Chapter One

I fell off the straight and narrow path of a respectable life, so I decided to go out to sea instead.

I thought that out among the infinite blue waves I would find a world where I could truly be alive. The world of adventure I dreamed of as a kid. That world of dreams, when all I had was a book and my imagination. And yet here I was, in that very world.

A desert island under palm trees. Blazing sun. White sands. An empty stomach. All of it was real. The only thing marking the passage of time was the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. I was stuck on the kind of beautiful island you read about in stories, listening to the raucous cries of the seabirds.

Ever since I was a boy, I’ve wanted to chronicle an adventure in a book. I’d prefer it to be a book like Brag Men, if possible. That’s my favorite book.

It’s a collection of journals from the explorers of the distant past. One particularly famous section tells of Little Garden, the island of giants. Adults made fun of it, claiming that the stories were all lies, but as a child I always wondered, How can they be so sure?

I wanted to see it for myself, rather than believing someone else’s uninformed opinion on the matter. And I wasn’t going to decide what was the truth until I had the chance to see it. That was the kind of person I wanted to be.

That part of me has never changed. Even when that attitude landed me on an uninhabited island that was said to be inescapable.

East Blue. The unbelievably beautiful island of Sixis.

Someone once called it “the island closest to Heaven.” Why did they say that? Because once you’ve set foot on it, you’ll die before you escape.

Across the emerald green shallows, I could see a unique kind of sea current. It pulled anyone on its periphery toward the island, like an antlion of the waves. It ensured that anyone who reached the island was forced to enjoy the final vacation of their life.

I exhaled deeply and sat down in the shade of a palm tree so I could gaze out desolately at the water. Three days had already passed since I got here. It was the worst vacation I’d ever had.

The sea breeze caressed my cheeks, but the acrid tang of the brine in my nose was the unpleasant reality that accompanied it. That, and the sight of a previous visitor to the island: a skeleton resting nearby.

Judging from its clothes, the skeleton had once been a pirate. A rusty pistol was clutched in its bony hand, and fancy rings glittered on its fingers. It was all very dispiriting to look upon. No weapons or jewels were going with you to the afterlife.

The only thing you left behind in this world was bones…

“We’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t we?” I muttered. I felt like I had to, or else I would forget how to use my own voice. If I was going to wind up like him in the near future, I could at least offer up a bit of consolation…

“I must be an idiot…”

I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes. My throat was parched, so I moistened it with a pittance of saliva. Without realizing it, I’d come under the assumption that I wasn’t going to survive. That was a bad sign.

“C’mon, let’s at least dig a grave. I’ll give you a hand.”

“A grave… Yeah, good idea… Let’s do that…”

It wasn’t fair to the skeleton to leave it to the elements. Best to dig a grave, give him a proper resting place. Whoever’s idea that was, it was a good one.

I swallowed again. That throat of mine was dreadfully dry.

I needed to look for water. I hadn’t had a decent drink in two whole days. If only there were coconuts on this palm tree. Were there monkeys in the jungle behind me? Or was it just the wrong season? Sadly, there was not a single fruit to be seen.

The calls of the seabirds were as raucous as ever. I honed my ears on the lapping repetition of the waves. So much water in the sea, and not a drop to drink…

“Who said that?!”

My eyes popped open and I bolted upright. I was alone on this perfectly empty island, but I could have sworn that I’d just traded words with someone else.

And then I heard the scrunch of sand under shoes. Shining black boots, as a matter of fact. There was a man standing before me. The way he was silhouetted against the glittering reflection of the sea, it was almost as though he were glowing with holy light.

“Oh, hello. It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” the man said politely, with a proper bow. This seemed overly cordial, considering that we were nowhere near any kind of society.

“My name is Ace. I was just enjoying a little stroll along the beach. How do you do?”

The man had a pleasant, friendly smile. His orange hat was nearly blinding in the dappled light beneath the tree. I had to squint as I looked up at him, so he squatted down to my level. A crimson ornament swayed gently around his neck.

Once we were at eye level, I could see that he was a young man with freckles. He was probably around my age, in fact. Something about his lean physique seemed to conjure the sense of chronicles of adventure, and the sound of waves.

This was how I first met Portgaz D. Ace.

I was unable to speak from the shock. All I could do was stare with bulging eyes. Having landed on an uninhabited island, the last thing I expected to find was an inhabitant. The instant he came into view, my brain was already grasping at the word “rescue.”

The man—the savior—who called himself Ace continued, “Sorry to trouble you like this, but my ship’s busted. Help a guy out?”

“You’re in the same predicament as I am!”

Inside my head, I simply screamed. Aaaaaaaaah!

In the whole wide world, and of all its vast seas, how could someone else coincidentally shipwreck on the shore of this ill-fated island at the same time I did? What were the odds? I was witness to a miracle, and it was the crappiest, most useless miracle ever.

Listlessly, I muttered, “My ship was wrecked in the last storm, too. It went down as a donation to Davy Jones, along with most of the cargo. What can I say? Storms put me in a charitable mood.”

My lips were so cracked and dry that they bled as I spoke. It had been too long since I talked to another person.

Davy Jones, by the way, was an old pirate. Legend says that he was cursed by the devil and lives on the seafloor even to this day. So everything that sinks beneath the waves becomes his treasure. Nobody actually believes he’s alive, though; that’s the thing with legends. In fact, if he were alive, I’d take back my contribution. Hey pal, that was actually an accident. Would you mind giving back my stuff?

“I see… Guess we’ve both had a rough time of it,” Ace grinned. The guy sure seemed happy-go-lucky for being shipwrecked.

