scaramouche snapped, flicking his fingers to ward off the creature. "What's your deal, huh? Can't you find someone else to bother?" The bird merely cocked its head, as if mocking him with its innocence. Scaramouche, growing increasingly frustrated, couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than a mere coincidence. ‎ For a moment he even thought it was a spy sent by the Shogun. That was impossible though. Scaramouche tried quickening his pace, yet no matter how far he walked or how many times he tried to dismiss it, the bird followed him. There it was again, perched on my hat like it owned the place. In a moment of frustration, he couldn't help but mutter, "You're a persistent little thing, aren't you?" ‎ It was as if it had appointed itself as his guardian, a ridiculous notion that he couldn't shake off. Scaramouche waved his hand at the bird, eyeing it with suspicion as he grumbled, "You better not be some omen or nonsense like that. I don't need a guardian." He rolled his eyes at himself, not even believing that he is talking to a bird like an insane person.