If They Met Differently

Prologue

The moment I stepped into the partially vacant café, away from the steamy kitchen, Vincent threw his nonchalant trademark cold glance at me. There he stood idly behind the bar, comfortably leaning against the wall with hands in his pockets. As usual, I casually ignored his stare and carried on with my work. I walked ahead towards table 3, with two careful hands holding plates of steaming Panini and then served them to a couple. I smiled at the both of them as I place the plates in front of them.

I couldn't help but to bow deeply and respectfully at them before taking my leave. It is an involuntary Japanese custom that we practice every day since we were taught from young. It's a habit eventually, and the customers would always look at me fondly and didn't know how to react after seeing me doing that. Some bowed back awkwardly in return. Some would smile while looking at me as if they were admiring a cute Japanese doll. After I attend the customers, I heard Vincent drumming on the counter with his fingers, trying to catch my attention. I looked back at him, cocking one of my eyebrows. He moved his fingers, in a way of signalling me to come to him.

"Hey, Yuffie. C'm here." Vincent had this mocking smile on his face which I find highly irritating.

I half-skipped to the bar. "What?" I snapped at him childishly, landing a firm palm on the counter rather harshly. "You've got something to tell me, Vincey?"

It was somehow an attempt to mock him back. Then again, it didn't work. It'll never work on him. Vincent is always being such a poker face most of the time. He is still giving me his annoying facial expression, that stupid mocking smile of his. Ignoring that, I tried looking him straight in the eye. Those pair of eyes of his, when light shines in them, they would glow enticingly. It's one of his assets which are so famous with the ladies who visited the café…and about his other assets, according to those I've heard from… I don't think I want to go there into detail…

"You don't have to do that all the time, you know." He said, "…the polite bowing thing. It's making the customers feeling awkward."

"I can't. It's like an automated reaction. We Japanese do bow a lot of times, do we?" I laughed nervously. Being the only Asian in the café makes me feel uneasy. I was always the centre of attraction. I guess the Americans are very fond of customs they find peculiar.

"Hmm, yeah, but you're so cute when you do that." Vincent said. I think I can feel myself getting a little hot when he said that. I always get heated up whenever guys said that kind of stuff to me. Hmm, hormones…

"Uh, you think so?" I scratched my nose rather shyly.

Vincent shrugged nonchalantly. "So, anyway, there's your visitor again. Was here earlier this morning," he said sonorously, pointing outside the large window. "Some faithful dog you've got there, Yuff." He folded his arms.

I turned to look outside. There it is again, the same reddish Irish wolfhound I fed a few weeks ago. It stood resting its paws on the window sill, looking at me sincerely with its distinctive innocent beady eyes, begging again pitifully for food. I sighed, slumping over my back, "He's here again, huh?" I grunted.

"I told you not to be too kind," Vincent said coolly. "I think it was there for a pretty long time –yelping pathetically. It's so irritating."

I took a deep breath and exhaled to my heart's content. "So, what I do now? I can't let the manager know that 'tis dog's sticking 'round the café so darn often. Gawd, Vince, you gotta help me get rid of him when the manager comes to check on us."

"Ah, you leave me out of this. I don't want to get involved again into your troubles. This is the last time you'll drag me in together," Vincent said, waving a hand gracefully, disapproving my suggestion.

"Aww, c'mon, Vince! C'mon, help carry some of the burden! You don't want to risk getting myself fired, don'ya? Huh, huh, huh?" I pleaded, "I still got to pay my rents, y'know! I really can't afford to lose this job! And, my college fees –"

"Hey, I've got rents to pay too, okay?" He cut me short, poking a slender finger childishly on my forehead over the counter. "You got into this yourself, and you get out of it yourself."

The dog barked, as if it knew what we were talking about.

We both looked at it. There was a brief pause.

"See, it says you're being mean to him. Oh, look at his pitiful scar… What's that? 13?"

"Hey, don't treat me like some kid," I waved Vincent's finger away from my head. "What '13'?"

"Over there, the dog's limb. The scar…hmm, it looks more like a tattoo. It's 13 in Roman lettering," Vincent pointed.

I bent over to get a better view, "Woaaahh," I awed, "…never notice that 'till now that you mentioned it. I think it's a tattoo. Cool."

"So, have you named it yet? It's not a bitch, eh? A guy dog, I presume?"

"'course he ain't a bitch…," I spat the word back at him. "It's obvious that he's got no tits! And come to think of it, I haven't come up with a name…"

"Hmmm," Vincent hummed, seemingly to be deeply into his thoughts, like hunting for a word. "Nanaki… " He muttered, "Sounds nice?" Vincent turned toward me, looking at my eyes suggestively. Oh, I love it when he does that. He might be irritating at times, but the red eyes… Gawd, they are so charming at close-up ranges. Few seconds later, I found out that Vincent's face is a little too near to mine.

