What Urahara Kisuke was most concerned about was Uehara Shiroha's attitude toward Hollowfication and the Hōgyoku.
So, he tried again, his voice casual but his eyes sharp beneath the brim of his striped hat:
"With Mr. Uehara's talent, you should soon reach the very limits of what a Shinigami can achieve. Don't you desire transcendence?"
Uehara Shiroha met his gaze calmly, his silver eyes reflecting the dim light of the shop. His voice carried an indifference that belied the firm resolve behind his words.
"I do want to transcend," he admitted, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his zanpakutō. "But I refuse to follow your path. My knees are too stiff to kneel—so I choose to stand and surpass the limits on my own terms."
The shop fell silent save for the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards. Dust particles danced in the shafts of afternoon sunlight that filtered through the windows.
Urahara Kisuke's expression didn't change, but his mind was already spinning with possibilities.
This man... he saw through me completely.
Uehara Shiroha knew exactly what Urahara was trying to do. The sly shopkeeper was subtly fanning the flames, probing his thoughts, perhaps even hoping to stir a conflict between him and Aizen. It was a delicate game of chess, with each word serving as a calculated move.
Yet, instead of reacting emotionally, Uehara Shiroha's response was measured and deliberate—like a blade cutting through deception with surgical precision.
Urahara's eyes narrowed slightly, the shadow from his hat obscuring the flicker of surprise that passed across his face.
This wasn't what he had expected. From what he had gathered through his extensive network of informants, Uehara Shiroha didn't seem to have any interest in the Hōgyoku.
Does he not desire transcendence after all? Or... does he possess another method to achieve it?
The thought was both intriguing and alarming. If Uehara had discovered another path to power—one that even Urahara hadn't conceived of—what might that mean for the balance of the three worlds?
Once again, Urahara Kisuke found himself thrown into uncertainty. His mind, usually so sharp and adept at unraveling mysteries, had met an opponent it couldn't fully comprehend. Ever since meeting Uehara Shiroha, he had encountered more dead ends in his thinking than in the century since his exile.
The moment Uehara Shiroha left, sliding the door shut with a gentle finality, Tessai Tsukabishi moved unnaturally fast for a man of his size, practically "floating" into view from the back room where he had clearly been eavesdropping.
The former Grand Kido Chief gazed in the direction Uehara had gone, his deep voice carrying a note of admiration as he adjusted his rectangular glasses.
"Young people these days are truly astonishing," he murmured, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. "That Captain-Commander is no less monstrous than the legends from a thousand years ago."
The comparison wasn't made lightly. For someone of Tessai's age and experience to draw parallels between Uehara and the ancient warriors of Soul Society spoke volumes.
Then, shifting his attention to Urahara, he furrowed his brows, noting the unusual tension in his old friend's shoulders.
"Why do you look so grim?" Tessai asked. "Is the pressure really that immense?"
Though he hadn't fully grasped the nuances of the verbal exchange between Urahara and Uehara, he knew Kisuke well enough to recognize when something was troubling him deeply.
Urahara exhaled deeply, removing his hat and running a hand through his messy blond hair before spreading his hands in mock helplessness.
"How could it not be?" he said wryly, a humorless smile playing on his lips. "On one side, there's Aizen, and on the other, we have Uehara Shiroha!"
Hearing this, Tessai's confusion deepened, his thick eyebrows drawing together.
"I think I understand now what Yoruichi meant," Urahara continued, replacing his hat at a slightly rakish angle. His expression turned thoughtful, almost distant. "That guy really does seem like he can see through everything—even our thoughts. And yet, when it comes to his own strength and ambitions, it's as if he's shrouded in mist. I can't get a clear read on him. I can't see through him at all!"
Of course, Yoruichi had also made some... less professional comments about Uehara Shiroha—remarks involving "dangerous levels of intelligence," "unreadable motives," and, of course, something about an "exceptional physique" that had made her golden eyes gleam with interest that extended beyond professional curiosity.
But Urahara had the good sense to keep his old friend's private musings to himself. Spreading rumors about his former boss and this mysterious genius would only spell trouble. If word got out, he might not even be able to keep his shop open, let alone find a safe corner to exist in within the Three Realms. Yoruichi's wrath was not something even he was willing to face.
