(A soldier is hanging from the rafters in the training room, stabbed with a sword and a spear. Shishio regards him carefully.)Houji (coming in): Lord ...hishio.(The soldier is slashed in half.)Houji (thinking): I never saw the sword leave the scabbard--(The upper half of the soldier bursts into flame.)Soujirou (coming in behind a shocked Houji): Oh, it's been a while. The old secret sword Homura Dama.Shishio: I caught him trying to steal a sword. Did you want something, Houji?Houji: Ye-yes. I. Twolines of an old song, a trace of scent you all butforgot existed, a face in a crowd looking just likesomeone you knew and cared about… It sparks athought, encourages a gesture, the little gears get inmotion, the synapses start firing. The change is justan idea, weak, barely noticeable and unlikely tosurvive, but it snowballs on until there it is – adifferent life than the one you once knew. A new life,born of a small, insignificant seed.Then again, some lives take much more work to. More

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