Takasugi's arms went up on their own accord. Years of battle-honed reflexes were the only things that kept him from being stabbed through, but he manages to get a hold of Sanzo's thin wrists and hold them, pushing away with whatever strength he had left.

He had to throw the weight of his own body, knocking Sanzo back and trying to wrestle the knife away. He could feel more blood pouring out of him angrily and incessantly, covering the floor between them and enticing the zombies outside. He couldn't stop here. His will to live was still stronger than what he had suggested.