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Home of the Devil Fruits
"Up to this point, the identities of those involved in the battle remain unconfirmed. However, one of the combatants, seen piloting what appeared to be a fighter jet aircraft, is highly suspected to be connected to Stark Industries… possibly even Obadiah Stane himself."
The news anchor's voice stayed measured, but the broadcast visuals were anything but calm: shaky footage, panicked crowds, a skyline lit by distant explosions.
"Based on several blurry frames captured by traffic cameras, the figure bears an extremely high resemblance to Obadiah Stane."
A freeze-frame filled the screen: a hulking silhouette caught mid-transformation, all jagged metal and unnatural proportions. It looked like something ripped straight out of a nightmare… or a war lab.
"Reporters have contacted Stark Industries for comment, but the company has yet to issue an official response."
The scene shifted to a swarm of microphones outside a sleek corporate building, reporters shouting questions over one another like the whole country could hear them.
"According to eyewitnesses at the scene, the individual who fought Obadiah Stane was a red-armored 'Iron Man.' While the identity of this 'Iron Man' remains unknown, Obadiah Stane was heard calling him Tony Stark."
That name hit like a match to gasoline.
The broadcast replayed the audio; distorted, clipped, but clear enough to cause damage: ''Tony…''
"Who exactly is this mysterious 'Iron Man'? And why did a fierce battle erupt between him and Obadiah Stane? All of New York, and the nation, is waiting for an explanation from Stark Industries."
The anchor continued talking, but the rest blurred into background noise.
''…''
Rosh stared at the news on the television, momentarily taken aback.
Most people watching had no idea what they were really seeing. To them, it was just another breaking headline, another scandal wrapped in flames. But Rosh, Rosh knew how this story was supposed to go.
This was it.
The inevitable endgame. The showdown that always comes when pride, power, and greed share the same room.
Tony Stark versus Obadiah Stane.
Iron Man versus the Iron Monger.
And honestly? The outcome had never been in doubt.
Stane, the user of the Munch-Munch Fruit, was never going to outplay Tony, the user of the Arms-Arms Fruit, not because one fruit was "better," but because of what mattered most in a fight like this.
It wasn't the power.
It was the person.
The Munch-Munch Fruit was terrifying in the wrong hands, turning anything into fuel, converting mass into weaponry, evolving on the fly. In theory, it could have been unstoppable. The kind of ability that could grind a battlefield into dust and keep going.
But Tony Stark's mind? That was the real superpower.
Tony didn't just use the Arms-Arms Fruit.
He mastered it.
He treated it like a tool, a blueprint, a problem begging for an answer. He pushed its potential until it no longer even looked like the same ability. In Tony's hands, "turning into weapons" wasn't a gimmick; it was an entire weapons ecosystem, modular and adaptive, engineered at the speed of thought.
If the Arms-Arms Fruit had ended up with a regular person, someone who relied on instinct instead of invention… Rosh didn't doubt the story could've flipped. Stane might've won. The Iron Monger might've lived.
But Tony Stark wasn't a "regular person."
Not even close.
Rosh exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.
"So the media already coined the name Iron Man, huh," he muttered, amused despite himself. "Guess he's stepping back onto the stage of history right on schedule."
The screen kept replaying the chaos: sirens, smoke, the distant streaks of combat cutting through the sky.
And Rosh found himself… genuinely excited.
Because that name, Iron Man, wasn't just a headline.
It was a starting gun.
The age of heroes wasn't approaching anymore.
It had begun.
A messy, loud, impossible era where powered individuals would start showing up like storms, some shining, some monstrous, most somewhere in between. A world where Marvel's "chaotic parade of superheroes" would officially spill out into the open.
And Rosh? Rosh couldn't wait.
Because he wasn't just watching history unfold.
He had players in the game.
He was eager to see what kind of impact the Devil Fruit users he'd personally cultivated would have in this new era, who would rise, who would fall, who would surprise everyone… and who would become a problem even he couldn't ignore.
But beyond the excitement, another thought slid into place, something cold, sharp, and practical.
Public awareness.
There was no doubt that the battle had captured the nation. People were glued to their screens. Social media would be melting down. Conspiracy threads would be multiplying by the minute. And soon, Stark Industries would have to say something.
Tony Stark would have to face the cameras and offer an explanation.
And that… that was a gift.
Rosh leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as his mind started turning like gears.
Sure, after Rosh obliterated an air force base in a fit of rage, Devil Fruits had become known in the upper tiers: government circles, intelligence agencies, and military brass. The people who hoarded secrets for breakfast already knew the term.
But that wasn't enough, because the civilians didn't.
To the average person, Devil Fruits were still rumor-level nonsense; urban legends, internet myths, something you'd laugh at and scroll past. The real world hadn't been forced to acknowledge them yet.
Not openly. Not publicly.
Not in a way that couldn't be buried under classified stamps and threat assessments.
But now? Now the whole country was watching a red armored man fly through the sky, trading missiles with a transforming monster.
And the world was asking why.
Rosh's smile deepened, slow and certain.
If anyone could introduce Devil Fruits to the masses without sounding insane, it was Tony Stark. The man was famous enough that people would listen even if he said the moon was made of cheese. The man was influential enough that if he called Devil Fruits real, half the planet would start searching for them by sunrise.
Free advertising.
Not just free, but perfect advertising.
The kind of opportunity that came once, maybe never again.
