He hadn't expected Takasugi to take the warning, but he'd at least counted on the man stopping for a second. Instead, the son of a bitch was still walking towards him. He was actually counting, almost tauntingly.

He didn't like this. The suicidal ones were the worst, because since they didn't care if they lived or died, they took risks many people wouldn't take. It made them unpredictable, and in some cases, tougher.

Takasugi was advancing on him, that knife in hand, a hunger practically written on his face.

Sanzo took a step back, and pulled the trigger.