VS (2)
110 Games was exactly what it sounded like—a collection of a hundred and ten mini-games, mostly built for one-on-one matchups.
Everything from popular staples like Go, Gomoku, and chess to hand-ranking games like Yahtzee and poker. Streamers played it constantly. Utopia ran it often enough, too—though Bibi never seemed to care for it much.
Her reason was that she didn't like the number. What that was supposed to mean, I had no idea.
"Still, solid pick. With this, even Eve—who's not exactly a physical powerhouse—can put up a fight."
If they'd gone with an FPS, a fighting game, or a racer, the match wouldn't have even been a contest.
For the record, this match had a wager system where every viewer could stake the points they'd accumulated. Points scaled with donations sent, chat volume, and hours watched—and the only real use for them was betting on streams like this one.
Of course, a bet meant you could lose. I'd already burned through a pretty solid pile of my own.
The wager this time was simple: who takes the final win.
And of course—
Haha. I said it wasn't me.
Most of the Adami had put their money on Eve losing—which was to say, on Kiri winning.
Even knowing Eve had a shot, the idea of Kiri actually dropping a game to her just didn't compute. Couldn't really blame them.
And for the record, my own bet was on the promised victory too.
Eve had already lost her mind before the first game even started, and in Indian Poker she got thoroughly outplayed in the mind games.
She bled every last coin and opened the series with a loss.
That adorable voice of hers was grinding my ears down to the edge of collapse when—
Thump.
Wait. What was that.
A voice completely different from anything so far—mature, low, and deliberate—slid straight into my ear.
...Seriously, what.
Had Kiri's voice always sounded like that?
It was never exactly childish to begin with, but today it was something else. Like she was putting her whole self into it.
Like she was trying to seduce someone.
And right on cue—
For the record, Adami's signature color was blue and Hara's was yellow. Meaning if you were turning yellow—
The Adami who found Eve's shrieking adorable only doubled down on the Hara conversion, and the result—
Eve, cheeks puffed out like balloons.
Then, without another word, she went right back into the next game with Kiri.
She was properly sulking now.
The teasing had gone a little far, to be fair.
Caught between a fully sulking Eve who wouldn't even react and a Kiri going all-out to seduce the entire chat, the Adami flailed in every direction, unable to commit either way.
Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the second game ended.
Winning one seemed to have lifted her mood considerably. The sharper Adami immediately started shifting their points onto Eve for the next round.
At least the cheeks weren't puffed out anymore. The sulk level had definitely dropped from a minute ago.
What now.
I needed to say something.
Hmm...
Something we should be saying. Anyone could see she wanted an apology—but if we just apologized straight up, the stream would get boring, right?
A little extreme, but effective shock therapy.
I'd watched Eve long enough to know exactly what a donation like that would do.
She was yelling and flustered and clearly finding the whole situation hilarious, because the giggles started leaking through—and before long the sulk had drained out of her completely, leaving the usual Eve behind.
Yeah. Sulky Eve was good, quiet Eve was good—but Eve was at her best when she was laughing like that.
Ah. She'd only just noticed.
No wonder she hadn't reacted to that part properly.
...Yeah.
I was Eve's First, after all.
Don't worry. I'm not dying. If I die, I can't watch Eve.
One way or another, the Eve–Kiri match kept rolling.
Against the odds, Eve took the final victory.
There'd been stretches mid-match where Kiri's focus seemed to just... drop out. So even she had days like that, huh.
Maybe it was because she'd beaten Kiri at a game—Eve looked genuinely, radiantly happy, and I sat there feeling quietly warm as I watched her laugh.
Sometimes it was like this.
Not sending a donation. Not typing in chat.
Just watching Eve enjoy herself.
"...Ninety-nine out of a hundred. Eve."
I'd gotten to see so many different sides of her today that I gave her the highest score I was capable of. You'd know by now—even on Eve's streams, I never handed out a perfect hundred.
