Faced with the final, desperate charge of a cornered beast, Jerry remained an island of calm in a sea of rage. He had intentionally pushed Jack over the edge, banking on the fact that pure fury was sloppy and predictable.
As the twin shotels scythed through the air, aimed to tear him limb from limb, Jerry was already in motion. He kicked off the ground and shot into the air, his feet finding purchase on nothing as he initiated a Moon Step. He ascended, seemingly walking up an invisible staircase into the sky. Then, with an impossible display of aerial agility, he pivoted at a sharp right angle, soaring like a hawk circling its prey before rocketing back down.
All the while, his right fist, held back until this very moment, became the center of a swirling vortex. It glowed with the deep, dark luster of Armament Haki, but this was layered with something more. He channeled his power, pulling the very moisture from the air, compressing a torrent of water around his fist. The water spun with incredible velocity, forming a miniature, raging storm no larger than a cannonball. Within the azure, rotating sphere, a darker undercurrent surged—a devastating power, coiled and waiting to be unleashed.
His descent was a blur of motion. As Jack's wild swing missed, leaving him momentarily overextended, Jerry accelerated. He moved with a speed he hadn't displayed before, breaking his own limits to appear directly in front of Jack's horned face.
For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. Jack's were wide, bloodshot, and filled with manic fury. Jerry's were cold, clear, and focused. He pulled back his fist, the swirling vortex of water screaming as it reached critical mass.
"All that power, all that rage," Jerry said, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind. "And this is all you are. A big target."
He threw the punch.
"Maelstrom Abyss Breaker!"
The moment his knuckles made contact with the side of Jack's head, the technique activated. The compressed sphere of water instantly expanded into a massive, rapidly rotating maelstrom. The spinning torrent acted like an armor-piercing drill bit, shredding through Jack's Haki defense before the fist itself—the true hammer blow—struck the bull's-eye beneath.
The sound was not a simple crack, but a deep, wet, explosive BOOM.
A shockwave of air and water vapor erupted from the point of impact. Jack's colossal body went rigid, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was lifted off his feet and sent flying sideways, spinning through the air like a discarded toy. He crashed into the ocean with a cataclysmic splash, sending a wave dozens of meters high surging back towards the shore.
Jerry landed softly on the ground, his fist still smoking with steam.
The sea churned, and then slowly began to calm. The onlooking Beasts Pirates, frozen in shock, finally snapped out of their stupor. A wave of panicked shouting erupted as dozens of them rushed into the water, desperately trying to locate their commander who had sunk like a stone to the bottom. They knew that while Jack was a Fishman—a saddleback grouper, to be precise—he was also a Devil Fruit user. He wouldn't drown, but he would be completely paralyzed, helpless against the sea's pressure unless rescued. Worse, after taking such a devastating blow, he could be unconscious or dying. Their invincible All-Star, defeated and sinking.
Jerry watched them go, his victorious facade held in place by sheer willpower. But the second the adrenaline began to fade, a wave of absolute exhaustion slammed into him. His vision swam, and his legs trembled violently. The only thing keeping him from collapsing was the grim knowledge that if he fell now, he might not get back up.
"Hah… hah…" he gasped, the air burning in his lungs. "So tired…"
He raised a trembling hand and condensed a mirror of water in front of him. Through the reflection, he took stock of the damage. His handsome face, miraculously, was still handsome—a testament to his defensive priorities. But the rest of him was a wreck.
"Hair's a mess," he muttered, "but the foundation is still solid."
His shirt was non-existent, shredded to ribbons. His exposed torso was a crisscrossing map of bloody cuts and deep purple bruises. None of the wounds were life-threatening, but he looked like he'd been put through a meat grinder. With a sigh, he dispelled the mirror, tore off the useless remnants of his shirt, and pulled a clean one from the small waterproof pouch he always carried.
Slowly, painfully, he began the long walk back to where their ship was docked.
A few minutes later, he staggered onto the beach where the Piece of Spadille was waiting. He was immediately swarmed.
"There he is! We heard a massive explosion and then… nothing!"
"We were just about to come looking for you! You actually took down Jack the Drought?!"
"Boss Jerry! You're one tough son of a bitch!"
Even Kotatsu the lynx offered a supportive, questioning "Meow?"
Nearly the entire crew was there, surrounding a group of timid but safe children on the deck of the ship. The only person missing was Ace.
A wide grin spread across Jerry's exhausted face. "Hey, hey! I brought back a souvenir for everyone!" he announced, as if he'd just returned from a shopping trip.
"A souvenir?" one of the crew asked, intrigued.
Jerry reached into his pouch and pulled out a jagged, heavy piece of dark metal, dripping with seawater. It was a fragment of Jack's shattered jaw. "Here," he said, tossing it onto the deck with a heavy thud. "A little something to remember Onigashima by."
Seeing that Jerry still had the energy to joke around, a collective sigh of relief went through the crew. Deuce pushed through the crowd, a medical kit in hand.
"Sit down, you idiot," he ordered, his voice stern but his eyes filled with relief. "Let me see those wounds."
"Alright, alright, Doc," Jerry winced as he sat, allowing Deuce to start cleaning the deep gash on his side. "So, fill me in. What's the situation?"
"It's about what you'd expect," Deuce said, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he recounted the events. While Jerry had been fighting Jack, Deuce and the others had successfully located the first group of children. However, they soon discovered there were more, scattered across the complex. Their rescue mission turned into a running battle, fighting through waves of enemies to liberate every child they could find. By the time they passed back through the main street, the battle between Ace and Yamato was still raging with no end in sight.
"Considering we didn't know if more of Kaido's commanders were on their way back," Deuce concluded, "and with our primary mission complete, we decided to bring the kids here and wait."
Jerry nodded, his expression turning serious. "That was the right call. But we can't all wait here. You guys should take the ship and get the children back to Kuri now. Their families are worried sick, and Onigashima is still the most dangerous place in Wano."
He looked towards the small, one-man paddleboat, the Striker. "Leave me the Striker. I'll wait here for Ace."
Deuce paused, looking at the mess of bandages he was applying. "Alone? Jerry, in your condition, are you sure?"
Jerry puffed out his chest with a confident smirk. "Don't you worry! You can always trust me!" He gave his chest a firm, reassuring pat to emphasize his point.
Unfortunately, he patted the exact spot where the gash on his side was the deepest. The fresh bandage immediately blossomed with a patch of bright red.
"Ah," Jerry squeaked, his confident expression freezing. "This… Haha! Hahaha! See, Deuce? Your bandaging skills are so potent, they're overflowing with... healing spirit!"
Deuce gave him a deadpan stare, a long-suffering sigh escaping his lips as he reached for a new roll of bandages. "Yeah," he said dryly. "I can really trust you."