There wasn’t much that a man as powerful as Yamamoto Genryuusai feared, very little in the world actually. A hollow wasn’t much of a threat, all things considered, and really, his very presence was enough to make even the strongest captains quake in their sandals and socks.
Still, even for a man such as him, one who had lived for a long time, there were things that managed to rattle even his composure. There were nightmares that haunted his sleep, and there were a dozen in particular that preoccupied him even during the day.
Always nagging in the back of his mind was the fear that Hitsugaya would one day learn just who had really given dear Jyuushiro Candyland. Even now, the old man had visions of being frozen into an ice statue by Hyourinmaru.
Another irksome worry was Isshin’s return to Seireitei to reclaim his position as captain of the third division. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to handle the “grandson love slap to the face” as a typical greeting every day, and the old man knew that he couldn’t handle the ten thousand other inane things Isshin chirped at various times.
Though it seemed a fair distance in the future, Yachiru becoming old enough to date was terrifying. Yamamoto could not help but feel sorry for the first fool who thought it wise to attempt to kiss her. Between she and her “Ken-chan”, there probably wouldn’t be much left of the moron.
As captain commander, he had been well aware of Hinamori’s… uh, obsession with her captain. The crazed fixation that shone in her eyes had always made the old man shudder, and he dreaded that one day her attentions would switch from the now absent fifth division captain to himself.
While he recognized Kisuke’s exile as something of a necessity, he couldn’t help but think of his former student now and then, and he knew that Jyuushiro and Shunsui missed their close friend. Still, he couldn’t help the tightening in his heart whenever he thought of Kisuke reproducing one day. Or even worse, Kisuke having children with Yoruichi.
The world would never recover.
Even more frightening than Yachiru’s coming of age was the fear that one day Zaraki might actually come through with his attempts to learn his sword’s name. His bankai might actually be powerful enough to destroy all of Seireitei in one swipe, but on the other hand, the war with Aizen would be over pretty damn quickly.
It was a double-edged sword.
There were also things that Yamamoto feared ever seeing, such as walking in on Shunsui and Jyuushiro… again. They were his sons by everything that mattered, and honestly, no man should ever see his children in that position. Or any position. Especially that particular position.
Or that one day, everyone in his command would realize that he had no idea what he was talking about either. Still, he figured that if he had to deal with their idiocies and insanity on a day-to-day basis, then he could spout off utter nonsense whenever he pleased.
And yet, there were worse things, darker dreams that haunted his sleep.
He was afraid that Ichigo would follow Kaien’s footsteps in more ways than one. He feared that the man all of Seireitei was beginning to admire and almost expecting to save them would fall in the end as well.
Yamamoto feared that his age would find him before the war was over, and that without him, Soul Society would self-destruct. There was no one to replace him, in spite of how much he wanted to believe the opposite.
And what truly made his heart stop in his chest was the gripping fear that he would outlive Jyuushiro. He was filled with dread every time the boy was ill or in the hospital, terrified that he would outlive his own son.
After all, no parent should ever have to bury their child.
His number one fear, however, the number one reason Yamamoto slept so very little was the terrible realization that Sousuke might have been right all along.
That in the end, it would have all been for nothing.