Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ What's Left of Me ❯ The Dojo ( Chapter 6 )

A/N: Wow, Vincent is going to fight Tifa. I wonder who's going to win this one. Guess we'll see.

 

Disclaimer: Don't own it! Stop asking me!

 

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Tifa stood outside her bar, dressed in sweat pants and a workout top, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was a little cold, as the rain had brought a cold front with it, so she wore a light jacket over her tank top. She glanced up and down the street, waiting for Vincent. He said he'd be here, she thought, becoming restless and impatient.

 

She was startled when he suddenly appeared next to her. She jumped and let out a small yelp. “Vince,” she said, clutching her heart. “You scared me.”

 

He stared at her, his crimson gaze full of laughter. “Am I late?” he asked stoically.

 

She shook her head, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Nope,” she said, starting to walk away. She could hear Vincent's quiet footsteps behind her, and she paused after a moment to let him catch up. “Are you ready?” she asked with a sly grin.

 

He quirked an eyebrow. “Ready for what?” he asked.

 

She giggled. “Ready to get your butt kicked,” she said, still grinning.

 

He rolled his eyes. “By you?” he asked, shaking his head. “I don't think so.”

 

Tifa pouted, sticking out her bottom lip playfully. “Aww, Vince,” she drawled.

 

He watched her warily. He knew she was up to something, he just hadn't figured out what yet.

 

“You're supposed to let me win,” she said, giving him the puppy eyes.

 

He looked at her skeptically. “Let you kick my ass?” he asked. He shook his head as the gym came into sight. “I don't think so, Tifa.” He smirked. “You'll have to win fair and square.”

 

She crossed her arms and huffed as he opened the door for her. “You're so mean,” she said, stalking past him into the gym. She led the way past the exercise equipment and toward the dojo. She glanced back at him and smirked as she opened the door. She was enjoying the thought of spending time with him and exercising.

 

“Is this it?” Vincent asked as he stepped inside the dojo. He glanced around at the room. The walls and floors were padded, and there was a window on one end. He noticed that on the wall adjacent to it was a pane of clear plastic overlooking the rest of the gym.

 

Tifa nodded, taking off her jacket and laying it across the bag she had brought. She failed to notice Vincent's stare, just as he failed to notice her outfit when they left the bar. He looked her over, taking in the way her sweats clung neatly to her curves. He glanced away as Tifa looked at him.

 

“We should stretch and warm-up before we practice,” she said brightly. Already she felt ready to go, but she knew from experience that she needed to warm-up some. The last time she didn't, she ended up with a pulled ham-string. She sat on the floor and glanced at Vincent as he pulled off his signature red cloak. She reached for her right foot as she noticed what he was wearing.

 

It was plain and simple, but she looked away quickly, trying to keep a blush from staining her cheeks. He was clad simply in a white tank top and baggy black sweat pants, but Tifa still felt her heart pounding in her ears. She had to admit, he was perfect and muscular, and down-right sexy. She shook the thoughts from her head as she reached for her left foot, then stood.

 

“Okay, I'm ready,” she said, touching her toes and looking at Vincent. She watched as he stood.

 

“I am too,” he said.

 

Tifa smiled. She slid into a defensive stance, watching as Vincent copied her. She tilted her head and her smile turned into a smirk. “So, when exactly was the last time you fought some one hand to hand?” she asked tauntingly.

 

He thought for a moment. “I can't say that I recall,” he said, playing her little game.

 

She giggled maliciously. “Oh, really?” she asked. She stepped toward him, causing him to flinch. When he shifted his weight away from her, she tried to kick his chest. She missed, but it threw him off-balance.

 

He took several steps away from her, reading her movements. He watched as she tried the same move again, except this time he blocked her foot with his wrist. He realized his mistake a little too late as her finger tips brushed against his chest.

 

“Gotcha,” she breathed, twirling away from him.

 

He grimaced. “So I'm a little out of practice,” he said quietly. He remained on the defensive as he watched her. A thought came to his mind, making him smirk.

 

“What?” Tifa asked, seeing the look on his face.

 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, knowing what he would say would really piss her off, “you fight like a girl, Tifa.”

 

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Tifa felt a scowl come to her face. “No kidding,” she said, irony in her voice. I am a girl! Duh! she thought. She came at him again, this time with punches. She tried a right hook first, but Vincent blocked her. She growled, trying a left hook.

