My Sisters’ Underwear Situation Vol 1 Prologue

Prologue

 

I love woman’s b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

No, please wait. If I cut to the chase this fast, I might be mistaken for a pervert, so while also trying to dispel the misunderstanding let me ask you one question.

 

Is there a male high school student in the world who hates a woman’s b.r.e.a.s.t.s, in other words—— b.o.o.bs?

 

Although there are many different obsessions and tastes when it comes to b.o.o.bs, there should be no doubt that we healthy men hold a strong affection for the female b.o.o.b all the same. Or am I wrong?

Now that you understand me, let me tell you about the beauty of b.o.o.bs.

If I were to take sides, I’d probably get sucked into the never ending dispute between the three big b.o.o.b fractions, flat chest, well-proportioned, and huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s, so I’ll refrain from stating my opinion for now.

Unfortunately, from the second the problem has emerged into this world up until now, mankind still hasn’t found an answer to the size dilemma, it might even remain for all eternity.

However, even if there’s no answer in sight, the reason is definite: we love b.o.o.bs.

It’s just that simple and has already been proven throughout our oldest history.

No matter the epoch, women pursued beauty, and men commended their beauty.

Be it Venus de Milo or nude portraits, a vast number of things which were referred to as art chose women—— and hence the female body as their subject, substantiating the hypothesis.

If I were to rephrase it, the history of mankind is a history of wors.h.i.+pping female beauty.

The lines of their almost bewitching bodies tinged with that roundness. Frail yet holds a softness and warmth (just a guess) that seems to enwrap everything; and the two testimonies and symbols of womanhood.

Us loving b.o.o.bs is an instinct imprinted on our DNA, saying that what makes a man (human) a man (human) is whether he likes b.o.o.bs or not isn’t an exaggeration.

In other words, we’re under the spell of b.o.o.b magic from the day we’re born.

What a charming name for magic, indeed, isn’t it?!

However, if you think this is untrue, I want you to go peek into the girl’s changing room. Like that, you should be able to realize the truth of this world.

It can’t be helped that men are charmed by those b.o.o.bs, just like it can’t be helped to unintentionally stare at the bra line that is showing through a blouse. Yeah, it really can’t be helped. It’s an eternal, an irresistible force of summer.

When I reached the age where men start to be enthralled by that charming part of the female body, I had already embraced a heavy longing for b.o.o.bs long ago. You could say b.o.o.bs were my first love.

Soon, my longing and love changed into determination to want to protect b.o.o.bs. I wanted to support them gently, let them subsist. Like a bra wire that supports the lower breast. That was my way of life.

The tailoring club of Konohano High School that I, Souma Akito, enrolled at.

This is where I wanted to acquire tailoring skills and knowledge, and someday take part in the bra development at a women underwear manufacturer. The bras that I’d make would protect the beautiful b.o.o.bs in this world!

 

However—— this dream of mine quickly dispersed merely a year after I enrolled.

 

If I want to tell you the reason, I’ll have to explain my relations.h.i.+p with a certain group of girls.

With beautiful sisters that were enrolled into my high school, with the figureheads of the Hattori Cloth Store that had been in business in my hometown for generations——

However, while I am using the term ‘sisters,’ I’m having scruples calling them such.

If you want to know why, their relations.h.i.+p’s different from what we’d expect.

How is it different, you may ask—— the answer is…

Their relations.h.i.+p’s so bad, it’s hard to think of them as sisters.

Their relations.h.i.+p’s such a mess, it might’ve been beyond repair.

…No, that’s too much. It’s not like that. Let’s put it differently.

Their relations.h.i.+p’s not healthy enough to call them sisters.

It’s not just me who thought that the relations.h.i.+p between the tailoring club sisters was poor, the sisters in question probably thought so too. “We’re not on bad terms. We’re just not on good ones,” they would’ve surely put it like this.

You might think that it’s just turned into an antonym, but that’s the best way to put it.

Reason being, there were no sisterly bonds between them, it’s more a sense of duty, that you probably don’t need a good relations.h.i.+p for. It goes without saying that I found that very sad.

At least I, myself, was building a favorable (?) relations.h.i.+p with the oldest sister, but maybe exactly that was the reason why I was thinking of the their relations.h.i.+p as being strange.

 

And at the opening ceremony of my second high school year—— I, too, was dragged into their strangeness at last.