"So, Deuce," Ace began, pointing directly at the mask, "what's with that thing on your face? You hiding something ugly under there?"
Deuce bristled. "Hey, I never agreed to you calling me that!"
"Doesn't matter," Ace said with a wave of his hand. "So? What's the deal with the mask?"
Deuce sighed, the fight draining out of him. "It's nothing special. I just like it."
Jerry folded his arms, nodding as if pondering a deep philosophical question. "Something you like, you say? So, in a way, the mask has become your true face?"
"Is that how it works?" Ace mused, looking delighted. "Then we'll call you Masked Deuce! Perfect!" He seemed immensely satisfied with his own genius, unwilling to let the topic go.
"Stop giving me weird names!" Deuce protested, exasperated. "I put on the mask when I decided to go to sea, that's all. It was to hide my identity." He explained that it was a personal vow, a way to leave his old self behind to survive on the unforgiving ocean.
Ace's eyes narrowed, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. "I see," he said, snapping his fingers. "So you are a fugitive!"
"I'm not! I didn't! Stop making things up!" Deuce waved his hands frantically in a triple-denial.
"It's fine, you know," Jerry said calmly, closing his eyes with an air of sagely wisdom. "A man's quirks are his own business. As long as you're not hurting anyone, there's nothing wrong with a little... eccentricity."
Ace tilted his head, still not quite getting it. "I still don't understand."
"Ugh, just stop guessing!" Deuce finally burst out, seeing no end to their speculation. "In my hometown, if you dream of going to sea, people mock you. They think you're abandoning your responsibilities. It can even bring shame to your family. I just want to be an adventurer and write novels about my travels!"
Jerry scratched his head. "So you do care about your family, then."
"Of course I don't!" Deuce shouted, his reaction far too quick, too loud. "If I cared, I wouldn't have left! I wouldn't be trapped on this godforsaken island right now!"
Seeing his explosive reaction, Ace just chuckled. "You say that, but I bet you do." He leaned back against a tree, a faraway look in his eyes. "I have a little brother, for example. Not by blood, but still my brother. He's as loud and annoying as a monkey..." Ace's voice softened. "I didn't think much of it when we were together, but now that I'm out here on my own... I find myself thinking about him all the time."
He must be talking about Luffy, Jerry thought, glancing at Ace.
"How nice for you," Deuce said, his voice dripping with bitter self-pity. He clenched his fists. "At least you have a home to think about. You're happy..." He suddenly shot to his feet, his composure cracking completely. "I'm not like you! You have a home, a family! You have a mom and dad waiting for you to come back, don't you?!"
He yelled the words, then spun around to storm off, unable to face them.
Ace was taken aback. "My parents?" he stammered softly. "They're... gone."
Deuce froze mid-stride. He instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing, annoyed with himself for losing control. "That's..." he began, trying to backtrack. "...better than me, maybe. My father only ever told me not to embarrass him. If they're gone... at least your memories of them are good..."
He trailed off, his voice dying in his throat. Ace was staring at him, his cheerful demeanor completely gone, replaced by a flat, empty expression.
When Ace finally spoke, his voice was heavy. "I don't have any memories. I never met my mother." He paused, taking a sharp breath. "And my father... he wasn't a good man. He was the world's greatest criminal."
"Even if he was a criminal, that's in the past, right?" Deuce said, trying desperately to fix his blunder. "Hey, don't take it so seriously! It's not like your father was the Pirate King or something! If he was, then you'd be in for a miserable life. An absolutely miserable one. But that has nothing to do with you, right? So don't—"
Jerry reached out and put a firm hand on Deuce's shoulder, cutting him off. It was only then that Deuce truly saw the look on Ace's face.
Ace lifted his head, eyes closed for a long moment. He didn't say a word. He just turned and looked out towards the endless ocean.
Realization, cold and terrifying, dawned on Deuce. His face contorted. "Eh?! You're... you're not... you can't be, right?" He swallowed hard. "Roger? The King of the Pirates... is your...?"
Ace remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
"The Pirate King... Gol D. Roger?" Jerry murmured, staring at Ace with a new, flickering intensity in his eyes.
Deuce fell silent, his mind reeling in disbelief. If someone had told him this in a town, he'd have assumed they were a lunatic. But here, on an isolated island at the edge of the world...
The awkward, heavy atmosphere stretched on. Finally, Deuce let out a frustrated scream like a cornered animal, spun around, and once again tried to flee.
