Just As Said

A clarification stream that wasn't quite a clarification stream.

It had played out differently from the usual damage-control broadcasts that littered the personal streaming industry.

The intended goal had been thoroughly achieved. She'd said everything she needed to say, and even managed to turn around the public opinion that had been running on pure bad faith.

A few posts still trash-talking her floated around here and there. Every so often someone would drop into her stream and fire off a furious thousand-won heaping-rice-bowl donation.

But those were all dying embers. They'd lost the firepower they'd once had, and it wouldn't be long before the whole affair faded like it had never happened.

So she paid it no mind and kept streaming steadily.

Whenever a nasty donation or chat message did slip through, her viewers would pile on of their own accord, and after the stream ended she'd ban people based on tips from the community. The broadcasts rolled on without a hitch. The only real side effect, if you could call it one, was that a new meme had taken root in her chat.

"You people call me a delinquent over everything. I'm not a delinquent, okay?"

She was in the middle of the student-record reading content she'd mentioned during the last clarification stream.

She was carefully working through the teachers' comments year by year, sticking to the parts that wouldn't expose any personal information — and yet the chat kept insisting she was a school bully.

It had been a constant refrain ever since that stream. They didn't seem entirely serious about it, but the endless delinquent talk still left her a little wronged.

I was the one who got pushed around, if anything. I'm not the type to push anyone else around.

"Fifth grade of elementary school. Maintains harmonious peer relationships and demonstrates excellent leadership. Possesses the ability to command others, though still immature in some respects, leading to occasional conflicts with friends. How is any of this delinquent behavior?"

But the moment the student record entered her high school years, she rapidly ran out of things to say.

Truth be told, this was the first time she'd ever looked at her own student record. Who actually sits down and reads their own school file in the course of a normal life? So she had never imagined her homeroom teacher had planted landmines like this.

Seeing the evaluation laid out in front of her brought it all back. Sophomore year of high school — right in the thick of her storm-and-stress period.

"Uh, um… so about this…"

In reality she'd only started playing Abyss in her twenties, and as a student she'd genuinely just slept through class — but becoming Muna and getting younger had handed her the perfect excuse that she'd neglected school life because of Abyss.

"I was going through a rough patch, yeah…. Skipped school a lot. Just played Abyss nonstop. No excuses. But! I really just slept at school. I wasn't some piece of trash who went around bullying other kids."

"Yeah, there's always one or two of those kids in every class. The ones who memorize the weekly menu. Thanks to them I got to eat lunch only on the days with good food and skip the rest… wait, how does that make me a delinquent? I never told them to memorize it. They memorized it on their own and went around telling the whole class."

Just like that, she'd been cast as no better than a shameless tyrant who'd ordered a classmate to memorize the cafeteria schedule.

In the military she'd been an angel of a senior who never made the juniors memorize rank tables — so how had she ended up with this reputation?

Of course, it was half banter, half joke. Which also meant it was half serious — but still, the current stream atmosphere was far better than what she'd had before.

Back when her chest had been on full display, nearly every conversation had been about her chest. Starting with the chest and ending with the chest, you could say. Occasionally someone would mention that her voice was really nice, too.

It hadn't exactly made her feel bad, but it hadn't made her feel good either. She hadn't even known how to respond.

By contrast, ever since the clarification stream, those broth-scented chats — borrowing the community's own phrasing — had dwindled dramatically.

It was probably thanks to the new viewers who'd poured in after that day's broadcast, and she far preferred the current vibe.

From "big-chested girl streamer with a nice voice who happens to be good at games" to "good at games, kind of a delinquent, also has a big chest" — that was the shift, roughly.

Some people might ask what the difference was, but the fact that the main focus of the stream had moved from her chest to her gameplay was genuinely encouraging. At the very least, she — who spent entire days monitoring the chat — could feel that subtle change.

At this point, she was starting to think the controversy hadn't been such a bad thing after all. Crisis was opportunity, as they said, and the community meltdown had become a turning point for her stream.

She wrapped up the student-record reading content and was chatting with her viewers for a bit when—

"Feels a little early to end the stream. Want to run a game of Abyss? I've actually been researching a new build…"

"A town hall? Has it already been that long?"

An unexpectedly interesting piece of news had just dropped in her lap.

The Abyss User ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Town Hall.

A communication session with the player base held once or twice a year whenever a major patch or important announcement was on the horizon.

Future direction for the game would be decided, newly releasing heroes would be revealed — content that any player serious about Abyss absolutely had to watch.

Saturday, 5 p.m. That was when the town hall was scheduled. Streamers whose main content was Abyss all fired up their broadcasts ahead of time, preparing to watch the town hall together with their viewers.

Kayak was no exception. Abyss meant Kayak, Kayak meant Abyss. Her name had long been familiar to the old-guard players, but by now even most of the newly arrived players knew who she was.

The tournaments, and the recent incident, had seen to that.

Like it or not, her name had spread widely among personal streamers and Abyss players alike — and as a result, a little over ten thousand viewers had packed into Kayak's stream waiting for the town hall.

"Ahem, can you all hear me? Ladies and gentlemen who have come to watch the town hall, please take your seats. The town hall will begin shortly."

For the players, a town hall was something you couldn't help but look forward to. What changes would come this time? A god-tier patch? Or a dumpster-fire patch that would get roasted all season long?

It was the same nervous, fluttering feeling as drawing a lot with both winning and losing tickets inside. That collective emotion poured straight through the chat window, and Kayak the streamer seemed to be feeling a mix of emotions herself.

"Wow, these days when they say there's a town hall, tens of thousands of people show up to watch… Back then even a thousand viewers was considered a lot."

"Me? I'm not really… I don't particularly need a Camilla buff. If too many people start playing her, she'll just get nerfed for something else. A skin would be nice, though. Camilla's a foundational hero with real history, but she has way fewer skins than the others."

They were still chatting about that when the town hall finally began.

…

"Hieeeeeek…!"

The sound of someone choking on their own breath. Then the thunderous pounding of fists on a desk.

For a long while, those were the only sounds that filled Kayak's stream.