TWO CHAPS IN ONE DAY, I been hustling for u people.

This one is literally just her training for like 3600 words. Enjoy!

UHM TW AT THE END, SHE GETS BEAT UP HOMEGIRL DESERVES BETTER IM SORRY.

IN THE DIMLY LIT TRAINING ROOM,
Bucky stood over Seven as she practiced her stances and strikes. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her small frame trembled with exhaustion, but her eyes were fierce with determination.

"Again," Bucky commanded, his voice firm.

Seven gritted her teeth and reset her stance. She launched into a series of punches and kicks, her movements sharp and precise. Bucky watched her closely, noting every mistake, every hesitation.

"Your left arm is dropping," he said, stepping forward to adjust her posture. "Keep it up. Protect your face. Again."

Seven nodded, swallowing hard. She took a deep breath and went through the motions once more. This time, her form was better, more controlled. Bucky gave a curt nod of approval.

"Good. Now let's move to the defense drills. Remember, stay light on your feet. Anticipate the attack."

Bucky demonstrated the moves, his own actions fluid and effortless. Seven watched intently, mimicking his movements as best she could. They went through the drills repeatedly, Bucky's sharp eyes catching every flaw.

"Again," he said each time she faltered, pushing her to perfect her technique.

They moved on to weapon training. Bucky handed her a training knife, watching as she gripped it with both hands. He showed her how to hold it properly, how to strike and defend with it.

"Focus, Sev," he urged. "A real fight won't give you time to think. It has to be instinct."

Seven nodded, her face set with concentration. She followed Bucky's instructions, practicing strikes and parries, her movements growing more confident with each repetition.

"Again," Bucky said, his tone unwavering.

As the session continued, Seven's fatigue became more evident. Her breaths came in short gasps, and her strikes lost some of their sharpness. Bucky knew she was nearing her limit, but he also knew she needed to push past it.

"Again," he repeated, his voice a mixture of encouragement and sternness.

Seven dug deep, summoning the last of her strength. She moved through the drills with a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving Bucky's. He saw the fire in her, the unyielding will to keep going.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Bucky held up a hand to stop her. "That's enough for today."

Seven collapsed onto the mat, panting heavily. Bucky knelt beside her, handing her a bottle of water. She drank greedily, her eyes still burning with resolve despite her exhaustion.

"You did well, Sev," Bucky said, his voice softer now. "But remember, every mistake could be the difference between life and death. We have to be perfect."

Seven nodded, her expression serious. "I understand, Papa. I'll keep practicing. I won't let you down."

Bucky felt a swell of pride as he looked at her. Despite everything, she was strong. She had the heart of a fighter, and he knew she would not break easily.

"I know you won't." He said firmly. "Come on." He said grabbing her hand.

As they left the training room, Bucky's mind was already planning the next session. He didn't know what they had in store for her, all he knew is he needed to prepare her.

BUCKY HAD A MISSION SOON, one that would take him away from Seven for longer than usual. The thought of leaving her alone gnawed at him, filling him with dread. He spent every waking moment training her, pushing her harder than ever before. She needed to be able to defend herself in his absence, and he had to make sure she was ready.

In the dimly lit training room, Bucky watched as Seven struggled with her stances and strikes. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her small frame trembled with exhaustion. But her eyes remained fierce with determination. She was still only tiny, she was only six.

"Again," Bucky commanded, his voice sharp.

Seven reset her stance and launched into a series of punches and kicks. Her movements were sharp but not perfect. Bucky's frustration mounted as he saw her falter.

"Your form is off," he snapped, stepping forward to adjust her posture. "Keep your arms up. Protect your face. Again."

Seven nodded, swallowing hard. She took a deep breath and went through the motions once more. This time, her form was slightly better, but it still wasn't good enough.

"Again," Bucky repeated, his tone growing harsher.

Seven's strikes grew more erratic as her fatigue set in. Her breaths came in short gasps, and her movements lost their precision. Bucky's patience wore thin.

"You're not getting it," he growled, grabbing her wrist to demonstrate the proper technique. "Like this. You need to be faster, stronger. Again!"

Seven flinched at his tone but tried to focus, attempting the move again. She stumbled, her knife strike missing its mark. Bucky's frustration boiled over, he needed her to learn this'd he needed her to get it right, to be okay when he was gone!

