In that sense, it wouldn’t be that much different from my life now. I’d still be a lowly soldier, just dead instead of alive—but I would no longer be doing the right things, and I don’t want that.
Ox remembered what he had told the girl long ago. First, decide to do the right thing. Then do it. Now that he’d been bested, the words sounded so self-important.
Right now, the right thing is to do what? To kill myself? All I have to do is decide and do it.
Even if his arms and legs couldn’t budge, he could still bite through his tongue, just as Rabbit had done. Of all the actions he could ever take, suicide seemed the least like who he was. But what other choice did he have?
Pain shot through his face.
Correctly sensing his determination—or rather, indecision—Monkey slammed her forehead against Ox’s chin. With a single head-butt, she had prevented Ox’s suicide—by shattering his teeth.
Without teeth, he couldn’t bite through his tongue—although in truth, he might not have been able to go through with the deed. Either way, she had removed the option by using the least possible force and doing the least possible damage.
I suppose losing all my teeth won’t make any difference when I’m a mute zombie. I don’t use them as a weapon either—though I doubt losing them will help my looks.
The taste of iron filled his mouth. The moment Monkey’s corpse fell into Rabbit’s clutches, the Zodiac War might have been as good as over. I don’t know how many other fighters are still alive, but I don’t think Dog or Sheep will be able to put up much resistance.
Who else was there? There should have been one more. The pain in Ox’s mouth made it hard to gather his thoughts. Then, as the recollection began to form, a voice spoke.
“I am Nezumi, the Fighter of the Rat. I kill inexorably.”
That’s right, the Rat. Ox turned his head in the direction of the voice. Standing there was the boy who had appeared sleepy from the beginning and still appeared sleepy now. The youth seemed too young to be a fighter—though Ox, who had seen his first battle at the age of five, was hardly the person to judge whether or not the boy was too young.
Why had he come? Ox had seen no trace of him in the war. Why should he make his appearance now? The battle was all but wrapped up, and the boy could do nothing to change it. There was being in the wrong place, and there was this. It was almost laughable.
The boy had shown up as if to save Ox from certain death, but surely that wasn’t the case. No one—save for the drunken Tiger—would be so foolish as to come to the rescue of the Natural-Born Slayer.
“Looks like I’m not too late,” the boy said. “Finding Sheep’s body took me longer than I thought it would. Well, I wasn’t trying to find his body exactly. I was trying to find these.”
The boy held out a handful of grenades—the Shūkaiokuri that Hitsujii, the Sheep, had brought into the fight—weapons so destructive that even Monkey had feared them.
Rabbit’s corpse was gradually but steadily piecing itself back together, but until it had finished, it couldn’t go anywhere. Monkey had Ox pinned down, but she couldn’t move without releasing him.
The boy had said he wasn’t too late, when in truth he was perfectly on time. This was the only moment that could have worked—this specific timing and none other. Never again would the opportunity arise to eliminate both Rabbit’s and Monkey’s corpses at once. Of course, Ox would be eliminated with them, but he had already accepted his death.
Ox didn’t know what kind of person Rat was or how the boy had managed to get there. He didn’t know—or care—if Rat was the most dastardly villain on Earth, who had watched and waited for his chance out of pure cowardice. What mattered was that the boy came bearing weapons perhaps more suited than any other for destroying the undead.
“I’m not sure this will give you any peace of mind,” the boy said, “but I was only able to bring these grenades here because Tiger killed Sheep. Everything that’s about to happen is thanks to your ally. Now, do you have any final words?”
“No,” Ox said without hesitation. “Just do it.”
Even if Rat were the world’s worst villain, even if he were a coward, Ox felt certain he’d rather have the boy win than let Rabbit walk free. He could imagine no worse future than one where the necromanticist, with Ox’s and Monkey’s corpses in tow, went from battlefield to battlefield creating zombies en masse.
Ox would decide to do right, then he would do it—just as Tiger had done as he took her life.
He said, “To me, this is what’s right. Spend your life doing what you believe is right.”
He closed his eyes.
“I am Ushii, the Fighter of the Ox. I just kill.”
After Ox announced himself, Rat paused in silence, then rolled all his grenades into the group and quickly distanced himself. Ox saw how Rat could have survived—the boy could run with terrific speed.
Now that I think about it, when the Jade Emperor created the zodiac, the rat claimed the first spot by hitching a ride on an ox.
What happened here wasn’t all that different from the legend, but Ox didn’t mind it happening to him. The boy’s attempt at giving him peace of mind had been a bit of a stretch, but it had proved surprisingly effective. Winning the Zodiac War seemed unimportant now, and he felt no regret conceding to the boy.
What will he wish for? Ox wondered. And why do I get the feeling I’ve met him somewhere before?
The grenades exploded.
The former arms dealer’s implied threat on the observation deck had been no lie or exaggeration. With far more destructive power than seemed possible from objects that fit in the palm of a hand, the explosion disintegrated Monkey, Rabbit, and Ox, and even the nearby Tiger, along with everything else in the area. All that remained were the eleven murky-black jewels they had once held.
Added to the one carried by Rat, who had taken shelter back in the sewers, that made twelve.
The Twelfth Zodiac War had ended.
Rat vs. Ox
End of the 11th battle