Characters: Ryuuken, Yachiru, Ikkaku, Yumichika
Summary: "Will someone please claim this child?"
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers
Timeline: No timeline needed
Author's Note: This seemed like such a funny image to contemplate. Complete and utter crack, obviously.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Ikkaku and Yumichika are, of course, quite frantic. They've lost Yachiru before; too many times to count, in fact. But this time takes the cake, and if they don't find her before having to report back to Zaraki-taicho, they'll probably lose their heads for this one.
Losing Yachiru in the world of the living was not their best idea. If anything, it's probably their worst.
"She can't… have gone far," Yumichika gasps, as they sit down on a bench. "Kusajishi-fukutaicho's fast… but she can't do Shunpou, not yet anyway—unless she's been practicing while we weren't looking, I suppose."
Ikkaku groans. "Oh, God, please don't jinx it. I wanna live too much."
As they rest, someone approaches down the night-darkened street, footsteps reverberating off the sidewalk. However, neither of the Eleventh division Shinigami notice that someone's presences until he clears his throat.
Yumichika and Ikkaku gape at the sight that is shown before them. An older man dressed all in gray with silver hair and brittle eyes hidden by glasses, easily supporting the tiny Yachiru in his arms. She is fast asleep with her small arms latched firmly around his neck with her head lolled on his shoulder, and the image would be rather sweet if the man didn't look like he was on the verge of having an aneurysm from sheer irritation.
He steps forward, and Ikkaku is of the personal opinion that he's got a death glare that could give Unohana-taicho a run for her money. Through gritted teeth and a fearsome gaze that promises death if they show even the slightest sign of amusement, he hisses, "Will someone please claim this child? I have better things to be doing than babysitting a miniature Shinigami."
They aren't going to argue with the man.