In the Marineford mess hall's dessert section, a silent war unfolded daily. The limited-edition special desserts, especially those exclusive creations conjured by the chef on a whim, were often the most coveted spoils of this war.
Levi had recently developed a keen interest in a new dessert called "Moonlight Mousse." It was a light purple mousse with an incredibly airy texture, a faint lavender scent, and a hint of honey sweetness, all topped with delicate silver leaf, resembling a tranquil moonlit night. More importantly, it melted in his mouth, requiring almost no chewing, which perfectly met Levi's dual high standards for "eating efficiency" and "delicious experience."
However, due to its intricate preparation, only twenty portions of this mousse were available daily. This posed a severe challenge to Levi's lazy routine. He would often wake up naturally from his nap and slowly make his way to the mess hall, only to find an empty display case and a lingering, faint sweet aroma in the air. After several fruitless attempts, even his slothful soul harbored a faint grudge.
"...It's gone again..." One afternoon, he stared at the small sign that read "Moonlight Mousse Sold Out," his eyes vacant, emitting an even more intense "low pressure" than usual. Several officers nearby inexplicably felt a strong wave of fatigue and the thought, "Oh well, I'll try again tomorrow," as they shook their heads and walked away.
Just then, his gaze inadvertently swept across the quietest corner of the mess hall. He froze. Ain was sitting at their usual window-side table, quietly sipping tea. And across from her, on the table, sat a perfectly intact "Moonlight Mousse," radiating an enticing glow.
Levi's brain, uncharacteristically, started working rapidly, consuming most of his non-eating energy for the day: *Ain. Our table. One Moonlight Mousse. She doesn't seem to... like overly sweet things?*
He slowly shuffled over, his steps seemingly 0.01 seconds faster than usual. He stopped at the table, his gaze shifting between the mousse and Ain, not sitting down immediately. His eyes held a rare mix of longing and uncertain inquiry.
Ain looked up, saw him, and showed no surprise. She merely looked at him with her calm eyes, then at the mousse on the table, and performed an incredibly natural action—she extended a slender finger and gently pushed the small glass cup holding the mousse to the spot across from her, in front of Levi's usual seat. After this, she withdrew her hand and continued to look down at a tactical notebook, as if she had merely brushed away a non-existent fallen leaf. The entire process was silent, devoid of any need for explanation.
Levi stood still, blinking slowly twice. A tremendous sense of convenience, requiring no verbal communication, instantly enveloped his trouble-averse core like a warm tide. He understood. Completely.
Without demur, without thanks (that would require organizing language, which was troublesome), he quietly, and with a hint of eagerness, sat down opposite her. The silver spoon, as if driven by an invisible laziness, floated up, shakily scooped a large chunk of mousse, and precisely delivered it to his mouth. The exquisite deliciousness melted on his taste buds, bringing unparalleled satisfaction. More importantly, the process of acquiring this delicacy was effortless, easy, and free of any social burden.
He ate with extreme focus and enjoyment. Ain, meanwhile, quietly read her book, occasionally taking a sip of tea, as if Levi and the precious mousse across from her did not exist. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing both of them in the same warm glow. One ate intently, the other read quietly, a perfectly balanced silence between them forming a strange yet harmonious scene.
From that day on, a silent rule was established. If Ain arrived first, she would naturally head to the dessert section. If the "Moonlight Mousse" or any other limited dessert Levi clearly preferred was available, she would take an extra portion and place it across from her at their usual spot. When Levi slowly appeared, a single glance would be enough for him to understand.
Conversely, if Levi, against all odds, arrived first, he would occupy their corner and lazily scan the entrance. When he saw Ain, he would almost imperceptibly tap the table twice or pull out the chair opposite him—the least effortful "signal" he could make. Ain would understand and sit down.
They became each other's "quiet coordinates" and "dessert insurance" in the bustling mess hall. This minimalist interaction, transcending words, perfectly matched their deep-seated needs for "tranquility" and "avoiding trouble." Levi gained a stable source of delicious food, and Ain gained an absolutely quiet, undisturbed dining environment. It was a win-win.
However, in the eyes of others, it was a continuous spectacle.
"Look! The god of laziness and the Blue Crow (Ain's nickname among the cadets) are sitting together again!"
"Did Commodore Ain get his dessert for him again today?"
"Did they talk? No, right? I've been watching for so long!"
"How do they communicate? Telepathy?"
Countless Marines, from privates to Vice Admirals, observed this strange pair, their hearts filled with speculation. But no one ever dared to approach or ask, partly out of respect for Ain's strength and partly out of a deep apprehension of Levi's bizarre ability.
Only Kuzan, who happened to encounter them once, stroked his chin and watched for a long time, a look of dawning realization and an amused, lazy smile spreading across his face. He muttered softly, "Well... this is pretty good too... saves trouble..."
Thus, Marineford's most incredible friendship, built on silence and desserts, naturally and firmly formed. It was based solely on the purest needs and the most thorough understanding of each other's absolute intolerance for "trouble" and their highest pursuit of "quiet."
For Levi, Ain was perhaps the "least troublesome high-quality resource provider" he had encountered since his transmigration. And for Ain, Levi was probably the only colleague she could spend hours with without any social pressure or noise pollution. This unique alliance, like the sunlight in their usual corner, was quiet, warm, and indispensable.