"Not taking that would be a waste," he murmured, already imagining the ripple effects: new customers, new buyers, new chaos, new power players crawling out of the dark the moment the words Devil Fruit hit mainstream news.
"My decision is made, baby," Rosh laughed, savoring it like a victory already in hand, as the TV kept talking and the world unknowingly lined up to do his marketing for him.
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"Stark."
Once Rosh made up his mind, hesitation didn't even get a seat at the table. He reached out immediately, as if he were placing a call to set a domino in motion.
The line picked up fast.
"Shopkeeper?" Tony Stark's voice came through, half-breathless but still unmistakably Tony, with his sharp and confident voice, and carrying the kind of exhaustion he'd never openly admit to. "Didn't expect to hear from you. What's the occasion?"
Tony was busy, busy in the way only someone could be after getting into a city-wide aerial deathmatch with his own former mentor. The battle's aftermath was a mountain: property damage, witnesses, questions, and a government agency with a talent for showing up right when things got complicated.
Tony was already cooperating with S.H.I.E.L.D. to clean up the mess.
But if Shopkeeper Rosh called first? Tony wouldn't dare treat it like a casual check-in. Not even on his worst day.
"I get it…" Tony continued before Rosh could even speak, like his brain had already sprinted to the finish line. "You saw the news, didn't you? Yeah. It's true. The guy in the footage really was Stane… and me."
He let out a short, humorless breath that sounded like a laugh in disguise.
"That 'Iron Man' they're throwing around?" Tony said, and you could practically hear the smirk. "That's me. And honestly? Iron Man is a pretty great nickname, don't you think?"
Rosh didn't react the way most people would, like with shock, disbelief, or fanboy awe. He stayed calm, with a steady, businesslike voice.
"I know Iron Man is you, Stark," Rosh said. "When you hold the press conference, how do you plan to explain everything to the public?"
There was a pause, then Tony groaned like someone had just reminded him he had homework.
"Agent Coulson....uh, you might not know him." Tony's tone dipped into pure disdain. "He's Natasha Romanoff's colleague, and he already wrote me a script."
You could hear the sarcasm forming teeth.
"Something about my 'bodyguard' being responsible," Tony continued, offended on a spiritual level. "It's so stupid I can't even—"
He cut off mid-rant. The sharpness in his voice faded into curiosity.
"But you're calling for a reason," Tony said slowly, like he was already turning the puzzle piece in his fingers. "You've got a different idea, don't you?"
"I do," Rosh replied, simple as that. No theatrics and no warm-up.
"I want you to tell the truth."
Tony didn't jump in with a joke this time. He went quiet, listening.
"Devil Fruits are extraordinary," Rosh continued, voice even, but conviction hidden underneath like steel beneath velvet. "I want more people to know about them. To understand them."
It wasn't an unreasonable request. And frankly, Tony hadn't planned to follow Coulson's ridiculous script anyway. Even if Rosh had never made this call, Tony Stark was already heading toward the same conclusion.
Tony didn't do lies well, and he hated being told to pretend.
That made the answer come fast.
"You're right, Shopkeeper." Tony's voice shifted, lighter, more certain, like he'd just chosen the road that actually felt like him. "I think the same way. Devil Fruits shouldn't be buried."
"I'll be honest with the media."
Then Tony's tone brightened, the way it always did when his brain caught fire with a new idea, reckless, brilliant, and absolutely unhinged in the best way.
"And since you want to promote Devil Fruits…" he said, like he was about to pitch a new sports car instead of rewriting the world. "Why don't you come to the press conference too?"
Rosh blinked once.
Tony pressed on before sanity could intervene.
"Wouldn't it be even better if the owner of Home of the Devil Fruits introduced them personally?"
Only Tony Stark could turn a potential national security crisis into a marketing opportunity in the same breath. It was impulsive, unconventional, and completely, painfully Tony.
Just like that, a standard press conference was about to become a full-on product launch.
And honestly?
It wasn't a bad idea.
Rosh's eyes brightened with sharp interest, opportunity snapping into focus like a scope locking onto a target. He didn't even hesitate.
"Alright, Stark," Rosh said, a chuckle slipping through. "That's a great idea."
"I'll attend your press conference as well."
"Perfect," Tony replied instantly, like he'd already started planning the headline. "Then it's settled. But Shopkeeper, you'll need to hurry. The press conference starts in half an hour."
"No problem," Rosh ended the call without another word.
A moment later, he moved. He shut the shop doors with a clean, final click, the kind that said ''closed for business… temporarily.'' Then he let his awareness spread outward, calm and vast.
He activated his Observation Haki.
The world snapped into clarity; signals, presences, intent. Somewhere within the city's heartbeat, Tony Stark burned like a bright, stubborn star.
Rosh instantly locked onto him.
And then...
*Whoosh!*
With a flash, Rosh's body turned into a streak of light, launching upward like a living comet. The shop vanished behind him in an instant, swallowed by distance as he shot through the sky with effortless speed.
After today's press conference, Devil Fruits would be known to the entire world.
There was no longer any reason to hide.
*Whoosh!*
The beam of light speared down at the entrance of Stark Tower.
And in the next heartbeat, Rosh appeared, standing there like he'd simply stepped out of the air itself, untouched by wind, time, or the chaos about to unfold.
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Next Chapter: I Am Iron Man!
Next Next Chapter: Iron Man Reveals His Power
Next Next Next Chapter: Devil Fruits Takes the World by Storm!!
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