Author's note: Yippee! Finally finished through the most tedious part of my story. At least, I hope there won't be any more tedious parts…I finally, FINALLY thought up of a plot to this story! And it has to do with Trish turning human (of course)…leading up to DMC2, I'm not gonna reveal anymore…for fear of writer's block and/or spoilation. This lil' piece once again, was born in the early mists of morning….(finished 2:42 AM o)
To the dearest reviewers:
Aya Yuy P.SII: I've tried to follow up on Trish's mood swings, hehe . Thanks a bunch for commenting:D.
BloodyDemonEmpress: You're been my most faithful reader so far! :Hands her a Dante plushie:….thank you so much! I didn't think this would turn out to be humourous, haha, but I should change the genre, eh? When are you gonna update?!
Bustahead: Thank you so much for encouraging me, especially since you're a !!celebrity!! in these fanfic parts :D!! I feel so honoured . As soon as I get out of this slavery, I'll relax and read your famous ficcys!
Devilman666: I'll take your word for it, since I haven't played DMC2 yet…However, this lil ficcy takes place 4 months after DMC (not quite DMC2 yet), and I've noticed that Dante doesn't have Devil Trigger when he's not equipped with Devil arms…J
HanyouKayleeSama: I'm glad you enjoyed it! My mission is to please people….and hurt them by making them fall off their chairs! No, just kidding. . Thanks a bunch for commenting :D.
Chapter 4: First Lecture
Trish stomped through the doors of Devil Never Cry. She threw the bag onto Dante's desk, fuming. Her blue eyes were clear, unmisted and thoroughly saturated with wrath. How dare he? Dante. He was just playing with games with her! Leading her on, melting whatever resistance she had, and then-!
"Not salty".
-Those stupid mocking words. And then, The Smirk. Stupid, stupid!! Trish berated herself. She wanted to pull her hair out. She, instead, plopped onto Dante's favourite chair. The cushion let out a wheeze of protest before it settled.
Dipping from her pool of willpower, she willed herself to calm down. Taking deep breaths, the devil asked herself why she was so angry. Perhaps it was part of the 'woman's curse?' Mayhap, the 'woman's curse' was something like, a possessive spirit of some sorts? That sounded reasonable: her emotions were wildly out of whack. They augmented to great heights, then plummeted like lead airplanes.
Trish supposed she needed a séance. Dante knew how to do one, she was sure. His 'library' consisted of books on black -and white- magic. Books that were ancient beyond the time of Mankind. They were passed on (or, more accurately, recovered) from the library of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda---Dante's father.
Blowing out a puff of air, she decided to forgive him if he would purge the spirit out of her.
Just then, the door opened.
"Trish?"
The woman looked up at him from the worn chair. "That's my name. Don't wear it out."
Dante grinned tentatively. When it came to dealing with women with premenstrual syndrome, he had limited experience. When it came to dealing with a devil, already having problems controlling her emotions, afflicted with PMS, he had to be very, very careful.
"Listen, babe. About that tear thing---"
Trish raised an eyebrow.
"I was just surprised---"
Trish felt a surge of control, for once, over this male. "Surprise? Since when does the Legendary Dark Knight Dante feel surprise?" She got up and took her time walking around his mahogany desk.
Dante clearly was not enjoying her hold of power over him. For the first time since they met, he seemed wary of her. She could learn to like this curse.
But then again…If Dante was cautious of it, shouldn't she be, too? It could be an extremely rare, evil spirit.
Trish decided not to live with it.
But first, she would enjoy her authoritative hold over Dante while she still could, before he exorcised it from her.
"Alright, little boy," Trish began. "I'll let you do an exorcism now to banish this thing from me."
A silver eyebrow arched up. "First a curse, and now an exorcism? Trish, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, can it!" Trish snapped. "Look at you! You're practically shaking in your booties because you're so scared of this spirit in me. Denying it won't help matters."
"Trish…dammit! You have no curse, you have no spirit or whatnot. You just have your period!" The raise in Dante's voice, dotted with weariness and irritability, shocked Trish into silence.
