“Hey, you—” I started.

  “Man, perfect. Your boobs are the best, Natsuki-san,” Miyagi gushed.

  “…Keep it down,” I muttered.

  Shop’s empty, music’s on—his voice shouldn’t carry to Mom at the counter. Still, a guy’s hand in my chest near her? Pure dread. Worse, he’s the eager one—I can’t even expin this!

  “Right. But this is punishment,” he said, kneading away.

  “Huh?” I blinked.

  This perv in a stud’s skin spouted nonsense. “For not telling me about that gorgeous big sis.”

  “…Big sis?” I echoed.

  He gnced at the counter—Mom, pretending not to stare, stealing looks. Only her there. Big sis?

  “What’re you on about? Big sis?” I pressed.

  “That clerk. Your sister, right? You look alike,” he said.

  “…”

  Fttery!

  Clever bastard—praising anything female, cssic Miyagi. But this? Groping your hookup’s chest while lusting after her mom? Beyond sick—I’d gag. My disgust must’ve shown; he hushed his tone.

  “Uh-oh, said something wrong again?” he whispered.

  Same vibe as when he begged for a titjob—knows he screwed up, clueless how. Hopeless.

  “Listen, perv—that’s too far. I get your freakish libido, but this? Human decency’s out the window,” I snapped.

  “Aw, won’t introduce me? I wanna bond with big sis too,” he whined.

  “You serious?”

  “Totally,” he nodded.

  I meant, really think she’s my sister? Not your horny wishlist. “Hear me out, you freak—”

  “What?” he chirped, not even denying it.

  “She’s not my sister—she’s my mom. Told you she broke her leg, rehabbing, right?”

  “…Oh, come on! Hiding big sis from me? Don’t worry, you’re still number one,” he teased.

  “You’re for real? You actually think she’s my sister?”

  “Number one” warmed me up, but ranking Mom second? Hell no! “She’s older than a sister, sure, but no way she’s a mom,” he insisted.

  Mom looks young—twenty-something? No chance. “How old you think she is?”

  “Twenty-six, maybe?” he guessed.

  Bullshit. His eyes broken, or does any woman work? …Wait. Got it.

  “You’re just staring at her chest, aren’t you?” I accused.

  “Rude—I check both. She ties her apron tight to downpy it, but hers are bigger than yours, right?” he countered.

  Who’s rude!? Bury that razor-sharp perv vision! He’s drooling over bigger boobs—expins the delirium. Up close, he’ll clock her age.

  “Oi, closing time,” I said, waving the receipt.

  Mom said ignore the clock, but this is a family crisis—let him gawk at her face during checkout. Young or not, she’s got crow’s feet… right?

  “Already?” he sighed.

  “Pull your hand out—ngh!” I grunted.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving one st squeeze before letting go.

  Angle-wise, Mom shouldn’t have caught his antics—just us chatting close. Still, she’ll grill me ter.

  “Gonna talk to big sis,” he chirped, skipping to the register.

  “Do you,” I muttered, trailing with a sigh.

  Mom dropped her spying act, pying poised shopkeeper—tough broad inside, cssy beauty outside. Fools most. “Thanks—sorry for lingering,” Miyagi said.

  “No, sorry—hope my daughter didn’t bother you,” she replied.

  Both pros. Strangers’d see a refined dy and polite teen, but I saw cats pawing at their masks—pyful, not sly fox nonsense. Better than that.

  “Not at all! Natsuki-san… Aoba-san’s helped me tons at school,” he added.

  “Huh?” Mom shot me a look—I dodged it.

  Gonna get an earful ter. Ugh.