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The Beat of Her Own Drum

Futaba had always felt... different.

She struggled with things which seemed to come naturally to others, and had many quirks no one else seemed to have. Where others merely took an interest in things, she became almost obsessed; where others saw a crowded train as a normal part of life, she saw it as a claustrophobic torture chamber; where others could chat to strangers like it was nothing, she found even saying ‘hello’ without panicking to be cause for a celebration. She just didn't “get” other people, and she didn't know why.

Never was this more apparent to her than after joining the Phantom Thieves.

She was grateful for them saving her, to be sure, but she had never expected their relationship to go any further than that. Not that she wanted to part ways with them: truth be told, despite her introverted nature she was quite lonely deep down. No, rather she found the Phantom Thieves as a group intimidating, to say the least. Just texting their leader under her ‘Alibaba’ alias had been an ordeal which had taken at least a couple days of mental preparation for her to even attempt; she felt far from prepared to speak to the whole group of strangers in person.

Even with her limited social experience, it was clear to her that this was a tightly-knit group. They played off of each other like siblings, communicating in a way which went beyond words; gestures, body language, facial expressions, all working in tandem to form almost a second language of sorts, one which felt completely alien to Futaba, who had always struggled to understand non-verbal communication. She would likely still be a loner, had the thieves not extended the offer of friendship themselves.

It had been several months since then. While she was apprehensive at first, her fellow thieves had helped her greatly to come out of her shell, and she had gotten used to the dynamics of the group's conversations, and genuinely enjoyed talking to them all (even Inari). Still, she couldn't help but feel “off” somehow. There was still so much she didn't understand about social interaction which seemed to come mostly as second nature to the others, and none of the research she had done on the topic seemed to be helping, not to mention the confused looks she often got when she mentioned said research, though not intended to be hurtful, still contributed to her feeling “different,” even amongst a group of fellow outcasts. It was like she was on a different wavelength from her friends. From the world.

Sojiro always told her she was just “unique.” I don't want to be unique, Futaba thought, I wanna be normal…

Her mind wandered back to her middle school days. She had never been one to make friends; she wanted to, she just didn't know how to. It was only by chance that she had befriended Kana-chan, and she had managed to mess that up. She instead kept to herself, spending her time reading and memorising all sorts of books, fiction or nonfiction. She thought she was fine just being herself, that this was normal, but others called her a freak.

Maybe they were right… she thought to herself, before shaking her head. No, I can't go back to hating myself again! Not after all that… She thought back to just a few months earlier, when she had been too deep in her own self-loathing to even leave her room. She slapped her cheeks lightly to clear her mind. That's in the past now. Now, where was I?

She turned her attention back to the monitor in front of her. Currently open on the tab was a document crudely titled “Social Interaction for Dummies.” It always made Futaba smirk slightly when she read it; she was far from a dummy after all, being a renowned hacker and praised as a genius by her fellow thieves. The document was something she had begun working on shortly after joining the Phantom Thieves; a place to compile all of her research, all neatly arranged into various sections; talking to strangers, hosting guests, romantic relationships (That one always made her nervous) and so on. Certainly not something most people would consider doing, but that was just how her brain worked. She liked to arrange and look at things logically, and having everything neatly laid out like this made her comfortable.

Open on another tab was the next item of her research; an article she found online titled “The Art of Nonverbal Communication.” Despite the fancy title, it had proved unfruitful so far, seeming to consist entirely of information she had already read elsewhere. She sighed in frustration. The last few articles she had read had similarly been of little use to her. This isn't getting me anywhere. Regardless, she continued to skim through, determined to salvage at least something useful out of the last hour of browsing.

Eventually, a single sentence caught her eye; “Many aspects of nonverbal communication can prove difficult for people on the autistic spectrum.” Futaba was intrigued. She had heard the word autism thrown around occasionally throughout her time on the internet, but never in an intellectual context, and certainly not in the form of a “spectrum” like this article was suggesting. Truthfully, despite knowing the word, she had no idea what it actually was. It may not have even been relevant to her research, but it piqued her interest nonetheless. She decided to look into it further. At least it's more interesting than what I’ve read so far today. A quick search brought her to a rather in-depth article on 'Autism Spectrum Disorder.’ Disorder? Does that mean it's a bad thing?

While her research so far had been a big help to her in adjusting to social situations along with the help of her friends, she still wasn't any closer to understanding why she found these situations so difficult; why she felt so different from everyone else. However, as she read through the article’s descriptions of the various common traits of ASD, she was shocked at just how many of them fit herself: Difficulty reading social cues and nonverbal codes was obvious enough. Tendency to display an intense interest or obsession with a specific topic; she did often make Sojiro's head spin with her ramblings about the latest computer products or games, so that seemed to fit. A often logical approach to problem solving and organisation; the previously mentioned research document and the numerous post-it notes around her desk seemed to suggest as much. Hypersensitivity of sound, touch or other senses; she had never told anyone but there was a reason she always wore those headphones. It all seemed to fit to a degree. Futaba could barely contain her excitement; it seemed as though she might finally have an explanation for why she was the way she was. However, the grin on her face faded as she remembered the word which had stood out to her earlier. Disorder. The word rang in her head.

