Rating: T
Spoilers: Nope
Timeframe: Robin's 13 in this one

Summary: Growing up was never easy, especially when your role models were pirates

The bar was dark and smoky and had the perfect atmosphere of anonymity. Men and women came here after a long day's work to drown their troubles in cheap alcohol and share their woes with the sympathetic bartender. There was a stage, on which a band played sorrowful, out of tune blues music.

Robin hunkered down, trying her best to be invisible. She wasn't with her crew at the moment, and felt distinctly vulnerable without the protection of the extra meat shields. Fortunately there wasn't much of a marine presence on the island (the only reason she trusted herself out alone) and there were a few places Robin could go where she wouldn't be recognized.

"Aren't you a little young to be here, hon?" a waitress asked. Robin looked up at the woman distrustfully.

"No."

The woman raised an eyebrow gracefully. She was a pretty lady, with makeup that was tastefully done and a uniform top that was just low-cut enough to draw attention without being considered inappropriate. Thick brown hair threatened to escape from the pair of chopsticks, the weight of it making her head tilt back slightly.

"How old are you?" she asked in a disappointed tone.

"Fifteen," Robin said immediately. That wasn't true, she had just turned thirteen, but she could pull it off.

"Right," the waitress said dryly. "Fifteen's still too young for a young lady to be out late in a place like this."

Robin frowned. "I'm a paying customer. You can't make me leave."

The waitress looked conflicted, her eyes darting from the bar, to the other patrons, then back to Robin. She sighed, pulling out a pad of paper. "Fine. What'll it be?"

"Do you have any coffee?"

Wrapping her sturdy coat around herself tightly, Robin braced against the cold winter wind. The time away from her crew had been almost refreshing, but if she were gone much longer they would start to get suspicious. Sprouting eyes to look ahead, Robin lowered her head and trudged through the February sludge. As late as it was and as poor as the weather had turned, few people were out. Those who braved the streets minded to themselves with the willful stubbornness of a population that knew how to keep out of other people's business.

Robin's lower stomach twinged painfully, making her grimace. As much as Robin wanted to believe the grease of her supper was making her queasy, she knew it wasn't true. It was that time of the month, and it was all she could to be thankful they were on dry ground instead of out at sea. Everything was so much easier to manage without being crammed on a tiny boat full of fools whose very presence gave her a headache.

The transition from a girl into a woman was never easy, but being a highly wanted criminal complicated the matter considerably.

One of Robin's phantom eyes caught sight of a familiar face. Veering off into the closest shadow Robin turned, scowling in distaste. What was she doing out here in the open? Didn't she realize how exposed she was, making a scene like that?

Making a snap judgment, Robin went back out to the street. Swaying around like a drunken harlot stood the 'girlfriend' of Robin's captain. Scarlett hair reflected softly in the moonlight, and anyone who got close enough could see a once-beautiful face worn by a hard life and a harder heart.

"Vivian, it's time to go," Robin said coolly, grabbing the older woman's arm. With deceptive quickness Vivian struck out. Robin ducked, remembering Vivian's fondness for knives.

"Oh, i's just you. Th' Ohara brat," she slurred once she recognized Robin's face. "I's not polite to sneak up 'n a lady."

Robin ignored the quip, and watched sharply as Vivian pocked her weapon. "You'll get arrested standing out here like this. We need to get back to the ship before the captain misses us."

"Ha!" Vivian's face twisted into something bitter and cruel, and for the briefest of moments Robin was afraid. "You think tha' ol' Tom'll miss me? What've you been drinkin'? Give me sum!"

Scowl returning, Robin tugged on Vivian's arm. She didn't have the time or the patience to deal with the drunken rants of a woman going through troubles with her man. And, regardless of what Vivian said, the captain would care very, very much if she was arrested.

"Aren't you cold, at least?" Robin asked.