"Damn it, Sev! You have to get this right!" he shouted, taking the knife from her and showing her the move. "Watch closely. This is how you do it."

In his anger, Bucky moved too quickly, too forcefully. He executed the strike with perfect precision, but in his haste, he didn't notice how close Seven was. The training knife grazed her arm, leaving a shallow cut. Seven cried out in pain, stumbling back and clutching her arm.

Bucky froze, horror washing over him. He dropped the knife and rushed to her side, his hands trembling. "Sev, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... Let me see."

Seven's eyes were wide with shock, tears welling up. She held out her arm, and Bucky examined the cut. It wasn't deep, but the sight of her blood made his heart ache with guilt.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Sev."

Seven sniffled, trying to hold back her tears. "It's okay, Papa. I know you didn't mean to. I just... I want to be better. I want to make you proud."

Bucky gently wrapped her arm with a clean cloth, his touch tender and careful. "You already make me proud, Sev. Every single day. I'm pushing you too hard because I need you to learn this, for your own good. You need rest."

She shook her head, determination still burning in her eyes. "No, I want to keep going. I need to learn. For when you're gone."

Bucky sighed, torn between his need to prepare her and his guilt for pushing her too hard. He stroked her hair gently. "We'll take a break for now. You need to heal. We can try again tomorrow, but I'll be more careful. I promise."

Seven nodded, leaning into his touch. "Okay, Papa."

As they left the training room, Bucky's mind was heavy with regret. He knew he had to find a balance between pushing her to be strong and protecting her from harm. With the mission looming, he couldn't afford any more mistakes. He had to make sure she was ready, but he also had to remember that she was just a child, a child who needed him to be both her protector and her teacher.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "We'll try again tomorrow."

THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE JUST CRAZY training sessions, each one more rigorous than the last. Bucky was determined to make up for his mistake, to ensure that Seven was as prepared as possible. Despite his guilt, he knew he had to push her. He spent every moment he could with her, teaching her everything he knew.

In the training room, Bucky stood across from Seven, watching her closely. Her stance was strong, her eyes focused. He nodded approvingly. "Alright, Sev, show me what you've got. Remember, stay light on your feet."

Seven took a deep breath and launched into a series of punches and kicks, her movements sharp and precise. Bucky watched, his critical eye catching every minor flaw.

"Again," he said, his voice steady.

Seven reset her stance and repeated the sequence. She was improving, but Bucky knew she needed to be perfect. He couldn't afford any mistakes.

"Again," he repeated, his tone firmer.

Seven's movements grew more confident, more controlled. She was starting to anticipate his corrections, adjusting her form before he could say anything. Bucky felt a swell of pride as he watched her.

"Good," he said finally. "Now let's move on to defense. Remember, anticipate the attack. Stay on your toes."

He stepped forward, demonstrating a series of defensive maneuvers. Seven watched intently, mimicking his movements with growing confidence. They practiced together, moving in sync, their actions fluid and coordinated.

"Again," Bucky said, his voice softer now. "You're doing great, Sev. Just keep at it."

They moved on to weapon training. Bucky handed her the training knife, watching as she gripped it with both hands. He showed her how to hold it properly, how to strike and defend with it.

"Focus, Sev," he urged. "A real fight won't give you time to think. It has to be instinct."

Seven nodded, her face set with concentration. She followed Bucky's instructions, practicing strikes and parries, her movements growing more confident with each repetition.

"Again," Bucky said, his tone unwavering.

As the session continued, Seven's fatigue became more evident. Her breaths came in short gasps, and her strikes lost some of their sharpness. Bucky knew she was nearing her limit, but he also knew she needed to push past it.

"Again," he repeated, his voice a mixture of encouragement and sternness.

Seven dug deep, summoning the last of her strength. She moved through the drills with a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving Bucky's. He saw the fire in her, the unyielding will to keep going.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Bucky held up a hand to stop her. "That's enough for today."

Seven collapsed onto the mat, panting heavily. Bucky knelt beside her, handing her a bottle of water. She drank greedily, her eyes still burning with resolve despite her exhaustion.

"You did well, Sev," Bucky said, his voice softer now. "But remember, every mistake could be the difference between life and death. We have to be perfect."

Seven nodded, her expression serious. "I understand, Papa. I'll keep practicing. I won't let you down."

Bucky felt a swell of pride as he looked at her. Despite everything, she was strong. She had the heart of a fighter, and he knew she would not break easily.

