Akira knelt over a pot of ready-to-harvest vegetables. He had been invited once again to tend to the plants, and after what happened last time, his dick said 'yes' before his head even had a chance to process the question. He cut the stem off a tomato and squeezed it gently, and just like before he stole a glance at the girl beside him. She was in an unusually good mood, even by Haru standards. Her head bobbed side to side and bouncy melody hummed through the air while she worked the veggies. Akira prided himself as a fan of slightly edgier women, but he couldn't deny that the sheer sugary sweetness radiating from Haru recently was having him feel a certain way.

He gulped. That kiss on the cheek…

Truth be told, Akira didn't know what to make of it. He'd heard that in some cultures, a kiss like that was about as intimate as a handshake, and Haru had no doubt been exposed to many such foreign perspectives in her life as an important figure in an international conglomerate.

More than likely, Haru had just interpreted his mad dash to the door (which was really just an excuse to step away from Haru, whose gentle caress of his hand had gotten dangerously close to breaking down the dam) as him suddenly having to go to the bathroom (it wouldn't be the first time he'd used that excuse) and upon realizing he was leaving, she planted a simple friendly peck on his cheek as a 'thank you' for helping her out with that day's veggies.

He almost immediately crossed off the idea that she might've be flirting with him. Haru was way out of his league. So were Makoto and Ann, as a matter of fact, but Haru was rich, too. So no, no shot she was into him.

Akira gingerlysqueezed the tomato again as he juggled the events of that day, as well as the little encounter he'd had with Kasumi earlier.

He'd understood for many months that constantly cranking out kids to pictures and videos of his closest companions was a sleazy thing to do. Every so often, he thought that maybe he should stop out of respect for his dearest and closest friends, but each time he did, he remembered that he could just go to the bathroom and flush the self-loathing and self-disgust down the whirlpool of whims along with his baby batter. It was easy, and by the time he was done with his business, all the guilt was gone and long forgotten. But that isn't an option now; Akira was now forced to contend with a part of his conscience he could no longer literally beat into submission…

Putting the tomato in a little plastic container along with the other harvested fruits, a microscopic part of himself was beginning to twist irreparably. Barely a week into the non-consensual challenge, and Akira was already starting to question years and years of masturbatory madness. Turns out, the black hole of guilt in his stomach had been there all along, but now that he couldn't just choke the chicken to distract himself, the world was beginning to lose its color.

He accepted that he would never be free of his addiction to self-satisfaction. It had become a part of him many years ago, inexorably tied to who he was. As Akira, he had physiological needs to attend to: eat, drink, masturbate, use the bathroom, masturbate, sleep, and masturbate, among many other physical and mental obligations like socializing, masturbating, going to school, and masturbating. Take any one of those things away, and he could not call himself human, let alone Akira Kurusu.

"Akira, is everything alright…?" Haru's gentle voice snapped him back to reality. "You seem a bit down today."

"Ah! Uh… Y-yeah, I'm fine." He hadn't done even half the work Haru managed. Akira stumbled to pick up the pace.

"Akira… Look at me." her voice sounded closer. He obliged and a part of his heart shattered when he saw the worry in her eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"…I…" he couldn't answer. His fingers trembled and his vision grew blurry.

After a slow blink, she peeled the gloves off her fingers and stood up. Her smile was genuine, but carried a hint of sadness "Let's take a break, shall we?"

.oOo.

Spontaneous freak winds tickled Haru's hands and face as she sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair next to a sulking Akira. His elbows rested lazily on his knees and his eyes stared far off into the ground with a vacant gaze. She looked down at him with a clenched jaw.

"Akira…" she began. "Y…you can talk to me. If you want. I'm here for you."

She watched him sigh like an old war veteran and her heart twitched. Akira was not the type of guy to talk openly about his feelings. Ever. The guy had been expelled, transferred over into a new city, and given all but a one-way ticket to jail if he so much as cut somebody in line. Haru had always figured he was hiding his emotions, and respected his ability to do so with a bit of jealousy at his self-control. But a very real part of her also wanted to see him get angry, or shed a tear, or jump for joy, or something to show that he might one day have a soft spot she could huddle up to.

Haru briefly flashed back to her conversation with Makoto last week at the student council room, about how she felt there was a wall between Akira and her, and suddenly felt she understood a bit of the reason Makoto invited Akira to the movies, deep sadness like this didn't just appear overnight, and the second-in-command – as attentive as she was – had been able to identify it. In Haru's mind, It was clear that Akira was going through some long-term trauma, though the truth of the matter (unbeknownst to her) was simply that Akira wanted to go jerk off in the bathroom.

