"Hello, boss."
"So what exactly are these Devil Fruits supposed to be? Some kind of weird organic health trend?"
"Wait, hold on a second, you're telling me people actually eat these things?"
"Come on, there is absolutely no way that's real."
After Deadpool finally slid his frictionless self out the front door, the rest of Rosh's day followed a pretty predictable rhythm. A few more curious pedestrians wandered into the shop, blinking against the afternoon sun.
And, right on cue, most of them looked at Rosh as though he belonged in a padded room with a very tight jacket.
Honestly? Nothing new there. For the past month, every single interaction in this store has followed the exact same, soul-crushing pattern: Customers walk in out of curiosity, listen to the explanation, decide Rosh is clinically insane, and leave. The end.
Normally, Rosh wouldn't have had a solid way to break that cycle. Suggesting a free sample rarely worked because, let's face it, if a strange guy in an empty shop offers you a weird, swirling fruit that promises superpowers, you assume it's laced with something illegal. Most people just thought it was an elaborate street scam.
But now? Things were completely different. Now, he had a little something called definitive proof.
"Miss, I assure you, I am entirely serious," Rosh said, flashing an easygoing smile at a college-aged girl standing across the counter. She had a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder and an expression of pure, unadulterated skepticism.
A mysterious, golden glint flared deep within Rosh's eyes. "Watch carefully. And whatever you do... don't blink."
The young woman raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly confused. "Huh? What are you—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Rosh slowly raised his right hand, extending his index finger right between them.
"What are you doing?" the girl asked, tilting her head. "Okay, this is officially getting weird."
*Buzz!*
Without warning, a brilliant, blinding golden glow ignited right at the tip of his finger. The light didn't just flicker; it shone with the intense, pure radiance of a miniature sun, casting sharp shadows across the display shelves.
The girl's eyes instantly widened into dinner plates. "Whoa!" She instinctively took a sudden step forward, her cynical attitude completely vanishing. "That's... wait, that's amazing! Your actual finger is glowing! How are you doing that?"
Excitement completely replaced her earlier doubt. She leaned over the counter, trying to find the catch. "Is this some kind of high-tech magic trick? Are you secretly a professional magician or something?"
Rosh let out a low chuckle, letting the golden particles dissipate back into his skin. "This isn't magic," he said smoothly, extending his bare hand toward her. "Magic relies on hidden props, sleeves, and misdirection. This doesn't. If you don't believe me, check for yourself."
Curiosity won the battle. The girl immediately snatched his hand, inspecting it from every single possible angle. She flipped his palm, checked his knuckles, peered up his shirtsleeves, and even squinted between his fingers.
Nothing. No hidden LED wires. No battery packs. No fake skin. Absolutely no logical explanation.
Slowly, the stubborn doubt on her face began to melt away, replaced by a wild, genuine fascination.
"Boss..." she whispered, her eyes practically sparkling under the shop lights. "Did you... did you really get that ability from eating one of these fruits?"
"Of course," Rosh smiled, leaning back against the counter. "The Glint-Glint Fruit, to be specific."
"Seriously?"
"You just watched it happen with your own eyes," Rosh replied smoothly.
Granted, the girl still wasn't 100% convinced, which was totally fair. Transforming into pure light wasn't exactly covered in her university physics lectures. But the massive, game-changing difference was that she was no longer dismissing him as a lunatic. Instead of backing toward the exit, she started firing off questions. Lots of them. She wanted to know about the Devil Fruits, the source of the superpowers, and exactly how the abilities altered a person's biology.
Compared to the total rejections of the past month, this was a monumental upgrade.
Unfortunately... the exact millisecond she asked about the price tag, the entire illusion shattered into a million pieces.
"A MILLION DOLLARS?!"
The girl's voice hit a pitch that practically rattled the glass jars on the shelves. She whipped around, pointing an accusatory, trembling finger right at Rosh's nose.
"Boss! This isn't a business model! This is actual highway robbery without the weapon!"
