A helicopter could never have been in the sewers, but that was what it most sounded like—like something was cutting through the air, repeatedly, relentlessly, and chopping through it again. The noises overlapped and affected each other. Did that mean this was more than one thing coming toward them?
Monkey’s deductions ended there. Before she could find the answer, far faster than her mind could work, the answer found her—though even if she had more time to think, she might never have imagined what it was. In everything she had seen in all the world’s battlefields, she had never seen anything like this.
The sound belonged to wings—the flapping wings of a great flock of birds. Rather, the flapping wings of a great flock of dead birds.
The zombie mass swarmed through the tunnel and found Monkey and Rat. Then, as if holding the pair in their sights, the birds hovered in place.
Monkey froze in shock, but impressively, her mind worked to make the connection. “Is this … the necromanticist’s work? He’s using the dead birds?”
Monkey’s deductions were limited by the vague snippets she’d heard of what had happened on the surface. What she didn’t know was that these were Chicken’s birds—the birds felled by the nonstop barrage of Boar’s twin machine guns when Chicken summoned the Sky Burial. The key point there was that Boar’s bullets had killed the winged animals, and at the time, Boar was under Rabbit’s control. This signified two crucial facts: the necromanticist’s ability to command those he killed was not restricted to human targets, and this ability extended not only to those killed by his hand, but those killed by his minions as well—though of course, he would call those reanimated corpses his friends.
While whatever they were called was a matter of personal preference, one fact remained: the few dozen birds Boar had killed before being consumed by the flock were now obeying that vile necromanticist, not Chicken.
The birds hovered with wounded wings that splattered blood all around with each flap. The undead creatures caught Monkey speechless—not by the sight of their busted beaks or their claws fractured into something even sharper than they once were, but because of the person controlling them with no respect for the dead animals and no regard for the sanctity of life.
I understand the logic—while normal birds would never enter the sewers, their corpses would have no such qualms against the search. But there’s more to the world than logic.
The tactic gave no sign of fastidiousness, just an inhumanly cold and systematic logic: if I do A, then B will happen, therefore I will do A.
“This is bad,” Rat said. His voice remained sleepy as always, but his expression was serious. That must have just been how he naturally spoke. “There’s too many of them. Even if we don’t get killed, if we try to fight this many small animals in such an enclosed space, we’re sure to get hurt. And in a filthy place like this, we’ll have a very high chance of getting a tetanus infection.”
Monkey knew as much—that risk was one reason she had agreed to hide out down in the sewers. In a way, being unsuited for fighting made the place something of a neutral territory. But when their opponents were already dead, that mental impediment only applied to one side.
“We’re running,” Monkey said as she seized the child by the nape of his neck and broke into a sprint. The dead flock didn’t pursue them immediately. Monkey figured that was just because the corpses needed a little more time to get moving, but that didn’t change the danger the two were in should they remain underground.
“Let go of me. I can run on my own,” Rat said, embarrassed, but Monkey ignored his protests and bolted up the nearest ladder, lifted the manhole cover, and emerged—into the oncoming slash of a blade.
But Monkey had expected the attack and was ready with the right response. Narrowly dodging the blow, she unleashed a swift kick at the back of her opponent’s neck—but her attack was also narrowly dodged. Except it shouldn’t have been. Her shin should have slammed into her enemy’s neck. Despite being known as a pacifist, Monkey excelled at hand-to-hand combat. She could hit any target with her eyes closed.
But her attack couldn’t hit a neck when there was no neck where one was supposed to be. Instead, her kick passed through air.
Another corpse, Monkey thought, as she and Rat rolled across the pavement. This one is Snake. But that blade doesn’t belong to him.
“Ow,” Rat groaned, but Monkey was getting back on her feet. She faced her opponents.
Standing beside Snake was the man with the freakish expression and the freakish attire—Rabbit. Of the two, the corpse—the headless corpse, at that—was the less disturbing. With an unsteady arm, the puppet returned the giant blade to its owner, who now held one in each hand.
Rabbit announced himself.
“I am Usagi, the Fighter of the Rabbit. I kill with distinction.”
Monkey could clearly see this was no time to bid for a truce, at least not how things stood now.
She thought, This leaves me no choice, then said, “Nezumi, can I leave Snake to you?”
“What, you’re fighting now?”
“I’m a pacifist, but I’m no adherent to nonresistance. I’m going to restrain him without injuring him, and I’ll get him to understand.”
“Restrain him without injuring him? You know that’s a lot harder than just taking him down.” Rat sighed. “You do this every time.”
“What do you mean I do this every time?”
“I mean always. No matter what happens.” The boy got to his feet. “All right. I’ll handle him.”
Monkey wasn’t sure how good a fighter Rat was, but no matter his age, a warrior was a warrior. He almost certainly wouldn’t be killed instantly by a corpse. Even if he didn’t win, he would at least be able to draw the fight out long enough for her to incapacitate Rabbit.
Not that I know how I’m going to incapacitate a necromanticist …
Simply disarming him of those two massive blades wouldn’t likely be enough. In the meantime, she and Rat took their fighting stances and readied themselves for the battle.
“I am Sharyū, the Fighter of the Monkey. I kill in peace.”
“I am Nezumi, the Fighter of the Rat. I kill inexorably.”
The first to move was, surprisingly, the slowest moving of the four—Snake’s corpse. And he was moving to leave. Apparently, both sides were looking for a one-on-one battle. Rat took his cue and followed the walking corpse.
Keeping one eye on the pair’s departure, Monkey said to Rabbit, even though she knew it was futile, “You raised your hand back in that high-rise, didn’t you? It’s not too late to work together with us. You remember what I said, right? I can save all of us. If you can find it in yourself to have a change of heart, and you’ll listen to me, then …”
Was he listening? Monkey couldn’t tell. Whatever emotion lurked behind Rabbit’s expression, she couldn’t read it.
Monkey pressed on. “If you’re trying to win because you want your wish granted, we’d be more than happy to help you make it come true. If we all work together, no dream will be beyond our reach.”