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Everything is upside down.
He himself is in chaos, holding that paper in his hands, trembling, not because he didn't know, no, but because he always knew, in his heart. Now, under those combinations of letters and strange symbols, his life takes on another meaning, although in reality, nothing that his vague excuses didn't hide, but that deep down, existed.
ASD and giftedness.
It was hardly credible, really. Kurode had never felt particularly intelligent, having to use physical strength instead of magic like his brother. But he had never stopped to analyze it, because perhaps he never thought it relevant, the way he had learned some complicated physical exercises quite quickly, the way strength had always been his first instinct when solving problems, or anything that involved the body. Even when banishing the SEEDS with real magic for the first time, he had used his legs more than his hands, as most Fragaria did, as Myunna did.
Now, with the paper in his hand and himself sinking into a nearby beanbag chair, those little things smile at him with a mocking grimace, like those who have been ignored for too long and now that (at last) they are being noticed, all they can do is mock.
Perhaps they were mocking Kurode himself and his (futile) attempts to deny it.
It was Cielomort who proposed the analysis. Just a little test, something formal. To get along with each other, he said at the time. Minna Nakayoku. Now that he thought about it, maybe Kurode had always been his main target, but once again, Kurode had been too naive, falling for Cielomort's tricks, just as he had fallen for Merold's manipulations, just as he fell for those of half the world.
He had never understood those things, the art of metaphor, irony, and sarcasm. He never considered himself too rigid, however, but rather a bit of a rebel. But there were things that had to be done in a certain way, ideals that had to be followed, thanks that had to be given, and ways of behaving that had to be respected and adhered to. He always got upset when that wasn't the case. Even if it was just shouting something like, “Huh? Why are you doing that?” He raised his voice when he said it, perhaps too much, although in the Kingdom of Kuromi it didn't seem to be a problem, with everyone being so noisy and chaotic. With Myunna, he tried to lower his voice a little, as he was someone who appeared so delicate, fragile as glass, in appearance, of course, because Myunna was actually very strong. Kurode tried to give him some compliments, because Kurode knew how much he doubted himself, although sometimes Myunna looked at him strangely with some of them. he never told him why, but once he thought he heard him sigh:
“You're too innocent, Kurode-san.”
That's what Myunna said when Kurode had commented to Willmesh that it was a shame he covered himself with his hood, because he was so beautiful. Willmesh had pointed out that such things should not be said in public, but Myunna, on the other hand, uttered his famous phrase for the first time.
But Kurode did not consider himself innocent in any way. He had run away from home, sailed around the world, and was now Lady Kuromi's knight. A Fragaria, after facing a whole personal arc of overcoming and breaking his ego. So what kind of innocence was Myunna referring to?
Perhaps the innocence that made him confide his personal story to Cielomort. The cunning and intelligent Cielomort, of all people, not Myunna, his precious friend, not Willmesh, possibly one of the people he trusted most, not even the surly Klark or the gentle Louterstella. Even Randall seemed like a better option now that he thought about it, but no. He had to go and tell Cielomort, who, of course, then used it against him. Although he hadn't always seen it that way, in fact, at first, it had seemed like a great idea to reconcile with his past as the displaced younger brother, even if that was after fainting and fighting Merold's SEED mirage, of course.
He had stopped thinking about the paper, the one he had also stopped holding and was now right under his black boots. The room in the neurological center looked as light blue and cloudy as any other in the Cinnamonroll Kingdom. Although the technologically advanced ones were from the Twin Star Kingdom, all the Kingdoms had a neurological center, which he had once visited as a very young child, although Merold told him that they had found nothing
“Merold told him.”
What a stupid thing to say.
But of course, Merold knew all along. That's why he had been so eager to overprotect him. Look, there was nothing wrong with Kurode being gifted, but he knew perfectly well that autistic people were often seen as childish, “eternal children,” as someone in his family had said. Maybe his brother had been seeing him that way all along, as an “eternal child,” even though Kurode had never seen himself that way. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to go out, explore the world, be like his brother, until envy overcame admiration. Merold always had something he didn't, perhaps a normal nervous system, a normal brain.
Some of that old envy resurfaced.
The initial deal had been that the entire Blue Bouquet would undergo neurological testing, a cover-up, now that he could see more clearly. The other two with results had been Myunna, who had a certain condition that made him more sensitive than average, as Kurode understood it, although it was not neurodivergence as such, but rather a notable personality trait, and Willmesh, who also had those three letters written on his sheet.
ASD
Cielomort was not surprised in any of the three cases. Myunna was not neurodivergent, after all, Willmesh was his childhood friend, and Kurode... Cielomort probably always knew.
“I hope these results allow us to get along better and don't distance us.” was the only thing he said.
Minna Nakayoku. With everyone except himself.
Now he was alone. Willmesh tried to talk to him before leaving, but Kurode avoided him. Myunna had stayed until the end, but Kurode convinced him to leave too. Now, alone, he stepped on his leaf and laughed. Dry, harsh. Disappointing.
