The Sec academy is such a dreary and boring place. The halls are cramped and tiny, normal sized teachers and older students reach to the ceiling. The lockers line all the space between classes, cluttering the halls even more. There are so many kids, Ash and Baro practically disappear into the crowd. For a moment, all those first horrible impressions Ash made disappeared in that sea of people. He feels bad for any students with claustrophobia, or maybe he doesn't. Honestly, if you're scared of tight spaces, the perfect way to get over it is being in tight spaces until you get over it. Adaptability is the human body's greatest strength.
The classrooms are square or rectangle, and all dojos for different arts. Grappling arts, Striking arts, Weapon arts, and potentially even qi arts. Qi training is what Ash and most students are excited for. It's a good thing Baro came out of nowhere and decided to deal with his papers. He's a mysterious child, Ash knows first hand the absurd effort it took to make his body what it was, so he has no doubt Baro has his own incredible regime. Maybe they can swap notes and programs, teach eachother. Though Ash doubts he can adapt too much of Baro's program into his own.
Ash has already memorized all the Junk-Fu forms, and he has little interest in distracting himself with other martial art. It's not from a place of arrogance of conceit, it's just that Junk-Fu alone takes a lifetime of commitment to master, and he intends on specializing it into Re-scrapjitsu before turning thirty. To achieve such an impossible goal, his meridians must be kept clean and his body impeccable. Ash can't afford to deviate from his meticulous diet and routines for more than a handful of days, lest he risk clogging his meridians and releasing the poisons and venoms he's been slowly accumulating in his veins and organs. Though the amount is still extremely light, if the toxins are released before his antibodies finish developing, it'd infect everyone nearby. His death would take almost the entire academy with him, except for those who also practice poison resistance.
Ash's body is reaching a critical juncture, after years of growing with the right foods and routines, it's almost ready for the poison demon ritual. A vile, destructive practice, one if underestimated will kill it's host in moments after forever tarnishing their legacy and reputation. The greatest rewards often come from great, calculated, risks. Calculating the risk in this ritual, and mitigating it, is no simple calculus. The poison demon ritual is an incredibly dangerous antibody booster, the final step before attaining the toxi-grip. Once he exorcises the poison demon from his body, he'll be able to safely course most simple poisons and venoms through his veins without repercussion. After mastering Junk-Fu, no form of hazardous waste will ever be able to poison him again.
Unlike his time at the Khal sect, Ash has also been preparing his eyes for this ritual too. In his old life, it wasn't known that the same process to develop the toxi-grip can be used to also develop a preliminary form of the Kaimen Garbage Vision, Poison Clear Sight. A basic eye technique which merely enhances sight and detail, while also identifying poisons through synesthesia. In his old life, this Poison Clear Sight would be the version passed to all sect members, while the coveted Kaimen Garbage Vision would secretly be taught to the elite. That would have been the case had they not killed him before he could pass the knowledge. It took Ash ten years to develop Kaimen Garbage Vision mostly because in his old life he never opened the meridians leading to his eyes. With the open meridians he has now, the poisons can quickly flow throughout his body, to both his arms and eyes, both manifesting the Toxi-grip, and the Poison Clear Sight at the same time. Had Ash not been so thoughtlessly killed, this new technique would be seamlessly integrated into the training program, passed to the new generation for the betterment of the entire sect, for the betterment of the entire world. What a shame.
Normally the Khal sect straps it's members to chairs for weeks during the poison demon ritual, in order to exorcise the poison demon with as little backlash as possible. People get crazy when that demon enters them, there have been multiple instances of possessed sect members mutilating and cannibalizing on one another, their intent being to consume more toxins by any means necessary. It's an abhorrent sight to say the least. However to most disciples it is a test of willpower, those who resist the desires of the poison demon often lording it over the one's who gave in to it's dark temptations. Such petty things don't matter though, what's most important is surviving and unlocking the toxi-grip, so that the disciples can continue making the world a cleaner place.
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"I normally don't eat anything they serve here, most people think it's because I'm poor, but I'm sure you of all people would understand what I mean."
