"He doesn't even know, Shiorin," Lanzhu whispered into the receiver, her voice dropping into a frantic, protective hush. "He doesn't know about her. The person who left three years ago... he wasn't the Agung we knew. He was a shell. I couldn't bring myself to tell him then. But now he's finally coming back... he's actually trying to fix it."
Shioriko could hear the trembling resolve in Lanzhu's breath across the miles of ocean.
"Just get on that train," Lanzhu urged, the fiercely loyal friend beneath the spoiled queen finally taking the reins. "Go with Ai-san and Kanata-san. Watch over them. I will book the very first flight out of Hong Kong to Tokyo, and then I'm taking the fastest transit straight to Numazu. When we all catch up to him... I'll help you ask him for a little leniency. I'll make sure he listens to Nijigasaki's side of the story. Just... don't let him slip away again."
"I understand," Shioriko said, her posture hardening with newfound purpose. "We will keep track of him. Be safe, Lanzhu."
She hung up the phone and looked at Mia, who was already checking the train schedules on her own device. "We need to move, Baby-chan," Mia said, a grim, determined smirk cutting through her anxiety. "The clock is ticking."
Meanwhile, a few miles away at Tokyo Station, the quiet hum of electricity vibrated through the tracks.
Inside one of the pristine, sleek cars of the Tokaido Shinkansen heading toward Shizuoka, Agung sat by the window. The heavy, suffocating exhaustion of the rooftop confrontation had finally taken its toll. His head rested against the cool glass, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. He thought he had drawn the lines perfectly. He thought he had left the drama behind in Odaiba, moving on to the next cold, calculated stop on his itinerary of atonement.
He had absolutely no idea.
Unknown to the sleeping "Deadbeat," the grand machine of motherhood and legendary school idol coordination had already shifted into maximum gear. Back in Tokyo, suitcases were being slammed shut. Diaper bags were being stuffed with formula, favorite toys, and emergency medicine. Toddlers were being bundled into coats, and frantic group chats were lighting up across two generations of idols.
From Tokyo to Hong Kong, the wives and mothers were already in motion—a coordinated, unstoppable force of love, anger, and fierce protection that he never could have anticipated. He thought he was walking a lonely path of redemption, but by the time that train pulled into Numazu, the past was going to catch up to him in the loudest, most chaotic way possible.