"Haru." His voice was soft yet firm. "I'm sorry. The truth is, there is something on my mind… Something awful… But…"

"…" she waited for a follow-up that never came "…But you can't tell me."

The way his head hung lower at her words was answer enough.

"It's okay, Akira. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." Haru looked down at her hands. "S…sorry I can't be of more help…"

He shook his head in silence.

She sighed. Akira looked so lonely to her. Though he was less than a meter away, it seemed to the girl as though he was stranded hundreds of thousands of kilometers out at sea, an endless ocean separating their hearts.

The girl thought back to when she first met the Phantom Thieves. A strange cat creature called Morgana approached her, and in a desperate attempt to force her life away from the path it currently walked, Haru found herself in a maniacal parallel world full of monsters and shadows and magic. It was scary. Ann, Makoto, Futaba, Ryuji, they had all been magnificently supportive and encouraging to her, and ultimately are an enormous part of the reason she was able to stand up to her father and escape the vortex of dissatisfaction her life seemed dead-set on drowning her in, but Akira was the centerpiece of it all. If he weren't there as a towering pillar of support for her, Haru doesn't know that she'd still be able to smile in the mornings, ceteris paribus. She wanted to give some of that back to him. What kind of partner could she be for Akira if he could not rely on her like she had him?

Before, she would have been far too restrained in trying to help him. She might have asked how he felt and tried to get him to talk to her, but she knew the conversation would spin endlessly and uselessly. As confident as she was in her speech, she knew deep down words would not reach him. Perhaps it was remembering the success Futaba had seen with asking Yusuke out that inspired her to do so, or maybe the success of her previous mission (wherein she'd managed to smooch him on the cheek). Whatever it was, Haru's vision tunneled, her body acted on its own. A hand she barely recognized as her own reached out to Akira's hair and instead of a complex probing of his inner thoughts with fancy words and clever questions, a simple command escaped her lips.

"Lay down."

He offered no resistance as she guided his head onto her thighs. Akira was so lost in thought and Haru was so single-mindedly focused on the action, that neither of them recognized the lap-pillowing until Haru's fingers started running through his dark curls and his gasp pulled them out of their heads. But when they finally did notice it, both froze like deer caught in headlights.

Haru's thoughts were as follows:

'OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!? WHAT ON EARTH AM I DOING!? AM I ACTUALLY GIVING AKIRA A LAP PILLOW!? AM I CRAZY!? I THOUGHT I WAS OUT OF MY MIND WITH THAT KISS THE OTHER DAY, BUT THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING I'M GONNA DIEEEEEEEE! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! NO! Be strong! This is my chance! I'll show Akira that I can be there for him! That I'll be by his side no matter what! This is what I've been dreaming of for months and months! Now, I can finally make it a reality! STAY COOL!'

Akira's thoughts were as follows:

'THIGHS!'

Haru straightened her spine, pulled her head back, and resumed her caressing, hoping to hide from him the immense blush that suddenly covered her face. Haru channeled dozens of hours of public speaking classes and forced the tension out through her nose, deciding to simply roll with it and determined to become the bastion of support Akira had once been to her.

"Relax. It's okay." Her whispers cut through the buffeting, unpredictable winds like the silent glide of an owl and nestled deep within Akira's ear and soothed his head from the inside; a wonderful complement to her fingers' work atop his head.

He felt soft fingers brushing the clumps of stress out of his scalp and melted under her touch. Years and years of tough-guy attitude began leaking out of him in the form of tears. He could almost feel his biceps getting smaller and his mind de-aging. The plastic chairs normally felt like paddles against his rump, but this seat had now become the most comfortable on Earth. He looked up at the girl, hoping for an explanation about how she'd cast charmdi on him in the real world as a prank, but instead saw Haru's boobs. From this close, they occupied his entire field of view and resembled a set of Himalayan mountains. His eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and his mouth hung open. His brain reset to that of an infant, and he now understood why most babies' first word is 'Mommy.'

"You don't have to say anything, Akira…" She closed her eyes and continued stroking his hair, twirling small locks of jet-black hair into curly little drills and tugging at them gently.

"…If ever you're feeling worried, or scared, or nervous, I will be here for you."

Akira heard the words, but failed to fully parse them, as much of his brain was seeing good use in attempting to project a bikini top onto Haru's chest. In fact, he was so preoccupied with this, he forgot to dedicate some processing power towards maintaining his balance on the flimsy foldable chairs, and it was only when he saw the twin peaks shrink away that he understood he was falling.