I realized that his attitude was actually grating on me. Partly it was disbelief that he could smile in a situation like this. The other part was that I didn’t like that he was saying the exact same thing to me that I’d been saying to a skeleton moments ago.

But I couldn’t hold it against him. In an instant, I readjusted my mood. The guy probably had no idea yet of how terrible this island might be. He was an amateur shipwreckee. What the heck is an amateur shipwreckee? Hunger and thirst were making my thoughts fuzzy.

“I’ve been here…for three days now,” I murmured, softly but firmly.

That’s right. I’ve lasted for three whole days. Could you do that? It felt like I was both boasting and challenging him to do the same.

“It’s the sixth day for me. I win.”

“Whaaaaat?!” I yelped. He was worse off than me.

“Anyway, that’s not important. I’m building a raft, but it’s not going well. Would you help me build a ship to get us off this island?” Ace asked cheerfully.

He explained that he’d built two or three impromptu rafts for escape attempts, but nothing worked. He was getting desperate when he happened across me on the beach.

Work together to build a ship…

It was, in a way, an intriguing suggestion. But ultimately it would mean trusting, and tying my fate to, a complete stranger I’d just met moments ago.

Of course, the more manpower, the better. But the odds were entirely against us. This was a small desert island. There was a limit to its resources. It would be hard enough for me to survive on my own, let alone sustaining two grown men. Water for two men. Food for two men. A ship big enough to support two men. And we had to scrounge up all of this out of nothing? It was ridiculous.

What if we only found enough food for a single person? Would I have to split provisions with a total stranger? In fact, splitting them would be the ideal circumstance. What if one of us tried to hoard it all? What if he made the bold and friendly suggestion to cooperate, only to betray me when it counted most?

People turn on each other, even in the best of times. And this was a life-or-death situation. No one else was watching us. Could I really trust the other man who was here with me?

So, no, I wasn’t going to help him. I didn’t need a companion. From the moment I set out to sea, I was determined to make it on my own, without anyone else’s help. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone betraying me.

But then I realized that when I first saw Ace, and when he spoke to me, a part of me had felt hope. It was pathetic. That part of me was weak.

I thought he’d come to rescue me.

Even though that couldn’t be the case.

My excitement rapidly subsided. It felt like I was outside myself, observing my life as though I were a stranger. Despite all my self-determination, once I was alone on a deserted island, I was happy to come across another person. So much for that.

It hadn’t lasted long, though. There was a certain kind of loneliness I felt around others that I didn’t feel when alone. Paradoxically, once I was with another person, no matter the circumstances, I found myself facing the emptiness inside myself.

“By the way, I didn’t catch your name yet,” he said.

It had been only minutes since we first met, but Ace already seemed totally comfortable around me. I hated it. I’ve always had a great dislike for telling people my name, or having them ask me like they were entitled to it.

“I’ve got no name to tell the likes of you,” I murmured. I wasn’t going to tell him my real name, certainly not on our first meeting, when I couldn’t trust him yet. The day that I decided to make it on my own, I abandoned my old name.

“How come? We’re friends already,” said Ace. When did we become friends? “C’mon, you can at least tell me your name.”

“Pipe down. You want a name for me? I can give you a pen name,” I said, deciding I’d have to play it tough if Ace was going to be so pushy.

“A pen name?”

“Ace is a good name to have. I might even use that when it comes time for me to write a chronicle of my adventures.”

I didn’t really mean to say that. Suddenly I felt odd. While it came up in the flow of conversation, what was it about this place, and these circumstances, that caused me to mention my childhood dream just then?

Ace’s expression clouded at the thought of me using his moniker.

“Hold on, now. That’s my name.”

“And I told you, it’s a pen name. I can choose to call myself whatever I want.”

“Don’t. I aim to achieve greatness with this name. I don’t need you copying me.”

Greatness, he’d said. That told me something about what kind of man this Ace was—as well as the reason he’d washed up on this island.

“Did you find any treasure?” I asked, ignoring the previous topic.

Ace took the bait. “Why, you know something?”

“Nah… Just the rumors…”

“Great treasure always comes to powerful pirates. That’s what I always believed. And what happened? I lost my ship, and there’s no treasure. No bounties to collect, and I can’t leave. This island is the pits,” he said.

From the way he spoke, it sounded as though he hoped to make a name for himself by finding some legendary treasure, or taking out an infamous pirate, or the like. To think that he wound up stranded on this island due to nothing more than garden-variety hubris…

There had long been a tale about this island possessing treasure, perhaps because of its natural beauty. It was a famous story among sailors in the area. But none of them dared approach the island. Of course they didn’t; the moment they landed, they were doomed to stay. Even if there was treasure to be found.

Besides, rumor of treasure was common fodder for sailors. It wasn’t like they knew anything about the island. They just pointed at a picturesque island in the distance and made up whatever story they felt like telling.

Wherever he picked up the story, Ace clearly took it seriously and made his way here intentionally. So he was the type of person whose ambition was his downfall. The thought of working with him to survive seemed even less plausible now.

“I know! You can be Deuce!” Ace blurted out. “For your pen name, right? Deuce. It matches with Ace, y’know?”

“Huh? What d’you mean, ‘Deuce’?”

Deuce. As in a two of cards or dice? It also means bad luck. Well, that certainly fit my current situation. I had to admit, it was a clever name… However, just to be sure, I checked with Ace.

“Do you know what Deuce means?”