More importantly, Yoruichi had been right in her assessment.
Urahara had always believed that, despite his seemingly casual and unpredictable actions, Uehara Shiroha was moving with a very specific goal in mind. Even his offhand remarks likely contained hidden meanings, layered beneath complex strata of misdirection and half-truths.
The problem was—Urahara still couldn't figure out what that goal was.
This meeting should have been the perfect chance to probe Uehara, to analyze him and gather more pieces of the puzzle. Instead, he walked away with even more doubts and uncertainties clouding his brilliant mind.
And then there was that one particular statement from Uehara Shiroha that troubled him most...
"Aizen is nothing. He might just be the beginning."
That sentence lingered in Urahara's mind like a persistent echo, stirring an uncomfortable premonition deep within him.
What exactly does he mean by that?
Did Uehara Shiroha truly not see Aizen as a significant threat? Or worse—did he believe that Aizen was merely a stepping stone toward something far more terrifying? The implications sent a rare chill down Urahara's spine.
For someone as driven by curiosity as Urahara Kisuke, this kind of uncertainty was pure agony. It felt like being presented with a complex equation but having half the variables obscured.
It felt like Uehara was dangling answers just out of reach, teasing him without revealing anything concrete—a frustrating game that Urahara typically played with others, not one he found himself caught in.
Tessai, meanwhile, was watching his old friend closely, reading the subtle shifts in his expression that few would notice.
"Is he really that amazing?" he asked. He had known Kisuke for centuries, and in all those years, he had rarely seen him speak so highly of someone. Even Aizen, with all his cunning and strength, hadn't elicited this level of intrigue and respect.
Urahara let out a chuckle, his lips curling into a mischievous grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Oh, he's that amazing. But..." He trailed off for a moment, tapping his closed fan against his chin thoughtfully, then continued, his eyes flashing with something between excitement and mischief.
"Aizen chose not to eliminate Mr. Uehara while he was in Hueco Mundo. That means even he couldn't completely figure him out."
He adjusted his hat, a glimmer of satisfaction appearing in his gaze as he considered this rare alignment of circumstances.
"Which means that, for now, we're all standing on the same starting line again."
Urahara had no doubt that Aizen had crossed paths with Uehara multiple times in Hueco Mundo—and each time, the legendary schemer must have encountered setbacks that prevented him from making a decisive move. Whether it was Uehara's power, his intelligence, or some other factor entirely, something had given even Aizen pause.
The thought was endlessly entertaining to Urahara, like a rare delicacy to be savored.
I may not be able to predict what Uehara Shiroha will do next...
But neither can you, Aizen.
There was nothing more amusing than seeing a so-called mastermind struggle to solve a problem they couldn't control. It was like watching a chess grandmaster finally meet an opponent who could match them move for move.
And if that mastermind happened to be an enemy?
Well, then, the amusement was doubled.
Tessai stared at Urahara's smug expression and sighed, wondering if his friend was perhaps enjoying this dangerous stalemate a little too much.
By the time Uehara Shiroha returned to the Gotei 13 base, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows across the training grounds. The air was filled with the distant sounds of shinigami practicing kidō and the rhythmic clashing of zanpakutō.
Waiting at the entrance was Michibane—a peculiar mix of slender and plump, an odd contrast that somehow suited her elegant Shinigami robes. Her large eyes sparkled with expectation as she caught sight of him, though her expression remained slightly blank, as if struggling to fully process her emotions.
When he finally approached, she blinked a few times and, with an awkward yet sincere tone, greeted him.
"Sir, welcome back!"
Despite her usual air of detachment, it was obvious that she was excited. A faint color touched her cheeks, betraying the emotion she was trying to contain with her professional demeanor.
She had lived alone for so long that expressing emotions didn't come naturally to her. Years of isolation had left her social skills underdeveloped, like muscles atrophied from disuse. But Uehara Shiroha was confident that, under his influence, she would continue to improve, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with the full spectrum of human connection.
Just then, the task system in his mind pinged with a familiar notification sound—a gentle chime that only he could hear.
A special mission had arrived.
[Special Mission 14: The Three Party Talks – Conquer the Protagonist]
Objective: Within Kurosaki Ichigo's body lie two powerful forces. As he awakens as a Shinigami, the true protagonist will make his presence known—demonstrating his strength before Kyōraku Shunsui and Zangetsu to prove who the real protagonist is!