"You won't," he assured her. "We'll keep working, and we'll get through this. Together."

The following morning, Bucky woke early, his mind already focused on the day's training. He had mapped out a rigorous schedule, intent on maximizing every moment they had left. As he walked to the training room, he saw Seven waiting for him, her eyes bright with determination.

"Ready, Sev?" he asked, ruffling her hair gently.

She nodded, a fierce look in her eyes. "Ready, Papa."

They started with a warm-up, stretching and light exercises to get their muscles ready. Bucky then moved into more advanced techniques, showing her how to combine strikes and defenses fluidly. Seven followed his lead, her movements growing more precise and confident with each passing moment.

"Again," Bucky said, correcting her stance. "Keep your guard up."

Seven adjusted, her eyes focused and intense. They repeated the drill until Bucky was satisfied, then moved on to the next exercise. As the session progressed, Bucky pushed her harder, testing her limits and encouraging her to push past them.

"Again," he said, his voice a constant presence guiding her.

They practiced disarming techniques, Bucky showing her how to take down an opponent armed with a weapon. Seven struggled at first, her small frame making it difficult to overpower an imaginary foe. But Bucky was relentless, showing her over and over until she started to get it.

"Again," he said, his patience wearing thin as she fumbled.

Seven gritted her teeth, her frustration evident. She tried again, this time managing to execute the move correctly. Bucky nodded, his approval a silent encouragement.

"Better," he said. "Now let's work on your knife defense. Remember, speed and precision are key."

They sparred with training knives, Bucky testing her reactions and teaching her how to counter and evade attacks. Seven's progress was steady, her confidence growing with each successful move.

"Again," Bucky commanded, his tone a mix of sternness and support.

Seven reset and attacked again, her movements sharper and more controlled. They continued until the exhaustion was visible on her face, her breaths coming in short gasps.

Bucky called a halt, dropping his knife. "Enough for today, Sev. You did good."

Seven collapsed onto the mat, her small body trembling with exhaustion. Bucky knelt beside her, handing her a bottle of water. She drank it gratefully, her eyes still burning with determination despite her fatigue.

"Papa," she said between breaths, "I think... I'm getting better."

Bucky smiled, ruffling her hair gently. "You are, Sev. You're becoming a real fighter. I'm proud of you."

As they left the training room, Bucky's mind was heavy with the knowledge of his impending mission. He knew he would have to leave soon, and the thought filled him with dread. But seeing Seven's progress, her strength and resilience, gave him a glimmer of hope.

That evening, as they sat in their cell, Bucky held Seven close, his heart aching with the thought of leaving her. "Sev, I need you to listen to me," he said quietly. "I have to go on a mission soon. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I need you to be strong while I'm away. Can you do that for me?"

Seven looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "I will, Papa. I promise."

Bucky hugged her tightly, his voice a whisper. "Good. Just remember everything I've taught you. Stay strong, stay smart. And never give up."

"I won't," she said, her voice firm. "I'll keep training. I'll be ready when you come back."

As they sat together, Bucky felt a mix of pride and sorrow. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he also knew that Seven was strong. She had the heart of a fighter, and he had faith that she would survive, no matter what.

THE DAY OF BUCKY'S MISSION ARRIVED sooner than he had hoped. The sterile corridors of the HYDRA facility felt even colder as he prepared to leave. Every step he took away from Seven weighed heavily on his heart. He couldn't shake the gnawing fear of leaving her behind, but he had no choice.

In their cell, Bucky knelt in front of Seven, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "Sev, remember everything we've practiced. Stay alert, stay strong. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Seven nodded, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. "I will, Papa. I'll keep training, just like you taught me."

Bucky pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. "Sev. You're strong. Stronger than anyone knows. I need you to defend yourself as much as you can, no bruises."

"Okay, Papa," she whispered, clinging to him.

Reluctantly, Bucky stood up, forcing himself to turn away. He walked towards the door, every step feeling like a betrayal. Just as he reached the threshold, he looked back one last time. Seven stood there, small and determined, a fighter's spirit burning in her eyes.

With a final nod, Bucky stepped out of the cell, the door closing behind him with a resounding thud. The sound echoed through the halls, a harsh reminder of the separation to come.

As the hours turned into days, Seven found herself alone in the vast, unforgiving facility. The silence was suffocating, a constant reminder of Bucky's absence. She kept herself busy, training rigorously, just as he had taught her. Each punch, each kick, each maneuver was a testament to his lessons and her determination to make him proud.

