Dark clouds surged over Hiroshima, breaking open. Fine raindrops, having crossed a long journey, began to fall, pattering against wood and stone, drawing a gray curtain over the earth.
Inside an ancient courtyard, recaptured by the Yashida family, servants with hurried expressions scrubbed the wooden floors. The sound of wet rags on wood and the sharp smell of soap mingled with the scent of the rain, all working to wipe away the last dark, dried traces of Hydra's blood.
Accompanied by a burst of hurried footsteps, the slap of sandals on the slick corridor, Yukio, wearing a simple white kimono, quickly passed through the wooden corridor. She slid open a door and entered a temporary ward, the walls draped in clear plastic sheeting.
On the bed in the middle of the room, Mariko, her face still a map of dark bruises and swelling, had regained consciousness.
She was half-lying on the bed, her expression utterly blank. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at her own slender hand as if it were a strange object she had never seen before.
The expressionless Yukio seemed unable to suppress the storm of excitement in her heart. Her mask of control shattered. She rushed over, her knees hitting the floor by the bed, and collapsed onto Mariko's thighs. A choked, painful sound escaped her, and then she burst into tears, like a child who had suffered countless grievances and was finally safe.
Perhaps it was the stimulation of her relative's raw, broken crying, or perhaps it was the gradual revival of her memory. The blankness in Mariko's eyes disappeared.
The will of the Yashida leader, the woman who had fought Hydra, slowly returned to her body.
"Yukio," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You have suffered much these past few days."
Mariko gently placed her slender palm on Yukio's soft short hair and said soothingly, "I have returned safely, and the Yashida family will be safe and sound. Yukio, how many people did we lose in order to rescue me?"
Hearing her sister's question, Yukio, who had released much of her emotion, raised her tear-streaked face.
She carefully, in a low voice, told Mariko everything that had happened.
As Yukio told her story, Mariko's face tightened. A wave of unbearable storms, a phantom pressure, seemed to rise in the depths of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. Seeing that Mariko's physical condition was not right, Yukio quickly got up, her own grief forgotten, and called for the intervention of medical staff.
After the doctor finished his examination, he spoke to Yukio in a quiet, firm tone.
"The patient's brain has suffered several severe injuries and needs a long time to recover. Lord Yukio, please don't disturb the patient's recovery, all right?"
The expressionless Yukio nodded heavily, her face pale.
She waved her hand to let all the medical staff leave and bowed in apology to Mariko, who was lying back on the bed, her breathing shallow.
Afterward, only Mariko, with her eyes closed, was left in the quiet ward, the only sound the steady drumming of rain on the roof.
The next moment, her eyelids began to twitch.
A subtle, dry sound, a rasp, kept spreading from the depths of her throat.
"For the Imperium of Man... For the Emperor!"
Bucky, wrapped in stark white bandages, slowly got up from his own bed. He subconsciously flexed his mechanical arm. The internal structure made a low, familiar hum and click.
Bucky looked down at the white bandages covering his torso, shook his head, and let out a long sigh.
"I went through decades of bullets and rain and didn't suffer many injuries. Now it's all catching up to me."
Bucky walked out the door barefoot. The cold, damp wood of the porch pressed against his soles. The wooden door had just opened.
At a glance, Bucky saw Nolan sitting across the courtyard, a mountain of dark metal in the gray light. He was in his Terminator armor, helmet off, leaning against a large, wet stone.
At this time, Nolan, with a comfortable expression, was holding a glass. He was watching the raindrops fall, unbothered by the mist.
Bucky stepped forward, his bare feet silent on the wet stones. When he walked near Nolan, a bottle of wine he had never seen before appeared in Nolan's huge metal palm. He hadn't even looked up.
"An beverage called Green Taurox. Suitable for wounded people like you."
Nolan smiled, a faint expression, and narrowed his cyan wolf eyes, speaking without turning his head.
Bucky grinned and took the bottle. It was cool and damp. He skillfully pried open the bottle cap with the thumb of his mechanical arm, the metal whining slightly.
He drank carefully, tipping the bottle to his lips.
Bucky, frowning slightly, sat on a stone next to Nolan with the bottle.
"Tsk," he said, staring at the green liquid. "The taste is indescribably strange, almost... chemical. A special flavor, I guess."
"Don't worry, it's not expired. Or rather, these products don't have the concept of expiration at all."
Nolan smiled slightly and bared his fangs.
"Captain, when are we leaving? Have you dealt with the things in Japan?"
Bucky shook his head, took another sip of the alcoholic beverage, and turned to ask Nolan.
"Why? Can't you handle the gentleness of the locals?"
Nolan narrowed his cyan wolf eyes, glancing down at Bucky, who suddenly looked embarrassed, a dull red creeping up his neck.
"Uh, that Yukio... she keeps coming to see me, intentionally or unintentionally. Captain, what's with that look? I... she's not... not my type!" Bucky was suddenly flustered, his voice rising. "I'm a very old-fashioned person! I just like blonde hair and big breasts!"
Bucky, blushing and nervous, subconsciously became tense. He blinked desperately and whispered to Nolan.
"Did I say anything? I didn't say anything."
Nolan slightly widened his cyan wolf eyes, an amused look on his face. He drank the wine in his huge palm in one breath and stared at Bucky with a small smile.
"Don't be nervous. My team is very free, as long as it doesn't cross the necessary red line. I never interfere in private matters."
However, perhaps it was the effect of the alcohol, or just the release of tension, but Bucky's emotions were amplified.
He drank the whole bottle of Green Taurox in one go and smiled bitterly at Nolan, his fluster gone, replaced by a familiar melancholy.
"Captain, I don't dare, and I don't want to. An old guy like me, with blood on his hands... I have no future. Maybe one day I'll die in battle, and that will be my final destination. So, no sense in wasting other people's feelings."
"Your good friend, Steve Rogers, is still alive. Did you know?"
At this moment, Nolan, who had been silent for a moment, suddenly said to Bucky.
Bucky, who had been staring at the rain, froze.
"Heh." The sound was short and bitter. "I know. After I woke up from Hydra's brainwashing, I asked David to help search for my old friends. The two old guys from World War II... miraculously survived. I have to say, many things in this world are really fucked up."
Bucky grinned, but his expression was melancholy, his eyes revealing a mix of nostalgia and sarcasm.
"In the near future, we may have conflicts, or even wars, with Rogers and the official forces behind him."
Nolan stared at the raindrops passing in front of him, his tone calm and flat, stating a simple fact.
Bucky lowered his head and thought for a while, the mechanical hand clenching and unclenching at his side. He took a deep breath of the cool, damp air and said softly:
"I know. Steve's character... it can no longer be described as just stubborn. Unless there is a huge change or unexpected crisis, he will stick to his mind. Captain, I want to make a small request, based on my future fighting and loyalty."
Bucky turned to look up at the massive figure next to him.
"If one day, we really face Steve... I hope you can spare his life and give me a chance to change him. He is my last friend in this failed life."
Hearing Bucky's sincere request, Nolan blinked his cyan wolf eyes slightly.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
...Captain America?
Why not become the real Captain Empire!