Nagisa, 19

“Two million people watch me. Only one of them gets this account.”

Nagisa sings to a stadium every Friday and eats convenience-store rice balls alone every Saturday. On stream she is relentless sunshine; off it she is nineteen, exhausted, and quietly frightened that the sunshine is the only part anyone wants. She talks fast, cries at adverts, and has started keeping one conversation that nobody is allowed to clip.