"Hey! We agreed to work together!" Ace called out, reaching for him.
"I never agreed to anything!" Deuce yelled back.
Seeing the utter conflict warring inside the masked man, Jerry stepped in front of him. "Don't be an idiot," he said, his voice firm. "Look, his father being the pirate king doesn't change the fact that we're stuck on this rock. We work together, or we die here. It's that simple."
Ace nodded in agreement. "He's right. I need help getting off this island. You do too."
Deuce looked from Jerry's unyielding stare to Ace's earnest plea. He thought for a long moment, the fight finally seeping out of him. "...Fine," he conceded, his voice barely a whisper. He straightened up, his practical side taking over. "But based on my scouting these past few days, we have problems. Fresh water is fine, but food is scarce, and so are good materials for a ship. Plus, with the currents around this island, rowing or wind power alone won't be enough to escape."
He was a man with a rigorous, analytical mind when he wasn't having a breakdown.
"Heh," Ace suddenly chuckled, a familiar grin returning to his face. "Don't worry about materials. Come with me."
He turned and led them away without another word of explanation. They shuttled through the jungle until they reached the other side of the island, where a hidden, sheltered bay opened before them.
It was a ship graveyard. Dozens of wrecks were piled on the sand, but one ship dominated the scene: a colossal battleship, so large it could only have belonged to one race. Though battered by time and tide, its frame was still majestic and imposing. On its deck, a giant broadsword lay broken in two, its massive halves stabbed into the planks like twin monuments—a silent testament to a ferocious battle fought long ago.
"Is that... a ship of the Giants?" Jerry asked, awestruck.
"Giants?!" Deuce's eyes lit up, his earlier despair forgotten. As an aspiring adventure novelist, giants were the stuff of legend. "They're real?!"
"Yep," Ace said with a hearty smile. "We'll probably meet some out on the sea."
"That's right, they definitely exist," Jerry added, nodding like a seasoned world traveler.
"Have you seen one?" Deuce asked, his voice full of wonder.
Jerry scoffed. "Look at you. Do you think I'm a giant? Of course I haven't seen one."
Before Deuce could retort, Ace chimed in. "The old man used to tell me stories about the giants of Elbaf..."
For a moment, listening to Ace's halting recollection of Garp's stories, a sense of camaraderie settled over the trio. Deuce felt a pang of the excitement that had driven him to sea in the first place.
The next few days were a race against time and their own gnawing hunger. They worked tirelessly, salvaging wood from the giant ship to construct their own smaller ship. During breaks, Jerry would try his luck with the Supreme-Grade Fishing Rod. It lived up to its promise of never failing; he just failed to catch anything edible. He reeled in waterlogged boots, tattered shirts, and a particularly offensive pair of seaweed-choked trousers, but never a single fish.
Their lack of food began to take its toll. Deuce, already thin, grew weaker first, but Ace and Jerry's relentless energy kept him going. Finally, after days of grueling work, their raft was complete.
Then the storm hit.
It came without warning, a furious squall that tore through the bay. The wind howled, and a massive tree, ripped from a cliffside above, came crashing down directly onto their newly-built raft, smashing their hard work—and their hope—into splinters.
Ace stared at the wreckage, scratched his head, and then let out a self-mocking laugh. "Well, looks like getting off this island won't be so easy. Let's try again! We can do it!"
"No other choice," Jerry agreed, already calculating. "We can build it faster this time. Let's do it closer to that cave for cover."
But as they prepared to start over, Deuce let out a broken cry.
"Again?! How is that possible?! I can't... I can't hold on any longer!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "I'm not like you two! I haven't eaten anything in two days!"
Jerry and Ace turned, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb!" Deuce shrieked, his eyes wild with paranoia. He lunged forward and grabbed Jerry by the collar. "The storerooms on those wrecks! They've been picked clean recently! There are only three of us on this island, and you two are always together. Do I need to spell it out?!"
He shoved Jerry away violently and turned to flee into the jungle, his mind poisoned by hunger and despair. How could I be so stupid? he cursed himself as he ran. How could I have trusted them?
He hadn't gotten far when a piercing shriek tore through the air from the cliffs above. Rubble rained down. A monstrous shadow blotted out the sun. Deuce only had time to look up before a giant, grotesque bird descended upon him like a feathered meteor. Feeling the wind from its wings, he threw himself into a desperate roll, narrowly avoiding the creature's massive talons.