He heard a gasp from the senior and felt a sharp pain in his ankle as he landed painfully upon the floor. Eyes still fully locked on her bosom, he saw brown particles of dirt cake her stomach and chest. Through some manner of cartoon logic his foot had managed to upturn a pot full of soil and catapult its contents directly onto her. As his IQ shot up back to the cool 107 it normally hung around at, Akira scrambled to his feet and apologized profusely.

"Haru! I-I-I'm so sorry!" He did his best to ignore how the confident and cool badass personality he'd spent months and months refining had been utterly demolished by a couple of fingers and a pair of thighs… and boobs…

"Ah! No worries! It's no problem! More importantly, are you okay, Akira!? D-did you hit your head?" Haru was thankful she could focus on his fall, because if she lingered too long on effectively reaching second base with her crush on their second 'date,' she might explode into squeals like a middle schooler.

"Yes, I'm okay… Sorry about that." Akira tried to scoop up the dirt with his hands, but was too preoccupied with thinking about Haru's thighs to realize his hands would not be as effective as, say, a broom.

"It's fine, I'm glad you're okay. B-but…" Haru patted her stomach and chest to shake the soil off her, but small brown stains had seeped into the fabric to the point where only detergent would have a chance at removing them. "…I think I need to change, hehehe~"

Haru skipped over to her bag of supplies and pulled out her usual pink sweater. She saw that the potting soil had somehow managed to penetrate through the thick linens of her jacket, and the thin gym T-shirt underneath was also dotted with brown spots. She would have no choice but to change into the white long-sleeve shirt she wore as part of her normal uniform, too.

Another powerful breeze almost knocked her over, and she heard one of the athletics club's spare boxing dummies succumb to it in the corner by the door. Looking down at the spare clothes that poked out of her pink duffel bag, then back at the still-flustered Akira (who had finally picked up a dustpan), and then back at the now-fallen dummy, she got a devilish idea.

Now that Akira had regained most of his composure, he could focus on self-reflection, and on freaking out. This morning, he'd gotten permission from the gods of karma to rest his cheek on Kasumi's chest, only a single layer of fabric separating their skin. And now, the heavens had permitted the other cheek to place itself on Haru's legs with similarly minimal amounts of clothing between them. Not in a million years would young Akira Kurusu ever forget this day. Perhaps, he wondered, it would be wise to start a journal. A temple of papyrus wherein memories and experiences so divine as these may be immortalized and worshipped for generations to come. He could easily envision a couple dozen religions branching out from this hypothetical holy text. A couple billion followers pledging fealty to the descriptions of Kasumi's ribcage in hopes of one day experiencing even an approximation of it, and a couple billion more praying and fasting daily for the promise of a lap pillow from a goddess with thighs even half as blissful as what he'd felt from Haru's once they'd ascended to nirvana. Akira felt it might be his sworn duty to the world to found these churches and inspire faith in the ignorant masses, like Jesus once did long ago. Perhaps the 'gift' Luciano kept alluding to was enlightenment. If so, Akira was confident he'd already broken the cycle of reincarnation and would rise to a higher dimensional plane upon his timely death.

He snapped out of his ludicrous daydream at the sound of Haru's voice.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." His mouth hung agape stupidly.

"I asked if you could…" Haru looked away, her shoulders wobbled uneasily and she was holding a bundle of pink and white. Akira gulped when he fully took in how lewd the blush on her face was.

"…Turn around. Please… A-again."

.oOo.

Jesus Christ was killed by non-believers for blasphemously announcing himself as the Lamb of God and challenging the might of the King; He was given a crown of thorns in ironic mockery of his claim when he was crucified at the very cross he'd dragged to the site of his own execution. It is a tale as old as time, wherein the boundless mercy and love God has for humanity triumphs above all, and every man, woman, and child who believes has the potential to be saved.

Akira, moments ago feeling rather messianic himself in his idea of creating new religions centered around the worship of tits and thighs, now began to understand a fraction of the suffering that Jesus endured during crucifixion. Indeed, as he faced away from Haru and heard diminutive grunts and rustling fabrics behind him, his groin ached as he felt the metaphorical prickles of a circle of thorns stabbing at the bell of his dong.

She had asked him to stay close for protection, but to look away for privacy. No more than a meter away, Haru Okumura was changing out of her dirtied gym attire and into her regular school top.

A strong gust of wind almost knocked Akira off his feet. They had huddled into a corner of the roof near the walls to minimize the chances of someone walking in and seeing them, but the random bursts of wind that frequently assaulted the rooftop turned to full-blown whirlwinds when they collided with the building's sharp edges, even more so in these corners.

Every fiber of Akira was screaming at him, either to turn around and accept his demise Haru's hands, or go to the bathroom to jack off and accept his demise at his own hand. But much like Jesus, he could only rely on the mercy of God, now.

