24What will happen now?
It was a question Yamamoto had pondered upon when he was younger, merely centuries into his life as a spirit in Rukongai. His curiosity burned, but was overcome by his rashness and impulses.
Later, as he grew older, duty and responsibilities tempered the flames of his passion. And with that, so was the inquisitiveness burning within him calmed. Centuries upon centuries had passed, leaving only the flames driving his will for his duty behind. It had made him stagnant.
His body grew older, injuries upon injuries piled up on his body through battles, most notable being the ones received from when Ywach first invaded. Eventually, his growth waned and flames fanning his need for strength died, his body no longer moving like it used to. His belief in the superiority in the Soul Society he made, had made him complacent.
"Pathetic…. To think I would fall for such.. a trick"
His mind struggled to think clearly in the haze of dulled pain and ever burning rage.
Among that, the most that stood out was the empty feeling of his soul. His lifelong partner, the one he shared his worries, his passions, his flames with, Ryujin Jakka, Zanka no Tachi, was missing.
He felt his blood pouring from where he was cut down, along with his Reiatsu plummeting with every desperate pump of his old heart. Ywach left no chances of his recovery.
In his last breaths, Shigekuni Yamamoto Genryusai pondered once more.
Where do Shinigami go after death?
Memories came back to him, flashing before his very eyes. Where his flame ignited, where it was tempered and when he had lost them. With each memory the smouldering coals in him was set aflame once more. His will burned once more, passion set alight, and his grudge against Ywach ever present and only grew.
However, it could not fill the flames that left with his Zanpakuto. Nothing could.
"Forgive me.. I have failed you all."
Memories of those who died throughout his millennia of living, those who willingly died because of his orders, his first comrades that stood against threats against the balance of souls.
"Ichigo...Kurosaki… I… I leave this.."
As he lay, dying, let embers of hope burn. His last thoughts trailed towards the Substitute Soul Reaper, one oh so similar to him in his youth.
"...to..y…"
And as he breathed his last, his hope burning bright, his grudge and regret darker than black, Yamamoto Genryusai, the Head Captain of the Soul Society died.
The River of Souls was a curious thing. The flow of souls after they pass on, whether it be in the Human Realm, Hell, Hueco Mundo or the Soul Society flowed ceaselessly and unnoticeably. The cycle of Reincarnation circled on and on, creating the flow in the River, eventually shaving away the memories, power and weight of a soul, leaving a blank slate to be put back in the Reincarnation Cycle.
The heavier one's soul is, the longer it takes for it to Reincarnate. The River of Souls was intangible, unseeable and untouchable. The slightest signs of it that was noticeable was in the Precipice Between Worlds, the Dangai, usually in the form of a restrictive current and walls of the path travellers use.
However, Yamamoto's soul broke those conceptions. His Bankai, Zanka no Tachi Minami: Kaka Jūmanokushi Daisōjin recalled the barest of remnants of those whom he had slain, bringing up dredges of their souls from the River and imbued them with his flames. Being one of the eldest Shinigami led to his soul carrying weight unlike any other in the River, it's currents crashing futilely into the flaming soul and refused to be moved.
That was until it resonated with a similar soul. One of fire, burning with passion and emotion, the will to fight and get stronger. All the qualities the old soul had forgotten but somehow weak in weight.
And so the Burning Soul chose its path, to share its strength with it's fellow soul, feeling it being similar to when it was young. It shared it's fire, its wisdom and life into the feeble yet strongly burning soul, feeding it until it could blaze on its own.
And with that, Yamamoto, even if he was not aware of it, passed on the beginnings of his reincarnation into another, a being that died once and was resurrected, one that had it's soul weathered by the current of the River. While his own soul remained steadfast against the onslaught of moving souls, whatever was shaved off went to the other soul.
Natsu Dragneel was boisterous, rowdy, and ever so cheerful. From causing property damage in epic proportions to eating more than humanly possible, he seemingly caused chaos everywhere he went.
But despite his cheerful demeanor, there was one thing he did not tell anyone. Not even Happy or Lisanna.
It was his dreams.
Memories of sword and fire, from slaughtering men, women and children, commanding them to their deaths without remorse filtered through his mind. He often woke up puking his guts out in horror from the nightmares, easily passing it off as motion sickness caused by his hammock rocking.
Then came the battle with the invaders wearing white and their King. Ywach and his Quincies.
Day after day, the dreams came suddenly and without pattern. Memories of people clad in black, wielding swords as they roamed a giant fortress. Images of men and women of great power, dressed in the same black but with a white haori on their backs.
One wearing a haori of cherry blossoms, another a sickly man with white hair. He dreamt of a healer with a kind smile, a heinous criminal that slaughtered hundreds if not thousands and bathed in their blood. A man that left a scar on his forehead, crossing with the one already present, the memories flowed into his dreams like those movies he saw in recording lacrimas.
It was when Natsu had barged into Phantom Lord's guild, fists ablaze and a heart full of vengeance, did he know that those were not just dreams.
Until they stormed Phantom Lord, the dreams were what they were. Dreams
The battle was a blur, Fairy Tail had the momentum when they kicked Phantom Lord's doors down. He himself had knocked out, burned and kicked dozens of members minutes into the fight. The thrill of battle seeped into him, coaxing more flames as he launched himself into the melee again.
