I do not own Avengers: Infinity War.
I did screech in the theater at this scene.
Ingcuka
They were teaching him. The children.
Little Wakandan boys.
With painted faces and big smiles.
And carefree laughter and free hearts.
They were teaching him.
Squatting down in the dirt, drawing pictures with their fingers.
Running and playing and shouting and chasing.
Falling and getting back up.
Fighting and forgiving and learning and growing.
Shuri, Wakanadan princess and next level genius, had instructed them to leave him alone.
To let him rest.
They obviously had not listened.
And Bucky wasn't really sure how stern her directive had been anyway.
None of the other adults in the small riverside village seemed to mind their children following and talking to and playing around the revived colonizer with a missing arm.
And really, neither did Bucky.
He liked to watch them run and be free, live their entire lives in the present moment.
He liked that they felt no evident fear of him.
And that they . . .
"Ingcuka! Ingcuka!"
. . . represented all that was good in the world.
Bucky Barnes knelt in the reeds and dipped his human fingers down into the cool water of the slow flowing current.
"River."
The painted child at his side copied the action.
"Umlambo."
"Umlambo," Bucky repeated carefully.
Smiling, he stood and touched a tree, green leaves above his head aromatic.
"Tree."
The boy grinned.
"Umthi."
"Umthi."
Bucky held his remaining hand up, revealing the calloused palm.
"Hand."
His small teacher raised his own.
"Ngesandia."
Wow, big word.
"Ngesandia."
He paused.
Thought.
And considered.
Then he hesitated.
He had been taught. By his mother.
He could remember it now.
No breaks or flashes or gaping holes.
He could remember clearly.
God.
Heaven.
Devil.
Hell.
Sin.
Absolution.
Redemption.
He set himself, took a breath.
Raised a hand to his chest.
And spoke.
"Soul."
The child smiled, pure and innocent.
Replied.
"Umphefumlo."
And Bucky Barnes smiled back.
"Umphefumlo."
"Ingcuka! Ingcuka!"
White Wolf, White Wolf.
The name still baffled him.
"What are they saying?" he had asked Shuri once when she had visited.
She had smiled, teeth unblemished white against dark of her flawless skin.
" ' White Wolf'. That is what they call you."
He glanced over at them and back.
"Why?"
She grinned, gesturing.
"You will have to ask them."
He was staring out over the river, watching the water ripple and flow along the village and away into the distance.
It calmed him. Soothed him.
Quieted his spirit and mind.
It was all there was.
Timeless.
Limitless.
Constant.
"Ingcuka?"
His reverie was interrupted by a small voice behind him.
A voice that did not startle him, did not cause him anxiety or panic or fear.
He turned, finding a red clad boy, eyes earnest and bright behind white painted flesh.
The boy gestured.
Bucky knelt.
And the child produced from maroon robes, a small, quite pale rock carved into a vaguely canine shape.
Proffering it up in his small hand as a gift.
"Ingcuka."
Bucky carefully took the small stone.
Turned it over in his palm, inspecting it closely.
It was not flawless but it was a good piece.
Carved and polished with much patience and care.
Especially for a child.
Bucky closed his hand protectively and humbly over it.
And looked at the child.
"Enkosi," he replied quietly, sincerely.
Thank you.
The boy gazed solemnly at him.
Then threw forth a big, toothy grin and ran away.
Bucky watched him go, feeling the stone warm in his palm.
Ingcuka.
War was coming.
Death was coming.
They were coming.
An entire army of them.
They would sweep over the whole of Wakanda.
They would destroy, decimate, lay waste to everyone and everything in their path.
There would be no survivors, there would be no mercy.
There would be no hope or reprieve for anyone at all.
And when the slaughter was over, they would cover the entire world in death and destruction.
And all would die.
James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes stood with the warriors, the soldiers.
The good people standing, ready to fight for their survival.
For the survival of all.
He would not let them die.
He would not let them fall.
He would fight to the death to protect and defend these people.
Steve.
The others.
And the children.
The little carven stone lay hidden about his person.
Zipped away, concealed.
Protected.
Ingcuka.
The White Wolf.
Bucky Barnes gritted his teeth in determination.
And chambered a round into the firearm gripped firmly in his vibrainium enhanced left arm and hand.
The one with the gold inlay strands set throughout.
And set his jaw in resolution.
They. Would. Not. Die.
Hey all!
Okay, so Chadwick Bozeman learned Xhosa for Black Panther so that's what I used too.
Hope you enjoyed reading!
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