What was Futaba's favourite flower?

She hadn't thought of that question in…well, longer than she really knows. Flowers didn't grow in her room—the place she had confined herself to for years after her mother died. How could she? Living that way had erased them from her mind, since her life revolved around things almost entirely inorganic, things that separated her from the rest of the living world. Her room housed computers, cyberspace, video games, all digital things that could exist on a single screen in a dimly-lit room. Flowers grew in bright, airy places, like gardens outside or in pots on balconies. Her room was the opposite. Her life was the opposite.

After the Phantom Thieves, that changed. Through no small feat, Futaba's friends had opened her heart to forgive herself and accept what happened in her past. Thanks to them, her self-confidence bloomed, her overwhelming guilt faded away, and she could live in the present and look to the future. Futaba could grow again, and grow she did—out of the prison she made for herself. She could exit her house and walk along the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, her neighbourhood, to her caretaker Sojiro's café, Leblanc, and with continued support, she could hang out with her friends in what became an ever-expanding world. Everything outdoors had suddenly occupied her mind, like her head drew its curtains to let sunlight illuminate the walls, the floors and all of its decorations. Her room was no longer her home, but rather a mere sliver of the entire picture.

Now, Futaba's life was filled with happiness that came from not just her friends, family, and video games she still enjoyed playing, but smaller things like flowers, too. They returned to her mind like they did years and years ago, before her life changed so drastically. When she thought of flowers, Futaba recalled dandelions. Outside her home, they sprouted out of the patches of grass and the cracks between the concrete across Yongen-Jaya. They greeted her every morning when she ventured outside, and as the hours went by, they brightened her day with their vivid yellow, even if prior it had been filled with dull greys. Futaba liked dandelions because they were like little suns of their own, there as reminder that not all was dark in the world. It was a contrast to what she assumed for so long as a shut-in.
Dandelions were not her favourite flower. Her favourite was more beloved to her than anything else in the universe, more than flowers, more than video games, heck, more than her computer.

When Futaba first left her home, she wasn't always so confident in herself. There were times she still relapsed, and spent days in her room in bouts of fear and self-hate. She always got better after those moments, but they never entirely stopped, either. Futaba knew they never will. During those times, though, all she wanted was a light at the end of the tunnel and a hand to hold while she continued onward.

She would, in time, receive just that.

When Haru became a Phantom Thief, Futaba had already been one for a month or two. She initially didn't know what to think of a new member, since she already spent so much time getting used to the current team. Haru's own struggles were so beyond her scope, too, with her fiancé, her father's death, her future with his company, Okumura Foods…to Futaba, Haru went through such adult problems compared to her, which made her feel irrelevant to anything Haru-related. She didn't talk to the new member, not because she didn't like her, but because she didn't want to be a bothersome child.

Time went on, and Haru got away from her fiancé, much to everyone's relief. She began to hang out more with the rest of the group and took many trips to Leblanc, be it to buy a coffee, deliver vegetables to Sojiro – the owner of Leblanc – from her garden, catch a Phantom Thieves' meeting, or just talk with Ren, the Phantom Thieves' leader and a good friend of everyone on the team. It became a common place for her to go in her spare time, and as her visits increased, so did her time with Futaba. At first, their conversations only covered small talk, much to Futaba's chagrin. She wasn't good at talking about little things like the weather, mainly because weather was irrelevant to a hermit. Of course, she got better with it. Haru's kind words and gentle demeanor reassured Futaba that she had made a friend in Haru, one that wouldn't care if she messed up her conversations from time to time and would help her grow out of her shell. Perhaps, most important of all, Futaba learned she had more similarities with Haru than she first imagined. Short exchanges evolved into true discussions, and Futaba would spend more time at the café than ever before, looking forward to the times when Haru stopped by Leblanc. Her presence in the restaurant illuminated the walls around Futaba and blanketed any darkness that had been cast over her, be it from a depressive episode or a struggle with self-doubt. Haru became a beacon to Futaba, one that was there to keep her from straying away and sinking, like a lighthouse to a lost little boat.

When Futaba was upset or excited about any of her numerous passions, Haru would sit down with her and listen, learning more about the life of the girl. In return, Futaba promised to be there for her, sometimes as a listening ear, other times to open Haru's world up with her own quirky, often geeky passions. While Haru was at first intimidated by Futaba's unrelenting nerdiness, she found her own niches in the digital world. Thanks to Futaba, she was even introduced to games like Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing, ones she eventually began playing as pastimes along with her gardening and coffee brewing. Haru became brighter and more cheerful with Futaba, just like how the reverse was true too. Haru was not too mature for Futaba, or Futaba too childish for Haru; sides unknown to anyone else flourished in them when they were with each other, sides that bettered their entire outlook on life.

One day, the question of Futaba's favourite flower had arose as she sat in Leblanc. Haru had sent her a photo of her garden where she had planted some red chrysanthemums and pink camellias together in a plot of soil. Their flowers were gorgeous, colourful and plush-like, the kinds one would put up to their nose and sniff for a gentle aroma. Futaba smiled at the picture and noticed Haru typing something. It was a question that she sent: "what is your favourite flower, Futaba?"
Futaba blushed, knowing dandelions were considered weeds to most people. Would Haru understand her love for them? She took the chance and responded with her choice and a picture she took of a particularly bright one growing outside of Leblanc. Haru responded with an 'Okay!' and a yellow heart. Futaba's rosy cheeks reddened even more.

In around twenty minutes, the bell above the front door of Leblanc jingled. Sitting at one of the booths, Futaba looked up from her phone to see Haru in her summer dress, walking towards her and smiling sweetly. Futaba stood up and approached Haru, only to notice a radiant golden flower tucked behind her ear – a dandelion, of course.

"Do you like it?" Haru asked her. "I think dandelions are pretty too. It's a shame people don't like them much."

Futaba adjusted her glasses and slowly raised her hand, taking the flower out. "Heck…" she mumbled. Holding it tightly in her hand and close to her heart, Futaba looked at Haru, who gazed back at her with her gentle eyes.

"It's perfect," Futaba assured her. "But…" with hesitation, she confessed, "it's not my favourite flower."

Haru's smile fell into a slight frown, one of worry and concern. "Hm?"

Slowly, Futaba stepped closer to Haru, looking up to meet her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her waist and touched her petal-like tufts of hair. As if by instinct, Haru gently embraced her as well.

"You're my favourite flower, silly," Futaba told Haru. "I love you."

It was Futaba's first kiss, and she wouldn't have wanted it with anyone else.