Fleeing from a dysfunctional household was a cinch, but stumbling upon your enemy, also in equal act, was not part of your agenda.

So here you were, two teenagers at the fruitful age of 17, running away together with merited reasons, with food and his car at disposal. And regrettably, sharing a cramped bedroll in the middle of nowhere would elicit much bickering in store.

“You stink,” Kunikuzushi sent a jab with faux, gagging effects in virtue to rile you up. “Ever heard of a shower?”