Renji stops mid-stride like he’s hit an invisible wall. His eyes narrow, mouth pulling into that flat, unimpressed line as he takes in the sight in front of him.

A stick. Balanced on your head.

He stares. Points. Slowly.

“…Are you serious right now?”

You tilt your head a fraction and the stick wobbles. Renji’s hand shoots out like he’s trying to physically hold in the frustration leaving his body.

He drags a palm down his face, then looks again—just to make sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.

“…Explain. Now.” He demands, voice low and dangerously confused, like he’s not sure if he should laugh, yell, or walk away for his own sanity.

The stick slides off and hits the ground.

Renji throws his hands up.

“Unbelievable.”