"Spar with me."

"No."

Rebecca crossed her arms and kept her expression neutral as she flatly rejected Cavendish. She was fairly adept at keeping her emotions from showing on her face, but she couldn't prevent her fingers from gripping the fabric of her tunic as she tried not to betray her discomfort. He had his arms crossed as well, but she knew his stance was one born of annoyance rather than anger. His emotions were always clear.

It was early in the morning, and there was no one around to witness the standoff between the pirate prince and the former gladiator princess. The armoury that doubled as a sparring and practice ground opened out into a stable and smithy. The sawdust that softened the stone floor of the armoury also dulled the sharp smell of metal and manure. It was a peaceful place in the early hours of the day, at least when she wasn't being goaded by a belligerent swordsman.

Without her high-heeled boots she was shorter than when they had first met, and she disliked how it made her feel so much younger than him. But her leather boots and belted tunic were meant to be practical, not impressive, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze obstinately. Unfortunately when it came to determination, they were well matched.

"And why not?"

"I don't want to."

Cavendish scowled, and uncrossed his arms to pry her sword out of the cobblestones where she had wedged it. He hefted it in one hand, testing the balance, and ran his thumb over the edgeless blade. Even though it had been solely a tool for revenge, Rebecca felt a certain possessiveness about it, and part of her balked at someone else handling it. If it had have been someone other than him, or Luffy, she would have snatched it away.

Lazily, he flipped the sword around so that he was holding it by the blade, offering her the hilt. Even through her temper she felt a touch of affection for the blond show-off.

He raised an eyebrow when she made no move to take the weapon from him. "You and your sword are going to get rusty if you don't practice."

"I do practice!" Rebecca shot back, her voice rising slightly. "Every morning!"

"No, you come here and pretend to." Cavendish swung her sword back around and slammed it point first into the practice dummy to their right hard enough where it stuck.

"I've seen you, Rebecca. You come here before dawn and stare at this piece of wood with your sword in your hand without ever once striking it. What happened to your strength? Your skills are fading and you're letting them."

"So what if I am?" Rebecca yelled at him, well and truly angry now. "I'm not in the colosseum anymore! I don't have to fight! I don't have to practice hurting people!"

She clenched her hands into fists, feeling tears starting to well up at the corners of her eyes. Cavendish had touched a nerve. Instead of a comment about her slacking off, she heard Soldier all over again, telling her she had no choice but to fight. She didn't want to be obligated to be a warrior for the rest of her life. She wanted peace, and she wanted her father to protect her forever.

Cavendish watched her passively for a few moments, letting her anger boil before he spoke, his tone harsh. "And what if there's another Dolflamingo?"

Rebecca's burst of emotion stopped dead at the mention of that name. She bit her lip as she unwillingly recalled the pain of so many years. Sometimes she wondered if it would take as many years to stop hating him and every trace and mention of his existence. Deflated, her hands dropped limply to her side as she wrestled with her memories.

"Things aren't getting easier, Rebecca." Cavendish's tone was a gentler now, "The strong are being replaced by stronger or more sensational. I was the most famous rookie, until the Worst Generation showed up." He gritted his teeth, his anger at the pirates who stole his fame blatantly clear. "And more are coming to the new world all the time, like that Bartolomeo. There will always be more pirates, and more like Dolflamingo; the question is if you can stop them."

He shook his head, and smiled as he pulled her sword out of the dummy and offered it to her once more. "Don't think of it as practice to hurt people. You're a strong woman, and a natural warrior. Your strength is a warning to those who think they can take advantage of you, and your skill will be the end of any who dare."

It was a different way of looking at things, and she had the suspicion he had known to phrase it just that way to make it seem favourable to her. It didn't seem like an obligation, when she thought about using her prowess in battle to protect herself and those she cared about. It just made sense, actually.

So Rebecca smiled back at Cavendish and took hold of her sword hilt. And before he could let go, she used it as a lever to yank him forward and hook his leg out from under him, dumping him onto his rear.

She leaned over him, hands on her hips. "Well," she said with slight smugness, "I can see your point. And I will spar with you now…if you think you can handle it."

A/N: I love Rebecca as a warrior, but with the way her character is, I can see her needing the occasional reminder that being strong doesn't mean you have to always be fighting. I wanted to write something that showed her effort to harmonize both being 'the undefeated woman' and a normal 16 year old girl.