“Nope. It just sounds similar, doesn’t it?” he said simply. I had to assume he really didn’t know. With a serious expression on his face, Ace continued, “Sadly, Ace is my name. I can’t give it to ya. So I think you should use Deuce for your pen name. And it sounds similar, anyway.”

“Shut up about ‘sounding similar,’ already!”

“Look, you didn’t give me any other name to call you by. And besides, let’s say you decide to go by Ace. If we’ve got two Aces on the same island, we’re going to get confused about which is which. Just think about it! If we’re alone, and I’m supposed to be Ace, and I’m calling you Ace, then who am I supposed to be?!”

“Um…you’re still…Ace. Besides, I was only talking about the pen name I’m going to use eventually. Later on down the line. I wasn’t claiming I was going to start calling myself Ace today…”

“Well, my point is, that isn’t convenient for when I want to talk to you. So I’m going to call you Deuce! Got that?” he asked. I didn’t like it, but he was a free man. I wasn’t planning on hanging around with him, anyway.

“So, Deuce, now that’s out of the way, there’s something that’s been on my mind,” Ace continued, leaning forward to stare me in the face. “Does everyone where you come from wear that sort of thing? Or is it for some kind of festival?”

He was referring to the mask that covered my face—my eyes, specifically.

“Oops! Or is it something I’m not supposed to mention?” he added with concern. Ever since his introduction, there’d been something oddly formal and polite about his manner. But he didn’t need to worry. When I went to sea and abandoned my name, I also chose to hide my face.

“No, I just wear it because I want to.”

“Okay, then I’ll call you Masked Deuce. The coat seems to suit the name, too. Yeah, I kinda like that,” Ace muttered, satisfied with himself.

“Don’t you dare call me that weirdo name!” I snapped. I couldn’t let him throw me off my game. This strange Ace fellow had a way about him that was different from other people.

And the whole point of the mask was so that oddballs like him wouldn’t be able to learn my identity. It’s much easier to stay out of unnecessary trouble if people can’t recognize your face.

“Listen, I’ve been wearing this mask from the moment I headed out to sea,” I explained. “Even if the Navy happens to develop an interest in me, they won’t be able to identify me this way, see? It’s common sense, get it?”

It was a symbolic act, in a way—a sign of my personal determination. When I chose to live on my own at sea, I left my real name and face behind on land. Then I finally felt like I was alive for once. The failing medical student was no more. I had no regrets about my choice. There was no place for me on dry land.

My father was a great doctor, and my older brother became a great doctor, too. I stood out in my family for being the only one who was not great.

The one thing my father said to me whenever we met was, “Don’t embarrass me.” It was such a constant refrain that I hardly ever heard him say anything else.

I was continually compared to my great brother. For all intents and purposes, he acted as though I didn’t exist. He avoided and ignored me whenever he could.

My friends teased me about whether the two of us were actually related. My brother probably avoided me because it made him angry to be the subject of their mocking.

And my friends generally avoided me too, not wanting to be thought stupid if they were associated with me in any way. They only came by when they felt like telling jokes at my expense. In fact, I realize now that they probably weren’t my friends. I was the only one who thought they were.

There was no place for me back there. Nothing changed, whether I was present or absent. In short, I was completely insignificant. It’s not such an uncommon situation.

But while this might be just the same boring old story, the kind that could take place in any world, real or made-up, that didn’t change the fact that I was the protagonist of the boring old story. If that’s what I had to work with, then it was up to me to live true to my feelings and be what I wanted to be.

Life back home was a repetition of the same old thing, every single day. Over time, I began to feel this foolish sense, faint at first but growing stronger by the day, that I wasn’t actually the real me. But I wanted to be the true me. I wanted to live my true life. And as I grappled with the emptiness of my life, I just so happened to come across Brag Men.

When I read it, the brilliant vividness of the sea came alive for me. It was as shocking as if I had learned that my life had no color, that the real color was over the sea.

In that moment, I realized that I was my real self. That this life was the one that counted, the only one I had. And once that was clear, I knew I had to go all-out.

I had to live my life to its fullest, and keep moving onward like death itself was at my heels. If I fell, I would swim through sewer water to get back on my feet again. And the thing I needed to make all of this work was the mask.

I needed the mask to be myself.

“I dunno if I’d call that logical. I think a man ought to be bold, show his face and be known for it, y’know? I can’t imagine doing it any other way,” Ace said.

I came back to my senses after my reverie about the past. It felt like so long ago that I’d left my hometown.

“I don’t want to be a bountied man,” I explained. “I just want adventure. That’s all.”

“But still, you don’t have to go out of your way to hide your name and face, do you?”

“You wouldn’t understand. Where I come from, people were mocked for choosing the freedom of the sea. They treated pirates and criminals and adventurers all the same. If people discovered my family was related to a dropout, they’d throw stones at them in place of me.”

“Ah, I get it… Aha!” he said, his face lit up with understanding. “You love your family, don’tcha?”

“Huh?”

“You left your family and your hometown behind, and you don’t want to cause them any trouble, right?” Ace guessed.

“Of course I don’t love them!” I burst out. “I don’t love them at all. I hate them! That’s why I’m here!”

“Really? That’s weird. That wasn’t the hunch I had,” Ace said, frowning and running his hand through his shining black hair. “That can’t be true…”

In a sense, he was right. It shouldn’t be that way. But I couldn’t think of any other way to explain it.

“Speaking of family, I’ve got a little brother. Not related by blood, though,” Ace went on, looking toward the sea. “Real loud and wild, like a monkey. I didn’t think about it much when we were around each other, but now that I’m all alone, I’m surprised by how much I miss him.”

