The Tournament

The last week of July was the date set for a small tournament hosted by SuppBlame, under the name Namtat Tournament.

Viewers had asked why it was called the Namtat Tournament. The answer, apparently, was that it just was. Between the nickname and everything else, the man seemed to have come with blame other people installed from the factory.

Anyway, that was the schedule, and today was the second Wednesday of July — about fifteen days out, by the clock. Which was why Team Lac had decided to gather for the first time and trade introductions. On Discord, of course.

Captain Lac turned on the stream as our representative, and the rest of us piled into the call.

"Unnie, hi hi! You've been doing well, right?"

"Yeah. Looks like you have too, Mia. Hitting Gold — you've been working hard."

"Unnie!"

Things with Mia had grown easy enough that there was no awkwardness left between us. She was cute to begin with, and she was the one who came in first, liking me out loud and closing the distance with real effort. Shoving her off would have been ridiculous. And anyway, hearing unnie had started to feel natural — at least when it came from Mia.

"All right, all right, let's set the private chat aside for a moment and greet the viewers first. Hello, everyone watching. I'm Lac, ADC and team captain for Team Lac."

"Hello! I'm Mia, in charge of support and being cute!"

"Cough—!"

"...D-do I have to say something like that too?"

The flustered voices of the other teammates, and the viewer chat spinning into chaos, were hilarious. Riding that mood, next up was top lane.

"Hello. I'm Wagyu, in charge of top and carrying for the team."

Declaring a carry out of Gold might have been a bit much. Anyway, next was me.

"Hello. I'm Hani. I could take jungle and the mid carry... but I yielded both to my teammates. Please take good care of me."

A line with the spice turned up a notch from usual, and the chat exploded. Honestly, talk like that still felt a little embarrassing — but this tournament was a far bigger stage than the Miracle joint broadcast. I'd shown up already sworn to appeal to the viewers, even a little, and come away with something real.

"Last one. I'm Waka, mid laner and the center of this team. And mid is mine."

Toxic viewers latched onto Waka's line and started a bad-faith dogpile. He and I were both Diamond right now, but the number after the rank was not the same. I was Diamond 4 — the rank people mock as Yeti tier — and Waka was Diamond 1. Even that was only because he'd been demoted. He used to live in Master. Last season, and the one before that... anyway, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a seriously skilled mid laner, and from a jungler's seat that made him a reassuring teammate.

"All right, all right, the nastier chats are on mute. The mods have both eyes wide open, so watch yourselves."

"We're not jumping into a game right this second. We'll line up call signs and main picks, take a look at the other teams... that sort of thing. You good with that, Waka-hyung?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't mind me. Run it however you want."

Come to think of it, our average age was pretty low. Mia was the youngest at twenty-two, Wagyu was twenty-three, Lac and I were twenty-four, and the eldest, Waka, was twenty-six.

Mia the troublemaker was not about to let chats ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like that slide. She snatched them up in a flash and needled Lac and Wagyu to hurry up and get themselves to the army. The two of them wilted on the spot.

With the meeting unable to go any further, I reined Mia in and tossed out a joke to put a little spine back in them.

"Carry even one game in this tournament, and I'll come visit you in the service."

"You mean that for real!"

"I have been recording this entire conversation. No take-backs!"

"......"

For an instant, the words completely got played flashed through my head. Sure enough — Mia at the head of them, pro BJs with three years and more under their belts. The viewers were nothing but delighted, crowing that they'd just been handed premium content. How did these people even know when the guys were enlisting, and what were they so happy about?

"Uh... I ship out the last week of August. I'm only in this tournament because Lac-hyung said we should burn it all down one last time."

"Ah! That's... hmm. Take care in there."

"I haven't left yet!"

From the sound of it, Wagyu had already put in for August, and Lac for November. Wagyu was one thing. Lac was one of the few real friendships I had, and the news stung a little.

"Anyway, so you absolutely have to come visit! That's a promise."

"No — I didn't say I'd come no matter what. You have to actually carry in the game..."

"I'll carry. If I carry two games, will you come twice?"

"Uh..."

Not just Wagyu. Somewhere in there, Lac's voice had filled right up with fighting spirit. We still had a pile of things to discuss and strategies to draft, and this was far better than the two of them sitting there slumped.

I was thinking that, and about to move things along, when the ambush landed.

"Then if I carry, a visit... well, I've already been discharged, so not that. Would a real-life joint broadcast be possible, maybe?"

"......"

Et tu, Brute... no. You too, Waka. A pack of men more interested in the funeral rice than the rite.

"Unnie, you have to be careful. Guys are total wolves, I'm telling you. I didn't think Waka would be like that, but you saw him drop that line, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I was a little surprised too."

"Sheesh! Unnie, you're too naive, that's the problem. Anyway, I'll protect you, so don't worry too much."

"Yeah. Got it."

A pipsqueak, talking about protecting someone. Still, she was moving with so much enthusiasm that it was cute, and a little admirable, so I played along just enough.

The other teams are stronger than I thought.

After I wrapped up with Mia, I lay on the bed and turned over everything the team had traded today. Four teams would clash in this tournament. Three rosters were already locked, and thanks to Lac — a man who knew everybody — working the phones, we'd gotten the information early.

First, the host's own squad. SuppBlame's team: Challenger, Master, Platinum, Gold, Gold. There was one female BJ in the mix, but as if the tier-plus-one benefit didn't even register, he'd filled the other four slots with men. Even so, it was enough. No — it was strong. Our tiers ran Grandmaster, Diamond, Diamond, Gold, Gold. One of those Diamonds was a disguised rank, barely any different in truth from Master, but even accounting for that, on paper alone we came up short of SuppBlame's team. That was just a fact.

And the next team. The one captained by BJ Ikueku, who might as well have been SuppBlame's other half. With Challenger Ikueku himself at the peak, the tiers ran Challenger, Master, Platinum, Platinum, Gold. He'd slotted female BJs into the Platinum and Gold spots, then used the plus-one tier bonus to take one more Platinum teammate instead of a Gold, and built himself a nasty roster. On ranks alone, the strongest team announced so far. Of course, both of those female BJs were supports by trade, so their real skill would sit under the tier — but if you looked only at the ranks, that was the story.

The last team still hasn't finished forming... anyway, if you go by tiers alone, we're the ones at the biggest disadvantage.

What worried me most was top. Mia had duoed with Lac so much that even if she got pushed in, she wouldn't fold outright. But SuppBlame's top was Platinum, and Ikueku's top was Master. Could hardstuck-Gold Wagyu actually hold?

"No. Nope. I'm not going top. Getting solo-killed and then running your mouth — I hate that more than anything."

It flared up before I could stop it. Think of top laners who eat a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solo kill and then open their mouths, and the anger climbs on its own. All that violent politicking, aimed straight at some poor jungler. Face that kind of shamelessness and I lose my head — I walk into the lane and drop Smite right on the cannon minion's skull.

"Four-eyes!"

Tiers aside, though, our team seemed to have a decent atmosphere, and we actually stuck together. Lac and Mia, and Mia and I, were already close, and Lac himself was the social butterfly, leading everybody from the middle. Wagyu followed him well enough, and Waka — oldest of the lot — blended in with everyone without pulling rank or digging in his heels.

"This might turn out to be an even better chance than I thought..."

At first I'd only been thinking about the promo. But there were still two weeks left. If I practiced hard with teammates who actually fit, banked some points, and just lightly touched up my game-related abilities — I might come away with more than I'd planned on.

"Jackpot!"

For the first time in nearly a month, the Helper looked almost lovely.