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Deep down, Rocket Raccoon had never truly belonged anywhere in the vast, cold expanse of the universe.
Depending on who was looking at him, people called him a variety of things. To some, he looked a little bit like a weird, mutated rabbit. To others, a mangy, oversized rat. To anyone from Earth, he was the spitting image of a raccoon. But the brutal, honest truth was that he wasn't really any of those things.
Rocket was a walking, breathing anomaly, a creature that legally and biologically shouldn't have existed in the first place. He was a completely one-of-a-kind lifeform. He hadn't been born out in the beautiful, chaotic wild of nature. Instead, his very first memories were forged inside a sterile, white, lifeless laboratory, surrounded by the cold click of surgical steel and the hum of computer monitors.
Throughout the entire galaxy, across millions of star systems, there wasn't another single soul like him. He had no homeworld to miss, no biological family waiting for his return, and no cozy corner of the cosmos he could honestly call home.
Over the years, Rocket had gotten incredibly good at burying those heavy, suffocating feelings. He hid them deep down behind a loud mouth, snappy sarcasm, absolute overconfidence, and a completely carefree, reckless attitude. He cracked dark jokes, picked fights with guys three times his size, and chased after quick stacks of galactic units. He lived fast and did whatever he wanted.
To the rest of the universe, he looked like a hardened mercenary who didn't give a damn about anyone or anything. But deep down in the dark? The memories of that laboratory had never truly faded away. They remained tightly coiled in his chest like an old, jagged wound that flat-out refused to heal, a permanent emotional scar hidden beneath layers of cynical laughter.
He cared. He cared far more than he would ever care to admit out loud to anyone, including Groot.
And that was exactly why the illustration of the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Plain Human, was currently hitting him like a cosmic freight train. It wasn't because the fruit promised him a flashy new superpower, immense political prestige, or world-shattering combat potential. It was because, for the absolute first time in his entire life, someone had placed a real, tangible chance to just be normal right in front of his face. The chance to be truly human.
The elegant reception room fell into a brief, heavy silence. Rosh quietly observed the storm of conflicting emotions playing out across the little raccoon's features. As an expert merchant, he knew exactly how to read a client's hidden hesitations, and he decided it was the perfect moment to step in and clear up the fine print.
"I know what you're thinking, but let me clarify something," Rosh spoke up, his voice smooth, reassuring, and completely relaxed. "While this specific Devil Fruit doesn't grant you flashy elemental attacks or world-bending combat abilities... it also won't weaken you in the slightest."
Rocket's ears perked up instantly. He snapped his head up, his dark eyes locking onto the shop owner. "...What do you mean by that?"
Rosh folded his arms across his chest, leaning back slightly. "The term 'plain human' is actually a bit relative when it comes to the mechanics. The fruit inherently adapts to the base biology of the individual who actually consumes it."
He continued calmly, laying out the facts in a way that was easy to digest. "In other words, when you choose to activate your human form, you won't lose a single one of your original physical attributes. Your raw strength, your hyper-accelerated speed, your lightning-fast reflexes, your insane spatial agility, everything that makes you dangerous, everything that makes you, you... It will all stay perfectly intact. The only thing that actually shifts is your external appearance."
For a solid, frozen second, Rocket just stared at him, his brain working a mile a minute to process the information.
Then…
"...Are you seriously telling me the truth?!"
Rocket's eyes practically exploded with a sudden, manic surge of excitement. The gloomy, heavy weight that had been lingering over his face vanished in a literal heartbeat.
"You're not pulling my tail here, pal? You mean it? Will I still be just as fast? Just as lethal?"
Rosh offered a calm, definitive nod. "Exactly. Your core baseline stats won't drop by a single point."
Hearing that, Rocket's heart began racing against his ribs like a high-speed engine.
Let's face it, even though he looked like a small, fuzzy animal you could carry in a backpack, Rocket's actual physical capabilities were anything but ordinary. Those years of horrific genetic torture and illegal cybernetic enhancements had left him with a body packed with absolute peak reflexes, mind-boggling tactical coordination, and a deeply hardwired combat instinct.
Those precise, deadly enhancements were the exact reason he had managed to survive for so long as one of the galaxy's most notorious, hard-to-catch bounty hunters. Without his hyper-speed and insane coordination, he would have been vaporized or thrown into a cosmic prison cell a long time ago.
