[Bucky freezes the second he hears the voice cut through the air. He's able to catch a few words--the basics--that jump through the fog of his memory to match sound and meaning but his mind is in too many places for him to get anything other than a suggestion of what's been said. The point gets across anyway, especially with the blade of his once-lost-now-found knife no more than an inch from his eye.

'Yakuza'...now that's a word that sticks out. He can't help the soft snort that escapes him at that. He does in fact turn his head slowly--only barely, keeping in mind the possibility of a quick jab--as Kira moves the knife, eyeing the limbs and all the other indicators of the other presence, though details are a bit tough. That could be the blood sliding down into his left eye from a forehead cut from the glass, though. Shit.

He feels a bit of relief at the fact that it's apparently not a sweet old lady he'd stumbled upon--that could make clean-up quite a bit trickier--but he isn't exactly rejoicing, either. As he moves so does his hand, creeping along his own back to slip two fingers around the end of the handle of the other knife strapped to the small of his back, as the blade of the other teases a vital artery. His Japanese knowledge clicks at least enough for him to mutter a simple phrase.]

Think I'd prefer the Yakuza, actually.

[Son of a bitch, Bucky thinks as the combination of his wound, talking, and his position make him clench his teeth with the pain. His next words are in English, edged with deadly anger and annoying pain.]

Why don't you put down the knife before you hurt somebody. I'd hate to be the one to take it from ya.