Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

Led by big bro Tabby, I arrived behind one of Jinbei Industries’ rental warehouses in the harbor area.
Jinbei Industries is a trading company in Qitaohe City.
They make money mainly through warehouse and container rental, and their business size is mid-tier.

I remembered them because they were on the list of companies that might be used for smuggling.

“Mew (eat).”

Big bro Tabby stopped, sat down, and pointed with his chin at the top of an outdoor A/C unit. On top of the warm outdoor unit lay a single cheap sausage.
Huh? I see?

The outdoor units attached to warehouses that store refrigerated goods are always warm. Perfect for heating something. They even have a roof that probably serves as a rain cover, and thanks to the concrete foundation that raises them several centimeters above ground, the area beneath doesn’t flood and stays dry. There’s even a torn, filthy blanket covered in cat hair spread out. Must be a bed.
It’s perfect as a base for a stray cat.

“Thank you for the meal.”
“Mrrow (you speak)?!”

Since I was a bit hungry, I gratefully reached for the sausage, and Big bro Tabby jumped up in shock. Yeah, I can talk. Only because I’m borrowing the translation-ability serum made from Tai-yi’s ability, though.

“Is it bad if a human talks?”
“Mew… mrr, meow mew (No… Don’t tell me, are you actually a cat)?”
“So you figured it out.”
“Meow (I knew it).”

Why are you making that “I saw through you” voice, bro? Says the guy who said it, but the cat-recognition standards are too loose.
If someone speaks cat-language, are they automatically a cat? Of course not. Everyone can… actually no, no one can speak cat-language.
If you speak cat-language, I guess you’re basically a cat. Maybe I just think I’m human but I’m actually a cat. No? No.

I take the sausage, warmed faintly to about body temperature, and sit beside the outdoor unit. When I lean against the warehouse wall, Big bro Tabby slips right between my crossed legs. Huh? What’s your deal, I’m gonna pet you, dam nit.

“What’s the expiration date on this?”
“Mrrow (The what)?”
“Ah, if you don’t know then never mind.”

There’s no way a cat knows what an expiration date is.
It’s still wrapped in plastic, but it has clear cat bite marks, which worries me sanitation-wise.
Still, I probably won’t die from eating it.

While munching the sausage, I listened to Big bro Tabby’s story.
He says his name is Huang-hu. Not given by anyone—he’s just a yellow tabby, so people called him Huang-hu. That name stuck well enough to him.

Abandoned when he was still a kitten, Huang-hu survived desperately in the dog-eat-dog world of stray cats.
He stole fish from the fish market, pilfered squid from freshly landed boats, ran for his life from kids chasing him for fun, begged scraps off people eating while walking, fought older strays over dry sleeping spots, went into the stinking sewers to hunt rats, got food poisoning and shivered alone as he slept…

He survived without dying, but he had no friends, was covered in wounds, and even lost one eye.
Cats can live alone if they have to. Unlike humans. But at unexpected moments, he said he feels lonely. He misses the faint, far-off warmth of the mother cat he barely remembers.
That’s why, seeing me crouched alone in the rain looking miserable, he saw himself in me and helped me.

“Meow meow. Mrrow (That’s why I understand your feeling. You’ve been all alone this whole time, haven’t you)?”

Huang-hu rubbed his head against my thigh, sympathetic.

“Ah…”

I… I can’t say it. I can’t say I have an ultra-beautiful wife with a great personality, status, honor, money, and abilities, that I’m blessed with comrades, and that every day is fun. If I say I’m nowhere near lonely and just followed him because it seemed fun, he’ll murder me.

As I hesitated, Huang-hu pulled out a shriveled persimmon from under the outdoor unit with his front paw.

“Meow (You eat that, too).”
“You eat it, Huang-hu.”
“Mrrow (I’m rather full myself).”

Right after I said that, Huang-hu’s stomach growled, but he stubbornly tried to make me eat it.
Huang-hu, you’re so skinny and beat-up, and you still do this for me. A bit of sand or mold doesn’t matter. Not eating it here would disgrace psychic powers.

Feeling my stomach getting slightly upset, I lay down beside the outdoor unit, held Huang-hu close, and closed my eyes.
Maybe because we can communicate, or because of his nature, but in just a few hours Huang-hu has opened up to me across species lines like an old friend of many years. From my arms I can feel the soft thump of his heartbeat and his warmth.

It’s warm. So warm…
He’s kind. Huang-hu is so kind…
This is enough to make me cry…

The next morning, I woke up with Huang-hu. The rain had stopped.
The translation had worn off, so I injected myself with another serum (Huang-hu was terrified watching me stab a needle into my own arm), and I asked Huang-hu about his plans for the day.
The kindhearted big bro Tabby said he deliberately avoids overlapping active hours with other strays to prevent conflict. Because of that, he only goes out during limited night hours. Since he misses the timing when food is easiest to find, even earning enough to eat is barely manageable. But if he pushes himself and competes with others, fights break out, he gets injured, and it ends up worse. Huang-hu isn’t a strong fighter. His poor nutrition and thin body put him at a disadvantage.

Lapping at a puddle, Huang-hu mewed in frustration.

“Meow meow… (If only I had more power…)”
“…If you gained power, what would you do?”
“Mrrow. Mew meow, meow (I”ll eat until I’m full. And I’ll feed you too, friend).”

He answered immediately.
His words had conviction.
He’s a cat who, even when suffering, in pain, and starving, helped me—a different species—by giving up some of his own wellbeing.
You don’t meet guys like this often.

I have an outrageous power called telekinesis. I help people only because I have the margin to do so. I can help because I have power.
If someone asked me whether I could still help others if I had no power, was cornered, and completely alone like him, I’d have zero confidence.
Huang-hu is amazing. Truly.

I made up my mind, pressed my fingertips under my eyes, and stood.

“I’m going out for a bit.”
“…Meow (…Will you come back)?”
“I definitely will.”

For the first time since last night, I visited Baba who was staying at a business hotel near Haoran-kun’s house.
The moment Baba opened the door and saw me covered in cat hair on my clothes, she grimaced, but she let me in.
Rummaging through her carry-bag, she tossed me one of those lint rollers while asking:

“Where were you yesterday? I wasn’t worried, but at least send word my way.”
“That one’s my bad. Say, Baba.”
“What is it.”
“I think Huang-hu is more suited to be the boss than Tai-yi.”
“…?”
“But your point about supporting Tai-yi also makes sense, and we can’t just abandon Haoran-kun halfway either.”
“Wait, start from the beginning.”
“Yeah, basically,”

I’ve got a good idea.