The familiar, comforting smell of roasted tea leaves and simmering eggs hit Sam the moment he and Kyle stepped through the door of the old shop. It was a scent that spelled home in a way his luxurious New York hotel suite never could. The bell above the door jingled its same, slightly off-key chime.
Behind the counter, his father—the man everyone just called Old Man Jackson—looked up from polishing a glass. His face, a roadmap of smile lines and sun-weathered skin, broke into a wide, genuine grin.
"Sam! Meu filho!" he boomed, his voice still strong and warm despite his years. He set the glass down and came out from behind the counter, arms open. "You didn't tell me you were coming back! Kyle, it is good to see you too. You keeping this one out of trouble?"
He pulled Sam into a firm, back-thumping hug. Sam returned it, careful, so careful, to mimic a normal human strength. It felt like hugging a soap bubble; he was acutely aware of the fragile life in his arms.
"Trying, senhor," Kyle said with a smile that was only slightly strained. "It's a full-time job."
The old man released Sam and held him at arm's length, his keen eyes scanning his son's face. The grin faltered, just for a second, replaced by a look of deep, paternal curiosity. "You look... good, Sam. Really good. Did you finally start using that expensive moisturizer Kyle bought you?" he teased, but his eyes were searching. He saw it too. The impossible perfection, the unnatural vitality thrumming under the surface.
"Something like that, Pai," Sam said, his voice soft. "We need to talk. Can we close up for a bit?"
The old man's eyebrows shot up. "Close? Now? It is almost lunch. The regulars will come." He studied Sam's serious expression, then Kyle's supportive nod. His playful demeanor melted into one of concern. "Está tudo bem? Is everything okay?"
"Everything is... more than okay," Sam said. "It's just... a big conversation. A private one."
Without another word, his father nodded, moving with a practiced ease to flip the sign on the door from 'Aberto' to 'Fechado' and draw the blinds. The shop was plunged into a warm, dim quiet, filled only with the gentle hum of the refrigeration unit.
He led them to the small, worn table in the back where they'd shared countless meals. "So," he said, sitting down and folding his hands on the table. "You are rich? You win the lottery? You finally decide to make me a grandfather?" He winked at Kyle, who blushed furiously.
Sam laughed, a real, unforced sound that eased the tension in the room. "No, Pai. Not the lottery. And not... that. Yet." He took a deep breath. "Do you remember the ginseng you made me plant? In the garden?"
"Sim, of course. Good for vitality. For... you know." The old man made a vague gesture that encompassed male stamina.
"Well," Sam said, pulling the perfectly green apple from his jacket pocket and setting it on the table between them. "It worked. A little too well."
His father looked at the apple, then back at Sam, confused.
"Watch the apple, Pai," Sam said gently.
He placed a single finger on the fruit's skin. He didn't strain. He didn't glow. He just... focused.
The apple began to change.
Its green skin deepened into a lustrous, impossible emerald hue, becoming perfectly smooth and shimmering as if lit from within. The stem thickened, turning a vibrant, living brown. A sweet, intense aroma, like an entire orchard condensed into a single fruit, filled the small room, overpowering the scent of tea and eggs. It looked less like food and more like a jewel carved by a master artisan.
The old man's jaw went slack. He leaned forward, his eyes wide. "Meu Deus... What kind of trick is this?"
"It's not a trick," Kyle said softly from beside Sam. "It's real, senhor."
Sam picked up the apple. It felt denser, heavier with potential. "The ginseng I grew... I have an ability, Pai. I can make things... more. Better. I multiplied that ginseng. And then I ate it. It changed me."
He held the apple out to his father. "This is just an apple. I made it a little better. A thirty-times-better apple. Here. Taste it."
Hesitantly, his father took it. His work-roughened fingers traced the flawless skin. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, his eyes closing at the incredible scent. Then, with a shrug that said 'my son has finally lost his mind, but I will humor him,' he took a bite.
The crunch was audible. He chewed once, twice. Then his eyes flew open.
A sound escaped him, a muffled groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His entire body seemed to relax. The slight, perpetual stoop in his shoulders straightened a fraction. The tired lines around his eyes softened. He looked down at the apple in his hand as if it were the Holy Grail.
"O que... what is this?" he whispered, his voice full of awe. "It tastes... it tastes like being young again."
"That's the idea," Sam said, his heart swelling with relief. His father wasn't terrified. He was amazed. "That's a tiny, tiny piece of what I can do. The ginseng I ate... it didn't just make me strong or fast, Pai." He chose his next words with immense care. "It made it so I can't get sick. Or hurt. It made me... so that I will always be here. To look after you."
The old man stared at the apple, then at his son. He saw the unshakeable certainty in Sam's eyes. He saw Kyle's supportive nod. He looked back at the miraculous fruit in his hand, the proof resting tangible and sweet on his tongue.
Tears welled in the old man's eyes, but they were tears of joy and relief. He reached out a trembling hand and placed it over Sam's.
"All a father ever wants," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "is to know his son is safe. That he is strong. That he will be okay after you are gone." He squeezed Sam's hand. "You... you have given me that peace. You are more than okay."
He took another bite of the apple, shaking his head in wonder. "So... you are a superhero now? Like Captain America? You have a costume?"
Sam burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the small shop. "No, Pai. No costume. I'm just... your son. With a few upgrades." He leaned forward. "And I want to upgrade things for you, too. To keep you safe. To keep you healthy. For a long, long time."
The old man's eyes, still glistening, twinkled with their familiar mischief. "Does this mean I do not have to eat my vegetables anymore?"
Sam smiled, the cosmic weight on his shoulders feeling lighter than it had in weeks. "No, Pai. It just means your vegetables are going to get a lot more interesting."