Rainbow Hippie's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Rainbow Hippie needed ingredients—lots of them. The jars from dimension forty-seven were empty, and the customers would be back tomorrow. They walked through Crystaria's market, scanning the stalls for anything interesting. A vendor offered glowing purple roots. Another had crystalline powders in tiny vials. Rainbow Hippie bought samples of both, but something felt off. They could throw ingredients together all day, but what did they actually know about food safety? What if someone got sick? The thought made their stomach drop. They needed real training—the kind that kept a business running instead of shutting it down. The Rainbow Hippie Culinary School sat at the edge of the market district. Rainbow Hippie pushed through the doors and found rows of cooking stations inside. An instructor demonstrated proper knife technique at the front. Students chopped vegetables in synchronized rhythm. Rainbow Hippie signed up on the spot. For three weeks, they learned temperature control, cross-contamination prevention, and how to balance flavors without relying on dimension juice alone. Their six fingers made the knife work easier than expected. The instructor raised an eyebrow at the carbonized dryer lint sandwich concept but nodded when Rainbow Hippie nailed the food handling exam. Back at the stand, Rainbow Hippie set up new equipment. The Flavor Cart held glass vials of crystalline powders and metallic mixing tools that caught the light. They could blend experimental combinations right in front of customers now—part cooking, part performance. Next to it, the Galactic Spice Storage Shelf displayed glass containers filled with vibrant spices and preserved alien herbs. Rainbow Hippie organized them by color, then by flavor profile, then gave up and arranged them in a pattern that just looked good. They pulled out fresh ingredients and started prepping, hands moving with new confidence from culinary school training. The first customer of the day watched Rainbow Hippie blend three different powders into a paste, then spread it on a carbonized dryer lint sandwich. They took a bite and their face lit up. Rainbow Hippie grinned. The training had worked. They weren't just throwing weird ingredients together anymore—they were crafting them. The stand wasn't just popular now. It was legitimate.