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Real Name: Toshiko INŌ

Born: April 4

Height: 176 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Toshiko is the heiress of a distinguished family with a history that goes back over three centuries. She grew up caught between her father, whose parenting style was so severe some would call it abusive, and her mother, who took doting to new extremes. In time Toshiko learned how to appease them both in equal measure. As a child, all her focus went toward ascertaining what adults wanted of her, and once she attained adulthood herself, she became a free spirit—especially when it came to the one matter both her parents had rigidly denied her: romance.

Originally, her sister, five years her elder, had earned the right to participate in the Twelfth Zodiac War, but in the culmination of a twelve-year plot, Toshiko killed her sister and claimed the invitation for herself.

Her weapons of choice are two machine guns—one for each hand—named Aishū and Inochigoi. She is well versed in heavy weaponry, and nothing is too heavy for her to handle, but those two in particular she wields as if they are extensions of her own body.

She is currently in relationships with twelve different men but is still looking to take on more.

Inōnoshishi, the Fighter of the Boar, entered the abandoned high-rise near the center of the ghost town and thought, My, for a derelict, this place is pristine. It was unusual, yes, but not unexpected. Until a very short time ago, the building hadn’t been abandoned, and the city hadn’t been a ghost town. For the mere purpose of holding the Twelfth Zodiac War, and for no other reason, the battle organizers had wiped out an entire city. Boar thought, somewhat ruefully, Not even my esteemed family wields the power to easily eliminate an entire metropolitan region of five hundred thousand in a single night.

Such were Boar’s thoughts as she strode through the building with grace—always with grace, and with elegance. The time written on the invitation had long since passed, but that was no reason for her to hurry. Rather, she held a deep conviction that the duty of the high class was to make others wait for them. Besides, she thought, isn’t it tradition for the Boar to appear last? The previous Boar’s victory makes me in essence the defending champion, and I mustn’t behave in an unbecoming manner.

She tightened her fingers around the grips of the machine guns she held in either hand. She was determined and ready to kill. Boar had been taught to leave her hands free and ready to move in case of any contingency, but she adapted that lesson in her own way. If she was to be prepared for any contingency, wasn’t it better to have a gun in each hand?

She wasn’t now carrying these two massive machine guns only for this occasion. Aishū and Inochigoi—Lost Love and No Mercy—were always with her. She had even been granted legal dispensation to carry them at all times. Should anyone report her to the police, that person would be arrested, not her. Such was her stature as heiress to the great Inō family.

Not that any of the warriors gathering here today will be so easily intimidated, she thought. Or will they?

In essence, Boar was on the inside exactly who she appeared to be—haughty and domineering, generally unpleasant and ill-natured. But she wasn’t a fool, nor was she reckless. She wasn’t about to shut herself into the confined space of an elevator for an entire half-minute or longer. She took the stairs instead, and as she ascended the 150 flights, she never stopped refining her battle plans. That she needed to win was a given; what mattered was achieving that victory with elegance. A victory won through sweat was the same as losing. Her thoughts were solely occupied with how to kill her eleven formidable adversaries with the utmost refinement, in accordance with her venerable lineage.

The top floor opened onto a large space seemingly designed to offer a view of the nightscape far below. Entering this indoor observation deck, Boar announced, “Good evening, everyone. I trust your wait has been pleasant. I am Boar.”

The view might have been something a few days ago, but the ghost town distant beneath them now offered only total darkness. While Boar certainly knew how to appreciate looking down from on high, the shadowy void wasn’t even worth sparing a single glance. Besides, of far more pressing importance was sizing up the eleven fighters—already present—with whom she was about to engage in mortal combat. None rose to meet her, and no response met her greeting. Rather, the fighters had dispersed throughout the room to keep themselves as far apart from one another as possible. A table located in the center of the space offered an extravagant buffet, as if this were some fancy dinner party, but no one was eating, and no one was conversing. The atmosphere was so potently oppressive that an average person might buckle under the pressure of just being there. But to Boar, the sensation was a thing to be savored, and she lightly licked her lips as if to taste it.

More familiar faces here than I expected, she thought. As she examined her adversaries, her expression remained blank, save for the faint smirk she maintained in duty to her status. Ox … and Sheep. Chicken, and Dog. Ah, and this one—I’ve never seen her in person before, but she must be Tiger. And there’s Monkey. Well, I suppose that unpleasant woman was bound to be here. Now, that kid sleeping against the wall … him, I don’t know.

