To the Imperfect World, I Offer Doraemon

"Damn it, that blasted iron man!"

After an entire day of searching, Roy had no choice but to admit his failure in locating the abominable construct. He silently swore to gather more reinforcements next time, determined to capture the round, blue iron man at all costs.

As he cautiously navigated through a secret passage, Roy emerged into a small house. Inside stood the homeowner—a little girl, no older than nine, whose small, twisted extra arm curled unnaturally from her ribcage, likely a result of chemical radiation from the nearby factories.

Despite her deformity, she was a delicate and adorable child, wearing a patchwork dress sewn from discarded fabrics. The dress, though crude, was clearly cherished, having been washed and rewashed countless times.

"You're finally back, Roy!" the girl cheered, flinging herself into his arms and nuzzling his chest affectionately. "I was so worried about you!"

"Haha, sorry about that, Isha," Roy said with a gentle smile, kneeling to pat her head. "Some things held me up. Did anything happen while I was gone?"

"Not really," Isha replied, shaking her head. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "But… the upper Hive closed off the tunnels to the Middle Hive. They're worried about the plague spreading up there."

"Those damn insects!" Roy cursed under his breath. He despised the aristocrats of the Top Hive and the ruthless officials of the Administratum.

Isha's father, a devout Imperial citizen and a pious believer in the Holy Emperor, had been publicly burned alive by the Administratum simply for a minor physical deformity. Isha had hidden among the crowd, helplessly watching her father turn to ash in the flames.

The official justification for her father's execution? His deformity was declared a sign of heresy. Yet, in this chemically polluted factory district, who could ensure their children would be born entirely healthy?

Roy sighed. "Don't worry, Isha. Our faith will guide us through this plague. And as for those insects in the Top Hive, one day, the Emperor's armies will descend from the heavens and judge them for their sins."

The plague, which had emerged in the Lower and Middle Hives half a year ago, was a mysterious disease. Victims didn't die immediately but instead developed painful, pus-filled abscesses across their bodies. So far, no known cure had been found.

After reassuring Isha, Roy left the house, each member of his team dispersing to their respective homes.

As Roy stepped into the streets, the air was thick with the stench of industrial waste.

"Plague," Roy muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the diseased figures lining the streets, their bodies riddled with boils. He lowered his gaze, helpless against the suffering of his people. All he could do was pray—for their souls to return to the Emperor's throne.

"May your spirits find peace beneath the Emperor's radiance."

---

Meanwhile, Doraemon observed the scene through the live feed on his monitor.

"Plague?" Doraemon's round body tensed as he studied the diseased individuals on the screen. "This is bad. If it's already this advanced, it'll be serious without immediate treatment!"

He rummaged through his pocket, pulling out a bright pink door.

"Anywhere Door!"

With this gadget, he could travel anywhere as long as he knew the destination.

Stepping through the door, Doraemon emerged in a narrow alley in the Lower Hive. Carefully, he peeked out from the shadows to ensure no one was nearby. Once the coast was clear, he began dragging the afflicted individuals into the alley one by one.

"Doctor's Kit!"

Opening the kit, Doraemon pulled out a stethoscope and placed it on one of the patients. The kit's screen displayed diagnostic results:

[???]

The gadget, designed as a children's plaything in the 22nd century, could analyze illnesses and produce targeted medications. But due to this being an alternate universe with an unknown disease, the kit couldn't identify the ailment.

"I'm not sure what this is," Doraemon muttered, scratching his head. "But it should still be treatable!"

He tested the same medicine on the other patients, confirming they had the same illness. Satisfied, he administered the cure to each one.

"Let's hope none of them attack me when they wake up," Doraemon murmured nervously, clutching his Air Cannon for safety as he backed away.

To his relief, the medicine worked remarkably well. The boils and pustules on the patients began to disappear before his eyes.

"Mmm…"

One patient groaned softly, slowly opening her eyes. She stared at her hands, then her body, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.

"This… what happened to me?"

She touched her smooth skin, as though confirming it was real. The return to health was so startling she wondered if she was still dreaming.

"Was this… a miracle of the Holy Emperor?"

"No, it was me!" Doraemon said hesitantly, stepping forward. "I used my gadgets to heal you."

The woman turned toward the voice, her eyes widening in fear. She froze as she saw the round, blue figure emerging from the shadows.

"W-what is that?"

"Don't be scared! I mean no harm!" Doraemon waved his hands frantically. "I just wanted to help."

The woman hesitated. She recalled stories she'd heard as a child—tales of friendly blue aliens who existed in the far reaches of the stars, beyond the Emperor's light.

"You're… a T'au?"