#squad 1

TOTALLY not correct of anything-just made that shit up

Main Masterlist | Bleach Masterlist

@shayinstarlight

The training grounds were silent but for the slow sweep of autumn leaves. Yamamoto stood alone, Ryūjin Jakka leaning against the wooden railing, the faint glow of its sealed form casting a long orange streak on the ground.

You shuffled into the courtyard, a blanket draped over your shoulders. Your steps were soft, but he felt you there instantly — the same way he had felt you for hundreds of years.

“You’re awake.” His voice was deep and gravelled from age, yet still filled the air with quiet command. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t — not yet.

You smiled faintly. “Couldn’t sleep. The wind felt nice.”

His brow twitched. He had once loved how you slipped into his solitude so easily. Now, every quiet visit felt like a goodbye.

You came to stand beside him, looking out at the moon-washed field. His massive hand, scarred from centuries of war, reached for you almost unconsciously. Your smaller fingers slid into his palm, fragile but warm.

“I remember the first time I came here,” you murmured. “You were still Ryūjin no Saijō — wild, terrifying. The young shinigami all whispered about the fire dragon man who would either save the Seireitei or burn it down.”

“Hmph.” He huffed, but it lacked amusement. “And yet you stayed.”

“I stayed because you were kind when no one else dared be.” You leaned your head against his arm. “You saw me when I was no one. You always did.”

Silence stretched. The night breeze stirred the leaves — and stirred the fire inside him that he could never seem to make gentle enough for you.

Then you coughed. Soft at first, then harder — each one shaking your whole body. His arm came around you instantly, steady, but he didn’t speak. He’d learned words couldn’t chase away this sickness.

When you caught your breath again, you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Yamamoto’s jaw tightened. “For what.”

“For leaving you alone. For… being mortal.”

The old captain’s fingers trembled around yours — a rare, fragile break in his mountain-like steadiness. “Do not speak as though you are gone already.”

But you smiled anyway, tired and beautiful. “Genryūsai… we both know I don’t have much time. And you — you have centuries still. You will keep protecting them. You will keep fighting.”

His throat closed. For a man who had commanded legions, he found no order strong enough to keep you here. He had burned armies to ash — but what was fire against time?

“I was never afraid of hollows, or war,” you whispered. “I was only afraid that you would forget me.”

He turned then, finally — and for a heartbeat, the great Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni looked not like a commander but like a man, ancient and breaking. He pressed your forehead to his, rough and warm.

“I have outlived thousands,” he said, voice low and shaking. “But I will never forget you. My fire remembers. Always.”

You closed your eyes against the sting of tears. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

When the end came, it was quiet. You asked, with what strength you had, to see the gardens one last time. He carried you there himself — massive hands gentle as he settled you on a bench among the autumn leaves. You leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, until your own slowed.

Ryūjin Jakka’s flames flared once, soft and sorrowful, as your spirit slipped free.

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

remind me — s. kyoraku x fem!reader amnesia au , post war au

prologue wc : 512