Ban-cam First! A VTuber Life in Reverse

A VTuber is a streamer who broadcasts through a 2D or 3D avatar. There is no reason to show your body. At most you offer a son-cam—hands only—and even then, most people wear gloves. But that is the story in Japan, the birthplace of VTubers. Here in Korea, ban-cam is nearly as common as son-cam. Hide the face and show the body: that is a ban-cam, something like a finishing move. And the content people run most often in that format? Cooking.

"Hoooo."

It's fine. It's fine. I'm good at cooking, aren't I? Even if hardly anyone shows up... I'll just tell myself I made one delicious meal.

If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after! If cooking doesn't work, something else will! What matters is that I keep trying.

Usually you stream with the avatar everyone calls a pan-ttegi, and only flip on a ban-cam once in a while. I had ended up doing it backwards, ban-cam first. Still, the content was decided. All that remained was to push forward.

For two days I bought what I needed and dug through every scrap of information I could find. The clothes I had on now—a women's white tee and a pair of workout pants—were a rush order, grabbed in a hurry. The problem? They were smaller than I had expected. The pants didn't sit quite right either, but compared to the top, they were a mercy.

"The reviews swore the sizing ran generous. So why is this thing plastered to me?"

『Your chest is eating the entire surface area of the shirt.』

"....."

『Same with that apron, which would have fit a normal person just fine. You look like you stole it off a child.』

"........"

Until only a few days ago, the very idea of choosing clothes had not existed for me. I had been blind, so I wore whatever my parents bought. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The first outfit I had ever picked out myself—and it was women's clothing, on top of a chest that defied common sense. Thinking about it now, landing on something that fit on the first try would have been the stranger outcome.

What cup size even is this. A D?

『A D, she says. It's a G at the very least.』

No wonder it felt so heavy. Anyway, I gave up on the clothes. A men's outfit would have left my shoulders and cleavage on full display, so I decided to stream in this tight thing as it was. The apron would cover what needed covering.

Phone on the mount. Angle adjusted. Lapel mic. Settings fiddled with, one after another. A broadcast test. I worked through it all in order.

"Ah— ahh— ah— hssip?"

The gear was shoddy, and the audio quality suffered for it. It felt as if my voice was being damaged somewhere in the process of going out over the stream—a little crushed, a little degraded. I would have to correct it on my end before it ever reached the mic.

"How do I use the transformation?"

『Try altering the structure of your vocal cords.』

"Right. I don't have the equipment, so I'm going to brute-force it with my body. I'll strengthen my lungs a bit, too."

『Yes, yes. I'll help until you get a feel for it.』

『First, look up the structure of the vocal cords online. Then imagine that exact shape sitting inside your throat.』

I found the images as instructed and pictured them hard.

『The density of that imagination is no joke. Good, good. Just keep doing exactly that.』

I called the image up in fine detail and wished for it with everything I had. And in that instant, a sensation like blood draining out of me washed through—followed by something alien inside my throat. The strangeness brushed past and vanished. Then I was comfortable again.

"Ah— ahh. Huh?!"

Transformation. I had doubted it and doubted it again, and it was real. I had used no technique at all, and my raw voice had changed anyway. This was... this was honestly like magic.

『Adjust the structure a little at a time. Find the voice you want.』

"Ah— ahh. A little clearer, a brighter tone..."

Listening to myself through the broadcast preview, I ran my own correction pass. Pure manual labor. An infinite gacha. Forty minutes, maybe? I fine-tuned my vocal cords, lungs, nasal cavity, tongue, the shape of my mouth, and everything else until I landed on the best voice I could offer a stream.

"Haaah, why am I this exhausted..."

『Because every time you use the transformation, you burn Jeonggi Energy. Of course you're tired.』

"Jeonggi Energy?"

『Hmm. Explaining it piece by piece every single time is a bother... You like games, don't you?』

—Nod nod!

"I love them."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

『Then I'll make you an interface, something like a game.』

『So it's easier for you to adjust to life as a succubus. And so the power is easier to handle.』

"Oh. Thank you."

『Yes, yes. Hurry up and adapt, and get lewder and lewder. Like a proper succubus!』

"....."

My gratitude, that warm swell of being moved, was obliterated in a single sentence. I did my best to hide how sour my face had gone and finished the final test. Then I spread a promo post through each community.

My hands shook. Every time I posted the promo to another community, my mouth went bone-dry, as if I were walking, step by step, up onto a stage.

『Later, try altering your amygdala, your nervous system, your hormone glands, your pituitary, all of that.』

『It'll help take the edge off the nerves.』

Thanks for the advice. But I still have to get used to this the hard way, on grit alone.

Only then would I be able to handle something bigger later... right?! The thought had barely formed when a few viewers came in.

Don't greet them.

Even with people here, I pretended not to notice. As naturally as I could, I set out my tools and brought over the ingredients I had already washed. The iron law of a so-called dead-room stream, where the viewer count is next to nothing: greet them too eagerly, and they feel the pressure and leave. Staying completely silent wouldn't do either. My greatest weapon was my voice, wasn't it? Even if I had to talk to myself, I needed them to hear it. I needed to sell it.

"Ahh, I'm hungry. Let me get this made."

"Tonight's dinner is f-fried rice."

Ack. I was so nervous I stuttered. It's fine. Calm down. The sky isn't falling. For no good reason I clutched the apron in a tight fist and drew a deep breath.

"First I'll cut the vegetables."

Whether I was nervous or not, my hands remembered the knife exactly. I minced the garlic, sliced the green onion, and cut every vegetable, mushrooms included, down to the same size. Choosing cooking for my first piece of content had been the right call. Once I actually started, the tension loosened a little.

"...!"