"Okay… Whoa!" He heard Haru stumble at the gale breeze.

Akira felt a gentle slap to the back of his head. He thought this might be Haru's playful way of letting him know she was finished, and he began to finally relax somewhat, but the imprint it left on him was decidedly not that of a hand, it felt more like a large leaf. Akira mindlessly reached around and grabbed the thing that had just landed on his head and stared at it in dumbfoundment for a second before turning to ice.

'It's a…' he thought. '…It's a bra. A black lace bra… Haru's lace black bra... T-the one Yusuke was talking about…'

"…A-A-Akira…" Haru whimpered. "C-can you do me a favor…? P-please?"

'…But…Wait, if this is here, then what's…?' Akira's head raced.

He gulped and said "S…Sure."

"Can you please…" her voice trembled.

'…what is she wearing under-…!?'

"…close your eyes, and…"

'Under her shirt…!?'

"… help me put that back on?"

'ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!?' prayed Akira.

Haru watched on from a nearby corner as Akira fumbled with the undergarment in his hands and faced tremendous hardship as he tried to put it onto the training dummy she'd strategically swapped places with.

She hadn't actually needed to change her shirt, of course. It was only a little stain, and it wouldn't transfer back onto the familiar pink sweater she had put on to stave off the cold November breeze. But even if she had found it necessary to swap undershirts, there was no reason to take off her bra, specially not on the roof of the school when so many perfectly good bathrooms existed.

She was wearing her P.E. sport bra right now, the one she'd been wearing this entire time. Akira was currently giving the brunette a sense of great, almost sadistic glee in watching him struggle and fail magnificently to hook her spare bra onto the mannequin; it was clear this was the young man's first time handling women's clothing. Haru was watching a baby splash around the kiddy pool in a full set of floaties, scared of water not even half a foot deep.

She did feel a little bad teasing him like this, but his battle with the bra was thoroughly entertaining to behold, and a small prank like this was just what she needed after today's and the other day's little flirts with him. Haru was glad that her crush was on a guy like Akira.

He had protected her and helped her grow dozens of times before. Now it was her turn to do the same to him.

"Okay… D-done…" When Akira finally opened his eyes and realized he'd spent the better part of 2 minutes trying to put a bra onto a torso-shaped piece of foam, his entire face sagged and he suddenly looked 10 years older. Haru had to hold back a belly laugh when she was finally able to break her silence and comment on Akira's work.

"Ahahahaha! Akira, you aren't supposed to tie it into a knot, you're going to choke him!" She untangled the mess of fabric and helpfully demonstrated how the little metal hooks at the back of the waistband clamp together to the extremely flustered Akira.

"W-wh!? H-how was I supposed to know! I-I don't wear a bra!" he blurted out defensively.

"Hehehe…" She wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye. "Sorry, I just had to tease you a little more, I needed that laugh."

He groaned and adjusted his glasses in response. His face was still red.

Normally, Akira despised getting blueballed, but with the amount of action he'd experienced today, he was actually relieved. He managed to regain his composure and take the joke about as well as a man who had just received his first lap pillow could, and eventually the pair resumed their gardening. Akira took apocalyptic care in not causing any more accidents, and before long the two parted ways.

Haru pinched herself a few times that night.

A/N:

I'm back.

B)

Hope you guys liked this one! Sorry if it feels a bit all over the place, the truth is wrote 75% of this two weeks ago, and only got around to finishing it just now. Rather amazingly, though, this chapter marks the point wherein the word count for this sequel fic will officially have surpassed that of the original both on AO3 and ! To think that this is only around 40% of the story! And don't worry. I will finish this story.

As for the content, I wanted the love triangle between Akira, Makoto, and Haru to feel natural. We already have good enough justification as to why Makoto would like Akira, and Akira back to her, so in this chapter I wanted to set in stone the reason that Akira and Haru might feel attraction to one another. To summarize:

- Haru likes Akira because he was a tower of stability for her in her darkest moments. He saw her at her lowest and accepted her for who she was, and her main romantic motivation is to return some of that to him.

- Akira may be beginning to like Haru because she might allow him to be vulnerable in ways that would otherwise see him ostracized. Akira does not really recognize this yet.

- Makoto likes Akira because she wants to understand him more, leading them to become closer and eventually allowing Makoto's platonic feelings to turn romantic.

- Akira likes Makoto because she has a huge ass.

Things are getting complicated now, specially with Sumire being added to the mix, so I'll be providing these much more detailed author's notes from now on just to make sure none of the many incredibly nuances of this deep and thought provoking piece of literature are lost.

And, yeah! That's all for this time! I'll see you guys next time!