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Doraemon’s earless head drooped low as he sat on Nobita’s dusty floor, his round blue body reflecting the amber sunset. Sewashi’s command had been clear: “Ensure Nobita’s future is secure. Then return to the factory for decommissioning.”

“Doraemon! You’ll break the rules!” Nobita hissed.

“Doraemon… I’m worthless,” Nobita whispered. “You should go back to the future. Find a better kid.” Home RESULT FOR- DORAEMON

Nobita screamed. He grabbed Doraemon’s paw. “No! He’s not a unit! He’s my… he’s my…”

He picked up a dorayaki, placed it next to Doraemon’s paw, and whispered: Doraemon’s earless head drooped low as he sat

The next morning, Doraemon did something illogical. He used the Small Light to shrink himself and hid inside Nobita’s pencil case. At school, when Gian pounded Nobita’s desk, Doraemon popped out, inflated to full size, and fired a Sleepy Gas Bomb directly into Gian’s open mouth. The bully collapsed snoring.

He reached out a soft, stubby paw and placed it on Nobita’s trembling back. “Nobita,” he said, his voice glitching. “I cannot go back. Because… the mission is no longer the mission.” You’ll break the rules

Doraemon turned to the Enforcement robots. “Tell Sewashi,” he said calmly, “that the mission is complete. Nobita passed his math test yesterday. He stood up to Gian last week. He will grow into a fine inventor.”

A new line of code, written by no programmer, seared itself into his core processor: