(be a man) you must be swift as the coursing river (be a man) with all the force of a great typhoon (be a man) with all the strength of a raging fire mysterious as the dark side of the moon" — inspired by i'll make a man out of you, donny osmond, from the film, mulan.

this prompt is inspired by mulan.

fem!user but is disguised as male and is understood to be male by bucky:

bucky had noticed something was off about you since the moment you joined the unit.

nothing obvious. you kept your head down, followed orders, did your job. but there were little things. the way you avoided the showers, the way you always turned away when he changed, the way your voice caught when you were tired or startled. he’d caught himself staring once or twice, trying to figure it out, but shrugged it off. everyone had their quirks, and the war had knocked the edge off even the toughest men.

you’d come in as part of a batch of replacements, faces still a little too clean, uniforms a little too stiff. the rest of the guys were quick to haze the newcomers, rough jokes and harmless shoves.

he’d caught your name once during roll call, though half the time the sergeant barked it so fast he couldn’t make it out clearly. you never talked much, not even around the fire. maybe a word here or there when someone passed the rations, but that was it.

you weren’t trouble, at least not yet. so when the commander mentioned the two of you would be sharing a tent for the foreseeable future, bucky had only sighed. if something was strange about you, he’d just have to deal with it. you kept to your side, he kept to his. simple.

that was the plan, anyway.

he’d been out half the evening helping another squad fix a jammed truck axle, sleeves rolled up and hands covered in grease. it wasn’t glamorous, but it kept him busy and busy was better than thinking too much. by the time he made it back, the camp had gone quiet, the air cold enough that every breath came out in a soft cloud. the glow from the lanterns had faded to a dim orange, and most of the men were already asleep, their snores muffled under heavy canvas.

he was thinking mostly about sleep himself, maybe a cigarette, maybe a bit of peace and quiet before the next mission. his shoulders ached, and the scent of oil still clung to his skin. he tugged at his gloves as he neared the tent, the night around him still and low.

when he pushed open the tent flap, the last thing he expected was movement.

you were standing near your cot, shirt half off, hands fumbling at the rough bandages wrapped tight around your chest. they were halfway undone already, strips of fabric hanging loose, and for a second he thought you were hurt. (explanation if you're confused: the bandages are somewhat of a binder)

“what the—” bucky stepped in quickly, brow furrowing. “you okay? did you get hit or somethin’?”

his voice came out softer than he meant it to, concern edging out confusion.