Hug your loved ones, while you still can.
Sorry for being away.
-Isopuff
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"Of course, Stephen. Take all the time you need," Rosh said, his voice smooth and accommodating. "A decision like this shouldn't be made under pressure."
Without another word, Rosh reached under his table, pulled out the leather-bound catalog, and slid it across the surface toward Strange.
"Thank you, Shopkeeper."
Strange offered a polite, curt nod and took the book. He began to pore over the pages with the same surgical precision he used when reviewing an MRI. His eyes darted across the descriptions, analyzing the tiers and categories, but after a few minutes, he paused. He looked up at Rosh, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Actually, Shopkeeper... I value expert insight," Strange admitted, closing the book. "Do you have a personal recommendation? Based on what you've seen of my abilities and my profession, is there something even better suited for me than the Stitch-Stitch Fruit?"
Rosh's brow arched. If the question was what would turn Stephen Strange into a literal god of medicine, the answer was obvious. 'Without a doubt,' Rosh thought, 'that would be the Op-Op Fruit.'
The only hurdle was that the Ope Ope no Mi wasn't currently sitting in the shop's inventory. However, seeing as Strange had asked for the best, Rosh decided to be candid with him.
"There is one fruit... one that I believe is the absolute, ultimate match for you," Rosh said, letting the suspense build for a moment. "But I should warn you: it isn't available for purchase just yet. It's a rarity among rarities."
Strange's interest spiked instantly. The word "unavailable" was like a red rag to a bull for a man of his ego. "What is it? It doesn't matter if it's not in stock. If the payoff is high enough, I can wait."
"The Op-Op Fruit," Rosh said, the name rolling off his tongue with a certain weight. "Otherwise known as the Operation Fruit."
'The Operation Fruit.'
Strange's eyes lit up with a spark Rosh hadn't seen before. He was a neurosurgeon; performing operations wasn't just his job, it was his identity, his life's calling. To hear that there was a fruit specifically named after his profession was an irresistible lure.
If the Stitch-Stitch Fruit, a power technically centered on "mending and sewing," was already this revolutionary, what could a fruit dedicated entirely to the high art of surgery actually do?
"Shopkeeper, tell me about it," Strange urged, leaning in across the counter, his skepticism entirely replaced by a hunger for information. "Don't hold back. What exactly are we talking about here?"
"In simple terms," Rosh began, gesturing with his hands to illustrate the concept, "the user of the Op-Op Fruit can manifest a spherical 'domain' or a custom space. Within the boundaries of that space, the user becomes the absolute master of everything they survey. They can cut, swap, and rearrange anything, from physical matter to intangible concepts like souls and minds, entirely at will."
Strange furrowed his brow, his analytical mind trying to deconstruct the mechanics. "Cut, swap, and reattach... Shopkeeper, that sounds like the basic steps of any standard surgery," he said, a small frown appearing. "It sounds efficient, certainly, but could you be a bit more specific? How is that fundamentally different from what I do in an OR right now?"
To an ordinary person, the description sounded like magic. To a world-class surgeon, it sounded like a glorified job description. He needed to know what made this power truly supernatural.
"Patience, Stephen. I'm getting to the good part," Rosh said, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation thicken. "In reality, once you've manifested that space—let's call it your 'Room'—you aren't just a surgeon anymore. You are, for all intents and purposes, God within those boundaries."
Strange's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt. He was listening with every fiber of his being.
"Within that domain, you have the power to disassemble people or objects at your whim," Rosh continued, "The crucial part? When you slice through a human body, you aren't actually causing damage in the traditional sense. The target doesn't bleed. They feel absolutely no pain. In fact, their body remains perfectly, impossibly functional even while 'disassembled.' You could separate a man's head from his shoulders, and he could still hold a conversation with you while his torso walked across the room."
"For example," Rosh leaned in, painting a picture that made Strange's heart hammer against his ribs, "imagine a patient requires complex heart surgery. Instead of a grueling eight-hour procedure involving rib-spreaders and bypass machines, you could simply reach into your 'Room,' remove their heart entirely, and hold it in your hands while they're still awake. You could repair the valves or clear a blockage with total visibility and zero pressure, then simply 'swap' it back into their chest. The entire process would take minutes. No anesthesia, no agonizing recovery, no risk of hemorrhage, and most importantly for someone with your eye for perfection, not a single scar would remain. The patient could walk out of your office and grab a coffee as if they'd just had a routine check-up."
