The League Stream

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A little tune slipped out of me all on its own on the way home.

My conversation with Yewon noona — the illustrator who went by SAX — had ended on such a satisfying note that I couldn't help it. That last drawing she'd done for me, especially, had squeezed a few tears of pure feeling right out of my eyes.

Someone might say that's a ridiculous thing to cry over, but the swell of emotion in that moment was almost impossible to put into words. It was as if I could finally feel, in my bones, that I had completely erased the person I used to be and become someone new.

Of course, I'm aware that along with the body, my thoughts and the way my feelings swing have changed too. I don't think that's a bad thing. It doesn't even scare me. If anything, it feels light. Liberating, almost.

If I ever said that out loud, people would probably look at me like I was crazy. They might wonder why I'd be so happy about my original self disappearing completely.

But I never had much attachment to who I used to be.

The person I hated most wasn't the father who abandoned me, or the mother who never gave me enough love.

It was myself.

In a way, that's only natural. They say the most important moments in a person's life are the memories of childhood. Everything you see and hear and learn then shapes your personality and your values more than anything else — which means a child's entire life is decided by how their parents, who are the whole world to a little kid, choose to act.

It's hard to love yourself when your parents never loved you.

But it's all right now.

I'm completely different.

From here on, I'm only going to stack up good memories.

So that's enough gloomy thinking.

"Watashi, ganbare!"

The second I got home, I went live.

The character art still wasn't finished, so I couldn't use it yet, but that was fine.

"I think I can clear the quest today!"

Yesterday the viewer count had climbed as high as eight, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it felt entirely possible. I'd even picked up a whole three follows!

The moment the stream started, the first viewer walked in.

"Ah! Irasshaimase!"

It was Lucia, my stream's benefactor, and as of yesterday my official manager.

Even a tiny channel, she'd said, would grow a rotten culture if you didn't run chat properly from the start — so yesterday she'd pinned on the manager title and taken over stream moderation. She'd also laid down a whole list of broadcast rules I hadn't even thought to consider. Rules like these, for instance.

For the record, that last dame dame was my idea. The whole thing looked so stiff that I wanted the ending to feel a little softer. Lucia did not look particularly thrilled about it.

I worried the rules were so tight that viewers would hate them, but according to my manager this was actually on the lenient side. Other streamers routinely stacked more than ten. Fair enough — if I kept broadcasting, more rules would probably pile up on their own.

Lucia answered my greeting in chat.

Since yesterday, Lucia had been greeting me with "Ilha." I'd asked what that meant, and the answer was that it was a squeeze of Hana and hai.

Hana (1) = il (1).

Hence, Ilha.

It was a little weird, but when she asked if it wasn't better than just going "haha," I nodded and let it go. According to Lucia, you had to pick these things early and keep using them, or the viewers who flowed in later would never pick them up.

Another viewer followed right after.

"Ah! SAX-sama! Irasshaimase!"

I greeted the person who was about to become another of the stream's benefactors with all due courtesy.

The same noona who had been chatting with me at the cafe a mere thirty minutes ago had snapped right back into the clipped talk she used over messenger.

"Hai! You said I have to turn the stream on every day!"

Why did noona talk in that peculiar way? The second the question occurred to me, I naturally asked her outright. The reason was simple.

"Hm? Why don't I talk like that in real life? Wouldn't it be weirder if I did? Over messenger it's just like... talking that way feels friendlier, you know?"

Amazingly, it was her idea of warmth and goodwill. After seeing the real Yewon, the clipped chat-speak was a little hard to get used to, but I decided to let it slide.

At any rate, the stream launched with two viewers.

Come to think of it, the two of them knew each other, and yet neither of them let it show in chat. Then again, Lucia herself had written the rule against calling out other viewers by nickname and forming cliques — it would have looked pretty strange if the manager was the first one to break it.

"Then Hana-chan's stream, hajimaru yo!"

Today's game was Legend of League. LoL, for short.

A globally famous title, and the closest thing Korea had to a national sport. It was also the game I had played the most on stream — which, to be fair, still only meant about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠twice.

"Lane is obviously top, the man's lane!"

I was a woman, but I'd always been a top laner, so it was probably fine. And maybe insisting that only men counted as "men" was a little sexist anyway.

My League skill, in a word, was unremarkable. I hadn't run placements this season, but I usually hovered between Silver and Gold, which made me about as average as average got.

That, of course, had been true before the change.

Things were a little different now.

"I'll pick up the placements I was running last time!"

I was six games into placements, with a win rate of 16.666667 percent. In other words, I had won a single game and been thoroughly demolished in the other five. Even that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one victory had been a bus ride courtesy of bot lane; I'd barely been dragged across the finish line.

Bathed in SAX noona's brutal honesty and Lucia's pitiful cheerleading, I lit a fire under myself.

That was the thing. For reasons I could not begin to explain, the current me — Yukino Hana — was dramatically worse at League. Forget Silver and Gold; I was playing at a Bronze level. Iron, even. Pathetic.

I had no idea why. People liked to say women were worse at games than men, but that argument only held any water at the very peak of the ladder. Down here in the trenches, gender didn't enter into it. You were just born without the talent.

Even so, I had faith. Maybe I hadn't suddenly gotten worse because I'd changed. Maybe I just hadn't played much League this year. If I stacked enough games and found the feel again, I'd be right back where I started!

Believing that, I queued solo.

And I got absolutely wrecked.

"Waaah. Malphite is way too strong!!"

I locked Teemo with complete confidence and went 0/8/0.

My teammates had started looking like they wanted to ask after my parents' health, so I slammed all mute in a hurry — if I hadn't, a full family-insult special might have gone out live on stream.

It was a strange thing, because I didn't even like Teemo that much. If anything, I leaned toward disliking him. The kit and the whole concept were practically designed to get on people's nerves.

And yet today, of all days, Teemo had looked incredibly cute and charming. That sunny little smile, and my mouse clicked before I knew what I was doing.

Anyway, I was still whining at the defeat screen, refusing to accept it, when my eyes happened to drift to chat.

Setting the contents of chat aside for a moment — there was a lot of it. I hurriedly checked the viewer count, and the number staring back at me was twenty-two.

While I'd been locked in on the game, I had blown straight past my goal of ten without even noticing!

The second that fact sank in, I could see the Information Window that had appeared in the corner of my vision.

"Heh. Heheh."

"W-watashi did her very best... There's not a shred of shame in how that match was played."

"It's fine. Watashi doesn't have any honor left to restore!"

"It is not a bit! Honmono Nihonjin desu yo!"

Ah. This one's going to be a little tough.