I froze for a moment there, gazing deeply into his beautiful, lucid red eyes. When I came to my senses, I backed a step and responded awkwardly, "Ugghhh, like, yea," I laughed shyly, trying very hard not to look back into his eyes. "N-Na-Nanaki sounds great!" I paused for a moment before going on, "…err, you're not trying to flirt me, are ya, Vince? I think the space between –uh –us just now was…well, a lil' too close."

Vincent chuckled slyly, "You like what you saw? The red eyes charmed you didn't they? Well, after all, I am the ladies' man." He winked furtively. That was unexpected for the impassive Vincent Valentine. I wonder if he's in an especially good mood today or he's just enjoying playing tricks on me.

"Argh, you Lothario!" I shot back at him, trying to smack his shoulders but to my frustration, he skilfully avoided it. "Why the hell are those red anyway? It's not natural," I said angrily.

Vincent sobered up, "It's a long story."

"Oh, good, 'cause I never cared to listen to it anyway," I snapped back at him –another attempt to mock him.

"Somehow I knew you would say that." He merely replied.

…and once again, I failed miserably…

It took me a few moments to realise how ridiculous the name sounded. Pssshhh, 'Nanaki'? Where in the world did Vincent get that?

"Why 'Nanaki'?" I had to ask.

Vincent looked at me again, but this time with a fixed, confused look, "Doesn't it sound good? I thought it sounded like a typical Japanese name."

I smirked cheekily. Somehow, I was enjoying his stupidity for once. "I don't think it's a Japanese name."

'Oh, yes! This time, I triumphantly had succeeded in mocking him! Hah –ha, in your face, Vincent Valentine! I, Yuffie Kisaragi have finally mocked you outta your wits!'

Shaking off the childish monologue, I continued, "It sounds some sorta tribally."

Vincent ran his fingers through his short black hair at the back of his head embarrassingly, "I thought it sounded good though."

Nanaki barked again, more loudly this time. He pawed on the glass window. We turned to look at him.

"I think Nanaki's trying to tell you that he needs food badly," Vincent said.

"Arrggh! Don't paw the glass! It'll get dirty!" I heard myself squealed. Immediately, I head towards the café's large grey door and went outside. Seeing me coming, Nanaki pawed on my denim jeans, with tail wagging enthusiastically.

"Nanaki! Okay, okay, I'll feed you…later. Just don't bother me until I finish my shift, 'kay? If the manager finds that I'm keeping you around, he'll chop me!"

Nanaki whimpered.

"Aww, c'mon, it'll be only a few more hours 'till my shift finishes. You won't die that fast, wouldn't you? Now go on, find someplace else to play." I shooed Nanaki away. Initially it didn't want to, but eventually after a little more effort of coaxing, Nanaki finally obeys. I went back into the café slumping tiredly. The thought of having classes later after work gives me a headache.

"Dog trouble," Vincent joked sarcastically, obviously referring to me.

"Aw, shut up," I mumbled with an irritated tone.

Vincent snickered like he'd enjoyed playing a good prank on somebody. "Table 2's refreshments. Two Chai Lattes. Please, kindly send these cute puppies there." He prepared two filled cups on the counter.

"Mmmpphh," I murmured lazily and too tired to react over his sarcasms. I brought the lattes to table 2 as I was told.

As the day aged, more customers flooded in the café. I didn't bother much about Vincent. I continued serving the fussy customers. Some like their coffee like this some prefer their lattes like that. Like this, like that, like this. I scribbled a lot in my pocket-sized note book –writing so much of the particulars so that I wouldn't forget how they wanted their coffees and lattes. I went over to Vincent, a.k.a the 'handsomest' barista – according to the ladies –and repeated the orders.

Suddenly, a familiar rumble came to my ears. Like a smooth humming thunder, the sound got louder and louder. Then it stopped. Vincent looked outside.

"Nice ride," Vincent said coolly.

Just then, the café door swung open and in came a rather dashing blonde English man. I turned to the new customer. I thought of bringing him to his seat, since the café's beginning to crowd, but all I did was awed at his stupendous spiky blonde hair and said: "OOoooooh! It's you! The cool guy with the super cool black bike I had a ride with the other day!!"

The handsome blonde guy stared at me, long enough to recall who I was.

"Oh, yeah, it's you." He said in a thick distinctive British accent, smiling charmingly at me. "The cute English-speaking Japanese girl."