When he had first read the basic description of the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Plain Human, his biggest, most terrifying fear hadn't been that the power lacked flashy offensive gimmicks. His real fear was that becoming human would mean becoming ordinary. Weak. Fragile. Slow. He had desperately imagined himself turning into a squishy, defenseless pink Earthling who would break a bone or get crushed the second a heavy alien mercenary decided to throw a punch his way. He thought he'd be trading his lethal edge for a drop of sentimentality.
But now? Rosh had completely, utterly deleted that concern from the equation.
To be completely honest, considering Rocket's insane natural physical abilities, calling his potential human form "plain" was almost a joke.
Even without any flashy, world-ending superpowers, someone who possessed his lightning-fast reflexes, hyper-tuned senses, and lethal combat instincts could never be considered ordinary. He was a biological powerhouse wrapped in a tiny, furry package.
"Awesome!"
Rocket practically bounced on the plush leather cushion of the sofa. "No... wait, this is absolutely incredible!"
His tail wagged wildly behind him, cutting through the air like a furry metronome as his eyes locked onto the glowing illustration of the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Plain Human. A massive, brilliant grin spread completely across his face.
He immediately whipped his head around to look at Rosh, tapping his claw eagerly against the glossed page. "Boss! Look here. The catalog says there's a temporary sample version available for testing. Can I try it? Come on, you gotta let me try it!"
His dark eyes were filled with an intense, burning anticipation.
"I've got to know what it feels like," Rocket muttered, his voice dropping to a rare, vulnerable whisper. "What it's actually like... to stand on two human legs."
Rosh offered a warm, knowing smile. "Of course you can." He turned his gaze toward his assistant. "Elizabeth."
She didn't need any further explanation. "Right away, Manager!" Elizabeth gave a crisp, professional nod before pivoting on her heel and hurrying straight into the secure storage vault at the back of the shop.
Meanwhile, Rosh stood up and gestured toward the open floor of the spacious reception lounge. "Step right out here."
Rocket followed him without a single millisecond of hesitation. Even Groot, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy, left his new houseplant friend and obediently tagged along, his massive wooden form towering over them as he watched with wide, curious eyes.
A short while later, Elizabeth returned from the vault, carefully carrying a glowing, slightly smaller trial version of the Human-Human Fruit. She stepped forward and gently placed it right into Rocket's eagerly awaiting paws.
"This is your trial fruit," she explained softly. "It will give you a temporary taste of its abilities."
Rocket looked down at the swirling, bizarrely patterned fruit for only a fraction of a second. He didn't hesitate. He didn't even overthink it.
*Crunch!*
He took an absolute monster of a bite, his sharp teeth tearing through the skin.
Instantly, his entire face violently twisted into a mask of pure horror. His ears pinned flat against his skull, and his tongue practically tried to leap out of his mouth.
"...Ugh! Secondary evolution of a celestial, what is this?!" Rocket gagged, his voice muffled as he forced himself to keep chewing. "This taste... it somehow manages to be a million times worse than it actually looks! It tastes like a garbage cow crashed into a chemical plant!"
Every single bite felt like absolute psychological torture. But Rocket was nothing if not stubborn. With a massive, dramatic surge of willpower, he forced his throat to open.
*Gulp.*
He finally swallowed the horrific fruit.
Rocket let out a long, ragged breath, dramatically wiping his mouth with the back of his furry forearm. "Alright," he wheezed, his eyes watering. "I have officially survived the absolute worst culinary disaster in the known galaxy. Someone give me a medal."
He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering bitterness, and looked up at Rosh. "So, Boss... I know I probably sound incredibly impatient here, but I've already eaten the damn thing. What exactly happens n—"
He cut off dead in the middle of his sentence.
"...Huh?"
Rocket's pupils suddenly contracted into tiny black pinpricks.
Something... was shifting.
He could feel it deep within his marrow. A strange, completely unprecedented sensation began to spread like wildfire through every single cell, muscle, and nerve in his body. It wasn't painful in the slightest. Nor was it uncomfortable or invasive.
It felt... entirely natural.
It was as though a brand-new, dormant instinct had suddenly awakened deep within his consciousness. It felt exactly like someone had quietly, seamlessly installed a psychological switch right inside his chest, a switch that had never existed before today.
Without even thinking about it, guided purely by the fruit's newly awakened instinct, Rocket reached out mentally and flipped it.
The transformation exploded into life instantly.
His small body rapidly stretched upward, his spine straightening as his skeleton expanded. Bones clicked and shifted, reconfiguring themselves with impossible speed. Muscles lengthened and filled out, his height skyrocketing at a mind-boggling velocity. The thick, coarse brown and gray fur covering his entire body began to rapidly recede, disappearing strand by strand as if melting away. Beneath it, soft, unblemished human skin emerged.
