Wait, what?! Was he really just offering himself as a punching bag?
"Nononono, there's no need for that." His tangled fet carried him a few steps backwards. He was waving his hand infront of himself as a protest to the idea. "it's just... No, it's fin-"
'Hold on a second, Shiro!' A voice echoed through his mind. 'Are you really gonna let this punk go unpunished? I mean, your frickin' favourite sweater got ruined, and you earned yourself a number of bruises and cuts! And why? Because this guy, who's standing in front of you right now, didn't feel obligated to help you at all! Punch him, Shiro, and don't go easy on him!'
"But... I... you... Don't want... stop..." Shiro screamed in agony and let his free hand down upon the evil vagabond. The fist stroke his shoulder with barely enough force for him to feel. Shiro's knees went numb as the fist collided with the bone, and he fell down (again), and threw himself on the back. Huffing and puffing, Shiro smiled a vicious, yet victorious smile, the likes of which you'd see on a psychopath, before bursting into a short laughter.