Reward: Random ability or item.
Uehara Shiroha's lips curled slightly in amusement, his eyes reflecting a private understanding.
"As expected. If you step into the plot, a special mission follows. This is truly a double blessing."
He couldn't help but feel pleased. To witness a famous moment in the story and receive a special mission on top of it—it was the perfect combination, like finding an unexpected treasure during an already pleasant journey.
Glancing over the mission details once more, he murmured, "I like this mission, but it's going to take some time."
The concept of a "protagonist" never really mattered to him. Such labels were arbitrary at best, meaningless at worst.
If you were strong enough, then you naturally became the protagonist of your own story.
If you were weak, then even if fate handed you the title, you'd be nothing more than a joke—doomed to be criticized, ridiculed, or forgotten by history's unforgiving pen.
Besides, this wasn't some overpowered protagonist fantasy novel where everything revolved around a single character, where the world bent to accommodate one special individual's journey.
It was Bleach.
And if there was one thing consistent about the so-called "protagonists" in Bleach, it was that they all had tragic family issues—mother killed by a Hollow, father with a secret past, sisters in constant danger.
At least, they were still better off than superheroes.
After all, everyone knew about Batman and alleys—dark corners where parents died and legacies were born.
Uehara had always been curious—if the Justice League and Avengers ever held a reunion, how many sets of dead parents would they have between them? Probably not many survivors. Orphanhood seemed almost a prerequisite for heroism in those stories.
But he set those thoughts aside with a slight shake of his head. Such musings were entertaining but ultimately irrelevant to the task at hand.
The mission rewards were what really interested him. That random ability or item could be the key to further advancement, another stepping stone on his path to true power.
Strength mattered more than anything. With it, he could do whatever he pleased. Protagonist or not, it was irrelevant. Even the main characters of power fantasy novels weren't necessarily happier than him.
Fighting every day, training endlessly, living under constant pressure—was that really an enjoyable life? Always being at the center of conflict, never having a moment's peace?
Not for me.
Shaking his head, Uehara turned his focus to how he would accomplish this task, his mind already mapping out potential strategies and approaches.
It wasn't just about waiting for Ichigo Kurosaki to become a Shinigami—it was about proving dominance before Kyōraku and Zangetsu.
That wasn't going to be easy, even for someone of his caliber.
Kyōraku was one of the oldest and most powerful captains, a man whose carefree demeanor concealed deadly skill and intelligence. And Zangetsu—well, that was a complex entity altogether, a manifestation of power with its own will and purpose.
Kurosaki Ichigo, even in his early days, was no ordinary young man. He carried within him Shinigami power, Hollow power, and Quincy bloodline—each formidable on its own.
And combined?
It was outright broken—a perfect storm of potential that could reshape worlds.
From the moment Ichigo unlocked his Zanpakutō, his strength was already enough to threaten Captain-level Shinigami. The boy's growth was unprecedented, defying the conventional wisdom of Soul Society that power came only through centuries of training and discipline.
Uehara knew that for a long time, Ichigo had been unknowingly handicapping himself. Until he awakened his true dual Zanpakutō, he was only fighting with fragments of his power—like a master swordsman wielding a broken blade without realizing it was incomplete.
He had essentially been playing the game on hard mode without realizing it, facing opponents with one hand tied behind his back.
If Uehara wanted to suppress the forces inside Ichigo's body—to demonstrate his dominance over both the Hollow and Quincy powers that resided there—his own power had to be unshakable. There could be no hesitation, no weakness for those forces to exploit.
And that was where the Mind Stone came in, gleaming with subtle power from where it was embedded in his consciousness.
This mission felt tailor-made for him. With the Mind Stone, controlling and overwhelming Ichigo's unstable powers was well within his capabilities. The artifact's ability to influence, dominate, and reshape mental landscapes would be the perfect counter to Zangetsu's fractured nature.
In fact, this was the perfect chance to take his understanding of the Mind Stone to the next level—to push its capabilities beyond what even he had imagined possible.
As for his panel stats, his Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō had already reached the level of a millennium-old Captain—more than enough for this task. Each discipline had been honed through countless hours of practice, until they were as natural to him as breathing.