"I... I... this..."
Strange was utterly speechless. He stood frozen, his thoughts a chaotic, screaming swirl of disbelief and raw awe. It felt as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning that had bypassed his skin and gone straight for his brain.
That was the Op-Op Fruit?
It wasn't just a medical advancement; it was a flagrant violation of every biological, physical, and surgical law he had spent decades mastering. To fix a heart outside the body and replace it without a trace? It sounded like a fever dream, yet after his earlier experience with the sample, he knew it was a tangible reality. For any surgeon, this fruit wasn't just a tool; it was the Holy Grail.
"And while it's officially dubbed the 'Operation Fruit,' using it solely for medicine would be a criminal waste of its potential," Rosh added, his eyes gleaming with a lethal edge. "It is equally devastating in a tactical sense. Within that space, the laws of physics are your playthings. You can slice through reinforced tanks, fighter jets, warships, or entire skyscrapers as if they were made of soft butter."
Each word hit Strange like a physical blow to the chest. If Rosh was telling the truth, and Strange was increasingly certain he was, then within that domain, the user truly was a deity.
He had thought the Stitch-Stitch Fruit was impressive, a once-in-a-lifetime miracle that would elevate his career. But compared to the sheer, reality-warping majesty of the Op-Op Fruit, the Stitch-Stitch was a mere toy. Strange was utterly captivated. His pulse quickened, his breathing grew shallow, and for the first time in his life, the "best surgeon in the world" felt like a child looking at a real mountain for the first time.
"Shopkeeper...." Strange said, his voice dropping an octave as he fought to regain some semblance of his usual, unshakable composure. He cleared his throat, but the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "I have to assume a fruit this... 'broken' in terms of ability costs a literal fortune in gold?"
If we were to settle the transaction in gold today," Rosh said, giving a small, matter-of-fact nod, "the Op-Op Fruit would cost you exactly three thousand kilograms."
'Three thousand kilograms.'
*Hiss!*
Strange sucked in a sharp, cold breath through his teeth. His mind, which functioned better than a high-end calculator, immediately started running the numbers. At current market rates, that didn't just translate to a high price tag; it translated to hundreds of millions of dollars. Even if he liquidated every luxury asset he owned, sold his penthouse, and maxed out every line of credit available to a man of his standing, he wouldn't even come close to the halfway mark.
It made sense, of course. A power that effectively gave a man the keys to the kingdom of reality shouldn't come cheap. But the realization hit him with a crushing, physical weight. For the first time in his adult life, Stephen Strange had found something he was "too poor" to own.
"However," Rosh added, noticing the sudden shadow of dejection crossing the surgeon's face, "the shop will likely be updating its payment systems in the near future. We're looking into alternative settlement methods, ones beyond just raw gold. If you're truly set on this specific fruit, it might be worth your while to wait and see what the next news brings."
Rosh wasn't just dangling a carrot to keep him interested. He'd already been scouting the system's upcoming membership tiers and diversified payment modules after Natasha and the others had expressed similar concerns. When the next update went live, the shop would become a much more flexible marketplace.
Strange, however, wasn't holding out much hope for a "discount." Regardless of the currency, be it gold, diamonds, or something far more esoteric, the intrinsic value of the Op-Op Fruit wouldn't change. The price would remain astronomical because the power was legendary.
But there was a bigger problem now. After hearing about the god-like glory of the Op-Op Fruit, he simply couldn't look at the Stitch-Stitch Fruit the same way again. It was a masterpiece in its own right, but compared to what he'd just heard, it felt like a consolation prize. His standards hadn't just been raised; they'd been ruined.
"In that case, Shopekeeper… I think I'll wait a while."
After a moment of agonizing hesitation that felt like an eternity, Strange made his decision. The allure of the Op-Op Fruit was simply too great to ignore. It was a distant, perhaps even unreachable goal, but to settle for anything less now felt like an admission of defeat, an admission that he was willing to be "great" instead of "infinite."
He wouldn't... he couldn't... give up on the chance to become the undisputed god of medicine.
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