Ash and Baro enter the cafeteria, a large, open space with tables and chairs all around. Chefs work at the back, mincing meats, and vegetables. Stewing, saucing, frying, and baking. The smells mix dreadfully, though there is plenty of great smells in insolation, such as fresh bread. It's the combination of scents that was so dreadful, such as fish and pie mixes which don't quite belong with one another. Ash's coconut was no match, something which relieves Baro. That coconut is too persistent. Baro thought after a bit of time he'd get used to it, instead it's just constantly pleasant. They stand in line to get food.
"You have cheat days? Once a week I purposely eat poorly to remind my body that the best foods won't always be around."
What a brilliant five year old. Ash smiles. The Khal sect has a cheat week system. After seven week periods of rigorous diet, disciples are encouraged to eat poorly for one week straight. Though a once a week cheat day system is also upheld and preferred by many disciples. It's a matter of personal preference. For Baro to possess such knowledge, there must be more to him than meets the eye.
Baro eyes the chicken strips with a smile and a lick of the lips. He must like chicken strips, Ash thought while debating what he should get. Caesar salad, mac and cheese, buttery rich mashed potatoes. There are even extravagant options like steaks with incredibly rich marbling basted with butter rosemary and thyme, or lobster served with literal butter sauce. Even the steamed vegetables have the signature luster of copious butter. Fried fish, fried chicken, burgers, pancakes, and lots of bacon. What the hell is with these options? The one decently healthy option, the salad, is made unhealthier than the rest with just the sauce alone. What a disgusting creamy mix, made almost entirely from emulsified seed oils, a well-known meridian clogger. How could a cafeteria for a martial arts school unironically serve such crap to it's next generation of practitioners? Is there a conspiracy beneath the surface? This can't be the daily options in this cafeteria. No wonder a vast majority of students are eating their own home-made meals. Ash from this point on will do the same, the foods here are too high in fat, too low in protein, and replace complex carbohydrates with sugar, nowhere near up to par with the diet recommended in the trash master standard, a guidebook of disciplines, meditations, and dietary suggestions which help practitioners maintain the ideal body for cultivating the trash disposal, and trash management arts.
The foods in this cafeteria will without doubt achieve the complete opposite effect.
What's most shameful though is how they are taking these perfectly fine ingredients, and processing them into such trashy unhealthy forms. To waste food is a sin, but to intentionally make waste with food is unforgivable. If Ash were served such food, he'd have no choice but to throw it in the trash. A viscous moral dilemma. If only he had re-scrapjitsu, then none of this would matter. Unfortunately, as he is now, the macros of these meals are impossible for him to justify. Eating it could disrupt the equilibrium in his body, and set loose his vast stores of toxins. If it weren't an insult to the chef's honor, Ash would jump back there and cook himself a meal.
Boro said to order whatever, but Ash doesn't want anything. Nobles cut the line, pass them, and order first. They snicker at Baro before buying a few dozen chicken strips alongside some steak and lobster.
"No!" Boro said, slamming his fists on the rail, it shakes along with his fists. People lining behind give them weird looks. They ran out of chicken strips. Baro loves the chicken strips, they are delicious. Soaked in a spicy marinade the night before, wrapped in bread and fluffed with lightning qi pulses. An incredibly light breading, crisp and delicious. Baro drops a bill on the table and leaves.
"Get whatever, I lost my appetite."
It's not like Ash has much of one either. Luckily there are a couple of fresh fruits by the muffins. Though he prefers to not load up on carbohydrates, in a situation like this that's his only option. He grabs a couple handfuls of Apples and Oranges and makes his way to the table by Baro.
"You sure you want all that sugar?" Baro said, grabbing an apple. It's his fourth one today, oh well, cheat day. Ash grabs an orange, and without peeling, bites into it. Baro looks at him strangely, yet respectfully. He finishes his apple and bites into the orange the exact same way. The people at the table over don't share that respect. They howl in laughter. A spiky blue haired brat and a red haired brother who looks just like him sit by a mushroom cap wearing girl, and an entourage of followers.
Wait a second, Ash recognizes these descriptions.
"These lazy trash morons can't even eat their oranges correctly," Lou Sar said between laughs.