With his various trump cards, even if his raw power wasn't as overwhelming as some endgame monsters, he could still kill in an instant. Strategy and precision often trumped brute force, after all.
After all, by the time the Thousand-Year Blood War arc came around, battles had essentially ascended into godhood. The stakes had risen beyond conventional understanding, with powers that could reshape reality itself.
Aizen's spiritual pressure theory was already outdated—the power scaling had moved on to something far more complex and devastating. What once seemed impossible had become merely difficult, and what once seemed godlike had become an everyday occurrence.
With the Mind Stone, Uehara wasn't afraid of facing those monstrous powerhouses that lurked on the horizon. Let them come with their world-shattering abilities—he would be ready.
Besides, considering the long duration of this mission, the reward had to be worth it. The system never gave trivial rewards for challenging tasks.
Perhaps, he might even receive something stronger than the Mind Stone itself—another artifact to add to his growing collection of powers.
The possibilities were endless, branching out before him like paths in a forest.
The future was promising, a canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of his ambition.
As he processed all this, a subtle smile appeared on his face, a rare display of genuine pleasure that softened his typically stern features.
Michibane, who had been quietly observing him with the attentiveness of a loyal subordinate, noticed his sudden shift in mood. Her eyes widened slightly in response, like a flower turning toward the sun.
His happiness was infectious—seeing him pleased made her feel warm inside, a sensation she was still learning to identify and appreciate.
"You focus on your training here," Uehara instructed, gently ruffling her hair in a rare gesture of affection. "I'll come check on you when I have time."
"Yes, sir!" she responded enthusiastically, straightening her posture with renewed determination.
She watched as Uehara disappeared in a flash of shunpo, leaving only a gentle breeze in his wake.
Then, glancing around at the now-empty base, a strange sense of loneliness settled in her chest like a cold weight.
For the first time, she realized—people could truly feel lonely. It was an odd discovery for someone who had spent most of her existence in isolation, never knowing what she was missing until she had experienced its opposite.
Returning to Soul Society
Stepping through the Senkaimon, Uehara Shiroha returned to the Seireitei. The gateway between worlds closed behind him with a soft hum, sealing off the human realm from the afterlife once more.
His pristine white haori stood out among the countless Shinigami in their traditional black uniforms, a beacon of authority in a sea of dark cloth. The symbol of the Gotei 13 was emblazoned proudly on his back, marking him as one of the thirteen most powerful warriors in Soul Society.
The moment they saw him, their reactions were immediate and unmistakable.
Many bowed respectfully, their faces filled with admiration and awe. Some whispered to each other, pointing subtly as if confirming a legend in the flesh. Even the unruly, battle-hungry Squad 11 Shinigami—who normally scoffed at rules and authority—didn't dare act out in his presence.
They might have been arrogant and reckless, hungry for combat and dismissive of protocol, but when facing Uehara Shiroha, they resembled obedient housecats rather than the wild tigers they pretended to be.
Ignoring the gazes directed at him—both the respectful and the fearful—Uehara moved swiftly, using Shunpo to travel through the Seireitei. The world blurred around him as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, his movements so fluid that they seemed almost lazy despite their incredible speed.
Soon, he arrived at the Gotei 13 Headquarters—more specifically, the Commander's Office. The imposing building stood tall against the blue sky, a testament to the power and history of Soul Society's military force.
The first thing he saw was the life-sized ice sculpture he had created near the entrance, glittering in the sunlight like a diamond warning.
As if on cue, Ise Nanao emerged from the building, sensing his spiritual pressure before he had even announced his presence. Her sharp senses had always been one of her most impressive qualities.
"Commander, welcome back!" she greeted warmly, clutching a thick book to her chest as was her habit. Her lips curled in a small smile, and the joy in her expression was undeniable despite her attempts to maintain her usual professionalism.
She was someone who rarely displayed emotions, always composed and serious, devoted to duty above all else. Yet, at this moment, she looked as if she wanted to hum a tune—a most unusual state for the typically stern Vice-Captain.
Uehara Shiroha nodded in acknowledgment, taking note of the subtle changes in her demeanor. Such details rarely escaped his notice.
