Chapter 508: Shasa and the Great Breast Confusion [Part 2]

Shasa and the Great Breast Confusion [Part 2]

"Little Junior Sister," she said, kneeling down so she could meet Shasa’s eyes at her level, "this is Teacher’s senior sister. According to seniority, we still have to call her Guardian Elder."

She paused, considering.

"But calling her Guardian Elder doesn’t sound right either—too formal, too distant. So we usually call her Respected Maya."

Shasa nodded slowly, absorbing this information with the seriousness of a scholar studying ancient texts. Her brows drew together in concentration.

Respected Maya. Not a fat person. A respected person. That’s important.

Rias continued, her voice carrying a gentle warmth, "Guardian Elder didn’t get her chest swollen from being beaten up. She was born with it."

She reached out and gently poked Shasa’s nose, her red eyes crinkling with affection.

"You’re still too young. You don’t understand these things yet. Don’t worry—once we go up the mountain, I’ll tell you all about this secret."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she added: "And don’t forget, you also have swelling on your chest. Look down."

Shasa immediately looked down.

And there they were.

Her own breasts, pressing against the fabric of her yellow robes with blue embroidery. They were substantial—full and heavy-looking, though their size was somewhat concealed by her athletic build and the loose fit of her cultivation robes. They had been there for some time now, she realized. She just hadn’t thought about them.

Not until now.

I have swelling on my chest.

The realization hit her like a physical blow.

I have swelling.

And Rias says I’ll understand the secret later.

And if I understand the secret later... and if Maya was born with her swelling... and if all these senior sisters have swelling...

Does that mean I’ll become fat too?

The thought struck her with the force of a meteor impact.

She looked down at her chest again—at those two rounded mounds that she had never really examined before, never really thought about beyond practical concerns like binding them during training. They seemed to swell before her eyes, growing larger with each passing second, becoming more substantial, more prominent, more... fat.

I’m going to become fat.

Her mind raced through the implications.

If she became fat, she would be slower. She would lose her edge in battle. Her speed, her agility, her balance—all compromised by the additional weight. How could she maintain her title of being invincible among her peers if she couldn’t move as she was accustomed to? How could she protect her fellow sisters? How could she fight her enemies?

I’ll lose.

The thought was devastating.

If I lose, how can I keep my title of being invincible among my peers?

"Boohoo..."

The sound started small—a tiny hiccup of distress.

"I don’t want to become fat!"

Her voice rose, cracking with emotion.

"If I become fat, it will affect my battle with others. If I lose, how can I keep my title of being invincible among my peers?!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, rolling over her round face and dripping from her chin. She stood there in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by women whose figures she had just begun to understand, and wept for the future she had imagined—a future of speed and skill and victory—now threatened by the terrible curse of becoming... fat.

The courtyard fell silent.

The older women exchanged glances. Some looked like they wanted to laugh. Others looked like they wanted to comfort her. A few looked like they wanted to explain, but had no idea where to begin.

Maya, who had descended and was now standing at the edge of the gathering, felt her earlier irritation fade into something warmer. The girl was ridiculous—absolutely ridiculous—but there was something pure about her distress, something innocent in her fear.

She thinks breasts are fat, Maya thought, shaking her head slowly. She thinks getting curves means becoming weak.

It was, perhaps, the most unique concern she’d ever heard regarding the female figure.

Then again, Maya reminded herself, this was the girl who had just asked if she could beat up whoever had "made her chest swell." Expectations had to be adjusted.

Rias reached out and pulled the crying girl into a hug, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back while the other cradled her head.

"There, there, Little Junior Sister. It’s not that kind of fat. It’s different. It’s good fat. You won’t lose your battles because of it, I promise."

Shasa sniffled against Rias’s shoulder, her voice muffled but still audible.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"And I’ll still be invincible?"

"The most invincible," Rias confirmed, though whether she truly believed this or was simply telling the girl what she wanted to hear was anyone’s guess.

Selena watched the scene unfold with a complex expression—part exhaustion, part affection, part fond exasperation. She caught Maya’s eye across the courtyard and gave a small shrug that said: This is my life now.

Maya’s lips curved into a small smile.

She glanced back at where Leon had been standing, but he had vanished during the commotion—probably taking the opportunity to slip away while everyone was distracted. That was just like him. Avoiding emotional scenes, sidestepping anything that might require him to explain himself.

It seemed she really needed to remind Amaya to stay away from him.

But that could wait.

For now, she watched as the most innocent girl in the cultivation world cried into her senior sister’s shoulder, utterly heartbroken by the discovery that she would one day develop a figure that countless women would envy.

It was, Maya reflected, both the most absurd and the most endearing thing she had witnessed in a very long time.

She found herself smiling despite herself.

Children, she thought. They grow up so fast. And yet...

She looked at Shasa’s tear-streaked face, at those wide innocent eyes, at the mind that had somehow connected "breast development" to "becoming fat" to "losing battles."

Some grow up slower than others.

The afternoon sun continued to shine down on the courtyard of the Holy Water Division, warm and golden and utterly indifferent to the drama unfolding beneath it.