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"Can the Stitch-Stitch Fruit truly achieve suturing by will alone?"
Strange's voice was steady, but his eyes were burning with an intense, clinical fervor that usually only appeared when he was staring down an "impossible" diagnosis. He didn't look away from Rosh, his entire posture practically vibrating as he waited for a definitive confirmation.
If Rosh wasn't exaggerating, then this fruit was far more than a luxury or a clever trick for the operating room. It was a gateway to a level of surgical perfection that would effectively render modern medicine obsolete. With the ability to manipulate sutures through sheer mental command, Strange wouldn't just be the best surgeon in the world; he'd be the first of a new species.
His mind was already racing at great speeds. If needles and threads could be directed by will alone, they could reach places a scalpel could never touch without causing catastrophic collateral damage. He started imagining the possibilities: could he repair internal organs through a needle-sized entry point? Could he bypass a major incision entirely?
Furthermore, the Shopkeeper had mentioned that the needles ignored physical hardness. If they could pass through any material effortlessly, then extracting foreign objects, shrapnel, deep-seated bullets, or bone fragments in delicate areas would become trivial.
In a single heartbeat, Strange's brilliant mind mapped out a dozen "death sentence" cases he'd turned down in the last year. From a technical standpoint, no human surgeon, not even him, could have pulled them off. But with mental suturing? They'd be child's play.
"It is absolutely possible," Rosh replied, his voice a calm anchor against Strange's rising excitement. "In fact, in the grand scheme of what Devil Fruits can do, a feat like that is considered fairly basic."
"Shopkeeper, your website mentioned that you provide samples, a way to experience the power firsthand before the final purchase, correct?" Strange didn't hesitate. After hearing that confirmation, any remaining professional reserve he had left vanished into thin air, replaced by a pure, unadulterated hunger for the impossible.
"Of course," Rosh nodded, cutting through the anticipation. He reached behind the counter with practiced motion, produced a small, prepared sample of Stitch-Stitch Fruit, and handed it to the surgeon.
"Thank you." Strange accepted the sample with uncharacteristic grace. His face was a mask of profound anticipation as he raised the fruit to his mouth and took a decisive bite.
*Wham!*
In an instant, Strange's expression contorted into something that suggested he deeply regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment. The horrid, soul-crushing taste of the sample shook him to his very core. For a split second, he looked ready to spit it across the room and vent his legendary temper at Rosh for what felt like a personal insult to his palate.
However, the memory of the website's explicit warning about the "revolting taste" flashed in his mind. He forced himself to stay composed, reluctantly chewing and swallowing the mess.
The moment the sample was digested, his world shifted. Strange felt a bizarre, inexplicable ripple surge through his entire body. It was a sensation that defied his extensive medical vocabulary, a sudden, electric awareness that felt like a master switch had been flipped inside his DNA. He could feel it: the latent ability to manifest thread, the intuitive, almost primal grasp of how to command it.
It wasn't just a tool anymore. It was a part of him.
Strange let out a long, low whistle of pure amazement.
*Fweeeet!*
He took a slow, steadying breath, the kind he usually reserved for the most delicate moments in the OR. He closed his eyes, centering his focus on that new internal "switch." It didn't feel like a foreign object anymore; it felt like a new limb, a dormant part of his brain that had finally been given permission to fire. He reached out with his mind, gently testing the boundaries of this alien sense.
*Pop!*
With a sound no louder than a bubble bursting, a single needle materialized out of thin air, hovering just inches above his open palm. A fine, shimmering thread was already looped through its eye, glinting under the shop's lighting like a strand of captured starlight.
"Incredible..." Strange breathed, his voice betraying a slight tremble of awe. "This is... absolutely incredible."
Even without further experimentation, the mere act of spontaneous creation, of literally conjuring something functional from nothing, had shattered the remains of his skepticism into a million tiny pieces. He reached out and plucked the needle from the air. It felt solid, perfectly balanced, and sharper than anything he had ever held in a surgical tray. He hesitated for a moment, then began unbuckling his watch.
"Shopkeeper, you're absolutely certain about the 'damage-free' part, right?" Strange shot Rosh, a sharp, cautious look. The watch was an exquisite piece of engineering, a luxury item that had cost him a small fortune, and he wasn't particularly keen on seeing it ruined for the sake of a parlor trick.
