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She had forgotten what day it was. Bone tired after a particularly nasty storm and keeping watch the night before, Robin went to bed early. It was hard to be reminded that she wasn’t young anymore, capable of pulling all-nighters on a whim and powering through the following day with nothing more than a little gumption and a few extra cups of coffee.
Nami was still at the deck when Robin bid her goodnight, distracted and tasting the air after the storm. Wind whipped strands of orange hair across her face, almost bronze in the light of the dying sun, but she paid it no mind. Absorbed as she was, Robin wasn’t certain that Nami heard her speak, let alone notice a bit of extra hair. Robin smiled a small, tired smile, and wondered if the salt of the ocean spray was stronger or the smell of the ozone more pungent for someone so attuned to the fickle temperment of the world’s most dangerous sea.
“Tomorrow will be better,” Nami said, right as Robin was about to slip through the door. She made it sound like a threat.
Robin’s smile spread a little bit farther. If there was anyone she trusted to make such a bold promise on the Grand Line, it was the navigator of the future Pirate King.
“Good night.”
She had forgotten what day it was. As predicted, the sun shone deceptively bright on a miserably cold morning. They must have been near an island for the temperature to stabilize so much in such a short period of time, and a winter one to boot. Robin bundled herself in a fluffy, oversized turtleneck with sleeves that extended just past her fingers and she still was shivering. It was a day for staying indoors with the company of a good book and the blackest coffee Sanji could procure, and Robin thought of little else as she made her way to the galley.
That was not what happened.
Instead, right as she placed her hand on the doorknob Robin’s mind roused itself just enough to realize that the ship was entirely too quiet. The cobwebs of sleep were brushed aside by a sudden wave of paranoia. Something was wrong, something had happened to the crew while she was asleep. Adrenaline hummed in her veins and sharpened her senses to their sharpest point. Robin crossed her arms across her chest, ready to attack at the smallest sign of trouble.
The door to the galley sprung open, and Robin had to spring with it in order to avoid being hit. She sprouted arms on instinct, grabbing hold of whoever was on the other side
“Dos Fleur.”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROBIN.”
The gears of Robin’s mind ground to an abrupt halt, unable to process those words, said in that order, by these people. Phantom limbs vanished in a flurry of petals, releasing her hapless victim – how was it always Usopp who ended up in these types of situations? – dumb shock focing her flesh and blood arms to fall limply by her side.
There was a banner spread across the aquarium. Everyone, even Zoro, wore little party hats. A surprised laugh startled from her lips. Robin wasn’t even sure where they had gotten little party hats, and she made it her business to know everything that went on aboard the Thousand Sunny.
At her feet, Chopper beamed, holding a brightly-wrapped present above his head.
“For you!”
Robin took the package with trembling hands, feeling the firm contours of a book beneath the festive trappings. She opened her mouth to thank him, but no sound came out, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.
She had forgotten what day it was. February in Ohara tended to be a bleak, dreary affair, with more mud than snow and a population of men and women more irritable than a pack of bears woken too soon from their midwinter nap.
It was Robin’s job to make sure none of that mud made it into the house, and when it inevitably did, to clean it up before Auntie noticed. Gods forbid any tracked itself onto her precious carpets, or if the welcome mat was anything less than pristine. Robin was in a war of attrition with nature itself, fighting a never-ending battle against the forces of sludge and untidiness.
The effort was exhausting, especially when Robin saw her cousin smirk as she scuffed her dirty shoes against the polished wooden floor. Of course Auntie would never believe it if she said Mizuira did it on purpose, so Robin didn’t even try. She kept her head down and her teeth clenched so hard she could hear her molars grind against each other, scrubbing with a dozen hands red and chapped from a winter’s worth of work, the damage to each copy compounding back to the originals until they cracked and bled at the knuckles.
It would have been less damaging in the long run not to use her power, but Robin didn’t have time to waste doing it the slow way. The normal way, which might have taken three times longer but would have kept the village bullies from knowing that she was a freak of nature. Auntie hated when Robin used her Devil Fruit to do chores and made sure the whole island knew about it, but Robin didn’t care. Anything to get out of the house as soon as possible.
Robin took Aunt Roji’s accusations of freeloading to heart, and had no intentions of staying under her roof any longer than she had to. That meant spent every possible moment in diligent study in hopes of one day joining her mother at sea. As soon as she finished her work to Auntie’s satisfaction she ran to the library.
The Tree was almost unrecognizable denuded of its leaves. Robin imagined the legs of a million giant spiders spreading from the great trunk, each one waving at her as the wind twisted through the countless branches. She imagined them plucking her cousin right off of the ground and sticking her in an equally giant web until either she apologized for trekking mud through the house or starved to death, whichever came first.
