["We're not using the Panda model this time. No three-core equilibrium cycle for autonomous energy generation."]
[Yaga picked up a carving blade and turned toward you.]
["The gestation period for an independent Cursed Corpse is too long. Kusakabe's sister won't survive three months in her current condition. We'll use the faster method instead, the one that needs periodic external Cursed Energy input to stay active."]
[Then he set the tools down and, with a seriousness that made the air feel heavier, slid the most important materials across the bench toward you.]
["And this Cursed Corpse, the one meant to become 'Takeru'... I'm leaving it entirely to you."]
[You looked up, caught off guard.]
["Sensei? But..."]
["No buts."]
[Yaga cut you off flat.]
[Behind the sunglasses, his eyes held the look of a master handing everything over to a student he trusted, with no reservations left.]
["When you helped me repair Panda, the three-core theory you proposed and the precision of your technique told me all I needed to know. Your talent for fine Cursed Corpse reconstruction already rivals mine. During this project, I'm going to teach you every piece of core knowledge behind creating soul-informed Cursed Corpses. All of it. Nothing held back."]
[His voice sank lower.]
["This technique is forbidden. But if it's you... I trust your judgment. I trust you to wield this in the future without being swallowed by the power to fabricate life."]
[About a week passed.]
[Under Yaga's completely unreserved guidance, your Cursed Energy-enhanced hands finally finished the vessel carrying so many people's prayers. The Takeru doll.]
[The way it moved its arms, the angle of its head, even the soft, babbling imitation of a child's voice, all of it matched the soul data you'd painstakingly woven into its core from that mountain of recordings and memories.]
[Reason told you exactly what it was.]
[Not the real Takeru. Just cotton and Cursed Energy wearing a shape.]
[But when it opened its round eyes and reached for you with those clumsy fuzzy arms, there was a pure, uncomplicated curiosity in it that matched everything you'd learned about the real boy.]
[The second Kusakabe heard it was done, he didn't wait for morning.]
[That very night, he brought his sister to Jujutsu High in her wheelchair and pushed her into the hidden workshop.]
[The door opened.]
[Kusakabe's sister sat exactly the same way she had before, limp and lifeless, her empty eyes pointed at the floor.]
[Behind you, the small plush figure that had just been fully calibrated peeked out from where it had been hiding. Half its body stuck out from behind the bench.]
[It stared curiously at the gaunt woman in the wheelchair, then tugged lightly at your pant leg, looked up at you, and spoke in a voice young enough to crack something inside your chest.]
["Sensei... that person over there is my mom, right?"]
[The Takeru Cursed Corpse clung to your leg.]
[Its voice was created by vibrations from its Cursed Energy core, but that tone, that exact mix of attachment and longing only a child had for his mother, sent a jolt through both you and Yaga.]
[For a full week, you had burned the concept of "Mom" into its core over and over, photo by photo, video by video, memory by memory through Kusakabe's recollections.]
[You rested a hand on its head. The soft wool stuffing gave gently under your palm.]
["That's right. You recognized her already?"]
[The little Cursed Corpse happily rubbed against your hand, tipped its simple but expressive face up at you, and grinned with the kind of smug childish pride that fit its apparent age perfectly.]
["Hehe, I knew it from the first look! She looks just like the person in my memories who always told me stories. Pretty smart, right?"]
[Those innocent, ordinary words hit Kusakabe's sister like a key forced into a lock that had rusted shut.]
["Takeru...?"]
[The dead emptiness in her eyes snapped apart.]
[Her whole body went rigid at that familiar voice, that familiar name. Slowly, almost painfully slowly, she lifted her head and stared at the little figure smiling up at her from beside your leg.]
[What broke her wasn't just the face, or even the name.]
[It was the tiny habits. The natural little mannerisms.]
[In an instant, sealed-off memories came rushing back.]
[She remembered all those evenings when her son would cling to her leg exactly like that, look up at her with the same expression, and proudly announce, "I'm pretty great, right?"]
["Takeru!"]
[The scream tore out of her carrying every ounce of pain she'd been bottling up since the day he died.]
[This woman had been so frail that even sitting upright looked exhausting. And yet she exploded forward with a strength her wrecked body had no business producing.]
[She didn't care that the wheelchair wheels were still spinning.]
[She forced herself up, staggered across the room, and threw herself at that tiny body.]
[The Takeru Cursed Corpse didn't dodge or flinch. It just opened its stubby little arms and let the stumbling woman gather it into her embrace.]
["I missed you so much... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."]
[She buried her face in the toy's chest, no longer cold, and sobbed so hard the sound filled the entire workshop.]
[In that moment, nothing else mattered.]
[Not the technique. Not the lie. Not the taboo.]
[Only the grief finally breaking open.]
[Beside you, Kusakabe was already crying openly.]
[This Grade 1 sorcerer, the man who built his whole identity around caution and distance, stood there with one hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking so hard he could barely stay upright.]
[Then he bent low before you and Yaga and stayed there, unable to straighten himself.]
[The Cursed Corpse needed regular maintenance and recharging. On top of that, Yaga had insisted on one necessary condition from the start, to keep Kusakabe's sister from drowning completely inside the illusion.]
[Takeru's Cursed Corpse would not live with her.]
[The furthest Yaga was willing to bend was a fixed visitation schedule. Once a month, Kusakabe could bring his sister to Jujutsu High to see it.]
[You had expected that arrangement to crush her.]
[But when it came time to part, though her eyes were full of reluctance, she accepted it with a calm that surprised everyone there.]
[Because now she had something to wait for.]
[Even if it was only the promise of seeing this "child" again next month, it was enough to make her eat. Enough to make her sleep. Enough to make her keep going.]
[Kusakabe watched his sister clutch the toy and cry, but what struck him harder than the tears was the light that had finally returned to her eyes.]
[He understood then that this version of her, living inside a lie but able to cry and laugh again, was infinitely more alive than the walking corpse she'd become before.]
[The tears came back, but this time they weren't born from despair.]
[They were gratitude.]
[He didn't swear some grand oath of repayment. He didn't promise his life. He simply stood there with swollen red eyes and bowed to you both with every scrap of sincerity he had.]
["Principal Yaga... Hayase... thank you. You saved her. You saved me too."]
[About a month later, Kusakabe brought his sister back for her second visit.]
[She was still thin, but the change in her was staggering.]
[She had dressed carefully before coming out, put on a little makeup, and although some sadness still lingered in her eyes, they were no longer stagnant, dead water.]
[After that visit, the man who had always treasured his freedom above everything else, the man who avoided responsibility whenever he could, walked into Yaga's office and submitted a formal application to join Tokyo Jujutsu High as a staff instructor and resident sorcerer.]
[Watching the three of them together, this false reunion warmer than a lot of real ones, you felt something inside you settle into place.]
[Even the ugliest curse, handled carefully, could still become the thing that gave someone one small, fragile piece of happiness in this brutal world.]