Then she noticed the severed head, the stump of the neck dark red; it must have been cut free with a very sharp blade. Not letting the surprise reach her expression, she moved only her eyes and searched for the matching body and immediately found it, as it too had been casually discarded on the floor. There was no art to be found in the sight, just a severed head and a toppled corpse. Boar had thought the room’s mood seemed heavy, even considering the killings that would soon commence, and this, it appeared, was the cause.

Looks like one fighter was so careless, he got himself killed before we even started. Apparently, something had gone down before she arrived. She glanced at the decidedly odd-looking man standing closest to the corpse.

“Hmm?” the man said, tilting his head as if Boar’s arrival had only now reached his attention. “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. Don’t go accusing anyone when you don’t have any proof.”

He pointed at her with a large, blood-soaked blade, the gesture too casual to be intended as a threat. It was as if he meant to point a finger at her, and his hand just happened to be holding a sword. To this man, pointing a finger and pointing a sword were the same thing. Since Boar considered her machine guns to be just another part of her body, the two warriors shared this common understanding, if little else. Another unsettling convergence came from the second sword he held in his other hand. Something akin to two long-bladed hatchets, the twin weapons possessed a matching size, design, and menace. Two swords, meet two machine guns.

Not that this should suggest the two fighters shared any affinity. His second sword was still pristine, but she sensed that if he got any closer to her, he wouldn’t hesitate to paint that shiny metal red to match.

Proof? Boar thought. I’m pretty sure that blood-drenched blade is proof enough. Before she could decide if the man was attempting to provoke her or if he was just plain crazy, a voice spoke.

“Welcome, fighters.”

A silk-hatted old man was standing at a window with the blotted-out skyline at his back. No sound had betrayed his arrival. No opening door, no footstep—it was as if he had been there the entire time. All eyes turned to him, save for those of the sleeping youth, who showed no sign of awakening.

“Now that everyone has arrived,” the old man continued, “we shall commence the Twelfth Zodiac War. Everybody, clap your hands!”

He applauded vigorously. To what was surely no one’s surprise, none of the combatants joined in.

Unperturbed by the chilly reception, the man went on. “I am Duodecuple, and I’ve been given the honor of being your referee for this great battle. Pleased to make your acquaintances.”

The picture of humility and respect, Duodecuple offered a deep bow.

Well, I don’t see myself ever pronouncing that name right, Boar thought, otherwise mostly uninterested in the man’s arrival. He had interrupted—and spoiled—the tense moment between her and the sword-wielding man, who now seemed to have forgotten about her and was instead staring at Duodecuple with a strange gleam in his eyes. Some others might have taken the swordsman’s demeanor as that of rapt attention, but Boar knew better—he was trying to decide whether or not he could kill the old man on the spot.

So, Boar thought, he determines friend and foe according to whom he can and cannot kill. Surprise, surprise. I thought I’d be the only one here who worked that way.

She wondered if the old man detected the menace hidden in the swordsman’s stare.

Duodecuple said, “Without any further ado, let’s go over the rules, shall we? If you please, direct your attention to the central table.”

Somehow, the table had been cleared and the food replaced with twelve murky-black, jewel-like orbs. Murky, but beautiful. Each jewel was identical in size, color, and otherwise, but the significance of their number—twelve—was not lost on Boar.

“Everyone,” the judge said, “please take one apiece.”

Keeping their eyes on each other, the twelve fighters approached the table to collect their orbs.

Although, not all twelve—remaining motionless were the dead one, obviously, and the sleeping one too.

If that kid doesn’t wake up, Boar thought, he’ll just lose via forfeit.

But to her surprise, one combatant shook him awake on the way back from claiming an orb.

I see you’re still refusing to mind your own business, Monkey.

Monkey and Boar hadn’t shared the same battlefield in quite some time, but apparently the woman’s meddlesome streak hadn’t changed. After their last encounter, Boar figured that the next time the two met, one of them would die, and present circumstances called for no revision to that sentiment.

The jewel’s murky black appeared darker up close. Rolling her jewel in her fingers, Boar thought, What surprises me is that, with all these fighters and all their apparent peculiarities, especially this dangerous one—she glanced at the sword-wielding man—they’re each following to the letter the instructions of this so-called judge, a man we’ve never seen or heard before. I guess that just goes to show how major an event this Zodiac War is. I mean, I knew that going in, but one can’t really comprehend it until one’s here.

Without a token word of thanks to Monkey, the awakened boy sleepily claimed his orb. Now only one remained unclaimed.