Disappointed.
He couldn't even refer to himself as an autistic person, or as gifted, nor did he know what he was gifted at, to begin with, if the only thing he was good at had been achieved through years of training.
And yes, that strange ease with which he did things in all of them.
A small part of his brain clung to the idea of being neurotypical. It told him that there was a mistake in the tests, that it was impossible for him to be like that, weak, delicate, fragile, intelligent. It was impossible.
Except that, according to the neurologist, he could be none of those things and still be autistic and gifted at the same time.
It wasn't a strict rule. The word “spectrum” in ASD was clear enough, and those things were actually stereotypes, stereotypes that Kurode had believed in all his life until those stereotypes started talking about him, that is, two hours ago.
He picked up his dirty paper from the floor and cleaned it a little with his hand. It was his diagnosis, not the presumptive one, the official one. Cielomort had wanted to finish everything quickly and didn't give anyone their presumptive diagnosis, so he only had the official one.
ASD and giftedness.
The words hadn't changed despite all his attempts at denial, at searching.
He would never change the fact that he was impulsive, emotional, his unfiltered gestures, his unfiltered words, and... Kurode could go on forever listing his symptoms, which before had seemed like quirks or normal things that anyone would do, the way he held his tablet, his little daily routine (everyone has routines, right?).
He could continue to drown in his own head, or he could get out.
What had Myunna said? That this diagnosis wouldn't change anything and that he would continue to see him in the same way? Loving and admiring him in the same way, and that now he would be even more admirable to him, for navigating a world that wasn't even made for him and still remaining Kurode, the unique and incomparable Kurode?
Something like that.
Willmesh, between attempts, had managed to say something to him.
“Even if you don't believe it now, it's normal, it's just a different way of existing. A small difference.”
And little else.
Kurode noticed that Willmesh had not been surprised at all by his diagnosis. He assumed he had known for years. How could he live with that?
How could he function with that?
Kurode reasoned that maybe it was time to break his stereotypes. He tried to do that thing, the thing Myunna did, the thing Louter did sometimes, to see “the bright side of things.” Klark and Kurode never understood how to do that, but he had been trying since his Accolade, from time to time.
He realized that, until now, he hadn't focused on the good things about his diagnosis.
Yes, he was impulsive, but only when something really mattered, when he had to defend something he believed was right. Maybe he seemed out of place sometimes, not getting the irony or, in contrast to Hallritt, understanding too much. But he figured that was his spark, a bit of that “one and only Kurode” that Myunna had mentioned.
Yes, maybe he was naive about some things, like what shouldn't be said (he was beginning to realize that many of those things might be interpreted in another context, like carrying Myunna to get a better view of Lady Cogimyun's presentation, although helping is normal, right? Better to stop thinking about that), but he didn't hurt anyone, and it was just part of who he was. Come on, Myunna was also a little naive at times, which is why half the world treated him like a child. He figured it was just part of Willmesh's “normal,” many of those traits were normal, except that when you had several of them, it was a diagnosis. But, on further reflection, none of them prevented Kurode from functioning.
And what about the difficulties?
That thing the neurologist mentioned that seemed to be another reasonable explanation for the time a seed got into his body and tried to possess him. Sensory overstimulation (although that was due to stress), and yes, it could also happen due to any other excessive emotion. Anger, stress, anxiety, and it could incapacitate you. Although fainting was not the most common, it was very rare, almost improbable. That was because of the seed, he thought.
Except for that occasion, Kurode had never been overstimulated before, not that he could remember (or maybe he did remember something?), but he knew it was a real risk, just as real as the fact that, often not understanding intentions and irony, he was very easily manipulated. He could try, but it would be too exhausting. Just thinking about acting or trying to understand a little more (forcing himself to understand) made him feel tired.
But he would learn in time, he came to that conclusion, in time, as the neurologist had said, he could develop many skills he didn't have. For now, though, he would try not to be Cielomort's puppet. Perhaps he could start by making things very clear to him, or by simply avoiding him, evading him, not trusting him. He could do that.
He couldn't let his condition incapacitate him. Autistic or not, gifted or not, he still had to persevere like everyone else. That was his code of chivalry, the one he had offered to Lady Kuromi, the one he had offered to himself.
Perhaps that diagnosis was not a sentence, perhaps it was actually an advantage. Now that he knew himself a little better, he could get on track and not stumble around blindly as he had in recent months.
Perhaps it was a guide, not to mention the advantages, the way he could learn a little faster (although only in terms of the physical. Kurode had always been one of those who barely passed the academic year), the authenticity that gave him (which Kuromi, his precious Lady, valued) and...He couldn't thing in something more.
In time, he thought, in time he would find out.
It was a little more complicated than that, but the conclusion made him feel more relieved. Knowing that, after all, perhaps, that diagnosis wasn't as bad as he thought.