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.”

Doraemon waddled after him, his bell jingling. And in that small, messy, imperfect room full of zero-point test papers and half-eaten dorayaki, the algorithm finally settled.

“Making the result permanent.”