"our friendships a beautiful delicate flower...that has been crushed by peni"

[scubatankfilledwithfarts]

Badou initially showed up because there was a chance he'd get something for free. A free show, maybe a corn dog, who knows. Surely someone had loaded Renji, the fucking moocher for 100 years (literally), with spending money. A little change purse. The image alone is enough to make him chuckle to himself, unnerving a few parents who cross his path.

Either way, there are too many clowns to be comfortable. Kid or no kid. Surely this was a job and not just for the hell of it, surely the Importa(i)nt Soul Reaper had called upon Badou's skills for cash and not winning at ring toss games.

There's a buzzing sensation that abruptly reaches Badou's pants and it isn't a clown's hand or a venereal disease.

over by the bouncy castles. I'm the one wearing a baby. Bring Twizzlers.

Badou's been in the business [of surviving through blood and a scream-torn throat] for seven years. He listens to his gut. His gut, at the thought of whatever baby [cabbage patch kid baby?? one of those electric babies you have to take care of in school?] Renji could have, in any possibility of this world or a parallel universe, turns.

On the other hand he hasn't been elbow deep in shit by wandering away from curiosity.

He finds the bouncy castle as planned. Single eye peeled for a flash of red, he spots him and doesn't freeze. No, the info broker marches over to the soul reaper with jagged, swinging steps, pointedly pointing--

"What the fuck is this thing."

The relieved, one might even call it fond smile upon seeing Badou faded on Renji's face, blackened browns furrowed.

"Don't call her a thing-- she's a baby-- her name's Ichika." One large hand cradles the tiny head of puffy red hair, dwarfing the tiny skull, really.

This is like something out of a nightmare, Badou thinks. "I can see that, but I thought you guys said your prayers over the dead and that was that-- not babysat the living."

Yeah, that was a living baby. Little burbles of spitbubbles from her mouth, violet eyes zoning in on the rustles of motion around them.

Renji's irritation mounts, but its tempered by the tiny cargo strapped to his chest. In his charge.

"She ain't-- look man, this is my kid."

Time stops. The universe farts. Badou's brain slows.

"Yours....you made that? Someone let you make a baby with them? Holy fuck...!" The info broker doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, so the noise he makes is a bit of both. It might attract some crows, as well, thinking its a soul which needs a guide to the next life.

Once he's done laughing and also shrieking because the two dissolve into a very manly slap fight right there in front of God and everyone, Badou calms.

"And the twizzlers?" This has gotta be normal.

Renji brightens now, something paternally fond shadows his features, and Badou takes a moment to feel Weird in his chest. It's probably gas because what he says next dashes it all:

"Ichi-chan likes 'em best! But mama won't letcha have em, will she? Nooo, she won't!" The 100 year old dead man coos to his dead (????) child.

Badou finally decides what to do: he spins on his heel to walk all the way to the bathroom without a single backwards word or glance. He's learned something today.

1. Dead people can have babies
2. Someone wanted to procreate with Renji (he makes an okay dad....fuck)
3. Nothing is more hilarious and awkward than pissing side by side with a man wearing a baby.

and as a side note, about fifteen minutes later his dear friend had to make this text to his wife:

Here is your half hour reminder. Meet you at 4th division