 

Vincent laughed softly when he caught her fist. “You're too easy to read,” he said at the surprised expression on her face. His eyes were locked on hers as she twisted out of his grasp and tried to land a left upper-cut. He blocked it, still smirking. He was feeling confident at being able to read her moves, and he let his guard slip a little. He blocked her right upper-cut as well, but failed to see her swing back in with another right hook.

 

He felt her fist connect with his chin, and he fell backwards, sprawling on the floor. “Ow,” he said softly, more out of shock than pain. He touched the place where she hit him.

 

“Who fights like a girl now?” Tifa asked, looking down at him.

 

He gazed up at her for a second, seeing the irritation in her hazel eyes. “You do,” he said simply. He smiled when she scowled.

 

“You're so…” she threw her hands up, backing away from him. “Difficult.”

 

He got to his feet, watching her. “I haven't done anything,” he said, thoroughly confused.

 

“That's right,” she said forcefully. “You haven't.” She slipped into her fighting stance. “Now fight me.” Her hazel eyes blazed at the challenge. “Show me something.”

 

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Vincent's crimson gaze stayed on her for a while. He wasn't sure if he should do as she asked or not. He didn't want to hurt her. His fingers subconsciously rubbed his chin. But he didn't want her to hit him again either. His brow furrowed in concern. “I don't want to hurt you, Tifa,” he said quietly.

 

She scowled again. “Let me be the judge of whether or not you can hurt me,” she said, her voice pleading. She smirked lightly. “As far as I can tell you couldn't hit me anyway.” She watched as his brain ticked behind his eyes. His gaze was concerned at first, then it turned calculating. She noticed that his crimson irises became cold as he plotted an attack plan. She stepped toward him, then gasped when he moved quickly.

 

He was behind her in an instant, his arms circling around her. He almost caught her, but she managed to slip through his grasp. She grinned, spinning to face him. She ducked as he swung at her, falling to her knees. She tried to kick his legs from under him, but he somersaulted backwards. She rushed him, trying to land a spin kick to his chest.

 

She gasped when he caught her foot, twisting her ankle. She spun with the motion when he tried to twist her feet from under her. She landed in a crouch, her back to him. She could feel her breathing turned into short pants, and she could hear Vincent behind her. His breaths were shallow as well. She wondered how much more he could take, seeing as she was just getting started. She was tempted to turned and face him, but she stayed in a crouch on the floor, listening to the sound of his movements. She heard him coming up on her left, and she leapt backwards as he breezed past her nose. She felt a wisp of his hair brush her cheek, they were so close.

 

Their eyes locked for a moment, and Tifa saw concern still in his gaze. She stood as he turned to face her. “Had enough?” she asked playfully.

 

He grinned. “I'm just getting started,” he said quietly. He stepped toward her, swinging his right arm at her. He was surprised when she blocked it easily. He tried to hit her again, this time using a spin kick. Again, she blocked it. He was surprised to see a frown come to her face. “Something wrong?” he asked, slipping into a defensive stance.

 

She shook her head. “No,” she said quickly, watching him for any sign of threatening movements. She had been watching him carefully as he fought, and analyzing his movements. She stepped back, also maintaining a defensive stance.

 

Vincent watched her eyes flash with confusion, and he softened his defense. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked, concern flickering through his crimson irises, erasing the cold indifference.

 

She nodded, her ponytail flipping over her shoulder.

 

Vincent watched her, wondering what was going through her head. He noticed that her breaths were quick and shallow, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple. He also noticed that a slightly defeated look had come into her eyes. “Maybe we should stop,” he suggested, becoming worried about her.

 

She shook her head vigorously. “I'm not ready to quit,” she said, feeling all her pent up frustration coming out. Through out their battle, she had noticed similarities between the way he and Cloud fought, and it only served to stir up the emotional flurry in her head. It was almost nice to think that she was fighting Cloud, letting him know that he had really hurt her. She didn't realize it, but her hurt shone clearly through her eyes, and Vincent was reading her like a book.

 

Vincent nodded, knowing she wouldn't stop until she was satisfied or she could no longer stand. He decided that he needed to do something to end this sparing match quickly, so he did the only thing he could think of. He rushed her, using her distraction against her. He rained punches and kicks on her ceaselessly, until her energy was gone and her movements slowed enough that he could touch her. Once she was vulnerable, he kicked her legs from under her, watching her fall backwards onto the matted floor.

 

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Tifa did her best to block Vincent's attacks, but he was too quick for her. She felt her strength leaving her quickly, and eventually she was unsure as to how she managed to stop his barrage. Her arms started to feel numb, and her legs started to feel like lead weights. She felt her movements slow considerably, and she could only watch as Vincent kicked the back of her knees, causing her to collapse to the floor.

