Both men had now been cut twice, Franco on his chest and upper arm, Tsuba on his side and left cheek. They were an equal match and they both knew it. It was Franco's street craft that eventually gave him the upper hand.
Feigning tiredness, he tricked Tsuba into coming too close, allowing him an easy straightforward jab into the chest. But Tsuba’s reflexes were phenomenally quick, he managed to evade the deadly strike by a hairs breadth, nevertheless the trick was complete because Franco knew which way Tsuba would turn to evade the strike, he was ready for him as he turned and floored him with a left hook. He was on top of him in a second, his dagger a fraction of an inch from Tsuba's throat when fate intervened. Franco saw movement in the corner of his eye, he paused for an instant as he saw Cairo dragging a bloody-faced Eve passed the open door.
An instant was plenty of time for Tsuba to wriggle his hand free and to twist his Tanto blade into Franco's exposed side, and then he too turned his eyes to the doorway. But it wasn't Eve's face that froze him, it was the black-haired girl beside her that took his breath. The likeness of his own mother in those deep dark eyes.
Franco had lost the fight, he knew he had only a few seconds of life left, he was still on top of Tsuba and could easily finish him off before he died, he waited, staring at Eve in the doorway.
Her face was tragic, she sensed Franco was about to die. And the man he held a knife to the throat of was- “It can't be.” She thought, “Tsuba? How-”
“Come on mother, come on!” Cairo’s voice urged as she pulled on Eve's arm. Franco pressed the edge of his blade tight on Tsuba's throat before calling hoarsely to Eve,
“Mistress! Run! Go! Please go!” For a second their eyes locked in understanding, and then she was gone.
Franco lowered his gaze to Tsuba, still held fast beneath him,
“Your life is in my hands…” He rasped out the words, blood rising into his mouth, “…Shall I take it from you?...” Tsuba tried to press himself through the floor as Franco's knife pressed tighter and tighter on his throat, his voice was thick, “…In return for your life I want you to spare my mistress! Let her escape! Do you swear?...” Franco’s voice demanded, but his eyes begged. Tsuba nodded, “…Do you swear it?!…” Franco coughed blood, speckling Tsuba’s face, “…Swear it damn you!”
“I swear it.” Tsuba's words came out in a whisper but they were enough, Franco was satisfied that he had done enough to save his mistress, even at the moment of his own death he cared more for her than himself.
Franco heaved himself off Tsuba, rolled on to his back, and died.
Tsuba, drenched in Franco’s blood, hauled himself to his feet and looked down at Franco with profound respect. He bowed slightly as if to an honourable opponent,
“I had no need to swear...” He shook his head in gentle sadness, “...As I tried to tell you, I came not to harm her.” He delayed no longer and ran quickly out of the room. He made his way to the front of the house in time to see Eve and Cairo tearing across the gravel in the white convertible, they had escaped. Tsuba raised a hand in salute as the car roared away, his heart relieved, his mind pleased that he would not have to confront Richard.