How Using My Oppai Skill to Enlarge My Sister’s Breasts Led to Building a Harem - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

After finishing chopping firewood, I took a quick rinse and entered the house.

“Oh, you’re the student from Japan?”

“Huh? Japanese…?”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Carla, Maya’s mother.”

Smiling was a young, beautiful woman radiating allure. Despite having a child, her sensuality almost stirs my groin.

“You speak Japanese so well.”

“Thank you. I lived in Japan for about ten years.”

“Really?”

Her connection to the Saionji family seems genuine. Carla laughs cheerfully, saying she studied in Japan and worked for them.

“I even looked after Ayaka-ojousama.”

“No way! You know Ayaka-san?”

This is reassuring.

“Maya was born in Japan, you know.”

“Really?”

“…Yeah. I was there until I was seven,” Maya says.

“It’s been five years already…” Carla adds.

So, they lived in Japan until five years ago. That means Maya’s age is—

“Twelve…?”

“Yup. What about it?” Maya snaps.

Her physique made me think she was older. But her cheeky attitude does feel age-appropriate now.

“I’m sixteen.”

“Hmph! Age doesn’t matter here! Don’t think it’s like Japan!”

I didn’t mean it like that, but it might’ve sounded like I was pulling an age card. Seems this country doesn’t care about seniority.

“Oh, Maya,” Carla chuckles. “Her name comes from a Japanese name, you know.”

“Oh, Maya… Maaya? Like True Thread?”

“Yes, doesn’t it sound lovely?”

“It’s a great name.”

“Hmph!” Maya huffs, her cheeks flushed, though I don’t point it out.

“Alright, let’s have dinner.”

“Sweet, I’m starving.”

“Hehe, you’re still young. The ingredients are local, but I’ll season it Japanese-style.”

“Thanks!”

Carla’s cooking, honed by a decade in Japan, is delicious to my Japanese palate.

“Mom’s cooking is the best in the world,” Maya boasts, clearly pleased.

Watching them, my initial unease fades. I’m grateful to be welcomed by this warm family.

“I look forward to staying here.”

I bow with gratitude.

※

The next day, well after sunrise, I join them for work.

“How about you drive?” Carla says.

“Huh…?”

Before me is a familiar light truck, like those in Japan.

“I don’t have a license…”

“Ugh, this isn’t Japan. You only need one in the city,” Maya says, hopping into the truck bed.

(I thought every country required a license, but laws differ…)

“It’s an automatic, so it’s easy,” Carla assures.

“Really?”

Following her instructions, I start the truck. It’s not hard, and I get the hang of it quickly.

“Driving straight is simple, right?”

“Yeah, fewer controls than I expected.”

Just accelerator, brake, and steering.

“I’ll teach you to reverse later.”

“Thanks.”

We chat leisurely as we head to the pao fruit orchard.

…

“This is the pao fruit orchard…?”

“It’s not some grand orchard,” Carla says.

“It’s mostly just growing wild,” Maya adds.

It’s maintained but not neatly planted like Japanese farms. Still—

“Where are the fruits?”

“There, up there,” Maya points.

“Whoa… That’s high.”

Pao fruits grow at the tops of ten-meter-tall trees.

(I’ve gotta harvest those?)

“Watch.”

Maya grabs a thin rope with a weight from a shed and starts twirling it.

Hyun hyun! The spinning accelerates.

“Here!”

With a shout, she launches the weight skyward.

“Wow, impressive.”

The weight sails over a branch, landing on the ground.

“Like this.”

Maya pulls the thin rope, threading a thicker one over the branch.

“So, you climb with that?”

I ask as she ties the rope to the trunk.

“You’ll die without a harness,” she says.

She quickly dons a harness, like those used in rock climbing, and clips it to the rope.

“Here… we… go!”

“Amazing.”

Maya scales the tree effortlessly, reaching the top. She bags the fruits and lowers them gently via the rope—harvest complete.

“Wanna try?”

“Of course.”

I used to climb trees as a kid. Can’t lose to a younger girl.

Finding a harness my size, I clip it to the rope Carla sets up and start climbing.

(Ugh, scary…)

Even with a safety line, climbing this high is a first. Halfway up, my hands sweat, and my legs tremble.

“If it’s scary, don’t push it!” Maya calls.

“Totally fine!”

I snap back, refusing to be underestimated. No turning back now.

Gathering my nerve, I grab the next branch.

…

“Phew… Made it.”

The view’s great. At ten meters, with few taller trees around, it’s breathtaking.

“Came a long way…”

Days ago, I never imagined this. But it feels good—new experiences will benefit me.