Imagining made her feel a little better, and Robin managed a smile as she opened the door. There was a burst of noise and color that seemed to shake the tree itself. Robin flinched, instinctively curling in on herself to protect from the unexpected blow.
None ever came. Robin dared to peek open the eye she didn’t realize she’d squeezed shut, revealing the beaming faces of the archeologists.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they chorused, Professor Clover loudest of all.
She was only allowed to stay for half an hour before her aunt sent Uncle to summon her home, but it was one of the happiest of her life. When Robin dared ask if she could return after finishing the supper dishes, Auntie grounded her for the next week and a half, before chiding her for eating too much bread at dinner.
She had forgotten what day it was.
Days at sea blurred together with mind-numbing monontity, and it was only as Robin counted down the time until they were scheduled to hit land did she remember the date. She curled up a little tighter in her too-small bunk, ignoring the shriveled, sick feeling that settled in her stomach and the sound of pirates snoring all around her. She didn’t make a sound, was afraid of breathing too loudly for fear that they would take that as an excuse to betray her.
No one had told her how lonely it could be out at sea. Robin could have written a dozen papers on the history of sailing, knew how the ship she slept in was put together from its smallest part. But knowledge was no substitute for experience, and now that she was out chasing her impossible dream Robin wondered if she hadn’t been a fool for dreaming it in the first place.
Even if there was anyone on board she could trust enough to tell, her birthdays weren’t worth remembering. Every year that passed was another reminder of her failure. Another year of with the scales left unbalanced and the truth hidden from the world. Everyone Robin ever cared for was dead, and there was no one left in the world who would celebrate the Demon of Ohara’s continued survival.
Robin did not cry, laying there surrounded by enemies. Crying was a weakness she could not afford. But she very much wanted to, and as a moonbeam spilled in through a porthole, illuminating the danger that lurked at every corner, Robin forced her mouth into a rictus smile instead.
She had forgotten what day it was. It was unbecoming for a woman nearing thirty to draw attention to that fact. At least that’s what Robin told herself anyway. For the most part she did not care that she grew another year older when there was a chance Crocodile might decide to kill her in the next five minutes.
And besides, the scorching sun of the rainless desert was nothing like the more temperate climate of the West Blue, where each island had four distinct seasons. The difference between winter and summer in Alabasta was the difference between being shut in an oven and falling face-first into a pit of boiling lava – hot or more hot. It was difficult to remember that it was February at all.
At least, that’s what Robin told herself, anyway.
She was suspicious when she found a package on her bed and an invitation to dinner. She was apprehensive when she opened it to see what was inside. She held a bit of cloth between her thumb and forefinger, holding away from her body as if it were diseased. It was little and it was black and it was a dress. Tlhe bead of sweat that trickled down her brow at the sight of it had nothing to do with the heat.
Robin knew better than to refuse a direct invitation from her superior, and Crocodile was nothing if not a gracious host. They ate a lavish meal at one of the most expensive restaurants in Aluburna, sharing a bottle of wine that cost more than their poor waiter made in a year. There was no mention of work, no schemes or games to coordinate, and Robin got the impression that Crocodile was mocking her the entire time.
“For you,” he said as they went to go their separate ways, and he handed her a small velvet box with a pair of diamond earrings inside.
Crocodile had given her many things: safety, anonymity, a lead to the next poneglyph, and each one came with a price. Robin searched his expression, his body language, struggling to maintain her mild facade.
Dark amusement danced in his dead, soulless eyes, and his lips stretched to bear a few more teeth in what might have been mistaken as a smile. He knew. He knew it was her birthday, and Robin had no idea how. He relished in her discomfort, and he raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.
There’s nothing about you that I don’t already know. You have no secrets, no schemes that I haven’t foreseen. Now what are you going to do about it?
Robin accepted the gift and gave a smile in return, sweet and sharp as poisoned honey. Inclining her head slightly, she conceded that he’d won this round of the deadly game of power they played with one another.
Little did he know, she had no intention of losing the war.
They hadn’t forgotten what day it was. Slightly shell-shocked, Robin let herself be led to the table where Sanji had prepared a feast catered to her tastes. The cake that made up the centerpiece wasn’t too sweet, and the coffee was as black as sin. Fruit and a breakfast casserole rounded out the meal where Robin sat at the place of honor.
“Told you it was going to be a better day,” Nami said with a conspiratorial wink.
Robin sat, still holding Chopper’s present in her hands. “I thought you were talking about the weather.”
Nami’s laugh was drowned out as Brook broke out into spontaneous song. He went through at least a dozen variations of Happy birthday to you, including one that Robin had never heard before and suspected he made up on the spot. Between great heaping mouthfuls of food, Luffy demanded they sing Bink’s Sake, earning a well-placed kick to the head.
