Since Jhin doesn't have an official extended lore/story yet, I decided to take a shot at it.
This is a place of loathing.
The white door to the hospital slid aside as the Virtuoso entered. All around him, people sat, laid and cried, all in various levels of agony. A few looked up in his direction, but the majority were too entombed in their own suffering to notice his entrance. He glanced to each side. An unrecognizable heap of dirty clothes and dried blood lay to his right. To the left, an old man sat trembling.
The man caught his eye. A poor creature, caught in throes of unending pain. Chaos coated every inch of his thin frame, from the freshly dried bloodstains strewn across his chest and face to the axehead lodged at an awry angle in his skull. There was no order, no peace to his posture - his head was swallowed by bony hands barely able to support its weight, his aged body struggling to keep itself upright. The Virtuoso felt a sneer form under his mask. _Disgusting._
Trudging slowly, he finally arrived at his final destination. A malnourished man sat at the counter, half-watching his own hand etch out messages and records on paper. The clerk’s attention had drifted, continuing to gaze at the parchment long after he finished inscribing. Jhin waited patiently, analyzing the pattern of the guard’s glazed eyes. Drifting focus, uncertainty… Unworthy traits. Ugly ones. The Virtuoso brought his fingers down lightly onto the hard wood of the desk, ringing out a few rough notes.
He watched with mild interest as the clerk snapped to attention. The attendant brought his head up in an awkward, sudden motion as his hands scrambled for the clipboard. “Hello, sir,” the boy stammered out. “May I help you?”
The Virtuoso’s head twitched as a _clink_ resonated throughout the room. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the floor, where a single pencil lay out of place. Dropped by the clerk as he snapped to attention. A rotten interruption, right in the middle of his perfect adagio. Keeping his body perfectly still, he raised his head to match the boy’s gaze. The clerk flinched, taking an involuntary step back. The Virtuoso tasted his fear, tangible like a faint odor in the air. _Good._
“Ma-May I help you?” the boy repeated, tension and fear detectable in the undertones of his voice.
Jhin considered the question thoroughly before speaking.
“This is a terrible place,” he began softly, tilting his head slightly to indicate the room. “A cesspool of chaos and suffering. Incongruity and mayhem. A stain upon the fabric, possessing only a purpose to prolong mistakes and extend agony.”
The attendant took more steps backward, fear now a dominating emotion in both his gaze and tone. “W-What do you want?” Wh-”
The Virtuoso held up a finger, instantly bringing the boy to silence. “Do not worry. I have come to fix you.” He paused, tasting the air again. He sensed behind him that more and more eyes were being drawn towards him, the clerk’s responses bringing attention to him.
A small smile crept onto his face, though to the others it was obscured by the neutrality of his mask. “I will make you beautiful.”
In one swift stroke, the Virtuoso drew his brush from his belt and began to paint.
He started with a sharp allegro. In a single moment, the cashier was remade, beautiful color splattering the desk and walls. A sharp wail of screams, music to his ears. He turned and continued his melody, creating art and beauty where there had just been sickness and death. Those who were immobile pinnacles of disorder were recreated first, the biggest blotches upon his tarp banished by color and light.
He spun, euphoric in the melody, and began to remake those who fled towards the door. So much energy, so much chaos concentrated to one place, offered no resistance to his grand, sweeping strokes. More and more color painted the building, swept into a perfect collage of order on the walls and floors of the once-despicable place. The Virtuoso paused a moment, the melody coming to a rest around him. He searched for the perfect silence of a true masterpiece, but small specks of chaos kept intruding. Small sounds, from far away, ruining his perfection…
_Bang_. Like a dancer executing a flawless sequence, the Virtuoso turned, cutting out one of the sounds. _Bang_. Then another, and another… They came from out the window, the broken glass giving outside atrocity a window into his masterpiece. He removed them, without fail and from any distance, until there was nothing but silence.
Breathing slowly and methodically, the Virtuoso lowered his brush back into its holder. Absolute stillness surrounded him, the peace and quiet of a stain cleansed from canvas. And yet, his melody yearned for more. It wasn’t over- it _couldn’t_ be over. Not yet.
A resonating crash erupted from the air behind him. Heavy footsteps, rhythmless and harsh, fell on the floor. He heard them storm through the quietness of the area to his back, then abrupt silence. Jhin didn’t have to turn around to know what had arrived.
“Put down your weapons!” The voice was rough, yet not a disturbance. The Virtuoso closed his eyes, picturing the music and action of the play taking place. Something had been missing, something important… something final…
“PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN!” Anger now, but not without a tinge of fear. Calmly, he let his brush drop to the ground, moving slowly and deliberately.
“HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!” Less fear. Perfect. Raising his hands methodically, the Virtuoso breathed in the music around him. The allegro was over now, the interlude coming to a close… and then…
_Crescendo._
Bright colors spewed forth from the walls, the silence melting into screams of pain. And yet, not bad pain, not unintentional… no, this pain was measured. A compliment of destruction to the wondrous growth his symphony had given to this world.
Jhin turned and calmly strode past the flames, now enveloping the artists of the interlude as tumultuous screams gave way to the crackle of the finale.
He let loose the device he had been saving in his palm for the perfect moment, hearing the thud as the instrument hit the ground quickly fade to nothing among the roar of his masterpiece.
He stopped once outside, turning to face his construction. What he had entered a harem of impurity and disease now stood as a monument to orchestra, to his genius, and to art. A rare smile appeared on the Virtuoso’s face as he observed. the result of his symphony.
_Perfect._
So this took a while. I'm relatively new to writing, but Jhin immediately struck me as a character with a fascinating mindset, and I wanted to try to glean a glimpse inside his brain during one of his "symphonies". Any feedback (especially constructive criticism) is welcome. Hope you enjoyed!