Disorder. As in out of order. As in “off.” As in doesn't work right. As in…

Futaba's heart sunk. As in… disabled... I’m disabled. Different… She pulled her knees up to her chest. I guess I really am just a freak…

She sat in silence like that for a few minutes, on the verge of tears, before shaking her head suddenly. Wait, what am I thinking? I hadn't even heard of this… disorder until a few minutes ago! How can I be so sure that I have it!? Still, the evidence was certainly convincing, and it wasn't like she had any other explanation as of yet.

I know! I’ll go ask Sojiro if he knows anything about this. She realised Sojiro was unlikely to be an expert on the subject, but he was bound to know something, and if her suspicions turned out to be true she would have rather had someone close to talk to. It was almost closing time for LeBlanc, so Futaba figured there wouldn't be many more customers around. “Not that there’d be many around during the day anyway” she muttered to herself, as though she expected Sojiro to hear her from a couple blocks away if she spoke any louder.

Yeah, that should work. I’ll just walk over there now and ask him. In reality she could have just waited until Sojiro came home and talked to him then, but she wanted to get it over with sooner rather than later. “Ok Boss, here I come!” she proclaimed to no one in particular as she left the room with a spring in her step.

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Unfortunately for Futaba, this boss was a bit higher level than she had expected. As suspected, the cafe was empty, save for the familiar bespectacled man behind the counter, currently tidying up after a day’s business. He didn't even seem to notice Futaba's presence at first, which was probably for the best: the young girl had frozen up as soon as she had entered, quickly realising that in her excitement she hadn't thought about what she would actually say to her father once she got there. Sojiro turned to the girl standing like a deer in headlights, a hint of worry on his face, “Futaba? Is something wrong?” His words broke Futaba out of her stupor.

“I-i’m fine.” she replied with a stutter.

The older man raised an eyebrow, but decided not to worry himself; he had known Futaba long enough to become accustomed to her sometimes odd behaviour. “What are you doing over here at this hour? You know I’m closing up soon.”

Futaba was still trying (and failing) to come up with a plan of attack, and responded shakily again. “O-oh… uh, i-i just… really wanted a cup of coffee!” She wasn't entirely lying; the smell of the cafe was quite intoxicating.

“At this hour? You better not be planning another all-nighter.” Regardless, he sighed. “Have a seat, anywhere you like. Oh, but could you flip the sign over before you do? May as well close shop a bit early.”

The girl, who had remained frozen in place thus far, obliged, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air and hopefully focus her mind on the task at hand, before re-entering and seating herself in the booth nearest the counter. Ok Futaba, you can do this! You just need to start a normal conversation with him and try to segue into what you wanna talk about. Easy! Or at least, it sounded easy.

After a moment of peaceful silence, with only the sound of Sojiro’s brewing to be heard, Futaba broke the ice as casually as she could. “So… where's Akira?” she asked, noticing the absence of the bespectacled boy and his totally-not-feline companion.

“Oh, he’s in town somewhere. Said something about “salt?” I don't know what he was talking about but he seemed pretty angry.” The man sighed, not taking his eyes off of the brew. “I swear, if he’s got himself into any trouble I’ll…” He trailed off, knowing that Futaba had grown quite fond of her “key item”. He had as well, not that he would have liked to admit it. The boy had helped both of them so much since he had arrived in April, he was almost a son to him at this point.

“...Nevermind, your coffee’s ready.” Sojiro placed the warm mug in front of Futaba and sat down in the seat adjacent to hers, newspaper at the ready. The two had never been the type for long family chats, often being content just enjoying each other’s company, with the occasional short exchange.

However, in this particular instance, Futaba didn't want to stay quiet. C’mon, just say something! Sojiro isn't that intimidating! Nonetheless, she couldn't open her mouth. All you have to do is ask if he knows what ASD is. Three words: 'What is ASD?’ ...okay, that's technically five words but you get the idea! Still she remained in uncomfortable silence, the anxiousness on her face not going unnoticed by her father.

“Are you feeling okay Futaba?” he asked, worry returning to his face

“I-I-I'm fine!” Futaba responded with a bit too much intensity.

“Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me if anything’s wrong.”

“N-no really, I’m okay!” Futaba's words contrasted the panic in her tone and the discomfort on her face.

Sojiro sighed again. “You’re a terrible liar, you know. Still, I won't force you to talk if you don't want-”

“AM I DISABLED?”

It was now Sojiro's turn at the deer-in-headlights impression, staring wide-eyed at Futaba, who was still red-faced and shaking from her own sudden outburst. Her words rang in both their heads as the two sat in almost palpable silence for what felt like an eternity.

Sojiro was first to speak up. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

Futaba took a deep breath in a (futile) attempt to calm her nerves. “A-autism Spectrum Disorder. I-is it… I m-mean… am I?”

