Yuji Sakai: Your Name. I don’t even know what your name is.
Shana: (Blushes and looks away) I don’t have a name. I’m only a flame haze.
Yuji Sakai: You said it again.
Shana: Look, Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Who needs a name anyway? To distinguish me from the other flame hazes, they just called me the one with Nietono no Shana.
Yuji: Nietono no Shana?
Alastor: That is the name of the sword she carries.
Yuji: Nietono no Shana. Then, You’re name is Shana. That’s what I’ll call you. You’re Shana. Stop saying you’re only a flame haze. And I’m not only a torch. I’m Yuji Sakai.
Remembrance triggering the most emotional memories leads to the melancholic minding one has to endure when listening to the images of the former situation. Structures of light and of vibrations in the air, sounds, melodies, created by movements of reality. How can you feel? Instrumental sounds create an image, an image is loud and full of melody —
the beauty of intertwining paths of mindful thinking is fantasy’s creator.
In the short pulse, the noise of a human hand hitting a string of an instrument with unmatchably detailed control of strength, a whole burst of emotions is cast forth like a particle showering in fluid and solid matter. However, unlike this, it is not the energy of the sound itself, but the relative energy it is given by human perception. The process of measuring a remembered feeling…
How can it even be? How can the millions of synapses interconnect to join a disrupting burst of fire triggered by single shot of noise?
“Are we to know? Is it subject to the secret science can not uplift from the hidden alcove of creation?”
Finally, your outer eyes shut down, the inner light twinkles like a shrinking star, and you wonder whether the last glimpse of the still shining light will be sufficient to enlighten the riddle of life. But maybe the torch is just carried around, and the important non-fading result is the burnt-out shell, non-malformed to represent the dynamics the flame had once shown.