That last point was a memory adjustment. The highest form of respect I could pay to the most precious memory of my life.
"Whew. Still, though—Kiri's real voice... that was dangerous. I almost want to hear it again."
The way my heart had jumped the second that voice slipped through while my guard was down—I could still feel it. And maybe it was because I'd put the headset on for the first time in a while, but it had resonated through my ears, into my head, and then spread through my whole body...
A voice that tickled and held me at the same time, soft as an embrace.
"...Eve, that wasn't a wish. I was just surprised."
I muttered the excuse to no one, then watched Eve's post-match free chat for a while—and before I knew it, a lot of time had passed.
Eve must have noticed too. She yawned, started eyeing the end-stream button, thanked the Adami a few more times, and signed off.
...The moment of goodbye always felt lonely.
"...Maybe I'll step out for a bit."
It had been a good stream, but the aftertaste of that ending left me restless sitting at home, so I headed out into the dark.
The cold wind met me the second I opened the door. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and started down the stairs.
"I thought the weather had warmed up, but nights are still freezing."
I'd thrown on a windbreaker just in case, and it turned out to be the right call.
Still, the chill cutting through the gloom in my chest didn't feel bad. I stood in front of the apartment building for a moment, letting the cold air hit me, and was about to head back inside when—
"Standing out here alone in the night wind, looking all lonely? Pretty atmospheric~"
Ah. That voice.
"...Senior Wa Sol."
"Nice night, Gachi."
She was in the same easy clothes I'd first seen her in, a blanket draped over her shoulders, calling out to me.
Strange.
Whatever gloom had still been hanging on a second ago was completely gone.
"Are you heading somewhere, Senior?"
"Nah, just... felt like getting some air."
She walked right up to me, closing the distance like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But this spot—something about it felt like déjà vu.
"Ah, this is where you first talked to me, right?"
"It is. Looking at it now, you're even wearing the same clothes as that day. Minus the blanket."
"...What, what. You remember what I was wearing the first time we met? Don't tell me."
"It's not flirting."
"Ehh, I don't buy that~"
I'm telling you it's not.
...Wait. Was it, though? Remembering what someone was wearing the first time you met them, and then going out of your way to say it out loud—that did kind of sound like flirting.
"...Now that I think about it, maybe it is."
"Huh?"
"Ah."
It had just come out of my mouth on its own.
"That... is actually flirting."
"Y-yeah, I guess so."
No room to argue that one...
"Pfft, hahaha. What do you mean 'I guess so'? You're the one who said it."
"It just slipped out."
"Oh, that just makes it sound even more sincere."
What was I supposed to do. Her unbroken audio stream was steadily cutting off every escape route I had.
...Maybe change the subject.
"More importantly, Gachi."
Huh. Seemed like Senior was the one changing the subject first.
"Did you watch Eve's stream today?"
"Of course. Did you watch it too, Senior?"
"...Yeah. I did. How was it?"
She laced her fingers behind her back, leaned forward at the waist, and looked up at me as she asked.
Black had always suited her, and maybe that was why—standing there in the dark with only the moonlight on her—she looked almost painfully beautiful.
"Gachi?"
"Ah, yeah... I mean, it was an Eve–Kiri collab, so of course it was fun."
"And? Any evaluations that were different from usual? Not about Eve—the other part."
Different from usual. Not about Eve.
That would be... ah. Something did come to mind.
"Today, Kiri..."
"Mm-hmm."
Why—why was she closing the distance like this.
Looking closer, her eyes almost seemed to be sparkling.
"She kind of... made my heart race."
I had no idea why that one sentence felt so embarrassing. Suddenly flustered, I covered my mouth with my hand and turned my face away from her.
And looking at me like that—
"Fufu."
Senior was smiling, bright enough to show her teeth, clearly delighted.
I was only watching her from the corner of my eye after turning away, so I might have been imagining it.
But her cheeks looked a little red.