Team Name: Curry Crusher

Team Name: Curry Crusher

Jerico spent a good while watching Barcode's stream.

The broadcast itself wasn't particularly entertaining. But Barcode's stream had value in simply watching her play.

How many of the people watching her right now truly understood what she was doing? Why she made this play, why she took that gesture at that exact moment. From her point of view alone, some of it made no sense — but from the perspective of the game as a whole, every decision clicked into perfect clarity.

She was holding the entire Rift in the palm of her hand and toying with it.

Even in preseason, the bracket Barcode was queuing into was upper-mid Challenger. That was the celestial realm — the place where the best Leori players on the server gathered.

Just as not every Master or Grandmaster was equal, not every Challenger shared the same skill. There was a sky beyond the sky. And the only word Jerico could find for Barcode was exactly that: a sky beyond the sky.

He had thought she was only good at Yune. Watching the stream, he knew better. Barcode wasn't just good at one champion — she was good at the game itself. And her mechanics ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were every bit as sharp as her game sense. She wasn't papering over weak hands with champion knowledge. Mechanics, decision-making, champion mastery — all of it had reached the peak, and that was what made this kind of playful, dominant play possible.

Jerico had met a player who played like that once. Not in solo queue — in the pro league, on the enemy team, just once. His own position had been jungle, and it was precisely because he jungled that he understood how monstrous that player was. The entire reason Jerico had retired from pro play and become a streamer traced back to him.

Most people didn't really know that player. He never showed his true level in solo queue, so plenty of people doubted him, dismissed him as a fallen king. But even a glance at the record told you how extraordinary his achievements were — who it was that had written the living legend of Leori.

Once Jerico understood what kind of genius — no, what kind of monster — Barcode was, only one thought remained in his head.

He had to recruit her to his team, no matter what. If he could just get her on board, he was certain they would win the Platform War. That conviction settled over him completely.

Jerico stopped everything he was doing and devoted himself to watching her stream.

"One more game and I'm done."

I took the sunglasses and mask from the corner of the desk and stuffed them into a drawer. I kept the hoodie on. I debated the hat for a second, then decided against it. Once I was ready, I tilted the camera up toward my face for the face cam I'd promised.

"I don't like this…"

I ignored any question that looked like it might get complicated. I didn't know why I had red eyes and red hair either. If I was going to become a woman, I would have preferred something ordinary.

To kill time in queue, I picked a reasonable question out of chat and answered it.

"Why I turned off donations? I'm rich. If you want to donate, go buy yourself something good to eat instead."

The second that weird message popped up, I moved the mouse and force-stopped that viewer's stream.

"Pet dogs aren't allowed to type in chat, so I fixed that for you. If you're happy with the service, type 'woof woof.'"

Messing around with chat like that, a match finally popped. Ban-pick flew by, and before long the game was on.

It was no different from the ones before it. Win lane, carry — the familiar script. Of course, an ally decided to open mid and force-throw a won game, but it was preseason, so even getting opened on didn't make me that angry. I was streaming on autopilot myself, after all.

Still, knowing this was the last game put me in a good mood — the same feeling a salaryman gets walking out the door after a full day's work.

"That's it for today."

A few viewers sounded disappointed, but most seemed satisfied. Thanks to that, I could end the stream without any lingering attachment.

"Haa… how many hours left again?"

Rough math said about twenty more hours of streaming would qualify me for the Platform War. The thought of grinding another twenty hours was depressing, but I couldn't quit now. I'd already come too far to walk away.

I closed the Teu-ichi site and was about to boot up some other game when a whisper landed in my channel chat, even though the stream was already off.

Anyone who regularly watched Leori on Teu-ichi would know that ID instantly. A whisper from Jerico — the streamer treated as Curry's rival. The content was simple: was I interested in competing in this Platform War.

Last I'd checked, Jerico already had a full roster. Why he was whispering me, I wasn't sure. But I decided to treat it as an opportunity and typed a reply.

