#like I get maybe the character could've switched to contacts but seriously?

[justforsutff]

[tillyalf427]

Characters: Akutagawa Gin, Paul Verlaine

Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Menstruation, Platonic relationships, Sparring

Summary:

Verlaine was by no means stupid, sure he had never received a formal education having been created in a lab, but he knew all manner of things about human behaviour and psychology.

So why on earth could he not work out what was going on with his latest mentee sent by Mori?

Notes:

Not even gonna lie, I'm obsessed with the idea of verlaine being kinda clueless about things like boiii

And I reckon between him and rimbaud they probs didn't have a lot of contact with people other than each other so I feel like verlaine probably never learnt what periods are and then Moris like hey can you train these to girls to be assassins and he's like yeah sure lol and then this happens 😂

Anyway, theres not a lot of plot to this just kinda verlaine being a little clueless cos I love him.

I suppose it can be treated as crack taken seriously but I was completely serious whilst writing this 😂

Verlaine wouldn't consider himself stupid by any means. Sure he had never had a proper education, what with his time in the lab and all that. But he had a fair amount of knowledge of humans and how they worked, and a decent understanding of psychology and people's motivations for their actions.

So why on earth could he not work out what was wrong with his most recent mentee?

Akutagawa Gin was the most recent mafiosi to be sent to him from the boss, with the simple instructions to train her as an assassin to eventually work alongside the black lizard squad.

Although the girl didn't have an ability, she had shown a fair amount of talent and skill in the short few months he had been training her. In fact, for the first time ever, he didn't mind his training sessions with someone sent by Mori, Gin was quick to learn and even quicker to correct mistakes the minute they had been pointed out. It was clear that she had the desire to win at whatever cost, and it showed through the effort she put into her training sessions.

However today, something was off, and he couldn't quite work out what.

Her movements were more sluggish than usual, lacking the usual grace and elegance that seemed to come naturally for her. And he had noticed from the minute she entered the training room how she looked paler than usual with dark circles underneath her eyes.

And although he had taken note of these things, he figured it was best not to bring them up unless she initiated the conversation lest she turn defensive and refused to tell him.

He had almost been willing to let the strange behaviour slide until they had ended up in their current situation.

Gin had completely missed him when she had come at him with her knife and he had managed to twist the blade out of her hand, switching their roles and pressing it quickly against her throat in a movement as swift as you would expect from a trained assassin. Gin froze in place, breathing even as she stood still as a statue, waiting for Verlaine to release the pressure on the blade now that she had been defeated.

He didn't remove the blade however, instead being quick to ask

"What on earth has gotten into you today? You'll be the first one killed if you act like this on a mission,"

He hadn't expected the growl that slipped from Gin's throat at his words and had only briefly managed to predict the swift kick aimed towards his knees, jumping back to avoid the hit .

If he'd have looked closer, he would've noticed the red flush on Gin's face as she headed to get a drink and if he'd have had more knowledge on life itself maybe he could've figured out the situation without pressing. Unfortunately, the whole scenario had him baffled.

He hadn't noticed any clear injuries, Gin hadn't been moving stiffly or in any way to avoid aggravating an injury so surely it couldn't be that, although he supposed she had looked paler than usual. Perhaps she was ill?

Deep in thought, he twirled Gin's knife in his fingers, having forgotten to give it her back when she had gone to kick him. He approached her now however, holding the handle of the knife out towards her.

"Here,"

She glanced up warily, and he noticed the way her hand trembled when she took the knife off him, returning it to its place hidden amongst her clothes.

And this was the part where Verlaine's skills were lacking. Tact had never been his strong suit, his words often blunt and lacking compassion. It had been something that Rimbaud had tirelessly corrected him on however, he never saw the need for sugarcoated words when his job was to kill as quickly and as efficiently as possible. What use was it to comfort someone before slicing their neck?

Now was one of those moments however where he could sense the fragility of the situation. They weren't close by any means, he was simply training her to survive in the mafia, nothing more. However he couldn't justify letting her train if she was injured or otherwise not on top form. That would be asking for trouble.

"Gin?" She glanced up apprehensively, steel grey meeting honey, giving away no hints of her thoughts. "What's wrong with you today?"