He chuckled to himself. So Ace’s family was one brother he wasn’t even related to by blood. And when he thought about him, he smiled.

I felt half-envious and half-annoyed with Ace. This far away from the place where I was born and raised, and I didn’t miss it even a little bit.

The two of us seemed to be about the same age. How did we turn out to be so different?

“I feel ashamed to be related to you.”

That was the only thing my brother, who usually ignored me, actually said to my face. The words replayed in my mind, as clear as when it happened, and I clenched my fists.

“Well, good for you. You’ve got a home to go back to,” I found myself saying, although it was more the start of a sulking monologue to myself. “Why’d you even come here, then? Just go back to your brother…”

“H-hey, what’s wrong, man?”

“I’m not like you! You should be happy that you’ve got somewhere to call home!” I shot to my feet, though they were unsteady. “You’ve got a home, and a brother who’s not a blood relative but who’s family in your heart. You’re a damn lucky guy, you know that? Do you? And I bet your precious mom and dad are worried sick about you right now. You’re the luckiest jerk in the world!”

My anger was truly satisfying. I turned to walk away from him.

But then Ace murmured, “My mom’s gone.”

It was a quiet, subdued voice, not at all the same tone he’d been speaking in until now. I couldn’t help but stop. I knew that I was the one being a jerk, but I still couldn’t keep myself from spinning around and saying, “And your dad? What about your dad, huh?”

Ace’s eyes wandered as he replied, “Don’t have a dad, either…”

It had been a bad idea. Now things were very awkward. But since it was already ugly, I pushed ahead and made more excuses for myself.

“When I see my dad, all he says is, ‘Don’t embarrass me.’ I’m sure whatever your family situation was, it was better than that. Who cares if he’s gone? At least you have some happy memories to comfort you.”

I faltered there for some reason. Ace was staring at me. He seemed hesitant to speak up, and when he did, he said, “I don’t have any happy memories. I don’t even know what my mother’s face looked like. And my father was a no-good man. Basically, he was a criminal.”

“A criminal? So he’s dead already. It’s not like you’re responsible for his crimes. Why do you look so gloomy? That’s a minor problem!”

Silence. Ace’s expression did not lighten at all.

I cajoled him. “He probably wasn’t even such a bad guy, I bet! You’re just dwelling on the situation! Nobody remembers a garden-variety criminal. In fact, I doubt anyone thinks much about you at all! Not that committing crimes is acceptable—if your dad was the King of the Pirates, I’d understand why you’d worry, y’know? Because that guy’s the worst. I mean, I’d want to kill myself if that were the case. But your situation isn’t that bad, right? Eh? So stop acting like you’re the protagonist of some trage…dy…”

I trailed off. Ace was staring down at the dunes. His lips were pursed tightly shut.

“I mean… Hang on…why are you making that face?”

Something was wrong. It felt weird. I tried an awkward smile, but it had no effect.

“You’re…you’re joking, right?”

Ace closed his eyes. His head shook side to side, barely perceptible.

“R-Roger…? The Roger…? The King of the Pirates?”

Without saying a word, Ace nodded.

The sun was on its way down by now, and the far end of the sky was turning red. Ace was silent. Even the seabirds, with their obnoxious calls, had gone quiet at some point. I was keenly aware of the solitary sound of the waves. I didn’t know the island could be so quiet.

I stared at him, directly in the face.

King of the Pirates, Gold Roger.

He wasn’t some “garden-variety criminal.” He was a legendary outlaw, whose name was familiar to every single person in the world.

He was the pirate who conquered the Grand Line, and got his hands on the legendary treasure, the One Piece.

In fact, his public execution essentially changed the world overnight.

There was the time before Roger, and the time after Roger: that was how huge his influence was on the rest of society. The common people were terrified of him, the Navy and the World Government were wary, and those who didn’t fit into either category considered him a god. That was the kind of man Roger was.

To be perfectly honest, I thought of him almost as a legendary monster from a storybook. And now that monster’s son, his flesh and blood, was standing right before me?

It was impossible to take seriously. If it weren’t for the fact that we were stranded together on a deserted island without any water or food, I would have laughed in his face. But now…

The extreme hunger and thirst in a circumstance like this brings out a human being’s true nature. You do and say things you wouldn’t normally do and say—which is why I had acted the way I did.

Neither Ace nor I could lie in this situation. We weren’t really in a state to exchange tall tales.

Ace still wasn’t saying anything. What could be running through his head at that moment?

It could have been regret; wishing that he hadn’t let slip the secret of his background. But it was the truth, straight from his deepest self, brought to the surface by the reality of our predicament…

“Dammit…”

I clicked my tongue and turned my back on Ace again.

“Ah, h-hey, wanna build a boat with—” he said.

“Don’t talk to me again. I had no interest in helping you from the start…”

I told him I didn’t need any friends, and walked away across the sand.

The scene I left behind felt very awkward, indeed.

Even before any thoughts of escape preparation, water and food were the primary concern. What would be the point of making it off the island only to starve and wither away at sea?

I left Ace behind to make his boat and walked around the island in search of water and food. Unfortunately, the only thing I could actually find to eat was bird eggs—totally incapable of removing my nagging hunger. I found myself entertaining a preposterous notion that the seabirds flying overhead might die suddenly and fall to the ground right next to me.

There was a forest on the island, but I couldn’t find any plants or animals that seemed suitable for eating. I heard the cry of some creature that wasn’t a bird, but I couldn’t find it. Digging in the dirt, I found an object that looked like a potato of some kind, but it seemed to be toxic, as biting into it made my tongue numb and my lips swollen.

