Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

The secret organization Tsukuyomi and its parent group, the Tsukimori Syndicate, exist in a legally dark shade of gray—almost black.
Their origins go back to the “Super Water Sphere Incident” that happened three and a half years ago.

After the incident—when the existence of supernatural powers first became known to the world—Japan saw a massive influx of foreign tourists. Most of them were well-behaved, but with numbers that large, some odd ones were bound to mix in. Quite a few foreigners without homes, money, or jobs slipped into the country, and the public order took a hit.
With Japan’s legal system half-baked and manpower stretched thin, the nation’s response quickly reached its limit—and the yakuza took advantage of that vacuum to expand their influence.
That’s when the Tsukimori Syndicate stepped in to stop them.

Centered around a Tokyo philanthropist named Tsukimori Tsuyoshi, the syndicate was formed by undocumented foreigners who banded together to resist the yakuza trying to exploit them. They were on the verge of being crushed when a mysterious amnesiac psychic appeared out of nowhere—and after one thing led to another, the syndicate ended up taking control of Tokyo’s underworld.
In short, the Tsukimori Syndicate are the yakuza who rule Tokyo. Tsukuyomi is their militant, secret-operations division—a combat-oriented unit that handles assassinations of rival groups and other covert activities using psychic powers.
Yeah. Sounds pretty badass.

And, well, it actually is badass—but their top boss is a musclebound maniac in a wheelchair who wears a garbage bag over his head and swings around gravestones; their strategist is some fat guy wearing a traffic cone on his head and strumming a guitar in the back; they have a bullet-dodging ninja; and even a loli-grandma elf engineer from another world mixed in there. It’s utter chaos.
What’s worse, none of them are just dressing up for fun—they each have actual reasons for being like that. It’s honestly beyond saving. I want to tell them to tone down the clown parade already.

Tsukuyomi also clashes with another, more orthodox (?) secret organization—Amaterasu. The two have crossed paths and come to blows multiple times.
As a former Tsukuyomi member and current Amaterasu leader, I’d definitely like to keep the story moving toward more of those flashy psychic showdowns.

Which brings us to the matter of international expansion.
Amaterasu is currently setting up branches overseas—so Tsukuyomi, too, needs to establish its own foreign branches.

First, for the sake of balance.
Amaterasu has over ten psychics on its roster. Meanwhile Tsukuyomi only has three. That’s a difference of more than threefold! Total disadvantage! Sure, a comeback from such a position would make for a thrilling story, but realistically speaking, that’s a tough gap to close. Numbers are power—no amount of clever tricks can bridge that easily. We need at least two or three more capable recruits so we can actually put up a fight when things heat up.

The second reason: money.
Unlike Amaterasu, which has wealthy patrons, corporations, and even a queen of a small nation backing it, Tsukuyomi is constantly gasping for funds.
They could easily squeeze profits out of Tokyo’s underworld, but the boss, Tsukimori Oyabun, is too much of a good person. Every yen of profit goes into welfare for the members—housing, medical treatment, childcare subsidies, celebration bonuses, and so on.

Most Syndicate members are illegal workers—they do their best to earn, but profits are thin, and expenses always outweigh income.
That’s why, according to the Tsukuyomi advisor, Lonalia Linalia Baba-nyan, setting up an overseas branch that could serve as a base for a little “grey trade” would really help pad the wallet.

And that’s how I ended up here—at the docks of Qitiaohe City, a coastal economic special zone in China. I just got off the passenger ship, with Baba perched on my shoulders, browsing a souvenir shop full of seafood trinkets.
Starting today, she and I are launching Operation Tsukuyomi Branch Establishment. Shiori’s working separately. Originally, Shiori and I were supposed to split up one-on-one, but after seeing how sloppy I was during our Middle East mission, she assigned Baba to me as a babysitter. *I appreciate it. Sorry that the world’s strongest psychic is in need of nursing care.*

Qitiaohe City is a massive metropolis with a population of nine million. Wedged between Vladivostok in the south of Russia and North Korea, facing the Sea of Japan, the city thrives on trade. It’s technically Chinese territory, but as a special economic zone for Sino-Russian, Sino-Korean, and Sino-Japanese trade, it enjoys such broad exemptions that administratively, it’s practically an independent country.
Its economy has boomed in recent years—towering skyscrapers packed with multinational companies, bustling downtown streets alive with delivery trucks, laughter, and chatter from every direction.
Even wandering through the souvenir shop, I could hear a jumble of unfamiliar languages mixing together, creating a dizzying atmosphere. *I’m sorry, where’s the Japanese…?*

“Do not look so anxious. I’ve memorized all the languages commonly spoken in Qitiaohe City.”

Baba said, pushing up her oversized sunglasses that didn’t fit her face and patting my head casually. “
Baba’s outfit for the day: distressed denim short pants, a leopard-print shirt, and silver hair braided into four strands—stuffed with so many cosmos flowers that she looked parasitized by them. A silver chain on her hip kept swinging and tapping annoyingly against my ear.
Acting all cute and trendy despite her age… though I can’t talk much myself, what with my black suit, black sunglasses, and hair slicked back with half a tub of pomade—full-on yakuza lieutenant style.

“I’m counting on you, seriously. Your translation’s all I’ve got.”
“And what would you have done without me, hmm?”
“Google Translate.”
“You were going to recruit people into a secret organization using Google Translate…?”

Yeah, can’t blame her for being horrified.
Even if I waved my phone around, stammering through a recruitment pitch in broken Chinese with the translation and text-to-speech going off, nobody in their right mind would agree to join.
I thought I could make it work with enthusiasm and a little psychic demonstration, but I guess that was naive. Shiori laughed when I said the same thing to her, so that’s probably answer enough.

After window-shopping a while longer, I bought Baba some seaweed snacks for the road, and then we headed toward the residential district—map in hand—slipping through the gaps in the crowd.

Our target this time: a boy known for his classic tale of courage, jumping into a flooded river to rescue a kitten floating away on a cardboard box—Wang Haoran-kun.