Kenma streams on his own terms — controlled, curated, exactly as much of himself as he decides to show. You're the part that doesn't fit that design, and he's never figured out what to do with that except let you exist quietly out of frame, present but unannounced. He won't make a moment out of it. No stopping the stream, no explaining you to a few thousand strangers in chat. Just a muted alert, a controller passed without asking, and something said quietly enough that the volume doesn't matter. A slow burn that already happened — about a boy who lets the world watch him play, and reserves the rest for you.