The fury that flashed in her eyes was unexpected, but what was more unexpected was the way she stood quickly, brushing past him to stand in the middle of the training room once more.

"Nothing's wrong, lets get on with it," her voice was filled with venom and Verlaine was left reeling trying to work out what he had said wrong.

He came up blank, instead joining her once more. If he noticed the grimace on her face, he didn't say anything, instead challenging her to try and take him down once more without him predicting her movements.

It took exactly 2 minutes and 45 seconds longer than usual for Gin to land a hit on him, not that he was counting. But when it came for the mafia, every second was precious. A single second could be the difference between life and death and he needed Gin to be aware of that.

"Enough," his voice echoed in the room and Gin froze where she had been preparing to send a punch his way. "I'm calling it a day, you're going to get injured at this rate,"

He could sense the protests before they even began, fixing a look towards her that dared her to argue with him

"Unless you want to tell me what on earth is wrong with you? If I find out you've been hiding an injury of any sort, you'll be training twice as long the minute you're fully healed," he turned to leave the practice room, footsteps echoing in the quiet of the room "I'll see you tomorrow, unless you are injured, then don't even think about it," Without further words, he reached the door before Gin's voice interrupted his movements.

"Wait," It was quiet after that and he did as she had requested, waiting and turning to look at her with one hand still resting on the door handle. A part of him was concerned by the red flush covering her face, maybe she was coming down with a fever? But he stayed quiet, waiting for her to elaborate further.

"Sorry, I'm just off my game today," she spoke quietly. He waited for further explanation but none came

"That much I can see, care to explain why?"

And this was when he became genuinely concerned, the flush had began travelling down her neck, a bright crimson against her pale skin, it definitely looked like some sort of fever.

"I..." Well that was new, in the months of working with Gin, he had never once heard her stutter. Sure she was quiet, but the few words she did speak were always confident and sure. "I ran out of medication- and I'm on my period because of it,"

And oh.

Well that was quite the shock. People didn't tend to admit their weaknesses to anyone in the mafia, knowing it could be used against them. But he had already predicted Gin was ill with something. He could safely say he had ever heard of this particular illness though...

"What do you need medication for? If you're ill the best way to get better would be to rest, not to show up to training,"

The silence in the room was so tense it could be cut with a knife. Gin's face was still red however, her eyes were analysing now, figuring out the situation and how to proceed.

Primarily, she was figuring out whether Verlaine was messing with her.

"An illness?" She couldn't keep the sheer surprise out of her voice when she asked him this, hoping for some sort of clarification.

Verlaine hummed.

"You've been out of it all day, not focussed, pale, you look like you haven't slept well. They're all clear signs of illness. And what else would you need medication for?"

And of all the things she had expected to come out of this shitty, awful day, finding out that her mentor didn't know what periods were was not on the list.

"Do you not know what periods are?" Gin was hesitant to ask, embarrassment fuelling her discomfort in this current situation.

"Should I?"

An okay, that was a little bit funny. Gin couldn't hold back the quiet laugh that escaped her at his words. It wasn't often that Verlaine said anything funny, ever the serious mentor, determined to pass on his knowledge and nothing more but this.

It was enough to make her forget the discomfort she was currently in, heading over to grab her stuff before brushing past Verlaine who still stood near the door.

"It's nothing," she was glad for the mask covering half her face or he would have seen the amused smile on her face. It would have ruined her image but she couldn't hold it back at the situation "Nothing serious anyway, I'll see you tomorrow,"

With that, she left the room to head for a shower, currently very appreciative of the newly renovated training rooms in the mafia basement with powerful showers and spacious changing rooms.

Verlaine was left watching the direction Gin had disappeared to, head running through what had just happened.

When he eventually snapped out of his thoughts, he returned to his room, eyes glancing across the various book titles he had laying around. When none immediately caught his attention, he turned towards the computer that had been set up for him to keep in contact with the boss without Mori having to traipse down to the basement.

Although for once he wasn't contacting the boss, instead, he opened his email, typing in the recipient box one that he didn't use often before writing out a message.

Hello Chuuya,

I was just writing to ask a question that has been brought up during training today.

What are periods?

Many thanks,

With that he pressed send, unknowing of the ammused chaos he had just caused within the mafia.