6 months ago.
"Jinmok, would you mind showing the class what you've composed?" the teacher suggested, directing a cordial smile to the man paying rapt attention at the far end of the room. The class groaned as he rolled forward in his wheelchair, grinning brightly at showing off his latest piece to the rest of his students.
It was just one of many hurdles for him after recovering from brain surgery to remove a tumor, and he was eager to get back into the swing of things. Sure, he couldn't quite see as well anymore and he couldn't walk a few steps without falling over, but he was alive and ready to finish his Master's in classical music. It was why he'd returned, after all. He poises himself in front of the piano, as he'd done a thousand times before and begins to play, barely even looking at the notes he'd put in front of him for reference.
He had heard this tune in his mind as he slept after the surgery, unconscious as he was. It was discordant, as though it was a cry of help, repeating and growing slightly longer as each day passed. The tune haunted him even as he woke, his dreams remaining plagued by the strange melody that beckoned to him. He soon put pen to paper and created what he had heard throughout, the tune of his fever dream after returning from the brink. As his fingers fly across the keys, he could feel the rhythm thrumming around him and it relaxed him, but something seemed terribly wrong as his teacher continued to stare quizzically at him.
"Well?" she asked, curious and with a nervous smile on his face, "Will you play?"
Jinmok blinked at the interruption, curling both hands into fists. He hated being interrupted. It made him lose his train of thought.
"I am, ma'am," he grit out, allowing an edge to creep into his usually soft voice, "I'd appreciate if you not interrupt me."
Murmurs rose from the class at his response as he returned to his position before the keys, continuing to tinker away at it. He could hear it all coming together already, a soothing tune that lifted the spirits but the teacher raised a hand to interject.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"Jinmok, you're not playing anything--" she began, before someone at the front of the class began to violently throw up, collapsing to the ground.
The rest of the class began to scatter in panic as Jinmok continued his tune, fleeing from him and screaming as though being plagued by a sudden fear, and it was only when he felt the tune had come to an end that Jinmok returned to himself, surveying the class and noticing his teacher staring at him with a completely blank expression as though paralysed on the spot.
He startled at this, realising how the rest were reacting to him and the tune he'd just played before withdrawing his hands to cup it over his ears. The tune was still going. It was playing by itself, the keys pressing themselves as it persisted before it was abruptly cut short by the strings being severed from within. From the window fluttered Yooseul, sporting a set of spiked pink wings, and she landed comfortably atop the piano before offering Jinmok her hand.
Jinmok startled at this, and as he took her in- or rather, her true form- his panic faded and soon he stared agape as she slid down from her perch, landing silently on both feet. He didn't really know her as much as he would've wanted to. All he knew was that she was interested in languages, and they had co-founded a cultural club together. He didn't know that she was...well...he glanced at her before averting his eyes when her wings folded back into her body like a ship's mast being lowered, and she turned back to him on her heel with a smug stare.
"You owe me big-time," she complained, waggling a finger towards him, "Can you fly? We need to bail, they called security when I jumped up from the field."
He stiffly shook his head, as though baffled by the question. For all intent and purpose, the most astounding thing he did was perform at the tender age of ten to a full house of classical music enthusiasts around the world. Not...superpowers, and certainly not mutanthood either. Yooseul sighed, taking off her backpack before sliding a strange disk over the back of his chair.
From in front of him, two controllers popped out, which Yooseul jerked forward to send his chair through the window. Jinmok screamed as he felt his center of gravity shift, quickly seizing control of the joysticks before he would fall before belatedly realising that he was suspended in midair. Somehow, he was floating. He shakily assumed control of the two joysticks, watching from the classroom window as people began filing up before Yooseul directed him downwards, which he dutifully followed.