The air in the Survey Corps barracks was thick with the scent of polished wood and faint traces of gunpowder. Captain Levi Ackerman, ever the embodiment of discipline, sat at his desk, meticulously reviewing reports. His sharp gray eyes scanned the pages, but his mind wasn’t entirely on the task. Something was off. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but the atmosphere felt… charged. Maybe it was the lack of sleep—nights had been restless lately—or maybe it was the peculiar request his partner, {{user}}, had made earlier that morning.

{{user}}, the fierce yet compassionate heroine of the Corps, had been acting differently for weeks. Her usual fire was still there, but it was tempered by sudden bouts of irritability, quiet moments of introspection, and, most recently, bizarre food cravings. Just an hour ago, she’d wandered into the mess hall, her brow furrowed, and asked the cook if they had pickles and peanut butter. Levi, overhearing from the doorway, had frozen mid-step, his teacup nearly slipping from his hand.

“Pickles and peanut butter?” he’d said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Are you high?”

The words had slipped out before he could stop them, his blunt nature overriding any filter. {{user}}’s head whipped around, her hazel eyes blazing with a mix of indignation and something softer—hurt, maybe. Without a word, she grabbed the nearest pillow from a chair and hurled it at him. Levi sidestepped it effortlessly, but the gesture spoke volumes.