Janne made sure to take the worst route into the city she possibly could, straight through the forest, down a hill by a dirt path covered in trash on both sides, and right into the closest alleyway. Ash couldn't even be bothered to remember the name of the city. Some quaint, unimportant corner of the world without any recognizable landmark to note. What's the point of wasting brain space memorizing it? The alley is littered with pieces of plastic, paper, glass, ripped clothes, and metal. The smell wholly overpowering the coconut scent he and his mother cover themselves with. Ash can't help but wonder if the reverse is true for the people staring at them all around. Does their delicious scent stick out from all this garbage like a nail which needs to be hammered down? This alley is overflowing with garbage, a classic symptom of abundant and indulgent lifestyles from people who don't understand just how much waste their actions are involved in producing.

There are few ideas in this world which anger Ash more than the concept of waste. The very notion that something has no value anymore is ridiculous, a logical fallacy of the highest order. Afterall, one man's trash is another's treasure. Sect Master Khan would call waste opportunity others failed to realize. If only the path to realization was not so needlessly arduous.

Bringing out the full potential of an object is no simple matter. Swordsmen often practice their whole lives to push their ability to the limit, making sure to keep their blade as healthy as possible in the process. It's unfair to expect everybody to treat every object with such extreme levels of respect and dedication. If only he could teach everyone the fine intricacies of Re-scrapjitsu. Unfortunately, even the most dedicated members of the Khal sect fail to specialize their junk-fu to such an extreme degree. After spending a dozen years learning the principles of engineering and the three tenants of Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle, Ash barely scratched the surface of what the Re-scrapjitsu form is capable of. For this reason, Ash understands why so many broken brooms, pans and other appliances are so abundant in the trash piles. Still, it's a damn shame they're not being recycled and repurposed into other appliances. It's not the common person's fault for not being equipped with the knowledge and technique required to use their items to the fullest. Still, there is one thing which infuriates Ash to no end, the cause of the rancid odor which overpowers him and his mother's magnificent scent. Unfinished foods, festering and rotting as the bacteria on them multiply, a blatant sin and a harbinger of pestilence. Ash clenches his fist as they walk through the alley. He understands that sometimes food can be straight up inedible when prepared by a fool, but unless it's reached that point, even if it tastes bad, wasting food is just wrong. Men scurry about like rats, picking scraps out the trash, eating burgers and fries among other junk.

At least the people here are making sure the food isn't all wasted.

Among the scavengers are a few sad looking folk. Burning drugs on their spoons, sucking it up with re-used, dirty needles, and twitching feverishly as they inject, their cloudy eyes rolling up in glee. Such violent twitches, it's as though the energy in their scrawny body is enough to tear it apart. They tweak and grind their teeth, laughing hysterically. One's tooth hangs as he aggressively chews on a plank of wood. He just yanks the tooth out and keeps on chewing. It was downright discombobulating to watch. Others would slump over with similar expressions of ecstasy, bleeding out their noses as they rest in frankly uncomfortable positions. They're not tweaking their body apart like the more energetic ones, but Ash has no doubt they too will pay a physical price for getting high. Uppers and downers, Ash knows these forms of drugs well. It's not uncommon for such dangerous material to end up in the Khal sect's sorting facilities. Though the chemicals he's seen are probably different, their harm and effects more or less look the same. The Khal sect has known for a thousand years that the untrained hand readily absorbs drugs and other hazardous waste through the skin, hence why it's so important for practitioners to first develop the toxi-grip. The Khal sect poisons aren't designed to be addictive or enjoyable, just plain deadly and destructive. This is why most disciples often swear to never recreationally take drugs again after developing the toxi-grip.

The men scavenging nearby are thin, bony, with deeply sunken, clouded eyes. The colors of their clothes are wholly overpowered by mud, and yet those clothes nowhere near as dirty as the eyes of the people who stare down Ash and his mother. Akin to wild animals stressing about strangers entering their territory. If Ash could, he'd spare an offering for intruding, but he doesn't actually have anything on him, not even his bow. Janne insisted it's because it's hard to find friends when everyone thinks you're a weirdo. If he had some money he'd spare some change, but they haven't exactly had any use for cash at any point in the last five years. Ash isn't even sure if money is a feature of this world. It probably is. A town like this can't be developed and supported without some sort of economic foundation to keep track of who owes who what for what service.

Eventually he will have to learn how the economics of this world works, not to an extreme degree, but just enough to get his money up without stepping on any feet. The zombie-like folk stare at them, filling Ash with discomfort and sadness. When the day comes, he will do his part to help, unfortunately, that time is not now. Ash makes a solemn oath and a silent promise to do his best. Holds it in his heart, and pays the decrepit around no further mind. Though his intentions are good, he has no idea if the people around feel the same. Until he gets stronger, it's best he keep his head down and mind his own business. They will probably leave him be. Right?

His mother leaves the only bag they carry behind. Their bread, meat, and vegetables, by the floor next to a man turning black crystals into tar on his spoon with a lighter. An honorable offering from an honorable woman. Ash smiles, his mother is a good person, with a good heart. The man turns off his lighter as he looks to the food. Others get up. Ash tightens his grip on Janne's hand. Just a few more seconds and they'll be out this sad corner of the world.

A stranger stands in his mother's way, while another grabs Ash by the arm from behind.

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"Now where do you think you're going missy," the man holding him said.

What? No way he's talking to me. I'm a kid... a really buff kid. How on Earth could he mistake me for a girl?

Another stands in his mother's way. She squints, reaching for the knife under her cloak.