"No, got sum spirits t' chase the chill away." Vivian swayed again, forcing Robin to momentarily bear all her weight. Instinctively a pair of extra arms sprouted to steady them, and the cold, wet feeling of the snow instantly transferred to Robin's real hands. That was the last straw. Half-dragging Vivian to an alley, Robin sat her unceremoniously on an empty crate.

"You…stay there," Robin said through gritted teeth. Vivian teetered happily, and for a moment Robin considered leaving her. She quickly discarded the idea. Not only was Vivian likely to freeze to death before the sun rose (really, what had possessed her to go out without dressing sensibly?), but the captain would be furious if she didn't return that night.

They had to be quarreling. Vivian was many things, but she wasn't generally so…pathetic. At least, Robin didn't think so. But in her admittedly limited experience, people in relationships did strange and irrational things.

"I'll be back. Just stay here," Robin repeated desperately, feeling rather out of her depth. "Please."

Twenty minutes later Robin returned with a handful of goods that she hoped might make Vivian a little more clearheaded. She found Vivian was sitting up straight and not looking in the least bit intoxicated. Robin froze, ready for treachery.

"So you did come back after all. I wondered," Vivian said softly in a dangerous voice that Robin was sometimes envious of.

"I see you recovered," Robin replied.

"So I have, girl, so I have. Congratulations, you've passed."

Eyes narrowing, Robin tried desperately to see through the darkness so she could judge Vivian's face. Her stomach rolled as she put the pieces together. "A test of character."

"You are a bright one," Vivian said approvingly. "There are some nasty rumors surrounding you, girl." Robin tried not to cringe. "It's good to know that you're willing to try and take care of a mate in a pinch."

"This doesn't seem like something the captain would set up," Robin said.

"What old Tom doesn't know won't hurt him." Robin nodded. There was another pain, and her hand made an almost imperceptible movement over abdomen. Vivian clucked sympathetically.

"Och. Poor timing. I'm sure the doc could set you up with something on the ship."

"It's not that bad," Robin said. In truth she didn't trust the doctor enough not to slip poison into his concoctions.

Vivian flipped her hair back gracefully. With a smooth motion she rose, and in the dancing shadows of the moonlight confidence and sexuality flowed off of her. There was no doubt Vivian was a dangerous woman. The way she moved was reminiscent of a panther, coiled and ready to pounce, but there was something about her that made people forget that. More than once Robin had seen Vivian stab someone who didn't know or couldn't remember to keep their distance.

"How do you do it?" Robin asked.

"Hmn? Do what, girl?"

"Nothing," Robin said quickly, regaining her wits. "Never mind, it's stupid."

"Oh, it's never nothing with you, is it, girl?" Vivian stalked closer, a wicked glint in her eyes. Robin's instincts told her to run, but fear kept her feet planted firmly to the ground.

"Does ickle Robin need to talk, woman to woman?" The words were light and patronizing. "Does she need tips for managing her courses? Some rags to catch the filth?"

Robin stiffened. "No. I just wanted to know how you got people to underestimate you when everyone knows you'd just as soon stab them in the back," she snapped.

That made Vivian pause for a moment, before she tilted her head back and cackled like a madwoman. "Of course! Ickle Robin wants practical advice!"

"I-I suppose," Robin said. Perhaps Vivian was drunk or worse. Robin was regretting even bringing the subject up, but there was no backing down now.

"It's simple, girl," Vivian said, her voice low and sultry. "You use your God-given assets. Your boobs." She cupped her breasts suggestively.

"Your hips." She walked a few steps in an exaggerated swagger.

"Your—" She used a word for her female anatomy that made Robin's ears turn pink. Vivian laughed at Robin's obvious discomfort. She slid up next to her, and bent down to whisper in Robin's ear.

"And never forget to smile." The advice was so unexpected it made Robin flinch. Vivian chuckled as she pulled away.

"Smile?" Robin echoed.