Rosh cleared his throat, holding up his hands defensively. "Well, to be fair, there is currently a thirty-percent grand opening discount—"
"That doesn't help me at all!" she shouted, looking genuinely, profoundly offended on behalf of her bank account. "I have never in my life heard of a piece of produce that costs more than a literal mansion in New Jersey!"
A few seconds later, she snatched her tote bag, spun on her heel, and marched out of the store in absolute outrage. The little bell above the door jingled sharply behind her as she vanished into the evening crowd.
Despite failing to close the deal, Rosh remained in an absolutely stellar mood. He wasn't discouraged at all. Why? Because he had just proven his new concept worked.
The Old Way: Force people to listen to an unbelievable sales pitch → High rejection rate.
The New Way: Spark immediate curiosity with a live Logia demonstration → High engagement rate.
"This isn't a bad starting point at all," Rosh muttered, leaning thoughtfully against the wooden counter. "A live demonstration is a million times more effective than words."
The Glint-Glint Fruit had just become his ultimate marketing tool. But as he turned the strategy over in his head, he realized there was still room for improvement. A lot of room. Specifically, he needed to figure out a way to filter his foot traffic. There was absolutely no point in spending ten minutes dazzling a broke college student or a casual pedestrian who couldn't afford a high-tier Devil Fruit in the first place.
Rosh was a businessman, not a street performer. His newly acquired light powers weren't meant to be handed out as free street entertainment.
"Maybe I should start posting short videos online..." the thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
He could already picture the viral metrics. Short, snappy clips. Blinding light beams. Glowing fingertips. Maybe a few slow-motion demonstrations of him phasing through solid objects. That kind of mind-blowing content would completely break the internet. High traffic meant premium customers, premium customers meant guaranteed sales, and sales meant system rewards. The logic seemed absolutely flawless.
But after thinking it over for a long moment, Rosh slowly shook his head, throwing the idea in the trash.
"Never mind, way too risky."
This wasn't his ordinary, safe past-life Earth. This was the Marvel universe. Organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. were actively lurking in the shadows, monitoring anything that smelled like an unregistered superpower. Would a few viral TikToks definitely bring Nick Fury straight to his doorstep? Not necessarily. But the possibility was absolutely there.
And at his current baseline level of strength? Rosh had zero interest in finding out what a S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room looked like. The Glint-Glint Fruit was a god-tier power, sure, but he was still a complete rookie. Being overly high-profile right now would just invite a mountain of unnecessary trouble.
For the moment, flying under the radar was the smartest play. Besides, his shop averaged 20 to 30 random visitors every day. Out of all those people, finding just five customers to buy a fruit couldn't be completely impossible.
Eventually.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
Rosh immediately forced himself to stop thinking about the math before he depressed himself right back into a bad mood.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Meanwhile... across town in a completely different corner of New York City.
Inside Wade Wilson's cramped apartment, a very different kind of confrontation was unfolding.
"...No," Vanessa said, staring blankly at the man standing right in front of her. She blinked, stared a little harder, and then squinted. "Nope. Absolutely not."
She held up a firm, halting hand, pointing right at his chest. "You are not Wade."
Wade blinked, looking slightly hurt. "What do you mean? Babe, it's me!"
"You cannot be Wade," Vanessa stated, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "That is biologically impossible."
The man standing in her living room looked far too normal. Far too healthy. And, frankly, far too ridiculously handsome. But most offensive of all? His skin looked noticeably better, smoother, and more radiant than hers. That alone was highly suspicious.
Only this morning, Wade's face had looked like it had survived a prolonged, losing war against an industrial cheese grater. Now? Now he looked like he had just walked off the set of a high-end luxury skincare commercial.
"Babe, I swear on our entire relationship, it's me!" Wade protested, dramatically pointing to his own face. "I know this sounds completely, fundamentally unhinged, but my face... it got fixed!"
Then, remembering the sheer magnitude of the upgrade, he quickly corrected himself. "Actually, scratch that. 'Fixed' is an insult to the craftsmanship. My skin is now objectively, mathematically superior to every other human being on this planet."
Vanessa kept staring at him, her eyes narrowed into suspicious little slits. She was unconvinced. Very, very unconvinced.
"Wade..."
"Yes, my love?"
