Heaven never grants a person two gifts at once.
What he was given was an enormous range for his technique, along with Cursed Energy output far beyond what his actual strength should have allowed.
What he was not given… was freedom.
For Kokichi Muta, if possessing overwhelming power could be called happiness, then perhaps the world would have felt gentler to him.
But what heaven gave him was not hope.
It was a curse.
His skin was so fragile that even moonlight could burn it. Missing a right hand and a leg, his body confined him to a sealed room connected to life-support equipment. To be precise, his entire range of movement was the three-by-four-meter space surrounding that machine.
"Kokichi" was the first blessing he had received at birth.
Though heaven had taken his healthy body, his parents had never abandoned their broken child. Surrounded by their love, he managed to live until the age of eleven.
But Kokichi had matured far too early.
He understood that he could never do anything "useful" for his parents. He couldn't care for himself. He couldn't become their future. He couldn't even carry forward their hopes.
To two ordinary people, his existence was nothing but an endless drain on their savings—a curse without an end in sight.
So Kokichi used his Cursed Energy to manipulate a simple "stick figure" construct outside, sending it to exorcise Fly Heads again and again.
He never tried to hide what he was doing.
And so, on the day before his twelfth birthday, Kyoto Jujutsu High finally discovered him.
After a brief exchange with the people they sent, he chose to fake his death and enter Jujutsu High under their protection.
At the same time, it freed his parents from being shackled to the child who had been born broken.
In that dim room, he lived alone for four years.
Aside from medical staff, only a few elderly figures came to visit from time to time, speaking to him about their ideals and convictions.
And whenever those elders came, one teacher named Akira Zenin would accompany them.
That man left him something that could only be called salvation.
A television.
Without it, he might have lost his mind long ago.
Most of the early programs were aimed at children, but Kokichi never found them boring. In fact, one robot anime left an especially deep impression on him.
It told the story of a mechanical armored hero who fought evil head-on.
No matter how many times it fell, it would rise again.
And in the end, it would always return to its comrades' side.
The name of that robot was—
...
"Mechamaru, spacing out again?"
"Akira-sensei… did you disinfect yourself before coming in?
Please don't make me catch a cold for months like last time…"
"Ah~ It should be fine this time. I didn't disinfect, but I struck myself with lightning a few times."
"…"
"Mechamaru, why did you set up surveillance all over the school?"
"I've had a bad feeling lately. It's better to keep information flowing at all times."
"Oh? I see. You like Miwa, don't you?"
"Mm… huh? Huh?!"
The sudden shift in topic left Mechamaru momentarily stunned. He hadn't fully admitted it out loud, but just the thought slipping through seemed to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't smile. You'll split the bandages on your face again like last time. You screamed so miserably back then."
"I held it in for a long time before I screamed…"
"Really?
I'm not good at remembering unimportant details~"
"Tch…"
After that, silence settled in.
Mechamaru watched as Akira Zenin slowly began nodding off, his head dipping forward like a middle schooler struggling to stay awake during math class.
Other people might not understand.
But as someone bound by a Heavenly Restriction as well, Mechamaru understood all too clearly.
When heaven grants extraordinary Cursed Energy, it always takes something in exchange.
What a ruthless bargain.
He had given up a healthy body.
Akira Zenin had given up a stable mind.
If you measured it by sheer Cursed Energy, Akira Zenin had likely paid an even greater price.
"Sensei, even if you've placed restrictions on yourself, if you're tired, you should rest for a bit. It's quiet here.
And the students are doing well now. You don't have to keep watching over them all the time…"
Akira Zenin sat on the floor and waved him off.
"I'll just close my eyes for a moment. I've already lost interest in sleeping."
"?"
Unable to show expressions clearly, Mechamaru tilted his head in confusion.
"Does an amputee relieve phantom limb pain by rubbing a limb that no longer exists?"
As a fellow "patient," Mechamaru understood instantly.
Akira Zenin's condition was like phantom limb pain that couldn't be soothed. Sleep no longer eased his exhaustion.
"I see…"
Silence returned, broken only by the steady hum of the machines keeping Mechamaru alive.
"Following the pattern, your drowsiness will double again next year. Do you think there's still meaning in living like this?"
Akira Zenin opened his eyes and looked at the figure before him.
That question wasn't directed at him alone.
Mechamaru was asking himself.
"Kokichi… people like us are born with a purpose.
You're searching for a way to restore your body. I'm searching for a way to sleep peacefully, to steady my mind.
Others might think we're miserable. No—so do you.
But have you ever thought about this?"
Mechamaru shook his head.
"Another question with no buildup and no explanation. How would I know?"
"I don't know what you think. But until I lose consciousness for good, I'll keep looking for a way to stay clear-headed.
We were born with goals.
Some people can only drift through life without one."