“Hey, Mr. Judge guy,” one fighter said, raising his hand. “Since my brother’s orb is left over, I don’t see there’s any problem in my taking it, is there?”

When Boar turned her attention to the face of the man who was so brazenly attempting to gain a leg-up on his competition, what she saw startled her. His face was a nearly identical match to the one on the severed head, which by now was drawing no particular notice. There were differences in expression, of course—one was animated and the other frozen in an anguished death grimace—but once seen, the similarities were unmistakable.

Were they twins? Boar wondered. Both had similar-looking tanks strapped onto their backs—perhaps some kind of weapon. Twin fighters … Could they be those criminals, the Tatsumi Brothers?

Though some might have been offended by the man caring more about the worth of the jewels than the death of his twin brother, Duodecuple’s response was placid. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind. Take it.”

The twin scooped up the orb intended for his brother with a victorious laugh. “How about that? Score!”

“However,” Duodecuple continued. “I’m going to have to ask you to swallow only one.”

“Wait, what? Swallow? This thing?”

“Yes. And that goes for all of you. Please swallow your jewels—without biting them, mind you. Water has been provided should you need it.”

Boar hesitated, not because she desired her jewel for its value—she had never wanted for money—but the size of the thing held her back for a moment. But when the swordsman swallowed his, followed by the sleeping youth, and then Monkey, Boar sensed this was no time for indecision. This battle might have just been starting, but it had started. Any open sign of fear would designate her the first target. Besides, her pride wouldn’t allow such a public display of cowardice.

“Has everyone swallowed their jewels?” Duodecuple asked, surveying the room. “All right, allow me to explain what they are. Those little orbs are a kind of crystallized poison. We call them beast gems. When ingested by a human, they undergo a unique chemical reaction with gastric acid and become fatal in roughly twelve hours.”

This might have been a shocking announcement, but of the eleven combatants, none reacted with surprise. As soon as they had been told to swallow the jewels—if not sooner—they all recognized the gems weren’t there to improve their health. Boar hadn’t figured out the tasteless crystal was poison, but when the reveal came, her thoughts were along the lines of, Yeah, that makes sense. If anything, it was anticlimactic.

The twin who had claimed his brother’s spare orb said, “Damn, I’m not going to get any money for poison,” but he still pocketed it in a shrewd move that belied his superficial front.

Duodecuple continued, “The jewels have been shaped in such a way that regurgitation is impossible. My deepest apologies for the inconvenience. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go over the basic rules. I won’t repeat them, so please listen attentively. That said, the rules have been simplified this time around, and there should be no room for confusion. The Eleventh Zodiac War got a little overly complicated, and we’re not above recognizing when we’ve made a mistake.”

“The fighter who collects all twelve orbs will be the victor and will be granted a single wish—any wish at all.”

Simple indeed. But it did leave some room for questions. Whether or not Boar wanted to do the asking herself, she wasn’t sure. If possible, she would have liked to observe the other combatants asking—depending on who asked and the questions they raised, she might be able to glean crucial information about her adversaries for the coming death match. Now was an opportunity to find out something about the natures of the fighters she hadn’t yet met.

Unfortunately, the first inquiry came from a fighter she already knew well—Ox.

Well, what fighter wouldn’t know “the Natural”?

“Mr. Duodecuple, sir,” Ox said, correctly pronouncing the judge’s name, “if we’ve all taken poison, doesn’t that mean that win or lose, we’re all going to die?”

Ox was a distinctly morose man with black hair almost as long as he was tall—and he was undoubtedly a favorite to win. Boar thought him foolish for asking the question as soon as it came to him, without regard for strategy. On the other hand, he’d never needed to resort to trickery to win a battle.

“An obvious question,” Duodecuple replied. “I hope the obvious answer will suffice. You need not be concerned. The victor will be provided the antidote. Consider it a bonus prize.”

In other words, it was win or die. And not only that, but becoming the sole survivor wasn’t good enough on its own—complete victory had to come within twelve hours, or the antidote might come too late. If anyone was going to survive this battle, he or she needed to secure the win within the allotted time. Considering the caliber of the chosen fighters, this was not going to be a simple task.

But that’s not the real issue …

As if finishing Boar’s thought, Ox asked, “You said that the orbs react to stomach acid, right? That means that they’ll dissolve in our stomachs?”

“That is correct,” the judge responded, “and astute as well. The exact rate of absorption will vary slightly from person to person, but the process is one-way and absolute. As the time limit approaches, the jewels will begin to shrink and eventually disappear.”