The forest also had ants. They were vicious, which I discovered when I got too close to their nest. They swarmed over me, getting under my clothes and biting my skin. Out of sheer anger and frustration, I even brushed a couple from my palm into my mouth. They were sour, and did nothing to alleviate my hunger.

All I could think about was food.

And for some reason, I didn’t even think about my favorite dishes; just normal, unremarkable food items, things I never considered for a moment when my life was comfortable. My head was filled with visions of utterly boring meals.

I even thought about the food I left on my plate when I was full, and of everything I secretly pushed off to the side as a child, just because I didn’t like it. If only I had those scraps here, now…

The first thing I do when I get off this island is eat this. And then I’ll eat that. And this will be next. After that, I’ll be in the mood for this. Oh, how I wish I could eat that again…

It was all I thought about for an entire day. It felt like I was possessed by the spirit of hunger.

The water situation, at least, was a bit better—but only a bit. There was a small rock face a bit up from the beach. I noticed the rocks there were damp.

At first I thought it was just seawater, but when I licked it, there was no salt. Either it was rainwater or a natural spring. Whatever the origin, there was fresh water dripping down the rocks.

I stuck an empty bottle against the rock and collected the water using a scrap of my clothing, twisting it into a little rope, tying it to the rock, and sticking the other end into the bottle. The water then made its way along the rope and was deposited, drop by drop, into the container.

An entire day of water collection yielded only two or three mouthfuls, but it did help diminish my thirst.

I lost track of the date very quickly.

Back home, I had naively imagined that if I ever wound up shipwrecked on an island, I would mark the days by drawing lines on a wall, the way they always did in the adventure books.

In reality, however, I couldn’t even be bothered. I was too busy just trying to survive.

An entire day could be taken up just wandering around, trying to gather water and food. And all that movement only made my throat drier and my stomach emptier. Just sitting still made that happen too, of course.

I also had to protect myself against the chill of the night and the gusts of wind coming from the sea. As I searched for food, I collected branches and leaves and built myself a shelter. Along the way, I gathered materials that could be used to build a boat and escape the island.

There was just too much to do.

The sun was up before I knew it, and sank just as quickly. For some reason, the night felt so much longer.

I went into my shelter and curled my exhausted body into a ball, only to be awakened by the sound of the sea breezes, which blew harder at night. It seemed like they came just to wake me up every time I felt sleep creeping closer. All night long the process repeated, until I began to feel like someone was intentionally making the wind blow to keep me from sleeping.

And each time I bolted awake again, I muttered, “So cold…” out of habit. I didn’t even have to think for the words to come to my lips. And though I tried day after day, I never succeeded in getting a fire going. Either I was doing it wrong, or the trees on the island weren’t the right kind for fires, or both. I had to endure many fireless nights.

The beach was cold after dark. But in the forest, where the starlight was dim, the fierce ants were enough to keep me from sleeping soundly. So I curled up in my long coat and muttered, “So cold…” to myself. It became such an unconscious habit that at times I startled myself awake with the sound of my own voice.

It was ironic, really. Here I was, on a beautiful uninhabited island, just like in the stories I’d daydreamed about as a boy. And now I was on the verge of death.

Dreams and reality couldn’t be more different…

Just as my attempts at survival were less than successful, Ace’s shipbuilding quest wasn’t going any better.

I was walking along the beach one afternoon when I came across Ace in the midst of an attempt to escape by sea. I wondered how many times he’d tried by now.

Ace had created not a boat, but what I would sooner describe as a coffin—if the intent were to insult the dead rather than honor them. He cut a dashing figure as he rode it out into the water.

After a few moments, the entire vessel was sucked under the surface and did not reemerge. Soon after that, a soaking wet, boatless Ace returned to shore.

“I can’t stop now. I gotta get off this island!” Ace muttered to himself as he plodded away. He seemed desperate and despondent now, a far cry from the cheerful fellow I had met on the sand.

I plodded away myself, in the opposite direction. I still needed to acquire the water and food that would allow me to survive the day.

My stomach growled.

Without my awareness, my face and body had grown considerably withered and gaunt from the ordeal. But just then, something occurred to me: Ace certainly looked despondent, but he didn’t seem quite skeletal just now.

I spun around. Ace was already out of sight. I decided to trace his steps in the sand.

I had been working so hard to keep myself alive, but I had no idea what Ace was doing, other than trying to build his boat.

My legs felt heavy. They were so exhausted I could barely walk. I stumbled along, half-dazed, until at last I saw Ace up ahead. I hid behind a nearby tree to watch him.

The next moment, I nearly gasped and gave away my presence.

Ace stood facing the beach with his back to me. And to my shock—for I had no idea where he’d found it—he held a big, round fruit in his hand.

Even from a distance, I could see that it was boldly colored and ripe. I grunted, “Where did he find that? So he’s just been eating fruit this whole time?!”

Saliva was flooding my mouth. My empty stomach growled, commanding me to ease its hunger. My eyes could not move from the fruit in Ace’s hand.

Then a memory of the day we first met passed through my mind.

Ace nodded when I asked if his father was the King of the Pirates. Through his silence, he admitted that he was the son of a dastardly pirate. The descendent of a man executed for his reign of terror. Ace was the relic of a man judged guilty of the greatest of crimes. And he was alive now, suffering from neither hunger nor thirst. Should that happen? Was that right?

Already my mind was formulating a plan to steal the fruit from Ace, one way or another.