The reply told me roughly what was going on, and why he wanted me. But Jerico wasn't the only one who'd sent a recruitment offer. I was going to join his team anyway — but walking in this easily felt like I was leaving money on the table.

I was telling him, indirectly, why I should pick his team over anyone else's.

It was half a test and half a joke. Would he give me a clean yes? A confident person would affirm it. An insecure one would hedge.

On that count, Jerico was a confident man. Getting a firm answer in under three seconds said as much.

Not long after, another whisper arrived with a Discord link.

No more whispers after that. I clicked the Discord link Jerico had sent. The client opened on its own, connected me to the server, and I entered the channel labeled Strategy Room, just as he'd said.

Three people were already in the call. Where was the fourth? Checking the member list, one of them was offline. I set the question aside for now and joined the voice channel.

"Oh, you're here."

"Yes — you're Jerico, right?"

"That's right. Anyone in this call you don't recognize?"

At his question, I glanced over the nicknames in the channel. Every single one was familiar.

Antenna. Widely regarded as the best amateur support, a major Teu-ichi streamer — the kind people called a "big corp" streamer. Quiet most of the time, but infamous for murderous shotcalling mid-game. That was how he'd earned the nickname Lol-pago, and the name fit: his briefing was that precise.

…Or so I knew.

I knew the other one just as well. Cooldog. A Challenger-tier streamer who mainly played AD Carry, famous for duo queueing with Antenna. Where Antenna was quiet, Cooldog was relentlessly positive and bright — completely unlike the usual ADC stereotype. People said an angry Cooldog was terrifying, though I'd never seen it myself. Like Antenna, he ranked among the top three amateur ADCs.

I ran a quick mental summary of both of them and opened my mouth.

"I know both of them."

"Well, I am pretty famous."

"Coldog, please… if you'd just shut up, you'd already be halfway there."

It wasn't Jerico who answered me — it was Cooldog and Antenna. The one spouting confident nonsense was Cooldog; the one scolding him was Antenna.

"Hello! Cooldog here! If saying the full nickname is awkward, you can just call me Coldog!"

"Antenna. Yes, looking forward to working with you."

"Looking forward to it too. Oh — I'm Barcode, a stre…amer who just started broadcasting recently."

Coming out as a streamer almost made me laugh out loud. Me, the person who used to stream-snipe broadcasters for sport, ending up like this. All of it was Curry's fault.

"Intros are roughly done, but Latte hyung still isn't here…"

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself, Jerico? Or am I already a caught fish, so…"

"Ah? Ah, no, that's not—"

I'd only been teasing out of boredom, and the reaction wasn't bad.

"Wow, Rico hyung, I didn't know you were like this. You brought her in — take some responsibility."

"Wh-what the hell are you talking about, you crazy bastard!"

"Ebebebe~ I'm a crazy bastard so I have no idea what I just said~"

Ding—

Was this what it meant to be an ADC? Cooldog dumped a full stack of irritating poke onto Jerico, then immediately left the call — kiting out of range to dodge the counterattack. A perfect specimen of bot-lane play.

"Coldog's got me a little dizzy. I'm going to step out until Latte hyung gets here."

Ding—

Antenna left right after Cooldog. That left only Jerico and me in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the call.

"Haa… sorry. I didn't skip the self-intro on purpose…"

"I'm joking."

"…I'm starting to understand a little why Curry didn't pick you up."

"So I really am that bad…"

"That one doesn't work twice."

"Tch."

If it had been Curry, it probably would have worked twice. I clicked my tongue at the pointless regret.

A short silence settled between us. Then something occurred to me, and I asked.

"Have you decided on a team name yet?"

"Huh? No, not yet. Still working on it."

Still no team name. Most teams would have locked one in by now. As if reading the question on my face, Jerico went on.

"Nobody on our team has any naming sense… so we still haven't settled on one."

"Then how about this?"

I spoke the team name I'd been holding onto in my heart ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a long time.

"Curry Crusher."

Jerico went quiet when he heard it. The silence didn't last long.

"…You know what? I really like that name."

There was a little laughter in his voice — and a clear note of satisfaction.