With melancholy clouding his eyes, Foxxy gazed at the rolling waves beneath a heavy sigh. He pulled out the newspaper tucked at his waist and began reading again.
He had already read it once.
He'd "borrowed" it from the village anyway.
At least he could understand the words — that much was clearly a transmigrator's perk.
Speaking of perks, the moment he thought about it, Foxxy wanted to scream.
This era's transmigrators all had systems, didn't they?!
Where was his?
He had waited three whole days.
Nothing.
Not even a single lousy chicken feather.
The world clearly had it out for him. A dark cloud hovered over his heart, and the more he thought about it, the more cursed his situation felt.
It was currently the Year 1500 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
Old Man Roger next door had already become the Pirate King nearly a year ago.
Right now, who knew where he was stirring up trouble?
Maybe tormenting Portgas D. Rouge somewhere on the sea.
Rumors among fans said Roger had some incurable disease—some even joked it was cancer. No one really knew.
What a ridiculous idea — one of the strongest men in the world dying of cancer?
Though… Foxxy suspected it might instead be a virus.
Or syphilis.
Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be some STD.
The Great Pirate Era hadn't officially begun yet, so Roger could still hold on for a while longer.
But something else bothered Foxxy:
Was the original Foxxy really this old?
When he watched the anime, he just thought Foxxy looked tired and pathetic — he never expected the man to be this old.
The Great Pirate Era still hadn't started, and Foxxy was already a teenager.
Once the actual story began, wouldn't that make him a full-grown uncle?
And there were still more than twenty years to go!
Forget it. Once Roger declared the beginning of the Great Pirate Era, pirates would explode like weeds.
Surviving those twenty years would be harder than the era Luffy lived in — this was a time when monsters were born one after another.
Kaido, Big Mom, Shanks, Whitebeard's prime, the rise of the Warlords, the formation of the Yonko—
All of that would unfold within the next couple of decades.
Foxxy immediately came to one conclusion:
He needed to join the Navy as soon as possible.
If he wanted to keep his dog's life, there was no better shelter.
He had no lofty dreams of becoming some supreme king or founding a nation.
His greatest interest in life was… discussing the origin of humanity with pretty ladies, or walking birds and teasing dogs.
Fighting every day?
What kind of life was that!
To put it bluntly, he lacked ambition.
His bones were carved with laziness and the aura of a bottom-tier nobody.
If he were a proper transmigrator, he would've already planned to kill the Yonko, take their place, destroy the Revolutionary Army, overthrow the World Government, build a personal empire, and then enjoy a harem with three palaces and six courtyards.
That would've been the normal transmigrator path.
Foxxy had dreamed that way at first, too — until he realized he had no system and no cheat.
So he gave up.
After folding the newspaper, Foxxy stood up, stretched, and slowly walked down the slope.
His current home was a tiny village somewhere on the Grand Line.
Even he didn't know exactly where — just that it was an insignificant, remote place.
He hadn't encountered a single pirate in three days.
As he walked the worn path, Foxxy pondered how to leave the island and join the Navy.
Going out alone? That was suicide.
Monkey D. Luffy got away with drifting at sea in a wooden barrel, but that was pure protagonist luck.
Anyone else would drown in minutes and be eaten before their body even sank.
He needed luck — a merchant ship or a Navy vessel passing by.
Foxxy circled a few hills. Ahead were farmlands and vegetable patches, connected by winding dirt paths. The peaceful scenery looked like something from a hidden paradise.
"Foxxy, off to the shore again?"
A woman working in a field waved her hoe at him. A simple, honest villager — Auntie Abis.
"Mm."
He nodded politely. According to the original Foxxy's memories, she was someone who had taken good care of him.
He was an orphan, raised by the entire village, living a poor but passable life.
He'd found the Slow-Slow Fruit by accident in a mountain stream.
The most infuriating part?
The original Foxxy had eaten the fruit and STILL never trained it.
His usage was always the same: form the orchid finger, fire a wiggly pink beam, and that was it.
Even a seven-year-old could dodge it.
No ambition, no drive, no improvement.
No wonder twenty years later, he was still a background character, unable to defeat even Beginner Village Luffy.
Foxxy walked through the village. Several villagers greeted him, and he nodded back to each.
Soon he reached his home, a small wooden hut with only one room.
The roof leaked.
The bed was broken.
Furniture barely qualified as furniture.
He stood at the door, staring at the empty, miserable interior, and sighed.
Poor beyond belief.
Absolutely broke.
At this point, success was no longer optional — it was mandatory.
"Forget it, forget it. Foxxy it is. I'll accept my fate."
He picked up a chipped broom and began cleaning.
Who knew when he would leave?
For now, this shack was still sheltered from wind and rain.
After two or three hours of tidying, the shabby hut finally looked somewhat presentable. Foxxy clapped his hands, satisfied.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he scooped a ladle of cold water from the jar and downed it in one gulp.
"Gotta find a way to lose this potbelly… and start training too."
Sitting on a stone outside the hut, he cooled off and planned.
Appearance and strength were both important.
He could encounter danger at any moment.
And if he wanted a comfortable future, hard work had to start now.
As for how to train…
He could just copy what he'd seen in anime and novels — running, frog jumps, push-ups, all sorts of exercises.
It had to work somehow.
But before training, he needed to deal with food.
Strong fighters always ate a lot.
Even though he was broke, getting food shouldn't be difficult.
He was a Devil Fruit user after all.
No Devil Fruit user should starve to death, even a useless one.
He picked up the machete he'd found while cleaning. It felt surprisingly decent in his grip.
Following a small trail toward the back mountain, he once again greeted passing villagers before entering the forest.
Sunlight broke through the treetops as he ventured deeper, vegetation growing denser with each step.
The villagers did occasionally hunt for game here, but no one ventured too far — rumors said tigers and bears lived deeper inside.
Humans were powerful in this world.
But animals were terrifying, too.
Foxxy didn't plan to go deep; he just needed to find easy targets.
It didn't take long before he found one:
A wild spotted deer, about the size of an adult, is peacefully nibbling grass in a clearing.
Foxxy crouched behind the bushes like a predator.
Right hand gripping the machete.
Left hand forming the infamous orchid-finger gesture.
A pink ring of slow-moving light drifted lazily toward the deer.
So slow that Foxxy twitched in embarrassment.
The deer looked up, ears twitching, staring curiously at the slow, harmless-looking beam.
It didn't even move.
Seeing how stupid the deer was, Foxxy knew—
This hunt was in the bag…