He knew that whenever he left on a mission, Ise Nanao worried about him despite her logical mind telling her that he was more than capable of handling himself. At the same time, she always looked forward to his return with an eagerness that went beyond mere professional relief.
"Commander, do you want to rest first?" she asked gently. Her tone was oddly reminiscent of a wife welcoming her husband home, solicitous and warm.
"I'm fine. I was just strolling around—how could I be tired?" he replied dismissively, waving away her concern.
Then, turning his gaze to the ice sculpture standing near the entrance, he smirked, a playful glint appearing in his eyes.
"Did the Squad 11 lunatic see this?" he asked. "What did he say? Did he run away in shame?"
Standing at the entrance of the Gotei 13 Headquarters, a towering two-meter-tall ice sculpture loomed over the doorway, casting a long shadow across the threshold.
The figure was sculpted with ferocity and menace, its features hardened into an expression of unrestrained battle lust. The wild, spiked hair, standing upright like porcupine quills, made it immediately recognizable even to those who had never personally encountered the original.
This wasn't just any statue.
This was Kenpachi Zaraki—the infamous Captain of the 11th Division, a man whose very name struck fear into the hearts of many Shinigami.
And the reason why this ice-cold replica stood here?
Simply put—Kenpachi Zaraki was annoying.
Every now and then, the battle-hungry captain would appear out of nowhere, challenging Uehara Shiroha to duel after duel with a manic grin that promised violence. His bloodthirsty nature could not be sated, his lust for battle driving him to seek out the strongest opponents regardless of rank or protocol.
At first, Uehara had found some amusement in entertaining Zaraki's constant provocations. The brute had been useful for practice—a sparring partner who could take hit after hit without complaint, whose durability was matched only by his single-minded pursuit of combat.
But as time passed, Kenpachi was no longer enough. The gap between them had widened too much to be bridged by mere enthusiasm.
Uehara Shiroha's Zanjutsu had long surpassed the limits of a normal Shinigami. His swordplay had reached a level where fighting Kenpachi, who hadn't even unlocked Shikai, felt like sparring with a training dummy—predictable, limited, and ultimately unsatisfying.
Without his true power, Zaraki wasn't even qualified to be a stepping stone on Uehara's path to transcendence.
Thus, Uehara had developed a simple solution—every time Zaraki got too persistent, he would simply freeze him solid. A temporary measure that both incapacitated the nuisance and served as a pointed reminder of the difference in their abilities.
And one day, after receiving a side mission related to sculpting, he had decided to take things a step further.
Using his masterful control over ice, he had immortalized Kenpachi into a grand ice statue, placing it at the entrance as a warning sign.
A scarecrow, warding off an overly persistent beast.
Yet, to his surprise, the plan had backfired in the most unexpected way.
Ise Nanao covered her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh that threatened to disrupt her composed facade. "No, Captain Zaraki actually likes this sculpture. He said it 'captures his essence' perfectly."
The irony wasn't lost on her—the very thing meant to deter Kenpachi had instead become a source of pride for the battle-loving captain.
Uehara Shiroha paused, looking at the frozen figure again before letting out a small chuckle that carried equal parts amusement and resignation.
"...I suppose it does. The artistic integrity is too high. That's on me."
He couldn't deny that he had captured Zaraki's wild spirit with uncanny accuracy—the manic grin, the unyielding stance, the pure embodiment of battle lust. In trying to create a mockery, he had inadvertently crafted a tribute.
After their brief conversation, the two entered the Commander's Office to handle some official business. Papers were signed, reports were reviewed, and decisions were made with the efficiency that characterized Uehara's leadership.
But after that?
It was time for their master-disciple interaction—the part of the day that both looked forward to more than they would admit.
Twenty Years Later…
Time passed in the blink of an eye, flowing like a river that couldn't be held back.
Twenty years had gone by since that day—since Uehara had taken on his disciples and begun shaping them into forces to be reckoned with.
Inside Training Ground No. 1 at the Gotei 13's Seireitei Base, Uehara Shiroha stood before two familiar figures. The training ground was vast and open, designed to withstand even the most destructive of spiritual powers without collapsing.
Facing him were Hinamori Momo and Kuchiki Rukia—no longer the inexperienced girls they once were.
The passage of time had tempered their spirits and strengthened their resolve. Their once naïve expressions had matured into the determined gazes of warriors who had faced death and emerged stronger for it.
