Kenji burst out of his apartment building and into the humid Tokyo morning, the sliding door slamming shut behind him. He leaned heavily against the cold concrete of the alleyway, chest heaving, his wet uniform clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every time he blinked, the image of Tsunade's massive, soapy breasts pressing against the shower wall-and the terrifying, mind-melting sensation of her heavy ass grinding against him-flashed behind his eyelids.
Get a grip, Kenji, he scolded himself, slapping his own cheeks with wet hands. She's waiting. Naked. In your kitchen.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the sleek black phone. The screen illuminated the dim alleyway with its soft pink and gold interface.
[Current DP: 20]
He tapped the [Dimensional Exchange Shop] and navigated straight to the [Modern Survival] tab. He hit the exchange button for twenty thousand yen.
[Confirm conversion of 20 DP to 20,000 JPY?]
Kenji tapped 'Yes'.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, a faint, golden geometric circle briefly materialized over the screen of the phone. There was no smoke, no loud sound. Just a slight shift in the air pressure, and suddenly, two crisp, perfectly minted 10,000-yen bills were resting squarely on top of the glass screen.
Kenji's eyes widened. He grabbed the bills. They felt real. They smelled like fresh paper and ink. He had worked twelve-hour shifts in the freezing rain for a fraction of this. The system was basically printing money just because he washed a beautiful woman's back.
"I love this app," Kenji muttered, shoving the money safely into his dry inner pocket.
He took off sprinting down the street.
The morning commute was in full swing, businessmen with umbrellas and students on bicycles weaving through the narrow sidewalks. Kenji dodged past them, his wet sneakers slapping against the pavement. He headed straight for a massive, multi-level discount superstore three blocks away-the kind that sold everything from cheap groceries to electronics and off-brand clothing.
Fluorescent lights assaulted his eyes as he jogged through the sliding automatic doors. A hyperactive, high-pitched J-pop jingle looped endlessly from the ceiling speakers.
Kenji made a beeline for the women's apparel section on the second floor.
He skidded to a halt in front of a rack of cheap, casual wear, his eyes scanning the sizes. He grabbed a standard large t-shirt and held it up. It looked entirely too small. Japanese clothing brands were notoriously geared toward petite frames.
Kenji groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to visualize the sheer, imposing architecture of Tsunade's body.
She's tall, he calculated in his head. Incredibly thick thighs. Wide hips. But her chest...
He stared at a display of standard bras. There was absolutely no way. Tsunade's legendary assets weren't just big; they were immense, heavy, and gravity-defying. If he bought a standard shirt, the moment she flexed her back or took a deep breath, the buttons would turn into lethal projectiles and the fabric would shred like wet tissue paper. He needed something that could somehow contain a 106cm bust without looking like a literal parachute.
"Um... excuse me, sir? Do you need help finding something?"
Kenji jumped. An older, stern-looking female store clerk was watching him with extreme suspicion, her hands folded over her green apron. A soaking wet, disheveled twenty-year-old boy intensely staring at women's undergarments was a massive red flag.
"Ah! Yes! I mean, no! I mean..." Kenji stammered, his face instantly flushing crimson. "I'm buying clothes for... a relative. She just got into town. Her luggage got lost."
The clerk raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "I see. What size is your... relative?"
"That's the problem," Kenji gestured vaguely with his hands. "She's... very large. But not everywhere. Just in specific places."
"Specific places," the clerk repeated dryly.
"Right. Like, she has a very narrow waist, but her hips are huge. And her... up top. Her chest." Kenji swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Her bust is one hundred and six centimeters."
The clerk's eyes widened. Her stern, judgmental demeanor instantly cracked, replaced by sheer disbelief. "One hundred and six? A J-cup? Sir, is this a joke? Are you buying clothes for a blow-up doll?"
"No! She's real!" Kenji hissed, looking around frantically to make sure no one else was listening. "She's very real, and she is terrifying, and if I bring back clothes that don't fit her, she is going to shatter my spine! Please, I just need something stretchy! Very, very stretchy!"
The clerk stared at him for a long, quiet moment before letting out a heavy sigh. She walked past him, gesturing for him to follow.
"Standard blouses and shirts won't work," the clerk said, switching into professional mode. She led him to the athletic wear aisle. "For a bust that heavy, especially if she's active, standard wire bras will just dig into her ribs and snap. She needs high-compression, maximum-stretch athletic support."
The clerk pulled down a sleek, black, heavy-duty sports bra. The material was thick and felt incredibly durable. "This is our largest size in extreme-stretch spandex. It won't give her defined cleavage, but it will strap everything down enough so her back doesn't hurt. And for the rest of her..."
She moved down the aisle, grabbing a pair of high-waisted, ultra-stretch black yoga pants and a massive, oversized grey zip-up hoodie.
"The pants will conform to her hips and thighs without bagging at the waist," the clerk explained, handing the pile of clothes to Kenji. "And the oversized hoodie gives her room to breathe. It's the best you're going to do outside of a specialty boutique."
"This is perfect. You're a lifesaver," Kenji breathed out in relief.
He rushed to the cashier. The total came to exactly 4,500 yen. Kenji handed over one of the crisp 10,000 yen bills, happily pocketing the 5,500 yen in change, leaving his second 10,000 yen bill completely untouched. He had clothes for the Hokage, and he still had 15,500 yen in his pocket. For the first time in months, he wasn't completely broke.
He grabbed the plastic shopping bag and sprinted out of the store.
The rain had stopped, the morning sun fully breaking through the Tokyo smog, but Kenji was still sweating profusely. Every step closer to his apartment amplified his anxiety.
I'm not leaving the apartment, am I? Tsunade's husky, teasing voice echoed in his mind. Naked. Cooking your breakfast in your kitchen. Waiting for my son to come home.
He rounded the corner of his alleyway and bolted up the rusted metal stairs of his complex, taking them two at a time. He reached his door, gripping the cold metal doorknob.
He could smell it before he even opened the door. The rich, mouth-watering aroma of toasted soy sauce, scrambled eggs, and perfectly steamed rice. It smelled like a home.
Kenji took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and slowly turned the knob.
"I'm back!" he called out softly, sliding the door open and stepping into the genkan to take off his wet shoes.
"You're late," Tsunade's voice drifted out from the kitchen alcove.
Kenji stepped into the main room, his heart leaping into his throat.
Tsunade was standing in front of his cheap two-burner electric stove. She hadn't found a towel. She hadn't wrapped herself in the blanket. She was standing exactly as he had left her-completely, flawlessly nude.
The morning light from the kitchen window caught the terrifying, heavy curves of her body. Her pale, colossal breasts swayed heavily as she expertly flipped a pan of eggs, the kinetic motion sending a mesmerizing jiggle through her entire upper body. Her wide hips and incredibly thick, heavy rear were proudly displayed, entirely unbothered by the chill of the air.
She glanced over her bare shoulder, a wooden spatula in one hand, her amber eyes locking onto his panicked face with a deeply satisfied, wicked smirk.
"I hope you brought something that fits, brat," Tsunade purred, turning off the stove. The sudden silence in the room made the heavy, fleshy slap of her breasts settling against her upper stomach sound incredibly loud. "Because cooking with no clothes on is a great way to get grease burns. Come here and dress your mother."