In the training room, Seven practiced relentlessly. Her small frame moved with a newfound grace and precision, her strikes sharp and controlled. She repeated each drill over and over, Bucky's voice echoing in her mind.

"Again," she whispered to herself, pushing through the fatigue.

The guards watched her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, occasionally taunting her. But Seven ignored them, her focus unyielding. She knew she had to be ready, for Bucky, for herself.

One evening, as she returned to her cell, the loneliness hit her with full force. She sat on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest. The tears she had held back for so long finally spilled over, and she cried silently, the weight of her situation pressing down on her.

But even in her despair, she remembered Bucky's words. "Stay strong, stay smart. And never give up."

Wiping her tears, Seven took a deep breath and stood up. She couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. She had to be strong, for her papa and for herself.

The days dragged on, each one blending into the next. Seven's routine became her lifeline. She trained, rested, and trained some more. She practiced her stances, her strikes, her defenses. Every move was an effort to keep the fear and loneliness at bay.

In the evenings, when the facility was at its quietest, Seven would sit in their cell, imagining Bucky beside her. She would recount the stories he had told her, the lessons he had taught. It gave her comfort, a sense of connection to him even in his absence.

One night, as she lay on the hard bed, she whispered into the darkness, "Papa, I miss you. But I'm doing my best. I'll be ready when you come back."

She clung to the hope that Bucky would return soon. It was what kept her going, kept her fighting. And as she drifted off to sleep, she dreamt of the day they would be reunited. She hated being from him, she really did.

SEVEN PUSHED THROUGH, training relentlessly. One evening, after an exhausting session, she was in her cell, wrapping her hands with makeshift bandages from torn fabric. The door creaked open, and two guards stepped in, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"Well, look who's all alone," one of them sneered. "Thought we'd come keep you company."

Seven stood up, her heart pounding, but she remembered Bucky's lessons. She took a deep breath and assumed a defensive stance, her fists clenched.

"Stay alert, stay strong," she whispered to herself, her eyes never leaving the guards.

The first guard approached her, a smirk on his face. "What's this? Little girl thinks she can fight?"

He lunged at her, but Seven was ready. She dodged to the side, just as Bucky had taught her, and delivered a sharp punch to his side. The guard grunted, more in surprise than pain.

"Not bad," he growled. "But you'll have to do better than that."

The second guard circled behind her, grabbing her arm. Seven twisted, using the move Bucky had shown her to break free. She landed a kick on his shin, but he barely flinched. His hand shot out, striking her across the face and sending her stumbling back.

"Again," she heard Bucky's voice in her head, urging her on.

She shook off the pain and charged forward, targeting the first guard again. She managed to land a few more hits, her small fists connecting with his ribs and jaw. But then the second guard grabbed her from behind, lifting her off the ground.

"Got you now," he hissed in her ear.

Seven struggled, kicking and twisting, but his grip was too strong. The first guard came up, delivering a hard punch to her stomach. Pain exploded through her, and she gasped for breath.

"Stay strong," she reminded herself, even as her vision blurred.

With a desperate burst of strength, she threw her head back, hitting the guard behind her in the face. He yelped, loosening his grip just enough for her to slip free. She spun around, landing a solid punch to his nose, which started to bleed.

"Little brat!" he shouted, wiping the blood away. "You're going to pay for that."

Before Seven could react, the first guard grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. He slapped her hard, and she tasted blood in her mouth. Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back. She couldn't afford to show weakness.

The second guard advanced, and Seven tried to kick him, but her strength was waning. He caught her leg, twisting it cruelly, and she cried out in pain.

"Enough playing," the first guard said, his voice cold. "Let's teach her a real lesson."

They both closed in, their fists and boots raining down on her. Seven curled up, trying to protect her head and vital organs, but the blows kept coming. She felt something crack, pain flaring through her ribs.

Finally, the guards seemed satisfied. They left her on the floor, bruised and bleeding, their laughter echoing down the hall as they walked away.

Seven lay there, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face. But even through the pain, she felt a spark of pride. She had fought back, just like Bucky had taught her. She hadn't given up.

Slowly, she dragged herself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in her ribs. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself.

"Papa, I did my best," she whispered, wiping her tears with a trembling hand. "I'll keep getting stronger. I promise."