Kyuroto Mitsuyo walked quietly through the hallways of the academy in China, the soft hum of interdimensional tech blending seamlessly with the classical wooden floors and cherry blossom trees outside. He adjusted his tie, his piercing blue eyes scanning the corridor with calm precision. Though he carried the weight of countless universes in his mind, today, he was just… a teacher.
Books clutched in his hands, he rounded a corner, lost briefly in thought, and collided with someone.
"Oh! Sorry!"
The voice was soft, warm, almost melodic. Kyuroto looked down to see a girl standing before him, petite, her eyes wide and gentle. She had a presence that seemed to radiate light even in the quiet hallway, and her hair framed her face with a delicate grace.
"It's… okay," Kyuroto said, his voice calm, measured, yet somehow comforting. His usual unshakable composure softened just slightly as he met her gaze.
"I-I'm Wixing Yixia," she said, bowing slightly in polite apology.
"Kyuroto Mitsuyo," he replied, offering a subtle nod.
It was a simple introduction, nothing extraordinary, yet the air between them felt charged in a way Kyuroto rarely noticed. It was as if the probability threads themselves had paused, waiting for the next moment to unfold.
Over the following days, their encounters became frequent, though always seemingly coincidental. A brush of hands while passing in the hallway, shared glances in the classroom, fleeting smiles in the courtyard. Each time, Kyuroto felt something stir within him—a faint warmth that contrasted sharply with the calculated precision of his usual thoughts.
Yixia's personality shone in these small interactions: kind, understanding, respectful, and yet slightly clingy in a way that was endearing rather than overwhelming. She asked questions, lingered in conversations, and laughed freely, a sound so genuine that Kyuroto found himself quietly anticipating it.
Even with all his outerversal abilities, his unmatched intellect, and his strategic mastery over probability and threads of infinity, he found himself unprepared for these human feelings. Each day, he discovered a little more about her: the soft way she touched a book, the way her eyes lit up at small joys, the subtle tilt of her head when she was curious.
It was… distracting.
One afternoon, after class, Kyuroto lingered in the quiet classroom, arranging books with methodical care. Yixia entered, her footsteps soft against the floor. She smiled at him, and something in that smile—so innocent, so warm—made the vastness of multiverses fade, leaving only this single moment.
Kyuroto's lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. His inner voice whispered, almost reluctantly:
Perhaps… I could let someone see this side of me. Perhaps… I could let her know.
The day ended with a gentle breeze flowing through the open windows, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms. Kyuroto watched her leave, her figure framed by the golden afternoon light, and for the first time in countless timelines, he felt… something resembling normalcy.
And yet, even as his heart stirred, the silent threads of infinity aligned around him, reminding him that he was Kyuroto Mitsuyo—the Whisper of Infinity—and even love had its own probabilities, to be calculated, measured, and… perhaps, cherished.