"Okay, babe. Did you open the box of…did you open the box yet?"
The woman shook her head.
"Jeez." A hand impatiently (but futilely) pushed back a lock of hair from Dante's face. "You didn't put it…you…nothing?"
She looked at him. "You're stuttering."
An audible intake of breath. A tint of pink bloomed on the halfling's cheeks as he asked: "Trish, you didn't put anything on your…on your underwear?"
Trish realized what he was implying, and she felt her cheeks warming as well. "Just some…toilet paper, before we left."
" ' They soaked through, yet?"
"No. Yes. I didn't have time to replace them, yet."
Dante walked over and picked up the teal-coloured box. He opened it up for a quick glance. "Oh," he murmured, "I didn't get the sticks. I got the diapers."
"Diapers?" Trish's eyes widened in horror. "Why in the world did you get diapers for?!"
"To line your underwear with, silly." He impatiently pushed the box across the desk to her. "Now go get cleaned up. Instructions should be printed somewhere."
In the privacy of the washroom, Trish examined the box. "Ignorant demon!" She exclaimed. "These aren't diapers. They're pads!"
But he did have a point. The pads were just there to keep the blood from staining up her pants. So essentially, they were miniature diapers.
Feeling less soiled, she made her way downstairs. "Alright, Dante. I've lined it with a pad."
Dante either didn't acknowledge the hint, or choose to ignore it.
"So you want to know it all, babe? I'll tell you what I've been thinking while you were gone," he said, whilst Trish sat down opposite from him. "Before, you could only see in black and white, or infrared, correct?"
Trish nodded. "Yeah, yeah, we know that already---"
"Just listen to me, willya? Okay, and you seeing the world in colours just started a month ago…3 months after Mundus' defeat. And the day immediately after you met me"---Here Trish grinned as she fondly recalled the memory, which was not lost to Dante ---"you'd cried your first tears. The first real display of physical human emotion, other than anger, or surprise.
"I've also noted that your body is more susceptible to the environment than it was before you left the underworld. You get colder and warmer easier. I do believe you're turning warm-blooded."
"Yes, professor Dante. Demons and devils are cold-blooded. They lay eggs. Since I am now…almost warm-blooded, my children needn't be born from eggs."
Dante's blush reoccurred at the thought of Trish having babies. "Trish, you're distracting me---"
"I know, I know," A lazy sweep of her hands. "Please do go on."
The demon hunter ignored the sarcasm. "And what do we have here? The first case of menstruation!
"Trish, you're finally a woman."
"Oh ho, and I was a man before! You found out my secret."
"Trish! Will you please stay quiet, and let me finish?" Her lack of patience only tested his.
The female sat back, realizing she had gone too far. Why did she have to be so belligerent all of a sudden? Dante was helping her here. Surely her gradual changes and the 'woman' nonsense he was babbling about had some significant connection to her 'curse'.
"I know there's something about ovulation and the lining of something…when there's no fertilization, the egg cell and the lining gets washed out from the body in the form of blood."
"Dante, you're making no sense here."
The tinge of rose seemed to be permanently stained on the half-demon's face. He looked like a cherub all of a sudden, and that strangely appealed to Trish. She stared at him with wolfish eyes.
"Sorry, babe, but I guess I hafta be blunt. I don't exactly remember my studies of this stuff…" Dante took a deep breath before verbal diarrhea gushed from his mouth: "Hokay. When no copulation occurs, there's obviously no fertilization. The egg and the lining that's supposed to hold the baby get old and washed out from the body, in the form of blood. This happens once a month, for a period of four, five, six days; something like that. Oh yeah: this is no curse. It happens all the time to women. It shows whether you're capable of reproducing or not. By the way, it's called a 'period'. Don't ask me why."
Here ends Trish's first lecture on sex and her body.
She could hardly swallow the lump that abruptly clogged the passage through her throat.
"You mean, I have to face through this torture, for the rest of my life?"