The first chat. The tension that had been fading climbed right back up. Stay calm. Don't overdo it. Talk to them naturally.

"No, unfortunately I don't have any right now. Bacon in fried rice is delicious, though. Right?"

"Ah... r-really? Thank you."

Good. There were only four of them, and only one person was actually chatting, but even so, I was simply happy. My parents had always been busy working, both of them, and I had never had friends. I had spent all that time alone in the dark, listening to other people's streams. And now I was the one broadcasting. Now I was talking to someone else. Something swelled in my chest until it ached.

『I hate to ruin the moment, but at this rate you're going to cry on your very first stream.』

『Pull yourself together.』

"Ah...! Ahem. With fried rice, it's best to prep every ingredient before you start."

"If you rush, you make mistakes. I do, anyway."

Thanks to Lilith, I managed to grab hold of my fraying nerves. I finished cutting the vegetables and checked the chat. Since I was streaming from my phone, I had to lean my body toward it to read.

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine. I can do this with my eyes closed."

That wasn't bragging. It was a plain fact. I had cooked and eaten with my eyes shut for my entire life. There was also a childish little urge to show off, so I stared even harder at the phone and kept cutting without looking.

Was it because this was a Saturday evening? Had the promo actually worked? Or had some huge streamer just happened to go offline? I couldn't tell the cause, but the viewer count suddenly climbed. Past ten. Fourteen... nineteen. Fifty-seven!

"Huh? H-huh?"

More dazed than glad. My goal for today had been to break ten before the stream ended, and I had already blown past it.

"Uh, one second. Way more of you showed up than I ever imagined."

Even a dog at a village school can recite poetry after three years! Ten years of watching VTuber streams had taught me exactly when you were supposed to greet people: when the greeting wasn't aimed at any one person. When there was a crowd.

"Welcome, welcome. Have you all had dinner?"

"I just started streaming today, so I'm a total newbie, and the content is cooking. Please be kind to me."

Out of habit I dipped my head in a bow, then startled upright again, afraid my face would slip into frame.

"No, this is a ban-cam stream. Um... let me introduce myself for a second?"

I oiled the pan and let it heat while I recited the line I had practiced more times than I could count.

"Hello, I'm Sori. I'm an aspiring voice actor, and an aspiring VTuber."

"I don't have an avatar yet, and I don't have a computer or any of the other gear, so I ended up starting like this—a ban-cam on my phone."

"Please bear with the video and audio quality. I'll work hard! Thank you for having me."

Clunk, clunk. Even to my own ears it sounded like I was reading out of a textbook. I had been far too nervous. Still, I had gotten through the whole thing, and that alone was a relief. Cooking. Just cook.

— Tsssssh.

Beaten egg hit the heated pan. From here on, it was a fight over timing. Put the rice in now and the egg's moisture would turn everything soggy; put it in too late and the egg and the rice would never marry. The moment when just enough moisture had cooked off. I used to judge that by sound alone. Now that I could see it, too, the timing was easier. Now!

"In goes the cold rice. You know, right? Fried rice is made with leftover rice."

"Ah. The oil I put in earlier is scallion oil. I keep garlic oil and scallion oil made ahead."

I stirred the rice through the egg, then dropped in the prepped vegetables. Then the garlic. Salt and pepper went in after.

"Some people use oyster sauce, but salt and pepper is my preference."

"See how each grain is standing up nice and separate? Time to taste it."

I blew on a big spoonful and ate it. Praising my own cooking was a little embarrassing, but I raised a thumb anyway.

"It's simple, but it's good. And the color is pretty, isn't it?"

"Heh..."

This was good. This was electric. Dozens of people were watching me. Praising me, even. It was a feeling I had never once had in my life, and the dopamine went ripping through me in a long, bright streak. So this was why people streamed. I was so happy I caught myself grinning like an idiot.

"Ah! Thank you for the donation. This is my first one ever! It's so weird..."

Maybe my reaction was the trigger. The donations kept coming. The viewer count had climbed to eighty-two before I noticed, and the chat had grown with it. It was my first stream and my head was a mess, but I still poured everything I had into talking to them until it was time to end.

"Thank you all so, so much for today. I'll be on again tomorrow at the same time."

"Please come hang out. Bye-bye."

The moment the stream ended, I let out the sigh that had been packed up under my chin. Tension and pressure had filled me to the skin, like a water balloon one second from bursting, and this was the time to spill them out.

That was good... eleven, twelve times more successful than I expected.

I savored the pleasant hammering of my heart and rushed through the cleanup. And then? Phone in hand, I dove onto the bed and pulled my own stream back up on replay. How the broadcast had gone. What I had missed. How the viewers had reacted. What they wanted. There was a lot I needed to pin down. Ego search. I didn't forget to look up my stream name, Sori, on each community. Just in case, I searched "newbie" too, and "cooking."

And the result—I found out why so many viewers had poured in at once.

This. This was why the viewers had suddenly exploded. Digging a little further, I found clips from my stream already up. The lower half of my face, caught for a flicker when I bowed. The moment I leaned toward the phone to read chat, a sliver of cleavage and my collarbones slipping into frame. Things like that.

"....."

I felt like I was going to lose my mind, so I quietly set the phone down. Part of me was dizzy with it. Even so, for a first stream, this was a huge success. I hoped tomorrow would bring even as many as today...

No! Don't get your hopes up. Expectation control. I can't let this go to my head already.

I told myself that, and still had no idea what to do with how giddy I was. Tonight... I was going to sleep well. I really was.

Day two of streaming! I hadn't even been live for ten minutes before my soul left my body.

"....."

Expectation control. Had I bothered with it for nothing? No matter how many times I looked, it was 362. No—it had just become 365. Whatever else was true, my stream... seemed to have hit it big.