Makarov fought like the titan he was, enlarging his body and crushing mages in the dozens. Erza cut them down like grass to a blade, Gray freezing them solid and encasing them in ice while Elfman bulldozed them with his partial Takeover magic. Even Happy joined in with a stick, bashing Phantom Lord mages over the head.
The Phantom mages were pushed back, until Gajeel entered the fray, pushing Elfman back in a quick trade of spells. Natsu filled the gap, fists ablaze with vengeance striking at the Iron Dragon Slayer to get back for Levy.
That was, until Makarov fell.
"It's too sorrowful!" Aria cried out from above. Natsu looked at his Guild Master in shock. Makarov gasped feebly, eyes bulging and limbs shaking in strain.
"My.. My magic.."
Even without Makarov saying it, Natsu could feel it clear as day. His usual overwhelming magic power was gone. Rage bled into his vision, flames ignited as it propelled Natsu towards Aria.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!'
Aria raised his hands once more.
"And so another mage is lost today", he managed to cry out while tears poured out behind the cloth covering his eyes.
"METSU!"
Pain struck Natsu, his magic forcefully ripped from him. His anger was put out, like a candle in a storm, and the next thing he knew was darkness.
The dreams came back, but… they weren't dreams anymore.
Natsu looked around in confusion, standing on rubble while he looked at an old man covered in flames and scars, while at the other side was a man with thick black hair and a mutton chop moustache.
"I never thought I would be seeing my own death replayed, right before my eyes."
Natsu yelped, spinning around to see who was behind him.
It was that same old man from his dreams!
"Who the heck are you? Where am I? Why are there two of you? Tell me how to get out of here before I sm-ACK."
Natsu's tirade was put to a halt by wooden staff tapping his head.
"Calm yourself. Watch, and you will know everything."
Natsu opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat after meeting the gaze of the old man. Something inside him told, no, screamed, to listen to him. And so, he turned to the fight before him, and he faced the full might of the Head Captain of the Soul Society.
Natsu was in awe.
Flames of temperatures he never dreamed off spewed from the old man, aiming to kill the man in black.
"This is the fight where I died to Ywach."
THAT caught Natsu's attention.
" Wait, you died? Does that mean I'm dead too? OH GO-ACK"
Yamamoto's lips nearly twitched in a smile of amusement, his enthusiasm reminding him of the youngsters in the Gotei 13 and of his own brashness.
"I am dead, but you're not."
Natsu raised an eyebrow. "But…how are you here then?"
Yamamoto shrugged. He looked forward once more at the battle before him. Natsu followed his lead, only to be confused when the flames disappeared, but the heat intensified. His jaw dropped at the following skills the old man displayed. From heat at the edge of his sword, to being clad in flame, to bringing back the dead with his flames, which was supposed to sicken him, but all it did was call out to him. And then finally, a single slash. All that heat, all that skill into one strike that shook Natsu's very soul, awakening something familiar in him.
Yamamoto glanced at the younger man, noting the same reiatsu that he had, igniting in Natsu. "This is where I die", he states grimly, remorse staining his voice. Natsu witnessed Yamamoto get deceived, and another man, a mirror of whom he had fought moments prior, sliced him in half.
"Your dreams.. are not dreams. They are memories. MY memories." Yamamoto stated, turning around and walking away from the grisly scene. Natsu followed. "Old man, you're.. you're strong. But.. why does it feel like I'm supposed to know you? Why does all of this feel familiar?"
Yamamoto came to a halt, their stroll had led them to the First Division Barracks.
"Why, you ask?"
He turned around, drawing his Zanpakuto from it's sheathe, holding it hilt first towards Natsu, beckoning for him to take it.
"Do you trust me?"
Natsu hesitated. At first he'd have launched a fiery fist at the old, mysterious man without question, but something in him refrained from that urge. His flames felt docile in front of the man, and his usual temper felt cooler, letting him think clearer. But despite all the weirdness going around, there was thing he absolutely felt towards him.
Natsu nodded.
Yamamoto opened his eyes, gazing into Nastu's own and stared deep into his soul.
"Take it."
Natsu stepped forward, grabbing the blade offered to him. Flames billowed outwards, engulfing both of them. They felt warm, familiar even, as if something missing in him finally returned. He felt whole. Yamamoto let a small smile slip onto his face as his entire body turned to ash, joining the blaze that surrounded Natsu.
Obsidian eyes opened slowly, his breath rhythmic, exhaling and inhaling at a calm pace that had not been there before. Despite his lack of magic power, he felt strong, his soul still burning and his will still solid.
Natsu looked around, recognizing the infirmary that he was in. He was back in Fairy Tail's guild house, or what was left of it. He shifted, lifting himself up onto the bed and noticed something different, the presence of a wooden cane. Tentatively, he grasped onto the gnarled wood and smiled at the pulse of warmth it emitted.
"I'm back, old friend."
It all clicked into place. The dreams, the sensation of familiarity, even the techniques he had used rarely from the dreams in battle made sense. He was Shigekuni Yamamoto Genryuusai, and yet, he was Natsu Dragneel. He never lost anything, he remembered and hence was reunited with what was his.
His Zanpakuto pulsed it's warmth in accordance to it's old (new?) wielders emotions.
"...Yamamoto had his time. Now Natsu Dragneel will live his life."
He would remember his past life and remember his mistakes, so he would not commit them as Natsu Dragneel. He would be better than Yamamoto, and never fall to become the monster he was in the First Quincy War. He would be what Natsu Dragneel strived to be.
"But first… I have some Phantoms to deal with."