 

She landed on her back, the air knocked from her lungs. Once she regained her breath, she opened her eyes, seeing stars. Her head felt light and dizzy from lack of oxygen, and she groaned softly.

 

“Tifa?” Vincent's voice called softly to her.

 

She lifted her head slowly and looked at him. He was kneeling on the floor at her feet, his crimson eyes filled with worry and concern.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

 

She nodded, taking a deep breath. She felt her chest protest with pain, and she grimaced. Guess I over-worked myself, she thought. She lay still, listening to her heart pound in her ears. After a short rest, she sat up. She looked at Vincent, who was sitting on the floor, watching her carefully. She noticed that his eyes were still drowning in worry, and she wondered what he was thinking.

 

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Vincent watched Tifa as she lay on the floor. Her chest heaved with her labored breathing, and her eyes were closed. He was starting to worry about her. He sat on the floor, listening to the air whistle between her parted lips. He could feel his own breathing shallow, and his heart was pounding furiously.

 

He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling it wasn't just because he had fought hard either. Something about Tifa made his heart skip a beat, and seeing her like this only made the feeling multiply. He turned his eyes away from her, thinking about their fight. She had fought with such an intensity and ferocity. He thought he saw anger and hurt in her eyes as he battled her, and he wondered what she was thinking about that caused it.

 

He recalled the strength with which she had hit him. It was almost frightening. Something was bothering her, that much was certain. He looked back at her. He wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but something caused him to hesitate. He wasn't sure he could help her with what she was struggling with, but he felt the need to try. No, the want to try. He wanted to help her the way she had helped him.

 

He watched as she sat up. He noticed that the anger from earlier had been extinguished, and in its place was a deep weariness; one that he knew was emotional as well as physical. Her hazel eyes stopped on him, and she offered a tired smile.

 

“That was a good fight,” she said quietly, her voice tired.

 

He nodded, mentally disagreeing. It was only an ice-breaker. It was her way of letting him know that something was bothering her.

 

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After they left the dojo, Vincent walked with Tifa back to the bar. It was beginning to get dark, and a light snow was beginning to fall. A chill had descended on them, causing them to shiver. Tifa clutched her jacket tighter around her as they walked along. She glanced at Vincent and smiled a little.

 

“Aren't you cold?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

 

He shrugged. “Not really,” he said quietly, letting his eyes travel over the other people they passed on the street. He noticed some shot him glances or stopped to look at him, while others went on their way. He could feel something in the air, and he knew he was being watched. The kind of surveillance that made his chest constrict slightly in anxiety. He didn't like this at all.

 

Tifa studied his face as he surveyed the environment around them. “Now what are you thinking about?” she asked as they arrived at the bar. She took out her key, glancing at him as she unlocked the door.

 

He glanced at her, seeming surprised. “It's nothing,” he said softly, following her inside.

 

She smiled again. “Vincent, everything that goes through your head is something,” she said, walking to the bar. She went behind it, turning on the heater as she started a pot of coffee.

 

He laughed softly as he sat at the counter. “Why do you say that?” he asked, watching her.

 

She leaned against the bar as she looked at him. “You're just that kind of person,” she said slowly. “If you're thinking about it, then it's something that's important.” She smiled again. “You don't waste brain cells on trivial things.”

 

He smiled, looking at his hands, which rested on the counter. “I guess I never realized that,” he said quietly, realizing that she was right. He seldom spent time thinking about the little things. Or maybe it was the tiny details. Either way he looked at it, he had every thing planned down to the last iota.

 

She rested her elbows on the counter, letting her chin rest in her hands. “So, are you going to tell me or not?” she prodded.

 

He met her curious hazel eyes, considering her request. He sighed, looking away. “Back there,” he said slowly, “at the dojo. When we were fighting, there was such a passionate anger in your eyes.” He looked at her. “What were you thinking about?”

 

He watched as her face became solemn and she stood up straight. “Oh,” she said softly, looking away. “It was nothing.”

 

He shook his head. “It was something,” he said certainly. “There was an angry force behind your attacks. Something was definitely driving you.”

 

Her brow furrowed in anxiety as she looked at him. “I was thinking about Cloud,” she said quietly, almost as if she was afraid he would be upset with her.

 

Vincent's eyes softened in understanding.

