There's a flash of light, and Tsuzuki manages to inhale a lungful of crappy plaster and dry-rotted sawdust when he gasps in surprise. He hacks, chokes, and curls into a rib-rattling cough as the wolf, swatted by the metal -- shovel? Spear? What is that thing? -- releases his shoulder and backs off. The other two are backing away behind it, watching the weapon in Gojyo's hand with a wariness that's beyond mere animal fear.

Ayakashi really freak him out. Tsuzuki wipes his good hand over his mouth, leaving a dirty streak on his cheek but clearing the worst of the mucus from his lips, and rolls up to his knees. His other arm's hanging limp from a mauled shoulder, and he can't move it without stabbing pain, but it'll heal. They'll be fine. Gojyo's next to him and he's got a weapon.

... Gojyo has a weapon.

Halfway through fumbling his phone out of his pocket with one hand to place a frantic post for help, Tsuzuki shoots him a disbelieving glance. The back storeroom's messy, sure, but it's not messy enough that he'd miss something like that.

"Where'd you get that thing?"