It was too pathetic of a display to watch. Takasugi didn't want to stand there and be bothered with overseeing his death. He was already losing to much blood as it was, and he could barely focus on anything, but the way his wounds continued sting as the cold air hit it.

Reaching out, he wrapped both hands around the blade and plucked it from Sanzo's prone body, deciding to take it along in case he did have to fight the undead creatures. He'd rather be wandering around armed than without it, and it was the closest thing he'd get to a sword in a while.

Sliding it in between his belt and his pants, he threw the monk one more parting glance. He absently wondered if he would find Sanzo again tomorrow morning, in one piece and completely healed, greeting him with a gun to the face. Considering the other feats this institution had pulled off thus far, he wouldn't be surprised.

And if this was the end... then someone somewhere else could mourn for this man.

"For what it was worth," he murmured as he started to step over the rubble around them, "you were an interesting roommate while it lasted."