In the infirmary of the Moby Dick, Deuce received an unexpected patient.
Lately he’d been taking on more and more duties from the head ship doctor; routine tasks like stitching up cuts and treating wounds.
“Ah, there you are, Doc. Perfect.”
“Oh! Great… Master Whitebeard,” said Deuce, awkwardly jumbling up his response to the other man out of shock and nerves.
Ace was technically Whitebeard’s guest, and the Spade Pirates would be considered something like his younger brothers, formally speaking. Deuce’s captain was Ace—he couldn’t start calling Whitebeard “Pops.”
“Don’t get all hung up on formalities. I want you to take a look at this,” said Whitebeard, as he sat and extended his arm from the coat he wore loosely over his shoulder to reveal his palm.
“You’ve got a burn.” So even legendary monsters could get hurt. “Do you feel any pain? It doesn’t look terrible, but you should probably keep it iced until the pain stops. How did you get it?”
Whitebeard said nothing. Despite having asked the question, Deuce already had a pretty good idea of how it happened.
“Was it Ace?”
Ace had just been challenging Whitebeard to a fight minutes ago. He’d lost, yet again, and was thrown into the sea. How many dozens of times had it been?
“Yeah, it’s pathetic… Don’t tell anyone about this, Doc.”
“Please, don’t call me Doc. I’m only a medical student.”
He washed the afflicted area and treated it to encourage natural healing, without the use of disinfectant.
“Thanks, kid.”
“Infection is a concern, so keep your hand clean,” Deuce warned.
“That captain of yours…”
“Y-yes?”
“He’s gotten stronger. I forget how many times we’ve fought now…”
For the first time ever, he’d landed a blow with his fiery fists. Whitebeard got to his feet; it almost looked as though he were smiling.
Deuce checked in his memo book. “Today was the ninety-ninth time.”
“You keep track in a book? Meticulous little snot, aren’t ya?”
“It’s just the way I am. He’s got one more shot. Will Ace get to you?” Deuce asked. He didn’t expect an answer.
“Ah yes, it was only a hundred, huh? That’s what Thatch or someone decided. I don’t care if we go to a hundred times or a thousand times.”
“Are you…training Ace?”
“Don’t expect too much from me, Doc… Gura ra ra ra,” Whitebeard chuckled. “I just like the sort of fools who try to tackle the New World. If he wants to stick around, so be it.”
He’d give the youngsters a roof over their heads. And if they wound up on his ship, he’d feed them.
“Ace is…”
He’s the son of Roger, your rival. And the World Government is probably aware of that possibility, hence the invitation by the Seven Warlords.
Deuce was concerned. What if the progeny of the King of the Pirates found his place with Whitebeard, Emperor of the Sea? Wouldn’t that be throwing a significant hitch in the delicate balance of power between Navy HQ, the Warlords, and the Emperors? It could be enough to spark the next big war…
“Hmm?”
“Never mind.”
It wasn’t for Deuce to say. Only Ace could decide whether or not to reveal that fact.
“Ace wanted to make a name for himself. That’s why he’s been going after you.”
“That’s what I don’t get. If he wants to raise his profile, the Seven Warlords should have been enough. Why does he fixate on me? If he wanted to hunt down an Emperor, he could’ve gone after Red-Hair. Or did he think that coming for the old man would be easiest?”
“No. He followed the code with Red-Hair. They had a connection already, it seems. Shanks once saved the life of Ace’s little brother.”
“Ohhh.”
“And Ace had another brother who died. I haven’t heard much more beyond that,” Deuce said, choosing his words carefully.
He recited the whole story: Ace’s parents being dead at his birth. His hatred for the Great Era of Piracy. His upbringing by bandits. His brother, who went to sea to become a pirate, as they had vowed to one another, only to be promptly killed by Celestial Dragons. Only one thing did he make sure to keep secret: that Ace’s father was none other than Roger.
“I see,” said Whitebeard, assessing the young man under his care. “So that fireball kid didn’t actually want to be a pirate. I think I understand him a bit better.”
“Meaning…”
“He went to sea to fulfill an oath he took with his brothers. That’s all. And then that happened with the Celestial Dragons… So that’s what continues to burn inside of him.”
Perhaps he was right. Ace wanted fame because it would erase the memory of his hatred for his father. Becoming a pirate was a means to that end, but it wasn’t the point in and of itself.
“I think…Ace doesn’t even understand who he really is.”
“That’s true of everyone. Especially when you’re young,” said Whitebeard.
The only ones who thought they knew themselves were idiots who fancied themselves clever, and the elderly who’d given up on finding themselves.
“Being here on the ship and providing medical care, I’ve started to realize something. I gave up on medical school and went to sea as a reaction to my father, who is a doctor. It might be a stupid reason, but…”
“That ain’t true. Parents are a major issue for anyone, for any reason.”
“I met Ace, I met other companions, and I made it here. That’s all thanks to Ace. But all I’ve been doing is chasing after the sights that Ace has been showing me—places that I would never reach on my own. And now Ace is unsure of himself. What if his hatred is the source of what will destroy him, but not a reason for him to go on? Running into the wall that is Whitebeard has made that contradiction clear.”
The Spade Pirates, who had been so reliant upon Ace to lead them, were pulverized by Whitebeard’s tsunami.
“You got a lot of complicated thoughts in your head, Doc… Gura ra ra ra,” laughed Whitebeard. But he seemed to understand what made Deuce tick, too. “I ain’t a wall, or anything of the sort. I can’t take care of ya to that extent.”
“I’m sorry. Can’t tell who’s helping care for whom at this rate.”
“Listen, Doc. A wall’s something you build in your own heart. People can only change themselves into who they want to be.”