“…Gotta work.”

I check the pao fruits, feeling for ripeness.

“Only pick fully ripe ones.”

(This one’s green… This needs more time…)

I gauge ripeness by touch.

“This, this… and this one.”

I harvest quickly, bag them, tie the bag, and lower it gently via the rope.

“Now to climb down.”

I didn’t realize descending would be scarier.

※

“Not bad, Japanese guy.”

“Tch, thanks…”

Despite my inner panic, I made it down, and Maya offers praise.

“Most kids can’t harvest properly their first time,” Carla says. “Even Maya—”

“Mom, stop!” Maya interrupts.

She was scared at first too, which reassures me. With practice, I’ll match her.

“Let’s do twenty more trees♪” Carla says.

“Uh… Sure…”

I need to climb all the pao trees here—definitely heavy labor. Now I get Maya’s mischievous grin from yesterday.

※

Three days after arriving—

“We’re taking today off,” Carla says.

“There’s a rest day?”

“Work three days, rest one.”

That’s the local custom. Pao fruits are plentiful but need breaks to avoid depletion.

So, I get a day off but have no idea what to do.

“Let’s go to the sea,” Maya says.

“That gorgeous beach?”

“Yup. It’s the only fun place around.”

True, the forest isn’t safe for play.

“Isn’t it far?”

“Nah, there’s a shortcut.”

A local’s word is trustworthy. I put on swimwear and head to the beach with Maya.

…

“Wow, amazing…”

“What, never seen the sea?” Maya teases.

“No, but never one this beautiful.”

It’s a resort-level beach, far beyond Japan’s.

“Let’s swim!”

“Sure.”

We shed our cover-ups, revealing swimwear.

“Ta-da! How’s it?”

“Cute.”

Really cute. Though immature, her physique seems older than Nozomi-chan’s, despite being the same age.

“R-Really…?”

“You’re super cute, Maya.”

“H-Hmph… Whatever, let’s get in!”

I follow her into the sea, enjoying a rare swim.

“Hey, Japanese guy!”

“Hm? Whoa!?”

“Kyaaaaa!”

Turning, I get splashed in the face.

(Ugh, got my eyes. She’s such a kid…)

Nozomi-chan’s quiet nature is rare. This energy is typical for kids.

But I can’t let her get away with it.

“Hey, Maya.”

“Kyaa!? Ouch!!”

I throw seawater, cupping it tightly to hurl it.

“How’d you do that!?”

“Just grab the water like this.”

I scoop water, holding it without leaking.

“Here!”

“Ow!?”

With a wrist snap, it stings lightly but makes a bachin sound.

“Grr, take this…!”

“Haha, your small hands can’t do it!”

I play, splashing with Maya, recalling times with my sister Ai.

“God, you’re such a kid, Japanese guy! Next, we play this!”

Annoyed at losing, Maya grabs a volleyball.

“Here, take this…!”

“Whoa…!”

Expecting beach ball, it’s dodgeball. I barely catch the ball aimed at my chest.

“Not bad.”

“Your throw’s impressive for a girl.”

Her athleticism isn’t surprising. Living in nature, she’s been training daily. Her lithe muscles throw with power beyond a twelve-year-old’s.

“Here!”

“Heh, you suck♪”

I’m terrible at ball sports—my hands don’t mesh with round objects, struggling to transfer force.

“Here!”

“Whoa, take that!”

Our skills are evenly matched, escalating the intensity.

“Haa, haa… Not bad, Japanese guy. I’ll call you my rival.”

“Thanks.”

Skill aside, stamina differs. Maya, throwing with her whole body, tires first.

“But… how’s this!”

“Whoa!”

Maya charges, swinging hard, and throws—pink fabric flies into the air.

Distracted, I fumble the ball, sending it flying.

“I win!!” Maya cheers.

“Yeah, but…”

“What, Japanese guy♪?”

“Your chest’s showing.”

“Huh!? — Kyaaa!?”

Her bikini top’s slipped, exposing her nipples to the sun.

“D-Don’t look!”

“It’s fine, calm down.”

I calmly pick up her bikini, cover her chest, and tie it behind her. A kid’s chest doesn’t faze me.

“Y-You saw… my…”

“Yup, cute chest.”

“L-Liar…! My… n-nipples…”

They were darker, true. But in a UV-heavy tropics, more melanin is normal—genetics and environment, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Uuu… Idiot…”

Maya, mortified, crouches with teary eyes.

(She’s at that age, worried about her darker nipples…)

Seeing her, I feel a urge to comfort her.