By Day Four, my life had settled into a messy rhythm: wake up, cook eggs, mop floors at the bodega, train like a maniac on the fire escape, pass out sore and sorely underqualified to survive in a world with Hulk-level problems.
But hey—progress is progress.
I was still trash at Black Leg Style. Don't get it twisted. The system was feeding me bits and pieces of Sanji's moves, but it was like someone mailed me kung fu techniques in puzzle pieces with no box art. I could feel power in my legs, but controlling it?
That was like giving a toddler a fire hose.
The railing on my fire escape will never recover from Day Three. Sorry, landlord.
Still, I was getting better. I'd hit my first "flow" moment during a combo drill—step, pivot, knee pop, spin kick. It clicked for maybe three seconds before I tripped and faceplanted into a pipe.
But for those three seconds? I felt like I belonged in an anime opening.
Thursday, 9:42 PM – Alley Behind the Bodega
It started like every horror story: me, earbuds in (not playing anything), hoodie up, cutting through an alley behind the store.
Then came the thugs.
Three of them. Hooded. Young. One had a switchblade, another was swinging a chain like he watched too many '90s gang movies, and the third was snacking on a granola bar.
"Yo, you lost, bro?" Blade Guy said.
'oh f*ck,here it is,nice 90's style mugger' I sigh
"Just headin' home man," I muttered, hands visible, heart thudding.
They moved in slow. Casual. Like they'd done this before. Granola Boy looked bored. The chain guy cracked his knuckles.
I knew the type.
"Wallet, phone, sneakers," Chain Guy said. "Don't make it weird."
I sighed. "I've got nothing man, i'm broke"
"well,that for us to decide"
Fine. Screw it.
'sigh' "here,my wallet.that's the only thing i have"
I dropped the wallet like bait.
Blade Guy went for it.
And that's when instinct—or Sanji's ghost—took over.
I kicked.
Hard.
Not even a fancy move. Just a basic side snap to the ribs.
He flew. Like, full-on "anime blur frame into the wall" flew.
The other two froze. Granola Boy's mouth was still open mid-chew.
"What the—"
I lunged forward, spinning for a follow-up sweep on Chain Guy—but over-rotated. My heel hit the ground, I slipped, and crashed into a trash bag with a sound like a deflating whoopee cushion.
"Son of a—!"
Chain Guy tried to grab me, but I was up faster than he expected. I kicked low again—his shin folded, and he hit the pavement with a scream.
Granola Boy bolted. Smart one.
Then—
DING!
System Alert – Threat Neutralized
Mission Complete: "Self-Defense: First Encounter"
– Reward: +20 Gacha Points
– Bonus: Didn't Get Stabbed – +5 Points
– Bonus: First Real Combat – +5 Points
Total Earned: +30 Points
I blinked, panting. "Thirty? Damn. Alright."
I grabbed my wallet, swiped the chain for fun, and jogged out of there like I hadn't just fallen into someone's leftover curry.
Friday – Bodega Break + Reminder
Around 3 PM, the bodega bell dinged. I was restocking ramen when I heard:
"Yo! Alex!"
Curly hair, hoodie, familiar voice.
The friend. The one who saw me earlier in the week.
"You ghost Brie again, man?" he grinned. "She's gonna run you over."
Shit. Right. Friday.
"Nah, I'm coming," I said, slapping a noodle pack into place. "Off work at seven."
"Cool. Max's place. We got pizza, beers, and probably a Fast & Furious marathon waiting. Don't flake."
"I'm there."
"You look less like a sleep-deprived raccoon, by the way. Been working out?"
"Eh. Something like that."
He tossed me a two-finger salute and dipped.
And just like that, I had something normal to look forward to.
One Week Later – Saturday Night
I stood on the fire escape in a hoodie that smelled like soy sauce and regret.
The city glowed. Horns, muffled music, and one guy yelling about bagels down the block.
But in my little corner of the world, things were finally clicking.
I'd trained every night after work—sometimes in alleys, sometimes behind the bodega. Kicks, balance drills, footwork. I still fell. A lot. But less than before.
My cooking? Surprisingly therapeutic. I made pasta with actual flavor yesterday. Scrambled eggs so fluffy I almost cried. Sanji's instincts weren't just muscle—they were passion. It showed in every pan flip and sprinkle of salt.
Even Mr. Halit stopped calling my food "prison slop."
And tonight?
Time to see what a week of grinding got me.
[Weekly Mission Summary – Completed]
✔ Walk 10,000 Steps ×7 (+5 pts ×7 = 35 pts)
✔ Cook a Meal ×7 (+3 pts ×7 = 21 pts)
✔ 50 Combat Kicks ×6 (+5 pts ×6 = 30 pts)
✔ Train for 2 Hours ×6 (+10 pts ×6 = 60 pts)
✔ Special Mission – Self-Defense Encounter (+30 pts)
Total Points Gained: 176
Previous Balance: 5
New Balance: 181
System Status – One Week Later
[Gacha Reincarnation System – Beta Access]
User: Alex Walker
World: MCU – Earth-199999
Timeline: March 2010 (1 year, 11 months before Battle of New York)
Gacha Points: 181
Current Template: Vinsmoke Sanji – Progress: 10% (Early Baratie)
— Black Leg Style: Novice
— Enhanced Leg Strength: Novice
— Cooking Talent: Intermediate
— Minor Fire Resistance
— Trait: Smoking Habit (Inactive)
Inventory:
– Chain (Thug-snatched)
– Prepaid Flip Phone ($7.00 balance)
– MetroCard (still dead)
– Cracked Photo: Brie & Friends
– Bodega Work Shirt (sweat-stained)
– Two Packs of Instant Ramen (system tag: "Junk Food, Emergency Use")
Passive Functions:
– Power Integration Module
– Inventory Management
– Emotional Echoes (Low Activity)
Mission Board:
– Daily Missions Reset in: 06:44:13
– Special Missions: None Available
– Gacha Pull Available: Yes (30 pts per pull)
I stared at the screen glowing faintly in my mind.
181 points. Six gacha pulls.
Whatever came next… could change everything.
But I wasn't rushing.
I needed to plan this. Think about builds, synergy, risk. Because one bad pull, and I might end up with a Pokémon move or some anime hair gel.
For now, though, I had leftover pizza, sore legs, and a city full of possibilities.
I leaned on the railing and whispered to myself:
"Two years till Loki…"
Then let's fucking get to work.
To Be Continued…