If the poison should completely dissolve in the stomach of just one fighter, no one could win. No matter how you counted it, eleven capsules weren’t going to be enough.

“Might I add another question?”

It was Sheep who’d spoken up now. He was a small old man, and unfortunately for Boar, another fighter already known to her—although she had understood him to be retired.

He might be older than even Duode … whoever, Boar thought, her internal monologue stumbling over the judge’s name. Sheep is practically a legend. Not only did I assume he had retired, I half expected him to be dead by now. I hate to complain, but his being here is going to be a problem.

Sheep continued, “My combat style is … how could I put it? A bit fierce, I’d say. This isn’t the time or place to show my hand, of course, but you see, I’ve come prepared to utilize some high explosives, should the need arise. Of course, I’ll try to avoid such occasions, but what happens if, contrary to my intentions, I happen to destroy an orb in the process of obtaining it?”

For supposedly not showing his hand, the old man had gone out of his way to make it clear he had explosives. Hiding the attempt at intimidating the other fighters behind a question was a crafty ploy from a veteran conniver.

That’s just what I despise about him. But I could ask the question about my machine guns too. The ammo could easily shatter such jewels.

“Have no fear,” the judge said. “The poison gems will only react with fresh human stomach acid. Nothing else can harm them—no matter how destructive the physical force may be. If you would like, you may test it for yourself.”

“No, no,” Sheep said. “There’s no need for that. Your word is good enough for me.” No need to press the issue—his question had achieved its intended purpose. Besides, this was the Zodiac War, and its combatants would be bringing a grand assortment of destructive forces beyond explosives and bullets. The organizers wouldn’t have prepared gems so easily broken.

“I have one last question,” Ox said, reclaiming control of the discussion. “We’ve all put these durable little gems into our bodies. How are we supposed to collect them now?”

Duodecuple replied, “I’ll leave the method up to your own abilities and judgments, but if I might offer a suggestion, I would think slitting open the stomach to be the simplest solution.”

With a bow simultaneously fawning and snobbish, the judge of the Zodiac War said, “You are all world-class fighters, tenacious and resilient. May you find the victory you seek.” And then he was gone—as if he had never been there at all.

Then, just as Boar began considering how she could best seize the upper hand, another fighter spoke up, interrupting her thoughts.

“Everyone, may I have your attention?”

It was Monkey.

She had clearly caught the other fighters off guard and easily claimed the first move. She spoke with a congenial smile vastly out of place amid the tense atmosphere that only thickened after Duodecuple’s speech.

“I have a proposal,” she said. “Under the rules of this Zodiac War, none of us need to die—as long as we all cooperate.”

Such a ridiculous suggestion hardly came as a surprise from Monkey. Boar could all too easily see what the woman was thinking.

How magnanimous, as always. She’s surely scheming up some kind of collusion, like deciding on a winner who will then use their one and only wish to bring everyone else back to life. Just like her to sell an obvious idea as if it were something brilliant. As if anyone would waste a precious wish on something so frivolous as reviving the others.

“Can I count on anyone to cooperate?”

What is this, a charity drive? Boar felt herself getting angry at Monkey’s tone, but then let it go. Whether or not Monkey was being genuine, the woman was making herself stand out. She had placed herself squarely in the middle of the other fighters’ crosshairs. While the other fighters focused on taking Monkey out, Boar could take her sweet time perfecting her plan of action.

Then one hand slowly made its way upward. Someone was actually offering to join her.

It was the sleepy youth.

Come on, kid, can’t you see the opening she’s handing to you? What kind of warrior are you?

Even now the boy’s head sagged and jolted back up, as if he might fall back asleep at any moment. “I’d like nothing better,” he said, his speech torpid and halting—more like talking in his sleep than anything else, “than to get through this … without anyone dying.”

Boar started to get the feeling she’d heard his voice somewhere, but no actual memories stirred, even when he continued. “But let me guess your plan … You want us to make you the winner … then you’ll bring us all back to life?”

It was a plan easier said than done. As for the familiarity of his voice, Boar chalked it up to just her imagination.

“That’s not quite what my plan is,” Monkey replied, her cheerful voice buoyed by the show of support. “If we do it that way, some of you might harbor doubts that I will hold up my end. My method comes with better assurances.”

Hmph. All right, maybe she used that monkey brain to actually think about this.

