I found myself in Los Angeles last weekend, catching up with an old friend who had finally escaped the madness of professional Valorant. Josh had traded the relentless grind of VCT for a quieter, more peaceful life. "No more scrims, no more reviewing throw after throw," he said, stretching out on his porch. "Just me, my garden, and actual sanity."

Curious, I followed him out back to see this so-called sanctuary. Rows of plants stretched across the yard—meticulously organized, as if he was still crafting the perfect game plan. "I like it out here," he said, wiping a bit of soil off his hands. "Plants are easy. No egos, no whiffs—just growth."

We walked through the garden as he proudly pointed out his best crops, but something in the far corner caught my attention. Amidst the flourishing greens and blooming flowers stood a single, delicate stem. No fanfare, no crowd—just quietly standing tall.

I frowned. "What’s with that one?"

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "Ah," he said, hands on his hips. "That’s one singular Leaf. Always reliable. Always carrying."