 

“I was thinking about all the time I spend worrying about him,” she continued, feeling tears prickling the back of her eyes, “and wondering if he worries about us.” She blinked, feeling a rogue tear trickle down her cheek. “I wonder if he even thinks about us.” She looked at Vincent. “If he thinks about me.” She looked away. “I mean, I know he had things to deal with, but why can't he let us help him?” Bitterness filled her voice. “We've all been through the same things he has. It's not like we wouldn't understand.” She shook her head, the tears falling faster. “But I guess he wants to suffer alone.”

 

Vincent watched her wipe at the tears on her face. He felt a stab of pain seeing her so upset. He didn't know what to say to her. “Cloud's an idiot and takes you for granted.” No, that would be insensitive. But it was what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that Cloud wasn't worth her tears. But there were a lot of things he wanted. “Don't cry, Tifa,” he said softly.

 

She looked at him, sniffling. “You're right,” she said, nodding. “He isn't worth my tears.” She looked up as the coffee maker signaled it was finished.

 

Just what I was thinking, he thought with a mental smirk. He watched as she poured them some coffee, then set a mug in front of him. He watched her closely as she cradled her own mug in her hands. He studied the way she blew at the steam that drifted from the mug, and the way her lips folded around the brim of the mug. Her lips, he thought. I wonder…would she let me kiss her? He mentally shook his head. Probably not. She loves Cloud, even though he's too stupid to see it. He really doesn't deserve her.

 

Even though he knew she could only be his friend, he felt an odd sensation as he watched her. He wanted to know what it would be like to hold her and kiss her and… Whoa! Stop right there. Tifa is my best friend and nothing more. He lifted his mug to his lips. But the thought that it would be nice still scratched at the back of his mind.

 

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Tifa watched Vincent over the brim of her mug. She could see the battle he was fighting with himself. She was tempted to ask what he was thinking, but she decided against it. She was fairly certain it was about Cloud, and she had no desire to think about him any longer. She glanced back at Vincent as she put her mug down.

 

Whatever he was thinking about was really causing internal conflict. She watched the way his eyes narrowed as he stared into his coffee. He shook his head discretely, causing a lock of his raven hair to fall across his brow. He brushed at it subconsciously, unaware of her gaze on him. She watched as he scowled to himself.

 

She suppressed a giggle by taking another sip of coffee. Something about him was just very adorable to her. She thought it was cute the way he wrinkled his nose when he scowled. She paused, feeling surprised. Since when had she thought Vince was cute? She mentally shrugged. It felt nice to admit that she did, even if she would never say it out loud. She continued to study him, taking another sip of her steaming drink.

 

She thought back to their time at the dojo, recalling how he had laughed at her. She also recalled the way her heart had fluttered at the sound. She liked the way he laughed. It was soft and gentle to her ears, and she liked the way he smiled. It seemed to light his eyes, bringing a playful air to her normally stoic friend. She hadn't realized it until now, but she was finding that she liked things about him she had never liked about Cloud. She began to wonder: did she have feelings for Vincent?

 

No, she couldn't possibly. And, even if she did, he would never feel the way she did. He was a loner, and he liked to keep his distance from people. He would never see her as anything other than a friend, and she would be a fool to entertain fantasies about them together. She would be wasting her time and leading herself on. She sighed, feeling saddened again. Maybe falling in love was just not written in stone for her.

 

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Tifa's sigh brought Vincent out of his thoughts. It was a deep, heart-felt sigh, and he wondered where it came from. It sounded so pained; so heavy with sadness. He looked up and met Tifa's hazel gaze. He held it for a moment, her expression unreadable. He was the first to look away.

 

“I guess I should get going,” he said, standing. “It's late.”

 

Tifa watched him as he stood. She smiled when their eyes met. “Thanks for coming to train with me today,” she said happily, her voice soft.

 

He nodded. “It was….” he thought for the right word, “refreshing.” He gave a half-smile.

 

She laughed softly. “That it was,” she said, falling into thought. An awkward silence descended on them as they avoided looking at the other.

 

“Well, I guess I'll see you later,” Vincent said.

 

Tifa nodded, biting her bottom lip. From the look on her face, Vincent half expected her to say something, but she just mustered up a smile. “Feel free to come by any time,” she said brightly. Once again, her smile hid the loneliness.

 

Vincent nodded. He walked to the door, grasping the handle. He looked back at her, catching her gaze once more. “Bye, Tifa,” he said. He tried to hide the loss in his voice.

 

Tifa nodded, then watched him disappear into the night. She sighed deeply once he was gone. “Bye, Vincent,” she whispered, staring at the empty seat before her.