“You read about this online, didn't you?” Sojiro sighed for the fourth time that night. ”To put it simply; yeah, you are. More specifically you have something called 'Asperger Syndrome;’ sort of a variation of autism, but still under that same umbrella.”

Futaba wasn't sure if 'syndrome’ sounded better or worse than 'disorder,’ but nonetheless she spoke up. “So… is that why I feel so... different from everyone else?”

Sojiro wished she had spoken to him sooner if she had been worrying about being different, but still he answered. “Probably. It's a big reason why you struggle so much with social situations, and why you have so many odd little quirks.” He had to admit, even he didn't fully understand how his daughter's mind worked sometimes.

Futaba's mind had been eased a bit, but her head was still spinning with questions. “Um… how long have you known? T-that I have this, I mean.”

“About a month or two before you met Akira. One of the doctors I talked to about you just kinda mentioned it to me. I always knew you were a bit odd just like your mother but I didn't think there’d actually be a name for it.” He smiled slightly.

Meanwhile his words had sparked a realisation in Futaba. “Wait… you always said I was unique in the same way Mom was. Does that mean…?”

Sojiro smiled again. “Most likely, yeah. People skills never were her strong point, and she always did find a way to surprise me.” His smile faded. “So yeah… technically you’re disabled.”

His words made Futaba's heart sink, and she looked down at her feet. Her body language was not lost on Sojiro, who sighed yet again (it was becoming a habit at this point). “I hate that word, even if it's medically correct. Most people think of a disabled person as someone who's physically or mentally incapable. Someone who can't function like a “normal” person can. But when look at you, or I think about Wakaba, I don't see that at all. Sure, you can struggle with things a lot of people find easy, but that's the keyword; struggle. Nothing's impossible for you; it’ll be difficult, but you can overcome any challenge which comes your way, even if you need to work a bit harder to get there.”

Seeing Futaba listening intently, he continued. “And for everything you struggle with, there's just as many things you excel at. Every time I talked to her, Wakaba would come up with ideas I and most other people I know would never dream of, as if something just “clicked” with her mind that didn't with most. And here you are, already going out of your comfort zone with the help of some amazing friends, and going from a shut-in to an almost fully functioning member of society in just a few months. And don't even get me started on your prowess with all that computer stuff which I wouldn't even have a notion of.” His eyes were getting slightly moist at this point. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, there's nothing wrong with being a bit different. Heck, life would be boring if everyone was the same. Never think that, just because your brain’s wired a little differently, that makes you worth any less than someone else. Sorry if it sounds like I’m preaching a little, but it's the truth. You’re amazing, Futaba, and I wouldn't change you for the world.”

The young girl, who had already started crying at least six sentences ago, practically leaped out of her seat to hug her father, who seemed to have something in both his eyes which he just couldn't get out.

“Thank you…” she hesitated just a little bit before adding “dad,” causing the dad in question to nearly choke on his own tears.

“Y-you know I can't handle you calling me that!”

Futaba giggled, “Why do you think I said it?”

The family broke off after a few minutes, satisfied that they had probably both ran out of tears at this point. Sojiro spoke up once more. “Saying all that, you definitely shouldn't disregard your condition.” Futaba tilted her head in confusion. “What I mean is; ASD and Asperger's, they’re labels, yeah, but labels can be complicated. On one hand, they can limit you, or single you out as “different” from other people, but on the other hand they can help you to understand yourself and maybe even help you find others like you and show you that you're not alone. You shouldn't be scared of your condition; instead, embrace it as just another part of who you are; of what makes you Futaba, for better or worse.”

“So, I shouldn't worry about it?”

The man smiled gently. “Of course not. You’re just on a slightly different wavelength from other people.”

“Like I chose a different skill-tree for my character, got it!”

Sojiro wasn't sure he understood the analogy; he had long given up on attempting to decipher Futaba’s gaming lingo, but as long as she understood then he was happy.

Futaba still felt bothered by something however. “If you’ve known about this for that long, how come you never told me?”

Sojiro sighed for what he promised himself was the last time that night. “I’m sorry. I just didn't want you to worry about it or think there was something wrong with you, especially not when you were already hurting so much. I should've figured you'd find out on your own eventually…”

He looked up at the clock to find it was almost a half-hour after closing time. “Whew, look at the time. We should be heading home now.”

“Sure…” Futaba trailed off as she got the feeling she was forgetting something.

“I NEVER DRANK MY COFFEE!”

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Back in her room, Futaba replayed the whole conversation in her mind. She may not have handled it with the most finesse, but she got what she wanted (minus the coffee). Sojiro was right; there was no point worrying over who she was. Even if she was technically disabled, there was nothing wrong with that. ASD and Asperger's were just labels which could help her understand herself. Though some things may prove difficult for her, she knew that she could overcome any challenge life threw at her with the help of some amazing people.

She wasn't normal, but that didn't scare her anymore, because she wasn't a freak either.

She was Futaba Sakura, and as long as she had friends who would support her, she would keep marching to the beat of her own drum.