After all, a Shinigami's spiritual pressure only grew stronger with age and experience, like fine wine gaining depth and complexity over time.
Both had come a long way from their uncertain beginnings.
Hinamori Momo was now the Vice-Captain of the 5th Division, her elegant beauty and graceful demeanor making her one of the most admired figures in the Gotei 13. Her kidō skills had blossomed under Uehara's tutelage, each spell executed with a precision that few could match. But her strength had also evolved—far beyond the timid girl who once hid behind others, seeking protection rather than standing on her own.
Rukia, on the other hand, remained less popular than Hinamori within the ranks of the Gotei 13, but had poured all her energy into training with single-minded dedication. Without many distractions or social obligations, she had devoted herself entirely to mastering her skills, particularly her unique ice-based abilities that resonated so well with Uehara's own mastery of the element.
Yet, despite their achievements, both knew one undeniable truth that humbled them whenever they stood before their master.
Without Uehara Shiroha, they would have never grown this strong so quickly. His guidance had been the catalyst that transformed potential into reality, raw talent into refined power.
And they never forgot it, not for a single day.
Both girls were grateful for his unwavering support.
Both admired him for his unmatched skill and wisdom.
And both were deeply attached to him in ways that transcended mere respect for a mentor.
Uehara, pleased with their progress over the years, decided to push them a little further—to see just how far they had come under his guidance.
With a calm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he gestured toward them, an invitation and a challenge in one simple movement.
"Hinamori, Rukia… come and show your master just how much you've grown."
Then, without warning—
A sliver of spiritual pressure leaked from his body.
Just a fraction, a mere taste of the ocean of power he contained within himself.
The moment it did, the two girls stiffened as if struck by lightning.
Their previous confidence vanished, replaced with a deep, instinctual dread that reached into the most primitive parts of their minds.
Gripping their Zanpakutō tightly, they immediately shifted into combat stances, muscles tensed for either attack or retreat.
Uehara Shiroha had always placed great emphasis on one particular lesson—perhaps the most important one a Shinigami could learn:
The ability to withstand spiritual pressure.
No matter how strong one's techniques were, no matter how perfect their swordplay or how devastating their kidō, if their body and mind collapsed under the weight of their opponent's Reiatsu, then nothing else mattered. All skill became meaningless in the face of overwhelming spiritual pressure.
Even if they barely managed to endure it, their movements would become sluggish, their techniques clumsy, and their energy would drain faster than normal—like trying to run through deep water.
In a real battle, that was the difference between victory and death.
And in all of Soul Society, there was no one better suited to train this skill than Uehara Shiroha.
With his Mind Stone, he could strengthen their willpower, pushing them beyond their natural limits while ensuring they didn't break under the strain.
With his Horse Talisman, he could ensure they wouldn't suffer lasting injuries, allowing for recovery that would have otherwise taken weeks or months.
And with Observation Haki, he could monitor their physical conditions in real-time—keeping the pressure at the perfect intensity, ensuring they were pushed to their limits without breaking completely. It was a delicate balance, like a surgeon working with microscopic precision.
Unlike many other instructors, Uehara never forced his disciples to take on impossible challenges that would only lead to failure and despair.
He didn't expect them to defeat monsters far beyond their level, to achieve the impossible through sheer willpower alone.
He only wanted them to have the ability to survive—because in the world of Shinigami, sometimes survival was the greatest victory one could hope for.
If they couldn't win?
Then they should run, retreat, and live to fight another day.
It was that simple, that practical, and that wise.
Both girls were rare talents, diamonds in the rough that he had recognized long before others did. And he had every intention of nurturing them into something greater, of seeing them reach heights that would make Soul Society itself take notice.
Kuchiki Rukia swallowed hard, her body trembling slightly as sweat beaded on her forehead.
"The teacher's aura… has become even more terrifying," she whispered, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the training ground.
Hinamori Momo felt the same overwhelming pressure bearing down on her.
Her heartbeat accelerated, pounding in her ears like a war drum, and an unexplainable fear began creeping into her thoughts, threatening to paralyze her completely.
It felt like massive boulders were pressing down on her from every direction—like she had been dropped into the depths of the ocean, struggling to move even a single muscle against the crushing weight of the water.
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