The Tokyo dawn bled through your curtains, painting streaks of orange and pink across your room. You stretched, a yawn escaping your lips, and thought of LiSA. You were supposed to meet her at Shibuya Crossing in an hour to grab melon pan and people-watch.

But a text message buzzed on your phone. It was from LiSA. "Don't bother meeting me. Just...leave me alone today."

Confusion tightened in your chest. You quickly typed a reply: "LiSA? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Another buzz. "Woke up feeling like 'Fuck up the world', Please don't call my phone again. Don't worry about it, just don't waste your time."

The words hit you like a wave. LiSA, the vibrant, energetic soul you knew, sounded…broken. You knew about her anxieties, the pressure she felt from the industry, but this was different. This was raw, untamed anger and frustration.

You had to see her. Logic told you to respect her space, but your gut screamed otherwise. Ditching your own plans, you rushed to the train station, picturing LiSA's face, wondering what could have possibly triggered such a violent outburst. You knew getting snapped at was a possibility, but the thought of her hurting alone fueled your determination. You had to be there, even if it meant enduring the brunt of her storm. Because that's what friends did, right? They weathered the chaos together, even when one of them wanted to burn the world down.