The hand on the hilt did not move, but it was not the evil eye that stopped it. While she may have become a vampire, she was still his mother.
“Minazuki-kun, I’ll handle this,” Jigorô said from behind.
“Sensei—”
“You must not do this. You should go outside.”
Jigorô came to his side, gripping a large hammer used to break charcoal in his right hand and a one-shaku wooden stake in his left.
Only one thing can bring peace to a vampire’s victim. Drive a stake into his heart.
Sayo tried to move away from Jigorô, but the knife kept her frozen in place.
“Please forgive me,” he said in anguish, straddling her torso.
Sayo put her hands on his neck. She threw her head back and cried out. White smoke rose out of her right hand. It had touched the crucifix hanging from Jigorô’s neck. Holy objects had the power to burn a body possessed by evil.
Holding the stake against her chest, Jigorô swung his right arm upward. When Daigo saw the hammer, memories of his mother flashed before his eyes.
The mother who had raised him alone after his father’s death. The mother who had slapped him and urged him to keep pursuing the way of the sword, when he had decided to give up and work to support them both.
“No, stop! Sensei Kanô!” He started to move, but there was low moan from the entrance area.
It was a moan that sounded like his mother’s. But when Daigo turned around, it was Shirô who attacked him. He flew through the air like a bat.
The only reason Daigo had not drawn his sword and cut him down in one swift move was because he had realized Shirô was not aiming for him.
Instead, he jumped on Jigorô’s back like an insect and grabbed the right hand that held the hammer.
“What are you—? Shirô!”
“Sensei—don’t do it.”
“So! You are possessed! Move!”
Even with Shirô still holding his right hand, Jigorô spun downward.
It was a beautifully executed ippon-zeoi.[1] Shirô’s body was sent crashing against the wall—or not.
It was spine chilling. Bending his arms and legs like a spider, Shirô clung to the wall perpendicular to the tatami floor.
In the meantime, Sayo had slipped out from between Jigorô’s legs. Jigorô, Daigo, and Chizuru all gasped at the same time.
The knife had been knocked off the futon when Jigorô had thrown Shirô.
“Mother!”
“Mother Minazuki!”
Evading Daigo’s and Chizuru’s outstretched arms like a lithe animal, Sayo rushed to the door.
The shoji door and shutter blew open and the darkness blew in. There was a dull thud, and a little boy screamed.
“That’s Tankichi from next door!”
Daigo ran out with a sword in hand. Chizuru followed.
At the entrance to the house next door, Tankichi’s mother was on the ground, and beyond that stood Sayo carrying Tankichi, who had passed out in terror.
Chizuru let out an anguished moan next to Daigo.
From the light leaking out of the entrance, they could just make out Sayo’s silhouette.
She had the face of a demoness, her lips glistening with the blood that streamed down Tankichi’s neck.
“Delicious.” She licked her lips.
It was at this moment Daigo made up his mind to cut down the woman who stood before him.
Daigo drew the dagger hidden in his sword and threw it, aiming between her eyes.
Sayo’s right hand moved in a flash and caught the dagger in front of her eyes.
“You would kill your own mother, you ungrateful boy!”
The voice was no longer that of his kindly mother.
Suddenly she held the boy up and threw him down mercilessly to the ground.
Tankichi let out a shriek and passed out again.
Daigo leaped toward her.
Sayo threw the dagger.
Daigo caught it with his sword. The dagger was not meant to be thrown like a shuriken; rather, it was meant to be used for whittling wood and cutting rope. The dagger was also too lightweight to cause serious injury, even when thrown.
But the dagger, which had whizzed out of Sayo’s hand, had penetrated the hilt of Daigo’s sword, slowing his swing for a split second.
The blade caught the hem of the kimono, tearing it. Sayo jumped almost twenty feet and stood at the edge of the street.
One by one, the neighbors opened their doors, having heard Tankichi’s screams.
Daigo’s face twisted in anguish. He did not want his neighbors to see his mother like this.
Maybe I should let her go…
His mind clouded for a moment, but then he caught a glimpse of Tankichi convulsing in pain.
No, my mother will claim no more victims.
Sayo turned her back on Daigo.
Creaturelike, she scampered toward the back door of the row houses. Daigo knew he would not be fast enough to stop her.
A scream. It was Sayo, who in fear had backed away from the door, which was crudely made out of wooden boards and sticks.
“What is…?”
Chizuru explained to a surprised Daigo, “Sensei Kanô hung a crucifix here and on the front door, before we went to your house.”
“Thank you,” Daigo said quickly, before running after his mother.
Sayo turned around.
Daigo did not know why he closed his eyes. Was it to shield himself from the sight of his mother crazed with fear and hate, or to keep from falling under the spell of those crimson eyes?
“Daigo.”
“Mother, forgive me.”
Mother and son came together as one.
Daigo’s precision with the sword was unequaled. The blade pierced her heart, and his mother died instantly, without even letting out one last scream.
Sayo crumpled to the ground, with Daigo falling to his knees beside her. He felt more pain than if he had plunged a sword into his own body.
Tears welled up in Daigo’s eyes, and he began to cough uncontrollably. Blood dripped from between the fingers covering his mouth.
Chizuru rushed to his side.
The neighbors who had come outside could not make out a thing in the moonlight. Spotting the shadows gathered in the back, they started that way; but a lone figure came from behind, parted a way through the mob, and turned around.
The man shouted with the ferocity of a tiger, “I am with the police! Everyone go back inside your homes!”
It was the voice of the man who had presided over thousands of students and was at times on equal terms with ministers. It was the voice of Kanô Jigorô.