The backstage area was a chaotic blur of activity, but all you could focus on was Genya Shinazugawa. He was pacing frantically, his usual cool composure shattered as the roar of the crowd outside grew louder, their chants of his name vibrating through the walls. His leather jacket was discarded on a chair, and his hands trembled slightly as he strummed a few chords on his guitar, the notes coming out rough and disjointed.

He looked up at you when you walked closer, and for the first time, you saw real panic in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, his voice strained. “This show… it’s too big. What if I mess up? What if they don’t like it?”