The older pirate nodded. "Oh, yes. Smiling is very important. You've a lovely frown, but it'll get you nowhere in life."

Robin had seen sharks with a more pleasant smile than Vivian but understood where she was coming from. She thought of the waitress that had served her earlier in the evening, with the carefully done hair and the low-cut shirt. She had smiled, even as her patrons had gotten increasingly drunk, and had been tipped well for her efforts.

"I've lived long enough to know that you'll be a pretty one when you're done filling out," Vivian continued. "I've seen you walk along, trying not to be seen. It won't work, you know. You just don't have the face for it. Might as well turn what you've got to your advantage." Vivian smirked. "Now, if that's all you wanted, I think I'll head back to the ship. Old Tom doesn't like to be kept waiting, and I'm cold." She gave Robin a saucy wink and disappeared around the corner into the street.

Robin stumbled over to the crate before her knees gave out. With hysterical horror, she realized she had just had the pirate's version of "the talk". Burying her head in her hands, Robin groaned as her stomach cramped painfully.

The worst part, Robin knew as she doubled over, was that it was all true. Or, at least, most of it was. Robin had always been perfectly content with her body, but that changed with the beginnings of puberty. With the onset of growth spurts and the addition of unwanted hair and pimples she felt anything but pretty. Everything felt uncoordinated and unnatural, and even though Robin had a basic understanding of the changes her body was going through she had an irrational hatred for the whole process. Book knowledge wasn't very comforting when one suffered through cramps and couldn't trust the doctor enough to take the medicine he prescribed.

Vivian said to smile. Normally Robin wouldn't follow anyone's advice, but the words made too much sense. Even if Robin didn't have the confidence or the strength to do the other things Vivian implied, that didn't mean she couldn't pretend. Just like with lying, stealing, and using her powers to hurt people she would have to practice, a little at a time. It would be like wearing a mask, another layer of protection from the world that wanted very much to kill her.

She could learn how to use her 'God-given gifts'.

Only her most important gift had always been her brain. That wouldn't change because she had breasts.

Robin hid her head with her hands. She felt so out of sorts, and it was making her do stupid things. What was she thinking asking Vivian questions? How was she supposed to show herself back on the ship now that she had embarrassed herself? Vivian held the attention of the captain, and by extension the rest of the crew. Robin depended heavily on the mythos of "The Demon Child" to keep people from attacking her more than they already did.

When Robin had been eight years old, the entire world had been terrified of the power that could destroy multiple warships in one fell swoop. Now she was thirteen and could pass for older. The memory of Ohara was already fading from the memory of the people. Robin had seen bounties on people as young as sixteen before. Soon she would no longer be special, and because Robin did everything she could to stay out of the spotlight the name "Demon Child" didn't always garner the immediate, powerful reaction it once had.

Adaption would be necessary if she wanted to survive. A 79,000,000 belli bounty might be unheard of on a child, but there were plenty of young adults whose heads were wanted for more. Robin would have to develop a persona of her own that would drive the would-be hunters away, separate from her past as an Oharan. She needed people to be scared of her, just as anyone in their right mind would be scared of Vivian.

Robin stood, ignoring the discomfort. She strode with feigned confidence through the cold, dark streets. For the past five years she had run at the first sign of trouble, and so far that had served her well. Not anymore. Running had its time and its place, but she was no longer a weak, ignorant child. If she picked her battles carefully, Robin could show the world she was not someone to be trifled with lightly. She could fight back on her terms.

Growing up was never easy. Being a wanted criminal only complicated things. But, just like everything else, Robin would figure out a way to survive. Other girls might have mothers, aunts, or sisters to turn to for advice; she only had the word of a vicious pirate to rely on.

Forcing an unfamiliar half-smile on her lips, Robin tried to convince herself this was the right thing to do. Running away came more naturally to her than fighting, but things couldn't stay the way they were. The world was changing. Robin was changing. And unless she wanted to die she had to adapt her mindset to fit with times.