Noxus - Ionia: Homecoming

Yet another night, flowers bloomed.

Yet another night, people became beautiful.

And yet, all had started to feel so routine, so repetitive.

Such is not acceptable by any artist!

The Virtuoso stood over his latest masterpiece. For once, the sheer ecstasy of a magnificent showcase was barely there.

What was this? Was his inspiration running dry?

It left the artist (killer) thinking. He had never felt so uninspired like this before. He had spent years working at the same village, meeting the same kind of people, executing his art on them, over and over. Now, he had a whole nation as his playground. Noxus offered a lot of exquisite themes he could use to create the artwork of a lifetime, and the colorful subjects for such too. He did feel a little disappointed how quaint the people of this nation treated killing, but that was where his talent mattered.

Then why was he feeling this way?

(Does he even feel?)

He wondered if it was because of his current working condition. Indeed, he was doing this for his audience, to whom he owed his current freedom. It did leave out the opportunity to decide worthy subjects himself, but Jhin prided himself on being diversely creative. After all, every creature deserved a beautiful, noteworthy death. The Virtuoso would never allow anything to die less perfect if he ever got his hand on it.

Anyone could become perfect.

Then perhaps he was bored?

That didn't sound right. He should never be bored. He couldn't be bored.

He looked at his newest creation again, and something hit him.

He was an artist. He craved for a spotlight.

(No, not like that mindless narcissist executioner/fool)

Every artist craves for the world to understand them, to appreciate them, to praise them and to love them.

Why would he be any different?

He wanted attention.

Why that never occurred to him during his time in Zhyun, in Tuula or even in Noxus, he didn't really know.

Well, better late than never, they always said.

He wanted an audience. He was not supposed to be in the shadows! That was someone else's job.

Someone else…

Ah, Zed.

Perhaps he'd changed from the Khada Jhin back then.

He had enemies now. That was bound to change things drastically.

He wanted revenge against those responsible for locking him away.

Kusho, Shen and Zed.

Well, perhaps not Zed? He'd wanted to kill him, but he betrayed Kusho.


He killed Kusho.

(His chance of vengeance was cut short)

No one would get excluded. He could not do that.

Now that his enemies weren't even on the same side, this performance would be his finest.

His spirit elevated in excitement. Oh how he would paint the two former brothers by their own flesh and blood.

This was his design.

He had to come home.

Ionia waited.

He could feel his own longing to the land that once graced his presence, his performances.

He had to come home.

He had to pay tribute to Ionia, his very birthplace, both as a human being (hah) and an artist.

It had been a while.

He was coming home.

The audience didn't seem satisfied with this design.

"You can't return, Jhin. You know the risk. We cannot get you exposed just yet. We have plans for you."

Of course, they would all have plans. All humans thought they had plans.

They just weren't aware of it yet.

"I… am tired of all the quaint subjects you've been giving me lately. I need new inspiration. I will come home," he declared, softly and politely "I need to come home. Ionia is where my heart is."

"You will not return home until we…"

Shots fired.

Petals flowed.

All his audiences… no, his prospective subjects stood up at once. They were calling for something. Obviously they had a leash, a back up in case they needed to control him. The killer smiled softly. Of course they would. They weren't stupid.

And yet… was it even enough?

"I respect your decisions for the debt I owed you. But not this time, precious audience," said Jhin, reloading his gun "you are not going to stop me now. But you can still try."


He marveled at their terror. Humans never truly realize how their own greed can seal their fates.

Not that it mattered to Khada Jhin. All he needed was to stage the performance of his lifetime.

People would know the name of Khada Jhin. His artistry would live on forever.

This was his design.

His audience had consented. They were wise. They knew where the line was.

He never did.

Art has no boundaries.

For the first time in years (how many was it?), the Virtuoso had stepped a foot inside Ionia's land.

Same old people, same old scenery, and yet the nostalgia remained. It was inevitable, he reasoned. He was home, at last.

Khada Jhin smiled. He would grace his own country with the performance of a lifetime.

(He would have his revenge, against those who dared to contain his heart)

This was his design.

Hannibal reference aside, I am totally sold that Jhin having to kill predestined targets did not deter him in the slightest. I think deep down Jhin feels that beauty is equal to everyone, as he says "I will make you beautiful". He thinks everyone deserves to be beautiful, and makes it his mission to make them so. Which makes him a really open-hearted and noble artist... well, that is, leaving out the horrific murdering part.