"Could you stop messing around? Whatever the problem is, lay it out clearly, and that'll settle it. What's the point of all this fuss? It's inappropriate, too. Besides, I'm a civilized person. Stop making trouble-that's the right way to go, trust me."
"Heh heh heh."
"Who are you heh-heh-hehing at? I'm not doing that with you. Can we have a serious conversation?"
"Are you saying I haven't been talking seriously to you this whole time?"
"Not me-you. You've been the one fooling around all along. You never intended to communicate properly with me. It's infuriating. You're driving me mad."
"Oh, oh, got it."
That was the attitude of Xuan Zhe, the resident shit-stirrer.
Not only did he refuse to come off worse in a fight, but he wouldn't give an inch in a war of words, either. Ultimately, he had just one goal-he wasn't done until he drove you mad.
Keeping this up was a real headache.
If this dragged on, when would it ever end?
Whoosh!
Obito retreated for all he was worth, with only one thought left in his head-run. He had to run.
Faster, then faster still, as though he were flooring the accelerator. He had made up his mind: whatever tricks his opponent had, he would get away first. Whatever happened after that, so be it. This whole damned business was that simple.
Xuan Zhe waved a casual hand, looking incredibly cocky, as though saying: I'm letting you off this time. Remember to be grateful.
Obito ground his teeth in anger. What did he mean, letting him leave? Since when did someone else get to decide whether he left? If he wanted to leave, he would, without anyone's permission. Once someone said it, he no longer wanted to budge. Even if he had to stew in