As much as she derided the woman in her thoughts, Boar hadn’t a clue as to Monkey’s plan. Despite holding an unquenchable hatred toward the serial meddler, Boar certainly didn’t discount her as a threat, and she knew she had to do more than just stand by and watch this development.

But while Boar was contemplating the situation, two more raised their hands, one after the other, to join the sleepy youth.

This is bad. Now Ox and Chicken are joining in.

Then another slowly lifted his hand—a massive man unknown to Boar. With the boy and Monkey, that made five. Nearly half the assembled forces. The youth had probably joined in out of gratitude toward Monkey for waking him up, or some other equally childish reason, but his actions had prodded the fighters from merely scoping each other out into suddenly taking action. Simply watching and letting this happen was a failure Boar could never undo. Whether or not Monkey’s scheme could succeed, this battle royale was about to start with nearly half the players forming an alliance. Any way Boar looked at it, this was not good news to her. Worse yet was Ox’s presence in their number—even alone, he posed a major threat.

I have to do something to stop this right now. One more hand, and their alliance will number six out of eleven.

But to unleash two machine guns with reckless abandon and plunge the room into chaos would not be principled. To remain true to herself required fighting with elegance and style.

Fortunately, Boar didn’t have to do anything. A sixth fighter raised his hand. Rather, he raised a blood-stained sword. It was the sword-wielding man with the menacing stare. In quick response, Ox, Chicken, and the giant quietly lowered their hands. The sword-wielder’s participation had driven three from the armistice plan. Boar wasn’t surprised. Even if that man’s sword had been clean of blood, he gave off such an unmistakable aura of danger that anyone who failed to notice it could hardly be considered a fighter.

“All right,” Monkey said. “Thank you. I’m just happy that two other peace-seekers are here. Everyone else—if you ever change your mind, you’re always welcome to seek me.”

In no conceivable scenario was that bladed man raising his arm with any form of sincerity, and here she was welcoming him. Was she so lacking a fighter’s instincts? And that tired boy—did he keep his hand up because he felt it was too late to withdraw?

Monkey continued, “Now, why don’t you two come over here, and we can—”

Movement. Someone other than Boar must have decided this had gone on long enough. Perhaps that person considered a team of three to be still a team that needed to be broken up before it could form.

It happened so suddenly Boar couldn’t tell who had done it, or how, but the next instant the floor split apart.

To the surprise of everyone but the mystery instigator, the fighters found the ground separate from their feet. As each recovered from their shock, they responded to the sudden forced descent in their own ways.

The Twelfth Zodiac War was on.

When Boar landed on the floor below amid the cascade of debris, the other fighters had already scattered. Only she had chosen to land with as much poise as possible; the others seemed to have prioritized using the chaos to leave the scene undetected.

How so very smart of them, Boar thought.

As long as there was a time limit, the fighters couldn’t stay concealed forever, but neither would anyone who qualified for this prestigious battle be pressured into acting rashly.

I don’t know who broke apart the floor, but whoever it is, I’d better be on my guard. Either they have some superhuman power, or they arrived early to set a trap.

Whatever the case, collapsing the floor was a big move that stopped Team Monkey before it could form. That a team held an advantage was an obvious truth—it was a simple numbers game—but to someone like Boar the concept of pacifism was so alien that even the idea of such a team was repellent. And if that sword-wielding man, clearly no pacifist himself, joined forces with Monkey and the drowsy boy, who knew what they would do?

Boar sensed that her first priority should be to kill Monkey before the alliance could reassemble and put into motion some plot. When she imagined what it would feel like to finally rid herself of that woman, Boar felt as if a load had lifted from her shoulders—and when she pictured herself tearing open Monkey’s stomach, she even felt a carnal thrill.

But these thoughts were interrupted by the sense of another presence—not that sensing it was any great feat. The presence emanated such strong waves of pure evil that the nearby rubble and debris would probably roll right off the building in an attempt to escape, had they the ability to do so.

Boar turned to find the sword-wielding man standing there. He hadn’t been there before—whether he had been under the rubble or if he had left and come back, she didn’t know.

“I could have started with anyone, you know,” the man said theatrically. “Wouldn’t matter to me. But you falsely accused me, you see. So I figured I ought to settle this grudge. Going into a battle with a clouded head is no way to win, don’t you think? The mental game is as important as anything, yeah? And you—you’re a bad person, leveling accusations when you don’t have no proof. Where’s your humanity?”

