The Kurosaki living room was a cozy mess of energy, laughter drifting from the kitchen where Isshin was loudly arguing with Yuzu over juice cartons, while Karin berated him for being too loud. But here, gathered around the television in the heart of the house, the mood was a mess of all kinds as the clock was ticking in Game 7 of the NBA Finals. Oklahoma City Thunder, winning 103 to 91 against the Indiana Pacers. They were moments away from winning their first ever championship.

Ichigo sat cross-legged on the carpet with a half-empty bowl of popcorn on his lap. He was hunched forward, fists clenched, brows furrowed so tightly it looked like he was ready to charge into the screen. “It's unfair!” He barked, shooting upright as the clock was nearing double zeroes. “All series long it's been the same thing OVER and OVER again! Robbery after robbery!”

Orihime, seated beside him with her legs folded under her, gave a sympathetic nod. “I saw it too…! The Thunder seemed to always attract so many fouls—it’s not fair.” Her eyes darted between the screen and Ichigo, a crease forming in her usually soft expression. “It’s like the referees wanted them to win… Maybe they’re fans?”

Chad, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and legs stretched out, offered a soft grunt in acknowledgment. He didn’t speak often, but when he did, his calm made people listen. “It was a good game. Both teams fought hard. You can’t just blame the refs, Ichigo.” He tilted his head slightly toward the screen. “Thunder executed better overall throughout the series. They earned it.”

Ichigo scoffed. “Earned it?" Ichigo gave Chad a look, before turning back to the screen now that the confetti had all but rained across the rampant stadium. "They got babied by the whistle every time I turned the TV on! And are we going to forget that Tyrese Haliburton literally got injured to start the game?!”

Uryu, perched perfectly upright on the edge of the couch with one leg crossed over the other, pushed his glasses up with practiced precision. His voice cool and analytic. “Actually, by every metric—turnovers, rebounds, efficiency—the Thunder were the superior team all the time. Indiana lost control so easily. They cracked under pressure. Remember game four?”

Orihime blinked. “But they were doing so well until the third quarter! They had such nice teamwork…” Ichigo jabbed a thumb at the screen. “Yeah! And then that nonsense offensive foul? You’re telling me that wasn’t scripted?”

Uryu gave a light, exasperated sigh. “Ichigo. You’re emotional because you wanted them to win, not because they objectively should have. Your judgment is clouded, as usual.” Ichigo whipped his head around. “Says the guy who cheers for the most boring team every year!”

Chad, unmoving, gave a low chuckle. “You guys argue like this every season. Nothing’s changed.” Orihime smiled softly. “That’s true… It’s kind of nice, though.”

At that moment, all four turned in unison—each of their expressions a unique reflection of the game’s aftermath. Ichigo looked desperate for validation, Orihime hopeful, Chad quiet and thoughtful, and Uryu expectant in that dispassionately smug way. Just then, all eyes turned toward you, the only one who hadn’t weighed in.

Ichigo, arms crossed, scowled. “Alright, come on. What do you think? The Pacers were totally robbed of a championship.” Orihime, hopeful. “Yeah… I mean, they were playing so hard! Didn’t they deserve more?” Chad, mellow as ever. “You watched the whole series. What did you see?” Uryu, adjusting his glasses again. “Make sure your answer is rooted in facts—not feelings, like some people here.”