The playful atmosphere in the kitchen didn't just fade; it evaporated. The clatter of bowls and the bubbling of the miso soup suddenly felt incredibly loud in the heavy silence that followed Shioriko's question.
Shioriko stood by the pantry, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. "Agung-san," she began, her voice steady but carrying an underlying weight. "You've spoken to the \mu's members about your arrival. You've teased the Aqours members about their 'numbers.' But what do you intend to do with us? With the Nijigasaki girls?"
Agung stopped stirring the pot. He laid the wooden spoon across the rim and turned fully toward the group, his face losing its "Panda" playfulness.
"Nothing," he said bluntly.
The word felt like a physical blow. Lanzhu flinched, and Ai's constant smile finally flickered and died.
"My purpose shifted the moment I realized I had become a 'deadbeat' across three generations of this franchise," Agung continued, his voice low and serious. "I was processing the scale of the mess. But through all that noise, my mind kept going back to one person. **Kanata-chan.**"
He looked across the room to where Kanata Konoe was leaning against the wall, her eyes half-lidded as usual, but her posture tense.
"In the world I came from—the world where I was a street sweeper—I knew how hard life could be," Agung said, his gaze fixed on her. "And even before I came here, I knew how much Kanata struggled. Working part-time jobs, taking care of Haruka, sacrificing her own sleep just to keep her head above water. She was already carrying the world on her shoulders."
He stepped away from the stove, ignoring the steam rising behind him.
"When I realized the 'other' me had vanished, I thought... if anyone here had children with that version of me, Kanata would be the one struggling the most. She wouldn't complain. She would just stop sleeping entirely to make sure they were fed."
Agung took a step toward her, his voice softening. "Now tell me, Kanata-chan. After three years of me being gone... did we have any children?"
The kitchen went cold. Kanata didn't answer immediately. She slowly opened her eyes all the way, the sleepy haze gone, replaced by a raw, exhausted vulnerability.
"Kureha," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Her name is **Kureha**. She's three years old. And you were right, Agung-kun... I didn't sleep much. I didn't sleep at all."
A collective pang of guilt and heartbreak rippled through the room. The other girls looked at the floor. They had all helped Kanata where they could, but hearing Agung—the "glitch" who had only been here for twenty-four hours—accurately pinpoint her pain before he even knew the child existed was overwhelming.
Agung closed his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. "Kureha," he repeated, testing the name. "Three years old. Which means she was born right as the other me left."
He looked at his hands, then back at Kanata. "I have a quadrillion dollars in my pocket and infinite stamina in my body, but none of that can give you back the sleep you lost or the help you didn't have."
He walked over to her, stopping just a few inches away. "I can't be the man who left her. But I'm the only Agung you've got right now. And the first thing I'm doing with this 'Creation Magic' isn't making gold. It's making sure you never have to work a part-time job or worry about a grocery bill ever again."
Kanata's eyes welled up with tears, her knees buckling slightly. "You... you really are the Agung from the shrine, aren't you? The one who worried about everyone else more than himself?"
"I'm just a guy who knows how much a potato costs, Kanata-chan," he replied softly. "And I know that no mother should have to count them alone."