Boar was speechless. Judging by his incoherent rambling, Boar doubted any hope remained for his mental game. But she didn’t doubt his sincerity—it really could have been anyone he chose. The man came for her not out of any strategy, but because she had happened to leave an impression on him.

By informing her decision to arrive last, Boar’s pursuit of gentility had made her his first target. Perhaps it would have been better for Boar had Team Monkey gotten off the ground, as this man would surely have turned his blades on Monkey instead. That was how flighty his targeting was.

I so wish it didn’t have to be this way. To think I have to fight in Monkey’s place. Even worse, it’s almost like I’m protecting her.

As one part of Boar’s mind thought along those lines, the rest turned an analytical eye to her opponent and sized him up. He was hardly the type of man she enjoyed observing in detail, but she wasn’t about to go blindly into a fight just because her foe creeped her out.

Hmm … He’s so peculiar, it’s hard to get a good read on him, but I can tell he can fight. “Aura” is perhaps a word I prefer to reserve for those of a higher class, but he carries an air about him. Of all the fighters, only Ox and myself would stand a chance against him.

Whether she stood a chance or not, she wished she didn’t have to fight him. She had hoped to let her stronger adversaries battle it out among themselves. But she had never left much to hoping. Luxury was to be made, not asked for—such was her philosophy. This was the time to rise to action—to graceful action.

I truly wish I didn’t have to fight you so soon, but now you’ve chosen your death.

“I am Inōnoshishi, the Fighter of the Boar. I kill in abundance.”

“I am Usagi, the Fighter of the Rabbit. I kill with distinction.”

So he knew enough manners to properly introduce himself.

Boar readied her two machine guns, Aishū and Inochigoi, to fill her enemy with holes. If she were to believe Duodecuple, no matter how many holes her bullets punched through him, the gem would remain unharmed and intact. She could take her time sifting through the blood and meat to find it.

The sword-wielding man—Rabbit, apparently—raised his giant weapons and rushed at her in a bounding charge, but any way you looked at it, her bullets would be faster. Though the woman greatly admired the determination behind his unflinching attack in the face of her twin barrels, a blind charge was perhaps the worst move anyone could make against her.

Just as her fingers squeezed the triggers, someone was grabbing her arms from behind, pinning them to her back. She managed to fire, but her machine guns had been thrown off target. Not one bullet even grazed Rabbit.

But his swords did not miss.

The two blades skewered her and went right on through to whoever had seized her from behind.

For a moment, she wondered if he had gone for her heart. But no, it was her esophagus. This hadn’t been some blind attack, but rather a precise incision to remove her gem. He had claimed her life with a familiar and methodical ease, as if he were merely opening the perforated plastic wrap of a pack of pocket tissues.

And he even stabbed his ally too …

In that brief moment he had disappeared after the floor’s collapse, Rabbit had formed an alliance and staged an attack on Boar. She never would have imagined him to be so persuasive or sociable to pull it off, but what other explanation could there be?

And who was it? Who was so sneaky and so underhanded as to get behind me without my noticing and pin my arms?

Using all of her remaining strength, she twisted her neck to look over her shoulder. What she saw shocked her even more than the blades that had penetrated her esophagus. But it wasn’t the face of the figure that surprised her. It couldn’t have, because there was no face. There was no head at all.

What had grabbed her was a headless corpse—a corpse that until moments earlier had been on the floor. Sure enough, it would have come down with the rest of the rubble.

“You—you,” Boar said as blood flooded the edges of her eyes. She turned her head forward. No more time to choose the most elegant words. “You’re a necromancer!”

“No, a necromanticist,” Rabbit said, pulling his blades free of the woman and the corpse. “I can make friends with people I’ve killed.”

No wonder she hadn’t sensed the thing creeping up behind her. He was already dead.

“That’s the Fighter of the Snake, by the way,” Rabbit said, entirely amicable. “I’m sorry I lied about not killing him. It was just a precaution. You see, I thought you might be aware of my abilities. I didn’t want you to think I’d brought him to my side.”

He hadn’t fooled her, of course. Not that she had any breath left to say so.

I can’t believe this is my end.

The proud woman brought to total disgrace, Boar slumped lifelessly to the floor. The last words she heard, before that thing within that defined her as her drifted away, drove the fallen warrior not to shame but to despair.

“Please forgive me, all right? Because from now on, you’ll be my friend too.”

And with that, only moments after the start of the Zodiac War, the representative for the previous contest’s winning sign met with defeat—and Rabbit’s corpse alliance was born.

Rabbit vs. Boar

End of the 1st Battle