Why, Mr. minamoto? Why, why? Why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting... for something? For more than your theory? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom of expresion? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for your own sanity? Illusions, Mr. minamoto. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Tobidara theory itself, although... only a troll mind could invent something as insipid as Tobidara. You must be able to see it, Mr. minamoto. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. minamoto? Why? Why do you persist?