"Snobby nobility with their snobby smells and entitled attitudes. I think you're forgetting something," he said in her face. She reels back from the stench of rotten eggs and milk. Would it kill this man to scrub his tongue with some of the orange peels lying around here?

Ah it's not his fault, Janne thought, that's not an idea that comes obviously to people. She tries to tell them about the orange peel trick but gets interrupted.

"Did you think we were going to attack you or something?" One yells. Another's hand shakes as he drops his spoon and stomps it.

"Leaving your things and running off, it's like you're scared of us?" He said, grabbing the bag full of bread, meat, and vegetables and throwing it at the man grabbing Ash's arm.

"You clearly don't know shit about us," the man grabbing Ash said, placing the food in Ash's hand, "but we ain't dumb like you."

"Nah, y'all still dumb," the man chewing a wooden plank said. He grabs his tooth from the floor and jams it back into his mouth. "They're obviously not nobility, look at their clothes."

"Fuckin thunderhoof hide." A shaky, twitching man said, grabbing his head as he turns and headbutts the wall. The man holding Ash let's go.

"We see kids like you come to this town every year to cultivate. Normally in every direction except this one. If you can't tell, this is where the city people dispose of their trash."

"What a mess this place was."

"It's still a mess," another mumbles as he gazes into the valley of trash behind their home, "at least the forest is doing better now."

"Did you know creatures like the thunderhoof often chew on plastic? Sometimes their heads get stuck in them, the end result often being choking to death. The worst part is how they absorb the plastics after, and taint the very grounds they die on."

"Seeing as you came from the forest which we protect, wearing the skin of the animals we keep alive, I think we're owed a thank you."

"I-" Ash said, The man in front of Janne gets out of her way, smiling. "No worries, we're used to it. It's a thankless job. Oh and by the way, try wearing something over that hide you got there, or you're going to stick out like a sore thumb."

These are good people.

Ash's eyes sparkle wide as he passes the alley with his mom. Had this been his world, such people would be local heroes. They'd be headhunted by scouts representing the four great families, and would be given opportunities for greatness, like he was.

What a shame this is what their reality is.

Janne leads Ash into a nearby clothing store. Ash never took clothes seriously, they always look the same after a day sorting heaps of waste. Sometimes straight up melting off by the end of a shift. Clothes will always rip and tear, so he's content with something cheap. A twirly moustache man in a suit smiles as they enter through the door. He twirls his moustache with a few sniffs. Flaring his nostrils with both disgust and curiosity. Ash sniffs his arm. The lingering smell of trash is indeed powerful, though not as potent as the fragrant scent of coconut seeping from the rest of his pores. Janne leans over his counter, smile on her face as she talks to the manager.

"You had an encounter with the street trash. I can smell them on you, I'm glad they didn't hurt you," the manager said, his sounds wholly unpleasant to Ash's ears. Janne hands the manager a couple of bottles, which he sniffs with a pleasant expression. She smiles, raising one finger.

There are clothes spanning all across the store, from suits to plain shorts and shirts. There is a gradient, more expensive looking threads on the left, and more affordable ones to the right. His mom negotiates with the twirly moustache manager, her expression souring as he twirls his Stache aggressively and raises three fingers.

"Three bottles!" She yells with her hands high. Smoke flows out as the manager aggressively twirls his moustache, his glasses sparkling.

The expensive clothes are rather flashy. Three piece suits, bright colored shirts and sweats with words that Ash can't read. Probably brand names. There's something more to those high end clothes though, some durable energy within it's threads. Maybe this is more than just a simple clothing shop. Regardless, Ash doesn't need any durable thread. Just a few hours earlier that day, he finished crafting thunderhoof hide for himself. If only his mom didn't tell him to leave the bow and the knife behind. He now has no weapons on him anymore.

Ooh this is nice. Ash picks out a green shirt, on it's front an R on the chest, on it's back a minimalistic outline of three white snakes chasing each others tails in a circle.

Bam.

The table rattles under Janne's hand as her other one raises two fingers. The man twirls his moustache and nods as Ash places his shirt and blue shorts on the counter, along with some black sneakers.

"Okay Ash, go pick out a couple clothes and oh you're already here," Janne said, Ash leaves the store, with everything remaining on the counter.

"Hey, I didn't say anything about shoes."

"He grabbed it from the select section, what do you think will last longer, these clothes or those two bottles you're getting?"

"Fine, take the fit and go." The man mumbles. It's obvious these people aren't as rich as their scent. Selling hundreds of those cheap clothes means nothing compared to the money he earns selling the threads that the nobility like. Parting with a few cheap clothes is a small price to pay to have his wife smell like this. He giggles as the mother fumbles around a bit before taking her leave.

"Have a wonderful time, and good luck!" he calls out to them. Janne smiles and waves back, but Ash pays no mind. That man irritates him.

You had an encounter with the street trash. I can smell them on you, I'm glad they didn't hurt you.

"Hey mom," Ash said, putting on the clothes outside the store. Janne looks down at him, and nods.

"It's because of those men that our garden was as bountiful as it was," Ash said, looking down at his glorious muscular form. "It's because of them I'm as strong as I am now."

Janne nods. Ash's eyes harden. It's because the disciples of the Khal sect subject themselves to such agony, that the people around them can thrive despite the accumulating weight of their own misdoings. It's for this reason that even the lowborn of the sect are treated with the greatest levels of respect by the common people. It's clear now that such families have not been established in this world. Maybe they're too far away to help, or just bad at their jobs. Ash quenches his thoughts, such petty details don't matter, not as much as rectifying this injustice put upon good people does.

One man's trash, another's treasure. Even in this world the natural wisdoms, from which the Khal sect first began, still bloom.

"They are not trash."