AN: Depending on whether or not I decide any of the remaining chapters are just too stupid to include, this here marks the halfway point of the story. I should probably feel proud, but mostly I just feel like I should punch myself in the face. Repeatedly.

Fuck you Prophet of the past.

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"-With this level of Kido!"

Just as he made this proclamation of contempt, the ivory 'skin' that covered Souske Aizen's right arm burst off, like the surface of an ancient statue, taking the remnants of Kyoku Suogetsu with it. The Man Who Would Be God turned his eyes on this, unaware that one of his eyes had returned to normal while the other still sat in a pool of amethyst.

"…what? What's happening to me?!" He stared in open shock at his thin, pale and most definitely mortal arm, as though the limb itself was the very reason that he was so suddenly being plunged into this unknown scenario. Surprisingly, an answer was forthcoming to the despotic turncoat.

"It is the Hougyokou's Will," Urahara solemnly declared, any and all mirth long gone from his scruffy visage. "The reason the seal I shot into you is only now taking affect, is because your powers are starting to weaken." He turned his head slightly to acknowledge the orange haired teenager sitting somewhat between him and the outmaneuvered former captain. "This is all thanks to Ichigo. The seal was able to take effect because he fought so hard and pushed you to your limit."

Souske breathed in in short bursts, his body coming down from requiring no earthly sustenance to once again requiring air. He knew that he should be able to understand where the shop keeper was going with this, but it was hard for him to think, to move; everything felt as though his body was scattered to different ends of a dream, and he could only watch and listen, something he hated beyond reason.

Urahara returned his unusually flat and emotionless gaze to Aizen, giving the impression of looking at nothing more than an uninteresting exhibit in a museum. "The Hougyokou…is saying that it doesn't recognize you as its master."

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*wheeze wheeze*

The sound carried surprisingly far over the dry canyon floor, giving the three of them plenty of time to notice the figure headed towards them. A slight heat haze made him wavy like a mirage, but it was still plenty clear that it was Captain Juushiro Ukitake. He was still a ways off, jogging haggardly and with a hand at his side, so they just watched him in silence.

*coughcoughcoughcoughCOUGH!*

He stopped, needing a few staggering steps to halt completely and double over, hacking into his fist while fumbling around inside his haori for a handkerchief. Finally extracting one -proudly monogrammed with the kanji for 13- he held it to his mouth for half a minute, absorbing the force of the respiratory contractions that were laying him low. He needed a few moments afterwards to catch his breath, using that time to inspect the white cloth for telltale blood spots.

Satisfied by his lack of findings, he carefully folded the handkerchief back into a straight-edged rectangle with the kanji on the bottom of the outside fold and tucked it back into an inner pocket, accomplishing the meticulous work with a well practiced precision. Clearing his throat a few times, he looked over towards the three other shinigami, who were still regarding him with blank expressions.

Straightening both his his posture and his haori, the Captain of Squad 13 resumed his jog to their position, breathing steadily and precisely. He had learned long, long ago that trying to use Flash Step while his condition was aggravated was a mighty fine recipe for vomiting blood, severe dehydration and life generally sucking ass. It was a real shame, too, because he could be one of the fastest soul reapers on his good days, even giving Byakyua a run for his money.

But while centuries had taught him patience with his unique condition of 'Hasnodamnedlungsitis', he was still restricted to a speed easily matched by a living human, and it was a straight miracle that he had made it there from the Living World so quickly, especially after getting handed a beatdown that should rightfully have sent him to intensive care for weeks.

For several, mind numbing minutes he trudged towards them, triggering a foggy memory of "Monty Python" in the twisted mind of Urahara. This carried on for far, far too long, but the three observers found that they just could not tear their eyes away from the mind-boggling sight.

At the turn of the next epoch, the white haired Captain at last came to a stop within comfortable conversation range, hands on his knees as he struggled to get his breathing under control and suppress the next coughing fit. His hands were trembling terribly, but he closed his eyes and ran through the meditative exercises he had learned from an instructional booklet thoughtfully provided to him by Captain Soi Fon, soon bringing his body back under control.

Straightening, he inhaled deeply through his nose and let it out slowly from his mouth. Then he opened his eyes and set a serious look on the silent shinigami in front of him. He raised a finger into the air and opened his mouth-

Aizen's seal completely engulfed him and solidified in its completed form.

"Shit!"

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A nice metaphor for the speed at which this gets updated.