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The presence of Stephen Strange in his shop made things very interesting, very quickly.
In the original timeline, Strange's path to the mystic arts had been paved with tragedy. He only became a sorcerer because he had exhausted every medical resource, every experimental procedure, and every cent of his fortune trying to repair his shattered hands. Kamar-Taj hadn't been a spiritual calling; it had been a last-ditch effort born of desperation and a very singular, very ego-driven goal: he just wanted to pick up a scalpel again.
Back then, he hadn't cared about the sanctity of the sanctums or the silent war against extra-dimensional threats. Even when Mordo and Wong had laid out the stakes, Strange had initially walked away. It took the betrayal of Kaecilius, the fall of the Ancient One, and a literal collision with destiny to force his hand and shift his perspective.
But now? The variables had changed.
With Helen Cho's Cradle technology and the reality-bending properties of her Devil Fruits already circulating, healing Strange's nerve damage would be child's play. If he could be fixed with a single procedure or just with a touch, would he ever feel the need to trek to Kathmandu?
Rosh watched the man, wondering if the Ancient One would find another catalyst to nudge her chosen successor toward his fate, or if destiny was more flexible than the history books suggested.
"Hello, Shopkeeper Rosh. I'm Stephen Strange."
Strange's voice broke through Rosh's internal monologue. He looked up to see Strange offering a hand. Rosh took it, meeting the surgeon's firm, practiced grip.
"Hello, Mr. Strange. I'm Rosh," he replied, meeting the man's gaze with an easy, unruffled confidence. "Welcome to my small shop."
"You're far too modest," Strange replied, his sharp eyes already scanning the interior with clinical precision. "A 'small' shop wouldn't have someone as notoriously difficult as Tony Stark acting as a walking, talking billboard for its products. I've been curious to see what all the fuss was about for quite some time."
As they exchanged the usual social pleasantries, Strange continued to discreetly dissect the "shabby" storefront. To a man of his refined, expensive tastes, the Home of the Devil Fruits looked remarkably underwhelming. It lacked the high-tech sheen of the laboratories he frequented or the minimalist luxury of his own penthouse. It felt almost... ordinary.
However, Strange was far too intelligent to be blinded by aesthetics. If anything, the fact that such a humble-looking establishment carried the weight of a Stark endorsement only served as proof of the power contained within. In his world, the most potent medicines often came in the simplest vials.
"You're welcome to browse for as long as you like," Rosh said, offering a broad, welcoming gesture toward the rows of displays.
"So..." Strange turned his full attention to the cases, his eyes narrowing as he took in the strange, vibrant patterns of the stock. "These are the legendary Devil Fruits. I have to admit, they look even more... bizarre in person than they do in your online catalog." He gave a slight, elegant shrug, adjusting the cuff of his designer jacket.
"But then again, challenging the bizarre is what makes life worth living, isn't it? I've always had a bit of a penchant for a challenge that others find impossible."
"Then tell me, Mr. Strange," Rosh asked, moving to stand beside him. "Which particular challenge in this room has managed to catch the eye of a man who's seen it all?"
Strange didn't answer immediately. He turned to look Rosh directly in the eye, his expression shifting into something more clinical. "Before I came here, I did find one fruit particularly compelling. But first, there's something I need to clarify, a matter of professional standards, if you will."
He paused, letting the weight of his presence fill the space. "It's likely a personality defect of mine, but I believe it's also the primary reason I'm a world-class neurosurgeon. And please understand, that's not a boast, it's a matter of medical record. I am a skeptic by nature. I don't believe in things easily, and I question everything until the data proves otherwise."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "Even with Tony Stark's public endorsement and the live demonstration you gave that reporter—who, by the way, was remarkably ruthless and efficient; you certainly have an eye for talent—my skepticism remains firmly intact. Clearing that hurdle is the only foundation upon which we can build a transaction. Don't you agree?"
Internally, Rosh suppressed a heavy sigh. 'He could have just said 'I'm a hard sell' and saved us both a two-minute monologue,' he thought. Still, he kept his expression neutral and professional.
"The website mentions that you provide samples," Strange continued, his tone shifting back to the objective. "It states that by consuming a specific sample, a potential buyer can gain the fruit's ability for a trial period of five minutes. I want to confirm right now if that claim is actually true."
"Of course it is," Rosh nodded, not missing a beat. "Every fruit in this shop has a corresponding sample prepared for exactly that reason. You can try any of them. If you're ready to put your skepticism to the test, you can even try one right now. Does that satisfy your requirements?"
"To an extent," Strange replied with another non-committal shrug.
Deep down, Strange knew that the only way to truly kill the nagging doubt in the back of his mind was to experience the power firsthand. However, despite his arrogance, he still possessed a sense of decorum. It felt a bit uncouth, even for him, to demand a free sample the very second he walked through the door, so he didn't push for it immediately.
"Regardless, I think we have enough common ground to continue this conversation," Strange said, smoothing out his suit.
"Then tell me, Stephen," Rosh asked, his own curiosity finally piqued. "Which fruit has managed to earn a spot on your shortlist?"
He was genuinely fascinated to see what kind of power the future Sorcerer Supreme would prioritize before he ever touched the mystic arts.
"There is one fruit in your inventory that feels like it was designed specifically for my profession. I imagine any of my colleagues at Metro-General would be just as obsessed with it as I am," Strange replied, his tone suggesting that his choice was the only logical one to make.
He gestured toward a specific display. "The Stitch-Stitch Fruit. The catalog claims it allows the user to sew any object together without leaving a single trace of damage. If that's even half-true, it changes the entire foundation of modern surgery."
'The Nui Nui no Mi,' Rosh thought, nodding slightly.
He wasn't entirely surprised by the choice. Aside from the Heal-Heal Fruit, which was essentially a "magic wand" for recovery, the Stitch-Stitch Fruit was arguably the most practical, high-utility choice for a medical professional. While something like the Op-Op Fruit would have been the ultimate "holy grail" for a surgeon, or the Paw-Paw Fruit for its ability to literally push pain and fatigue out of a body, those were high-tier, legendary fruits that weren't currently sitting on his shelves.
"My first question," Strange began, his eyes locking onto Rosh's with the intensity of a man looking for a flaw in a surgical plan. "The catalog uses the word 'objects.' But let's be realistic: stitching inanimate objects like fabric or leather has very limited value for me. Does your definition of 'objects' extend to the human body? Can it handle organic tissue, vascular structures, and nerve endings?"
"It absolutely does," Rosh confirmed, his voice calm and steady. "The Stitch-Stitch Fruit is indifferent to the material. It works on inanimate objects and complex living organisms alike. It allows you to suture anything together with zero trauma to the surrounding area. You could essentially 'sew' a heart valve or a spinal cord as easily as a tailor repairs a sleeve."
"Perfect," Strange nodded, crossing one item off his mental checklist. He immediately moved to the next point of contention. "And that brings me to my next hurdle. What exactly does 'damage-free' mean in this context? You're a businessman, but I'm a man of science."
He leaned in, his skepticism flaring up again. "By definition, the act of stitching requires a needle and thread to pass through a surface. That is, inherently, an act of minor trauma. You are puncturing tissue to hold it together. So, how can you possibly claim it's 'damage-free'? In my world, there's no such thing as an invasive procedure without a cost."
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Next Chapter: The God of the Operating Room
Next Next Chapter: Through the Sapphire Glass
Next Next Next Chapter: The God-Tier Op-Op Fruit
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