“Shut up, you shit,” Sanji growled. “Today’s Robin’s day, and I’m not going to let you–”
“But Robin wants to sing Bink’s Sake, don’t you?” Luffy asked.
“I would like that very much.”
Even as she said those words, Robin realized they were the truth.
With a whoop of joy, Luffy inhaled the rest of his plate and jumped on the table, forcing the rest of the crew to guard their food lest it be stolen out from under their noses. He was joined by an enthusiastic Chopper and Usopp, and Robin suspected Franky would have, too, except there was no room and he had pulled out his guitar to play accompaniment to Brook’s violin.
Robin could feel the resulting cacophony reverberate in her chest, even Zoro putting aside his sensibilities in order to sing along, his low baritone standing out from the rest of the crew. Robin could think of no better performance than the one she witnessed in front of her.
The last note scarcely had a chance to linger before Chopper was dashing across the table, dodging plates and glasses in order to situate himself on Robin’s lap. He picked up the present she had set aside. “I got you this one! Open it first!”
And suddenly, pulled from seemingly invisible nooks and crannies, every one of the Straw Hats was holding a gift, as if she needed any more than their presence in her life. Robin dutifully took it from his hooves, the tremor in her hands scarcely visible. Chopper’s look of wide-eyed innocence, pure and undefiled despite the hardship he endured, nearly made Robin lose her composure for good.
As she initially suspected, it was a book, but more surprising was what lay between the covers. Robin raised an eyebrow, looking down at the diminutive reindeer. “A collection of bedtime stories?”
He bobbed his head. “For the next time you read for the crew.”
“I will treasure it forever,” Robin promised, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. Chopper squirmed delightedly.
“That doesn’t make me happy at all, you asshole!”
Robin’s grin stretched until her mouth hurt for smiling, and she was suddenly accosted with more presents: a ceramic bird from Usopp, expertly painted, a knife from Zoro slender enough to hide under her clothes, a world atlas nearly one hundred years old with a small note tucked inside the corner that had written the page number that showed Ohara in all its geographical glory.
“It was between that and this really cute outfit I found back at Saboady,” Nami explained. “I couldn’t decide so I got both. I left it in your closet to try on later.”
Robin felt the slightest bit overwhelmed when Sanji added the collected works of a famed romantic poet, left untranslated so she could enjoy the nuance of the original language. Brook played a haunting melody he had written just for her and promised he would teach her how to play it on his grand piano.
Lastly Robin looked up at Franky, who simply held up a pair of ice skates, daintily grasping the laces between the thumb and forefinger of his massive hand. Reflected light danced off the metal blades, and she concentrated on that rather than the crude flame pattern he’d colored in himself.
“I’ve never skated before in my life,” Robin said.
“Me neither, but you know what they say, there’s no time like the present,” he said, laughing a little at his own pun as he placed the skates in her hands. “I made enough for everyone. Nami-sis says we’re due to hit land by noon, and temperatures like this I’m sure there’s a frozen pond somewhere. Trust me, it’ll be super fun.”
And it was. The Straw Hat Pirates returned to the Sunny only when it became too dark to see, braving the bitter cold and ice to be in each other’s company. Sanji thawed them all with a giant cauldron of drinking chocolate made with milk and not too much sugar before diving up the last of the cake. How he’d kept Luffy from eating it all at breakfast would forever be a mystery.
A slow, sleepy feeling seeped into their bones, and Robin sprouted a line of limbs to fetch her book of stories and a lantern to read them by. Someone put up a murmured protest that she shouldn’t have to read to them on her birthday that she promptly ignored.
Chopper was the first to fall, then Usopp and Zoro – though it took much longer for the steady rise and fall of his chest to deepen to a true slumber. Luffy fought it for as long as he was able, but snuggled next to Usopp it was a losing battle.
Brook’s serenading accompaniment faded to soft snores. Franky managed to fall asleep with his hand propping up his chin, contented dreams playing behind his eyelids. Nami and Sanji held on the longest, a murmured mellorine the last thing Robin heard before she was the only Straw Hat left awake.
Marking her place, Robin closed the book and set it aside. An army of arms brought blankets and pillows that were draped and tucked where appropriate. In moments the Straw Hat Pirates looked more like a group of children camping out than one of the most feared crews across the five sea.
Life was funny like that sometimes.
Once she was satisfied that her crew (family) was as comfortable as she could make them, Robin gathered her things and retreated to the crow’s nest. After all, someone needed to keep watch.
She watched the moon rise over the sea, its light bright enough to read by. Even by herself Robin knew she was not alone, and she treasured the quiet in her own way. The Straw Hat Pirates had given her more than she ever could have asked for or wanted, something she had yearned for as a child but convinced herself as an adult that she did not need. They had made her birthday a day to remember.
And for that, she would be forever grateful.