Keith's gone a few years since his last physical exam, but based on the few others he's had, he already knows what to expect from the one the Blade requires before they'll let him go full-time. "Bottom quartile," "overly sensitive," and "failure to thrive" are frequent terms in these situations, so he's prepared to appear to take them in stride again today.

At this point, those phrases shouldn't even register anymore. They're a simple fact of life, just who he is, who he's always been. As much as something in him hopes that this will be different, that a doctor will finally look at him and declare him normal as can be, hope is a dangerous thing.

But whatever it takes to become a full-time Blade and get back to being useful somewhere, he'll bear with it and get through it. Sure enough…

"You're in the first percentile for both height and weight—"

…but then, not so typical…

"—meaning we'll need further tests to determine whether this is an expected result of your mixed heritage or requires correction. After these tests, we'll adjust your individual meal and exercise plans to better suit your needs."

The physical drags on for what must be an hour. It extends well beyond what he usually deals with on Earth, and it's invasive and at times awkward, but at the end of the exam, there's no snarky comment. There's no disappointed tut, no muttered implications that he's willfully chosen to do this to himself, no resemblance to what he expects from a physical.

He leaves hesitantly believing the medic's promise to reach out with next steps.

And they do, surprisingly enough, follow through.

When the meal plan is presented, he's surprised to figure out how similar it is to the ones Shiro had used to draft for the two of them back at the garrison once they'd stopped slumming it in the mess hall for every meal. The items in this list are untranslatable, but the macro breakout comes through clear enough and looks incredibly similar to Shiro's go-to eggs, peanut butter, broccoli, and chicken breast combos.

Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise, considering how much he'd filled out back then and how his progress had stalled again once Shiro had left for Kerberos and he'd gone back to the mess hall for the rest of his time at the garrison.

"Paladin," Kolivan greets a few weeks into his new mandated routines. "Report to medical for a physical at your next convenience."

With the sheer size of the Blade, particularly at the main base where Keith's been assigned for the time being, it's a surprise to see Kolivan hunting him down to give orders directly, but he supposes there's no other way to contact him on base during the frequent communications outages short of giving the order to another Blade to find him and relay messages.

Kolivan doesn't come across as much of a delegator, not with the way he seems to assign himself to nearly every major mission Keith knows of. It's a wonder he makes the time to attend to Keith on top of that and managing all the active operatives.

There's not shit to do until he's declared fit for duty anyway, so he finishes eating and makes for the med bay.

"Excellent progress," the medic proclaims once he's there, after a far shorter battery of tests than last time. "Any issues with the plans?"

Keith takes a token moment to think about it, but truly, there's nothing. While the size of the servings had caught him off-guard at first look, he's had no trouble stomaching the portions in practice or following the suggested frequent timing for all the meals.

Though everything looks odd, it's a far cry more edible than almost anything that had been available on the castleship—not that he'll ever say that aloud to Hunk knowing how serious he gets about his cooking, but knowing what he does now, it makes sense that he hadn't enjoyed all the vegetable-heavy meals the guy tended toward. Some of the dishes on-base… he actually finds himself looking forward to. Even if it's not all of them, it's enough to begin shifting the idea of mealtime in his head to more than just another thing he has to do purely to keep himself going.

It's more than even that though. There's just something about the fact that they care enough to customize a meal plan and optimize a training plan for him specifically. He knows it's a simple matter of making sure their resources stay in top shape. He knows, okay? It's not the kind of care he's been craving since childhood, no, but it's something.

"No, this is good."

And he means it.