The backyard of the Marineford Medical Center was always quieter than the front.
Zephyr sat in a wicker chair, his left hand pressing against the empty sleeve of his right arm where an old wound had long since taken its toll. His knuckles whitened from the pressure.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the parasol trees, scattering mottled shadows across his deeply lined face, but it couldn't chase away the weariness between his brows.
The old injury was acting up again. The shouts and clangs of training in the nearby grounds pricked at his nerves like fine needles, each one sinking deeper into his already tense shoulders.
"Teacher, should I call the doctor again?"
Ain stood beside him, holding a jar of warmed ointment, worry in her voice.
She had just returned from the training grounds, intending to say hello to Renzo, only to find his usual spot under the trees empty. After asking Potts, she learned Zephyr's old wound had flared up again, and he needed quiet.
Zephyr shook his head, voice rough and low. "No need. Just let me sit quietly for a while."
Even so, his brows remained tightly furrowed.
From not far away came the rhythmic shouting of recruits in training.
Their drills and commands overlapped endlessly, the noise too stubborn even for the sea breeze to carry away.
Ain followed his gaze, anxious.
She knew noise was the worst thing for his injury, but training couldn't simply be stopped, even if she spoke to the instructors. Discipline came first.
After a few seconds of hesitation, she suddenly thought of someone, someone whose presence could turn the noisiest place into silence.
When Ain found Renzo, he was slumped in a window-side armchair in the library, a book titled Atlas of Desserts Across the Four Blues covering half his face. His breathing was slow and steady; clearly, he was napping again.
Sunlight bathed him in golden warmth; even the edge of the book seemed lazy.
"Renzo," Ain whispered softly as she approached, her voice light as a feather.
The book shifted slightly. Renzo slowly lifted one corner, revealing half an eye that hadn't fully woken up. "…Noisy."
"I… need to ask a favor."
Ain crouched beside him, careful not to block the sunlight. "Teacher Zephyr's wound is acting up. He needs quiet, but the training ground is too loud…"
Before she could finish, Renzo's eyes faintly brightened, not at the mention of Zephyr, but at the small paper bundle she'd unconsciously taken from her pocket. The faint, sweet aroma of red bean cake drifted out.
"Made by Aunt Maggie?"
Finally, a spark of life entered his voice as he reached for it.
Ain handed it to him, adding casually, "Teacher said if you're willing to come, he's already acquired brewed aged Pu'er from the South Blue. Said it goes perfectly with the cake."
Renzo unwrapped the paper, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The bean paste was smooth and lightly scented with osmanthus, just the right sweetness for his taste.
He stayed silent for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons between helping out a little and having tea and snacks.
At last, he sat up lazily. "Pu'er? Tell him not too strong."
Ain exhaled in relief. "I already told him that, it's nice and light."
They walked together to the medical center's backyard, barely exchanging words.
Renzo strolled at a slow, dragging pace, hands in his pockets, occasionally kicking a pebble. Ain followed beside him, holding the ointment carefully, matching her steps to his, afraid to disturb his rare bit of "effort."
When they arrived, Zephyr was still seated in the wicker chair. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and gave a faint smile when he saw Renzo. "You came."
On the stone table sat a clay teapot, two teacups, and a small plate of almonds, clearly prepared in advance.
Renzo didn't bother with pleasantries. He dropped into the chair, poured himself half a cup of tea, and took a slow sip.
The warm Pu'er slid down his throat with a mild, aged fragrance, just enough to cleanse the lingering sweetness of the red bean cake.
"The noise from the training ground… is a bit much," Zephyr said plainly.
He knew Renzo hated troublesome explanations, so there was no point in small talk.
Renzo didn't reply. He just raised his eyes slightly toward the direction of the training field.
The recruits' chants were still going strong, if anything, louder than before, their voices reaching the peak of exertion.
Renzo frowned faintly, set down the teacup, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes, as if about to nap again.
Ain grew worried, thinking he'd decided not to help after all. She was just about to speak when she noticed something strange.
The noise from the training field began to fade, slowly muffled, like being wrapped in layers of cotton. The once-sharp "one-two-one" commands became distant echoes.
Even the rustling of leaves in the wind grew soft and languid, as if even the air had become "too lazy" to move.
Ain glanced at Renzo in astonishment. He was still sitting there, eyes closed, breathing slow and calm, looking utterly ordinary, except the world around him wasn't ordinary anymore.
Out in the training field, the recruits' movements noticeably slowed.
Their once-uniform jog turned into a lazy shuffle. The wooden swords in their hands drooped; a few even yawned widely, eyes half-lidded, their bodies suddenly too heavy to keep training.
"This…" Ain whispered, afraid to break the tranquil spell.
Zephyr noticed it too. His hand, once tensed on his empty sleeve, slowly relaxed. The fatigue in his expression began to melt away.
He looked at Renzo, a glint of understanding in his eyes.
So that was his power, not destruction or domination, but a quiet, passive force that made noise and needless movement simply… "too lazy to exist."
"Your ability is… rather good for healing," Zephyr murmured, sipping his tea.
In his long life, he had seen many who relied on strength and fury, but never someone who could turn laziness itself into peace.
Renzo didn't open his eyes. He only grunted softly and reached for another piece of red bean cake.
The sunlight on him was warm, almost sleep-inducing. He decided that maybe this trip wasn't a waste; tea, snacks, and an undisturbed nap were a fine trade.
The rest of the afternoon passed in silence.
Zephyr leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes as the ache in his wound slowly faded.
Ain gently applied ointment to his arm, though the right sleeve was empty, she still cleaned it carefully, out of habit.
Renzo dozed half-awake, occasionally reaching for an almond or sipping tea, completely content in the stillness.
By the time the sun began to set, Renzo finally stretched, joints cracking softly. The shouts from the training ground were gone; either the recruits had ended early or simply grown "too lazy to continue."
"I'm going," he said, standing without a goodbye and heading for the dorms.
He needed to reach the cafeteria before it closed; Aunt Maggie's roasted sweet potatoes would get cold otherwise.
Ain quickly stood to see him off, but when he reached the garden gate, Renzo paused for a moment and glanced back at the stone table.
It was just a fleeting look, so brief that Ain thought she imagined it.
But when she returned to the table and lifted Zephyr's teacup, she found the tea still warm.
Even though it had sat there for nearly two hours, its warmth was perfect for drinking.
She looked at Zephyr, who was also staring at the cup, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That boy… doesn't completely ignore things after all."
Ain smiled too, pouring him another half cup.
The warm tea rippled gently, reflecting the last rays of the sunset, filling the quiet garden with a golden, peaceful warmth.
The evening breeze rustled the tree leaves softly, no longer noisy, but part of the calm itself.
Zephyr leaned back, savoring the gentle tea and the fading pain in his arm, and thought that having a boy like that, lazy, detached, yet somehow bringing peace wherever he went, wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Meanwhile, Renzo had already reached the cafeteria doors. The sweet scent of roasted yams filled the air, and any lingering thought of the small favor he'd done had long since vanished, replaced entirely by the simple joy of warm food before closing time.
He pushed the door open, following the scent, and thought lazily: 'AIf unt Maggie made roasted yams every day, the world would be perfect.'
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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