"Are you secretly an alien?"
"No."
"A clone created by some shady government lab?"
"No."
"A shape-shifting Martian?"
"Wrong comic book universe, babe."
"Right. Good point."
Vanessa took a slow, deep breath, crossing her arms even tighter. "Then start explaining. Right now."
And oh, boy, did Wade explain.
The words flew out of his mouth like high-velocity machine-gun fire. He paced around the tiny apartment, utilizing wild hand gestures, dramatic reenactments, and self-made sound effects to narrate his entire afternoon. He told her about stumbling across the weird shop on 73rd Street, meeting a ridiculously charming shopkeeper named Rosh, and being talked into swallowing what he described as a piece of "literal weaponized, garbage-flavored fruit."
By the time he finally ran out of breath, Vanessa looked significantly more confused than she had at the beginning of his monologue.
Naturally, she didn't believe a single word of it. Magical superpower fruits being sold out of a boutique storefront in Manhattan? It sounded like a bad fanfiction.
It wasn't until Wade sighed, stepped closer, and began quietly listing off several deeply private, incredibly specific personal details that only the two of them could possibly know that the skeptical tension in her shoulders finally broke.
Slowly... very slowly... her utter disbelief transformed into pure, unadulterated shock.
"Oh my God," Vanessa breathed, her voice dropping to a whisper as her eyes widened. "It... it really is you."
"Told you so," Wade grinned, his new, flawless face lighting up. "Still handsome under all that crushing emotional trauma."
"Wade." Vanessa stepped forward, reaching up to grab his face with both of her hands. Her thumbs traced his jawline, feeling the impossibly smooth, flawless texture of his skin.
Earlier today, this exact flesh had been covered in thick, painful, twisted scar tissue. Now? There wasn't a single trace left. It didn't even feel real. It felt like a genuine, honest-to-God miracle.
"How is this even possible?" she murmured, staring into his eyes.
"Honestly? I thought the guy was running a total scam, too," Wade laughed, his voice buzzing with that familiar, manic energy. "But apparently, today was my official lucky day."
He immediately launched into a second round of the story, adding even more explosive sound effects and dramatic lighting cues. By the end of it, Vanessa just sat down on the edge of the couch, quietly processing everything for a few seconds.
"Devil Fruits..." she repeated the name, testing how it felt on her tongue. It sounded entirely ridiculous. And yet, the living, breathing, flawless evidence was literally standing right in front of her, flexing his jawline in the mirror. "That is... absolutely incredible."
"Right? I'm basically a Disney prince now, minus the talking animals."
"It's completely unbelievable," Vanessa smiled, a bright, beautiful expression taking over her face. Whatever the scientific explanation was, it didn't matter. One thing was absolutely certain: this was the best news they'd had in years. She had never stopped loving Wade, not for a single second, but seeing him finally regain a piece of himself that he thought was lost forever made her genuinely, deeply happy.
She snapped out of her thoughts and grabbed her leather jacket off the chair. "We are celebrating. Right now."
Wade blinked, his hands pausing mid-pose. "Celebrating?"
"Yes," Vanessa said, pulling her jacket on with a decisive nod. "This is a monumentally celebration-worthy occasion. Dinner?"
"Dinner."
"Fancy dinner?"
"The fanciest, most overpriced dinner we can find," Wade said, his voice suddenly cracking with over-the-top emotion. "Oh my god, this is officially the greatest day of my entire life."
"Don't get dramatic, Wilson."
"Too late, the tears are already forming in my incredibly smooth tear ducts."
Just as the couple turned toward the apartment door, ready to hit the town—
*Knock! Knock! Knock!*
A sudden, heavy pounding echoed from the front door, slicing right through the celebratory vibe of the room.
Wade and Vanessa instantly exchanged a sharp glance. Vanessa's brow furrowed in confusion. "Were we expecting someone tonight?"
"Nope," Wade said, his playful tone dropping just a fraction as his head tilted toward the hallway. "Unless the local pizza place finally figured out how to use telepathy and arrived before I could even order."
The knocking came again, sharper this time and louder.
*Knock! Knock! Knock!*