I clutched a thick branch nearby. In a haze, my brain worked in search of a reason, a rationale. Wasn’t it all Roger’s fault that both pirates and adventurers were treated the same back where I grew up, and mocked as if there were no difference? I wasn’t sure, but it had to be true. I needed it to be true.

It’s a deserted island. No one around other than the two of us. No use for sympathy. No need to feel guilty. If anyone deserves it, it’s Ace, son of the infamously evil Gold Roger…!

I crept closer to Ace, my feet unsteady, holding the heavy stick.

At last I was within range. I lifted my arm to strike… and my stomach gurgled.

“Ouhh,” I moaned. He spun around and saw me.

“Huh? Oh, hey, nice stick, man!”

Ace grabbed the stick. That was all it took for me to let go and fall on my butt. Forget about stealing the fruit, I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet.

There he stood, looming over me with the stick in his hand. All I could do was stare up at him, my face pale, my breathing hard. My weapon was gone. I didn’t have the willpower to run away. He was going to attack me instead, I knew it.

But Ace did not react the way I expected him to.

“You came to help me build a boat, yeah?” he said, grinning.

“Ah…uh…aaah…” I moaned, incapable of forming words. I felt deeply, astonishingly ashamed of myself. Tears sprang into my dried-out eyes. Thank goodness I had the mask on to hide them.

And just then, despite the situation—or perhaps because of it—my stomach growled again mightily.

Ace just smirked and held out the fruit in his hand.

“Here, eat up.”

Gurrrrgle.

Ace said, “Whoops!” As it happened, his stomach had answered mine with a growl of its own. Apparently he was just as hungry as I was. And yet he offered me the fruit willingly.

“Y-you’ve got a stockpile of them, don’t you? Where are they? Tell me!” I demanded.

“Nope, I just found this one. Think it might’ve washed up on shore, just like we did.”

I felt a shock as hard as if a blunt object had struck my skull. When people speak of a shame so great it prevents them from looking upon the person they have wronged, this is what they mean. My head hung, and I realized that I was crying. I had to stifle my sobs to keep Ace from hearing them.

What a terrible thing I’d been considering.

Simply for having the blood of Roger in his veins, I had assumed that Ace must be a bad person. I told myself that anything I did to him was justified because of that. But all I knew about Roger came from the papers and books. I’d never met him or spoken with him. I just accepted whatever society and other people said about him, and assumed it was all true.

What a shallow, ugly way of thinking.

I had a sudden realization: this was the exact way of thinking I saw in adults when I was a child. It was something I despised back then.

The adults made fun of Brag Men, and were biased against it.

I, too, was biased against Ace.

Since when had I become one of those nasty, cynical adults, always jumping to conclusions?

What was the real Ace like? He was the kind of person who shared his only food with a starving man, when he himself was already starving. That’s the kind of guy Ace was. That was the man who inherited the blood of Roger, King of the Pirates, as I had personally experienced him.

“What’s up? Aren’t you hungry? Eat up,” he said.

I sniffled and said, “I can’t…”

I was ashamed of myself. I wasn’t worthy of accepting food from Ace. I wasn’t worth it. I deserved to starve and suffer; that was the only way I’d make up for what I’d almost done.

“Eat it,” he said, slightly miffed, and shoved the fruit at me.

“I can’t!” I said stubbornly, shaking my head.

“Why not?! I know you’re hungry. Don’t hold back.”

“I can’t, because you’re hungry too.” I protested, my voice rising. He could probably tell I was crying by now. Ace looked a bit worried, and fell silent for a moment.

“Then let’s split it. How does that sound?” he suggested. Before I could give him an answer, he had pulled out his knife and cut the fruit into two pieces. “Here, I’ll eat too. But you need some fruit, man.”

He handed me one of the halves with a smile. With an offer like that, and the fruit right in front of me, I gave up refusing and took it gratefully.

Ace took a bite of his half of the fruit. “Mmm, not poisonous… Not very tasty, either,” he said, his mouth full.

I took a bite of the fruit, too. It was impossible to resist—juice oozing out, so fresh and moist.

“It’s so good… It’s so bad, but…it’s so good!”

Once I’d taken one bite, I couldn’t stop. I devoured the fruit, barely conscious of what I was doing. Without my realizing it, huge tears ran down my cheeks as I ate.

“It’s so good… It’s so good… Thank you, thank you…” I sobbed.

The truth was, you couldn’t even generously call the fruit tasty. I had never eaten such disgusting fruit before. And yet, in all my life, nothing had ever tasted as good as that fruit did in that moment.

Here on this desolate island where I was stranded, battling against hunger and thirst, I had at last come to experience what life truly tasted like.

Gradually the sky turned darker and darker red. Another day was coming to an end. Ace and I finished eating our fruit, complaining about the taste all the while, and sat next to one another, watching the sun set over the horizon. As usual, the island was breathtakingly beautiful. I recalled the skeleton I found earlier near the bushes at the edge of the sand—when he washed up here alone, did he also gaze out at the sunset this way?

All alone. No one to talk to.

With that in mind, how lucky was I that at least Ace was here with me? It had taken me all this time to realize that I wasn’t alone. Thanks to Ace, I could survive on my own. It was knowing that someone else was on the island with me that led me to choose solitude, to make it on my own.

Ace seemed to be thinking about it the same way.

“Look at the sun,” he said abruptly. “If I think ‘Man, that’s gorgeous,’ but it’s just me all alone, then what does it matter? If nobody else is seeing it with me, what’s the point of it all?”

He chuckled to himself. The sun would be going down in minutes, but it didn’t feel as cold as it usually did at this time of day. Must have been because I finally had some food in my stomach. Or maybe it was having Ace sitting nearby.