His elongated animal muzzle gradually shortened, his sharp teeth shifting into a perfect human smile. His nose reshaped itself, and his rounded, furry ears slid smoothly down to take their rightful place along the sides of his head. His razor-sharp claws withdrew entirely, his elongated paws widening and lengthening into dexterous, strong human hands.
The entire physics-defying process lasted for only a few breathtaking seconds.
Then, with a soft rush of displaced air, it was over.
The small, cynical raccoon who had entered the shop was completely gone. Standing in his place on the polished floorboards was a tall, striking young man.
He stood well over six feet tall, with a lean, highly athletic, and powerful build that perfectly balanced agility with raw strength. His facial features were incredibly sharp, defined by a strong jawline and piercing, intelligent eyes. Combined with the absolute, unshakeable confidence that Rocket naturally carried in his soul, his human form was, without a shadow of a doubt, undeniably handsome.
Rosh stood there quietly, looking the newly transformed young man up and down from head to toe. A deeply amused, dry thought immediately crossed the merchant's mind. 'Plain human? Seriously? Since when did the word "plain" mean looking like a literal runway model?'
"...Holy crap."
Rocket slowly raised both of his new, long-fingered human hands in front of his face. His jaw remained slack as his chest heaved with shallow, stunned breaths.
"No way... There is absolutely no way."
He turned his palms over, reversing them again and again, flexing every single joint and knuckle as if he were terrified the illusion might suddenly shatter and turn him back into a trash panda at any given microsecond.
"...These are actually my hands?" he whispered, his voice trembling with a rare, unchecked wave of pure emotion.
Instinctively, his fingers trailed upward, tentatively touching his own face. He traced the sharp line of his cheeks, the straight bridge of his nose, and the solid curve of his chin. Everything felt unbelievably solid. Everything felt completely real.
Unable to contain his skyrocketing adrenaline for another second, Rocket practically sprinted across the reception lounge toward the nearest floor-length decorative mirror.
The exact moment his eyes locked onto his own reflection... he froze dead in his tracks.
For several long, uninterrupted seconds, he simply stared into the glass. Then, he leaned in incredibly close, his nose nearly touching the reflection. He backed away a few steps. He turned slightly to the left, then angled his chin to the right. He actively admired himself from every single possible angle the mirror could provide.
"...Wow," Rocket muttered, a massive, brilliant grin slowly carving its way across his sharp features. "So this... this is what I actually look like as a human."
He took a slow, sweeping circle in front of the glass, completely and utterly captivated by his brand-new aesthetic. The longer he looked at the reflection, the more the heavy weight of his past seemed to evaporate, replaced by a profound, euphoric happiness.
Finally, he folded his muscular arms across his chest, leaned his weight onto one leg, and struck what he clearly believed was a deeply smoldering, impossibly handsome pose.
"Perfect," he declared, nodding in absolute, undeniable satisfaction. "Ab-so-lutely perfect."
Then, without even a single shred of humility or embarrassment, he looked back over his shoulder toward Rosh and proudly announced, "Honestly, Boss? If I were a woman, I'd fall completely in love with myself in about five seconds flat. I am a catch."
His signature, bulletproof confidence hadn't just returned, it had shot straight through the roof of the shop and entered low orbit. It was so thick you could practically feel it in the room.
Even Groot stopped swaying, quietly staring at his partner's massive transformation for a long moment before tilting his heavy wooden head in utter confusion.
"I am Groot," the gentle giant rumbled.
Rocket grinned even wider, winking at his giant tree buddy in the reflection. From this exact moment onward, he silently swore a promise to himself: this new body wasn't just a fun trick. It was going to be the absolute beginning of a wide-open, legendary new chapter in his life.
After giving Rocket a few solid minutes to shamelessly admire his new face, Rosh finally strolled over, a faint, highly amused smile playing on his lips.
"So," Rosh said, his voice cutting through Rocket's vanity. "I take it you're thoroughly pleased with the initial results?"
Rocket immediately spun around on his heel, his eyes practically gleaming. "Pleased?! Boss, I am a million miles beyond pleased! I am completely thrilled!" He aggressively threw up an enthusiastic, human thumbs-up. "I've officially made up my mind. I want this fruit. Wrap it up, it's mine."
But right as the words left his mouth, Rocket suddenly froze.
His ultra-confident, smug expression slowly began to stiffen. A heavy wave of practical reality crashed right back into his brain, and he awkwardly raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck.
