Broken Toys

Author's note: Hi guys, it's been a while since I have tried to write some fiction in English. This is not my native language and since I'm out of practice (and out of beta reader too), please don't hesitate to point out any mistake. Kind criticism is always welcome!

T'Challa always brought his broken toys to her.

And she was always the one to fix them. She wouldn't trust anyone else to do it. It started from the playground, then it continued with his training; she got to fix his rhino-saddles, spears, and shields first, and then more technologically advanced gear —still toys in her mind, but toys one should not trifle with. Toys that could save his life.

First a boy, then a warrior, and at last the Back Panther, T'Challa was always in need of new equipment, new fixes, new enhancements, even when he didn't know it, and she was glad to provide it all. She looked up to him and yet knew he depended on her inventions, at least a little.

Shuri was proud of the role she played.

But then, T'Challa started to bring her strays. The CIA agent was one thing, and the pilot did take part in the decisive battle, flying around while she was fighting against Killmonger with Nakia.

This… this was definitely new.

"So, he didn't kill Baba, you're absolutely sure of it?" she asked again while staring at the frozen face. He did look like a very well-trained assassin.

"I'm sure of it."

"You happened to be wrong before, brother," she insisted.

She could guess his annoyed expression without turning her gaze to him.

T'Challa sighed. "So? What do you think?"

"I thought you wanted to pick my brain on how to fix his brain."

"It's what I'm doing, sis."

"Well, I can't have an opinion without poking said cerebrum first."

She turned to T'Challa, who remained silent. Sometimes, T'Challa was really good at shutting up; this quiet way of persuasion was really kingly of him. She exhaled long and hard to state what a nuisance this all was, but said nonetheless while heading out:

"Fine, bring him to my lab, my king."

Music was pulsing hard in the mountain.

This was the only way she could concentrate, the only way her creativity could be released. She was young, she was a princess, and some people resented her for both these facts. She learned not to care. She learned to surpass herself.

"Shit!" she hissed as the synapsis-reset simulation failed again.

She took her head between her hands, the music was suddenly annoying her.

She forced herself to calm down, closed her eyes, and breathed, finding a peaceful state of mind. Maybe she needed some fresh eyes on this. Maybe she couldn't do it on her own. She needed to understand what happened, what damage had been done, not just the physical aspect of it.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze met his face.

She didn't see him as an assassin anymore.

He seemed too lost to be just a killer. There was something fragile she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Bear with me, James Buchanan Barnes. I got you," she whispered, so low she couldn't hear her own voice over the music.

"I don't think I can do it without waking him up."

She wasn't in the business of quitting, but she had to admit that this toy was more broken than any previous one.

"You don't think, or you're sure?" asked Okoye.

T'Challa waited for his sister to answer the question of the Dora Milaje leader. The pair of them were striding side by side, prepared to fly out. She almost had to run to keep up.

"I need to wake him up. I have to."

Shuri was almost surprised by the desperation in her tone. It must be because of sleep deprivation.

"I advise against it," warned Okoye.

She didn't have to explain herself. A brainwashed HYDRA operative was most surely a security threat, no matter how reformed he was. Shuri understood it. But she was also driven by this imperious feeling, the need to solve a problem whose solution was eluding her. Plus, she was more than able to fend for herself, a proven warrior and the smartest Wakanda had to offer.

No need to remind any of this to her brother. No need to make her case. They'd known each other all their lives. She was almost sure he would let her do as she wished. Asking for his permissions was just a courtesy.

At least she hoped.

T'Challa finally came to a halt.

"Fine," he said, confronting Okoye's disapproving gaze. "But we will reinforce the security at your lab, and he is not authorized in any populated areas. Are we clear?"

Shuri beamed with excitement. She almost jumped to lock him in an embrace, but since it was not quite appropriate in public, she crossed her arms in front of her instead, to salute the Black Panther as she answered. "Yes, of course, brother."

T'Challa and Okoye were boarding the ship, bickering as they always did, and Shuri started heading back to her lab in the mountain. T'Challa called her back: "And be careful, you hear me?"

"Yes, brother!"

There was laugh in her voice, an exhilarating feeling coursing in her veins.

She could do it.