It was a mysterious feeling. In fact, it almost felt warmer than it was earlier in the day.

I turned to look at Ace.

He was burning.

Not emotionally. He was actually burning. He was literally on fire—flames were shooting from his skin.

“Yeow, it’s hot! What’s going on?!” I screamed, just as Ace also realized something was amiss.

“Whoa! W-what is this?!”

Ace yelled and panicked on the spot. I picked up some sand with my hands, and hurled it at Ace, but it had no effect on the flames on his skin. If anything, they seemed to get hotter.

“W-why did you suddenly catch on fire?!” I yelled, as I continued shoveling sand onto him. But something about it struck me as odd.

Ace’s body had caught fire, but it didn’t seem to be actually burning his clothes or skin. Strangely enough, it was as though his entire body—and everything he wore on it—had actually become fire…

“Aaaaah! It’s hot! It’s hot!! It’s…not hot?”

Ace instantly regained his cool. And in a matter of moments, the flames covering his body became noticeably smaller and finally vanished. There wasn’t a single burn on his skin, and no damage to his clothes or hat. Not even a speck of soot.

“Do…do you think that fruit,” I murmured in a stunned daze, “could have been a Devil Fruit?”

The forbidden fruit. An incarnation of the devil of the sea.

Whether true or false, the legend was that if you took a single bite, such a fruit would impart demonic powers. In exchange, the person who ate the fruit brought upon themselves the wrath of the sea. They would never be able to swim again.

Without realizing it, we’d been eating one of those legendary fruits which I’d never before seen outside of a book, and which would probably go for a minimum of a hundred million berries at auction. That had to be the answer—I couldn’t imagine any other explanation.

“That was a Devil Fruit?” said Ace, staring at his palm in wonder. “Wait a second. Does that mean I can’t swim anymore?!”

He leapt to his feet and promptly rushed toward the water, not hesitating a bit as he pushed out into the waves.

“Hey, check it out, Deuce. I’m just fine. It’s not the Devil Fruit!”

He walked farther into the sea.

“It wasn’t a Devil Fruit. I’m just fine. I’m just…fahhh…”

Suddenly, Ace crumpled like a puppet with no hand controlling it.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted, rushing toward the sinking man. I grabbed him and dragged him desperately back to shore. When it was done, something occurred to me.

“Hang on…Why am I okay?”

I looked over my own body, the way Ace had done with his. There were no sudden bursts of flame on my skin, and I was perfectly fine in the water.

“The Devil Fruit only bestows its power to the first person to take a bite,” said Ace, sitting upright, his strength apparently regained. It was hard to believe he’d been totally weakened a second ago. “The rest of it is just a nasty-tasting fruit.”

He stared at his fingertips. The light seemed to waver around them, and suddenly a small fire rose from the ends.

There was no doubt now that it was a real Devil Fruit.

“So this is the Devil Fruit… It doesn’t quite feel real,” Ace murmured, staring at his fingers again. The reddish flicker of fire calmed, and when it was gone only pristine fingertips remained.

“Hmm. Interesting,” he muttered, taking it all in stride.

I asked him, “Do you know a lot about Devil Fruit?”

“I told you I have a brother, right? His name’s Luffy. He’s got Devil Fruit powers too. So in a way, I’m used to it. Though I used to win every single fight we had.”

“You sound like wild brothers. How is possible that a regular person could beat someone with such powers?”

It was all so new to me; my mind was having trouble keeping up with the details.

“My brother’s a rubber man with the power of the Gum-Gum Fruit. It’s pretty funny. His arms stretch out like beeyoiiing,” Ace said happily, sticking out his fist and mimicking his arm extending outward.

Ace was generally cheerful and outgoing all the time, but he was especially excited when talking about his little brother. He truly seemed to care a great deal about him, despite not being related by blood—or perhaps because of it. Even stranded here at the end of the world, on this empty island, he didn’t lose his love for his family.

“While I kinda like the idea of being in the same situation as Luffy with the fruit,” he continued, his face darkening a bit, “this is a terrible problem to have on a deserted island. Now I can’t swim. The next time my boat sinks, I’m done for. I can’t escape now.”

Ace stared at his hand. This time his entire palm lit up with flames, not just the fingertips. The sun was beyond the horizon now, and the fire brought light to the darkening beach. It was almost like a campfire. Our shadows flickered, shifting like the sound of the waves.

He stared at the fire in silence. His worries were entirely justified.

If you ate a Devil Fruit, the sea despised you, and robbed you of the ability to swim. And it wasn’t just being unable to swim, as was true of many people. Simply being in the water made you completely weak and helpless. This was now Ace’s reality.

I didn’t need to think too hard to understand the implications.

Unique sea currents surrounded the entire island. It was an enormous, aquatic version of an antlion trap. Ace had built a number of boats while trying to escape. Even if he got tossed from the boats, he could still swim and cling to them. When they broke, he swam back to shore. These endeavors would no longer be possible.

If he fell overboard, only death awaited.

That was the price he paid for this power of flame that he hadn’t even asked for. It could bring light to the darkness, but it couldn’t take him across the sea.

Ace’s ability wasn’t just that he could make fire come off of his skin—it actually turned his entire being into fire. Accordingly, the name of what he ate was the Flame-Flame Fruit. Fire was supposed to be the tool that allowed man to conquer nature, but in Ace’s case, it was merely trapping him here.

A body turned to fire—flames that leapt off his physical self. One of the most powerful forms of energy found in nature. And it was at Ace’s beck and call now.