"...Actually, wait. There is one tiny, microscopic problem."
He cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the luxurious room. "How much exactly is this thing gonna set me back?"
Only now, after taking a massive bite of the product, had the most crucial question of interstellar business finally occurred to his mercenary brain. Rocket wasn't exactly broke; bounty hunting across the galaxy paid a decent amount of units if you knew which targets to pick.
But decent money wasn't the same as being filthy rich. If he were sitting on mountains of endless wealth, he wouldn't spend his weekends risking his life getting shot at by angry Nova Corps officers or dodging space pirates just to chase down dangerous fugitives.
And something as fundamentally broken as a fruit capable of completely rewriting a creature's biological species? In the galactic black market, a relic like that would easily cost millions of units. It surely couldn't be cheap.
Rosh caught the sudden, anxious shift on Rocket's face and offered a deeply reassuring smile. "Don't stress yourself out just yet. First, let me pull up your purchasing limit."
With a simple, silent thought, Rosh pulled up the invisible System interface floating before his eyes. Rocket's detailed biographical data immediately materialized in glowing text.
A fraction of a second later, even Rosh felt a flicker of surprise ripple through him.
[Client: Rocket Raccoon]
[Purchasing Limit: 1,000 Origin Points]
Rocket's inherent Luck value was considerably higher than Rosh had initially anticipated for a cynical space mercenary.
As for the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Plain Human? Because of its incredibly niche, highly specific application, its listed price in the shop database was incredibly low for only…
[100 Origin Points.]
Yes, just a hundred. The logic behind the System's pricing was perfectly simple. For roughly 99.9% of the living beings in the universe, the fruit was completely, utterly worthless. It gave no elemental powers, no physical stat boosts, and no combat utility. Only a tiny handful of very specific, genetically modified or non-human clients, like Rocket, could ever find a real use for it. The System had naturally priced it as a bargain-bin luxury item.
Rosh smoothly closed out the glowing interface and looked back at the anxious young man. "Good news, Rocket. You currently hold a purchasing limit worth exactly one thousand Origin Points." He gestured casually toward the open encyclopedia. "And the Human-Human Fruit Model: Plain Human only costs a clean one hundred. So, you can easily, comfortably afford it."
Rocket blinked, his brow furrowing into a deep human scowl.
"...Origin Points?" he repeated, sounding entirely lost. "My purchasing limit?" He pointed a finger directly at his own chest. "Boss, you lost me. When the hell did I ever open an account with points?"
Seeing the sheer, unadulterated confusion written all over Rocket's face, Rosh couldn't help but chuckle.
"It's a bit of a long story," Rosh said smoothly, gesturing for them to head back over to the plush leather lounge chairs.
Once everyone was comfortably seated again, Rosh calmly broke down the unique, reality-bending economic system of the Home of the Devil Fruits. He explained the concept of abstract values: Luck, Destiny, and Origin Points. He laid out how the shop didn't deal in physical coins, gold, or digital bank credits, but instead utilized a fraction of a customer's own cosmic fortune to pay for the supernatural fruits.
Rocket sat perfectly still throughout the entire explanation, listening intently from absolute beginning to end. By the time Rosh finally finished speaking, the young man was staring blankly at the table, his face twisted into a profound, comical expression of bewilderment.
"...Okay, look," Rocket said, rubbing his temple with two fingers as if a headache were coming on. "I think I understood maybe fifty percent of what you just threw at me. The whole idea of 'destiny' and 'luck' being a tangible currency I can swipe like a credit card is way too sci-fi, even for a guy who lives in space."
He stopped, slowly looking down at his smooth, strong human hands before lifting his gaze back up to lock eyes with Rosh. A slow, massive, and incredibly wicked grin began to spread across his face.
"But there is one part I understood perfectly clear. What you're basically telling me is... I get a completely permanent, life-changing Devil Fruit, and I don't have to fork over a single galactic credit?"
Rosh smiled, nodding elegantly. "If you want to look at it through a purely financial lens, yes. You could definitely put it that way."
Rocket violently slammed both of his hands down onto the coffee table and burst into a loud, booming fit of laughter that echoed through the lobby.
"Now that is what I call a beautiful piece of business!" Rocket cheered, his eyes sparkling with manic glee. "As far as I'm concerned, a top-tier, permanent upgrade that doesn't cost me a dime out of my wallet is the absolute greatest bargain in the entire history of the galaxy!"
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Next Chapter: Mjolnir Has Fallen
Next Next Chapter: A Test of Worthiness
Next Next Next Chapter: The Second Interstellar Customer
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