"Total, damage-free stitching, Stephen. You're about to see it for yourself," Rosh said, offering a casual "go ahead" gesture. He leaned against the counter, subtly nudging the doctor to proceed with the experiment.
"I certainly hope so for your sake," Strange muttered, though his curiosity was now far stronger than his caution. He didn't wait any longer. With a surgeon's steady hand, he pressed the needle directly against the sapphire face of his luxury watch.
To his utter shock, the needle didn't skid or scratch. It slid into the metal and glass as if the watch were made of soft, whipped cotton. Without a hint of resistance or the need for physical force, the fine point pierced clean through the casing and out the other side.
If he hadn't been the one holding it, Strange would never have believed it was possible. It defied every law of science he knew.
Slowly, he pulled the needle back out and held the watch up to the light, examining it with the kind of jeweler's scrutiny usually reserved for high-end diamonds. To his absolute amazement, the watch remained pristine. There wasn't a scratch, a crack, or even a microscopic puncture mark. It was exactly as Rosh had promised: completely "damage-free."
"Fascinating," Strange murmured, his eyes glowing with a newfound hunger. "Truly, deeply fascinating."
Emboldened, he decided to attempt the "will-based" manipulation Rosh had described. He set the watch aside and focused every ounce of his legendary concentration on the hovering needle. His face turned a deep, strained shade of crimson from the mental exertion, his teeth gritted in a snarl of effort. The needle trembled slightly, shifting perhaps a fraction of an inch in the air, but it refused to do anything more. It stayed stubborn and stationary.
Rosh let out a light, good-natured chuckle. "Stephen, telekinetic suturing is an elite, advanced technique. It's not something a novice, even a genius like yourself, can master in a few seconds. It requires specific training, mental discipline, and a deep, intuitive familiarity with the Devil Fruit's core power."
Strange nodded, the gears of his brilliant mind already shifting into overdrive. He hadn't managed a full, telekinetic suture on his first try, but he had made the needle twitch. In his world, that tiny, vibrating movement was more than enough. It was a proof of concept. For a man of his caliber, a "twitch" today was a flawlessly executed bypass tomorrow.
Overall, he was more than satisfied with the Stitch-Stitch Fruit.
"Well, Stephen? How does it feel?" Rosh asked, a knowing, confident smile playing on his lips.
Experience had taught Rosh how to read the room. When a customer had that specific look, that wide-eyed, slightly frantic "I've just seen the future" stare, the deal was basically inked. Barring some unforeseen act of God, the Stitch-Stitch Fruit was as good as sold.
"Stunning," Strange admitted. He didn't even try to hide the praise, which was a rare concession for him. "I rarely use that word, I find it's usually reserved for people who are easily impressive, but in this case... It's the only one that fits."
The skepticism he had walked in with had evaporated entirely. His personal trial had proven that the impossible was, in fact, reality. After experiencing it firsthand, he knew the Devil Fruits were the real deal.
"So, Stephen, have you settled on the Stitch-Stitch Fruit?" Rosh asked, his eyes twinkling with the satisfaction of a successful pitch.
"Of course. I'll take it," Strange said, his voice decisive. But just as Rosh reached for the paperwork to finalize the transaction, Strange suddenly held up a hand, his expression sharpening. "Wait—wait just a moment, Shopkeeper!"
"Is there a problem?" Rosh arched an eyebrow, leaning back.
"To be honest, I came here expecting to debunk a fraud and walk out with my ego intact. Seeing that this is real has caught me slightly off guard," Strange said, his tone turning clinical and serious. "Your catalog states that a person can only ever consume one Devil Fruit in their lifetime. Correct?"
Rosh nodded slowly. "That is the golden rule. One soul, one power."
Strange looked back at the rows of exotic, swirling fruits, his gaze lingering on the shelves' shadows. "Then I wonder if I'm being too hasty. This fruit is incredible for my current practice, but..." He paused, his ambition visibly warring with his logic. "Could there be something even better? Something even more suited to a man of my... specific talents? I'd hate to commit to a specialty only to find out the cure for everything else was sitting three feet away."
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Next Chapter: The God-Tier Op-Op Fruit
Next Next Chapter: Bruce Banner Returns
Next Next Next Chapter: The Vanishing of Bruce Banner
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