I had a sudden flash of inspiration.

“Ace! You can control that, right?”

“Hmm? Well, I might need a bit of practice at first, but it seems to be pretty easy.”

He made the shape of a gun with his hand and shot a small ball of fire from his index finger toward the sea. It curved up, then down, and vanished into the dark of night.

“Well, what if you just used the force of expelling the flame? Like, by regulating its output, or something. Can you consciously control it to that extent?”

“I dunno, but I feel like…it could be possible,” Ace said.

I grinned back at him. “Then maybe we can get off this island.”

The next day, Ace’s training began.

Enveloping objects in flame and burning them up. Using the force of the fire to push things away. We practiced over and over; I jammed sticks and branches into the sand to serve as targets.

Thanks to Ace, we could easily make fires now, so the process of survival was much easier. In fact, he knew a lot about the jungle too, and he said he grew up in one.

We dug holes until we found natural water, filtered it, and boiled it for a supply of drinking water.

Things that hadn’t been quite edible suddenly became much more so after they were cooked over a fire. And we didn’t have to suffer the chill at night.

A few days passed in this way. Ace could control his fire at will at this point. And, at last…

“It’s done!”

We finally finished building a ship. Our hands and clothes were filthy black now, as once Ace had trained himself properly, we burned all the wood we were using to make the ship. Charring and carbonizing the surface of the wood made it more durable and resistant to fire and water—much better than using untreated wood, according to a sailor’s journal I once read. How effective this was, I didn’t know, but surely it could withstand the waves and salt breeze better than untreated wood. Our vessel was only possible because Ace could instantly create fire, and direct it to do exactly what he wanted.

Also, this ship had a method of propulsion—the exact thing we needed to escape the current trap around the island and get out to the open sea. The two of us together weren’t strong enough to do such a thing, but I had the idea to use the power of Ace’s flames.

“Listen, we need the force of the flames—their energy—to spin this board. That’s going to push the boat forward. I’ve decided to call this baby the Striker.”

“Striker, huh? And this will get us past the currents? In that case, let’s celebrate before we go! Let’s use up all the food we’ve got and have a party!”

“Don’t eat that; it’s our food for the journey.”

“Oh, right.”

Nearby was all the food and water we could scrounge up to bring on the boat. I picked up two bottles of water we’d collected and gave one to Ace. “But we can celebrate with these for today.”

“Sounds good.”

Ace smiled, showing his white teeth. We shared a toast with bottled water.

The boat slid across the gentle waves. The power of Ace’s flames was our propulsion, pushing us onward. It was faster than paddling with our hands, and more reliable than waiting for wind.

The island grew smaller behind us. The calls of the birds became quieter, too. The grave we built in which to lay that skeleton to rest was as small as a speck of dust. From a distance, the island really did look like a beautiful little paradise. The sky was clear, and the sea sparkled in the sun.

Strangely enough, despite the horrible battle I'd fought with hunger and thirst there, I almost began to feel wistful about the experience. How could I have guessed that I’d feel nostalgic about an inescapable death trap? I never felt that way about home once I left…

Ace also looked back at the island growing smaller in the distance and said quietly, “At first, I thought I needed to find some treasure quick, and fight and fight and fight the tough pirates to make a name for myself…”

He kept one hand on his brilliant orange hat to keep it from flying away in the ocean breeze.

“But I was wrong about that. You can’t make a name for yourself that way. No matter how valuable the treasure you find, or the number of battles you win against worthy opponents, none of it means anything if you’re all alone.”

“So I guess the rumor that there was treasure on that island was just a tall tale after all.”

Ace looked over to me and grinned confidently. “I dunno about that,” he said, extending his hand toward me. “You’re coming with me…aren’t you?”

I answered him with the same grin. “I have a feeling I’ll be able to write a good adventure chronicle if I spend some time with you.”

We shared a firm handshake.

As I squeezed his hand, I considered the idea of dedicating the rest of my life to his cause.

I suppose that the feeling of wistfulness I had about the island was a sign that I was probably meant to end my life there. In fact, that’s certainly what would have happened, if not for Ace’s presence.

But life decided on a different path for me.

Through sheer coincidence I met Ace in a place where I shouldn’t have found anyone at all. That meeting saved my life. It seemed to me like this was fate.

I’ll live my life until the end for him, then. A life with no regrets. I’ve gotta be the luckiest man in the world if that’s the feeling he inspires in me.

As we proceeded farther out to sea, the waves began getting higher. The currents roiled and jolted, trying to toss our ship, and the wood itself shook with the waves’ impact. But the ship held, and continued steadfast on its way.

“We might come from different circumstances, but we’ve both got some conflicted feelings about our fathers,” Ace said suddenly, looking straight ahead. “So let’s get over it… Over the waves, past the storm, beyond our fate. And away from our fathers, while we’re at it!”

His flames roared higher than usual at that moment. The ship picked up speed and began to vibrate. I clung to the craft like my life depended on it. The little boat moved straight and true, parting the waves and penetrating the currents. The prow lifted upward. For a moment, the boat soared in the air over the island’s deadly current trap. Salt spray danced around it, glittering with the light of the sun.

Despite clinging for dear life to the craft, I looked up at Ace. He was smiling. He stood proudly facing the waves, beaming with childlike innocence.

Then he put his wildest ambitions into words.

“I’m going to be greater than the King of the Pirates!”

The sky was clear. Our course was set for the Grand Line. I gazed out upon the sea before us, a stretch of water I could never have conquered on my own. This was the birth cry of the two-man Spade Pirates crew.