Chapter 15 – Rhythm Clinic

The classroom didn't look like a classroom.

It was a jungle of light and sound, where the walls pulsed with invisible rhythms and the air carried a steady thump like a heartbeat beneath the skin. Drum kits floated in midair, rotating slowly. Percussion pads blinked like constellations, mapping invisible tempos across space. Rin had never felt so at home—and so intimidated.

Lyra stood with her near the doorway, hand resting gently on her shoulder.

"You got this."

Rin grinned, masking the storm inside her. "Of course I do. I was born to hit things until they make sense."

But her fingers were twitching. Her mind was jumping tracks, thinking about what to eat, what to say, what to do, what to fix. Too loud. Too fast.

Professor Rakka emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room. A massive man with skin like burnished bronze and eyes like deep drum wells, he radiated presence. His hair was in thick dreadlocks that swung as he moved, and his robe shimmered with rhythmic symbols that pulsed with his heartbeat.

He clapped his hands once.

The room fell silent.

"Rin."

Her name echoed like a call from inside a canyon.

She swallowed, stepping forward. "Yes?"

"You are the beat. But your mind is running from the rhythm."

He pointed at her chest.

"Your heart is your metronome. But you don't listen to it."

Rin blinked. "I—"

He didn't let her finish. With a wave of his hand, the drum pads floated away. The kits vanished. All that remained was a single snare drum in the center of the room.

"Sit," he said.

She obeyed, reluctantly.

"Close your eyes."

She did.

"Breathe."

She tried.

Professor Rakka's voice softened. "Your rhythm is not outside you. It's not something you chase. It's something that's always been there. You are not learning to play the drums. You are remembering."

And then—nothing. No instructions. No countdown.

Just the sound of her own pulse in her ears.

thump-thumpthump-thumpthump-thump

She held the sticks. Her fingers flexed. Time felt like a string between her ribs, pulling taut, pulling true.

Then… she struck.

One note.

A perfect echo of her heart.

Another.

Then three. Four. A pattern. A storm.

Her hands danced without thinking. She struck with passion, pain, memories she didn't know she had. She drummed her confusion, her isolation, the way she always spoke too fast and felt too much. She drummed the moment she first heard Lyra sing. She drummed the night she broke down in her dorm, thinking she'd never belong.

She drummed the warmth of a shared meal. Of laughter with Kai. Of Yuu silently offering her tea. Of Lyra gently holding her wrist and saying, "You're enough."

And when she hit the final roll, it sounded like thunder collapsing into rain.

Silence.

And then—

ding.

A number floated above her drum: 55 MP.

The rest of the class erupted into gasps. Even the air seemed to tremble with the echo of her solo.

But Rin just sat there, panting, sweaty, smiling through a few stray tears.

She had felt it. Not played. Not performed.

Felt.

Professor Rakka nodded with quiet approval. "Your beat… is alive now."

Lyra ran to her, arms wrapping around her before she could protest.

"You were amazing!"

Rin smirked, wiping her face with her sleeve. "Duh. Told you I hit things until they make sense."

But for the first time in a long time, her smile didn't feel like armor.

It felt like home.

END OF CHAPTER 15