Hideko Igarashi tiene una técnica maldita que empuja su cuerpo más allá del límite. Aun así, sigue usándola. Ahora forma parte del mundo de los hechiceros de Jujutsu Kaisen, donde cada pelea puede ser la última. Y en medio de todo eso está Satoru Gojo. La atracción entre ellos aparece demasiado fácil, demasiado natural... como si ninguno de los dos estuviera realmente interesado en evitarlo. --- La historia está basada en el anime y manga Jujutsu Kaisen que le pertenece a Gege Akutami. --- Nota de la autora Esta historia está en proceso de revisión. Puede que algunos capítulos cambien o se ajusten mientras sigo escribiendo. Gracias por acompañarme en el proceso. ❤️ © Todos los derechos reservados.

They called her a monster before they ever called her a girl. By the time she was five, Mizuki Hoshino had learned to keep her voice soft, her eyes lower, and her mind quieter than most children her age. But even silence couldn't hide the truth. Her parents saw it in the way she flinched at nothing, spoke to no one, and answered questions they hadn't asked aloud. It festered between them-fear. It clung to their walls, filled the spaces between footsteps, poisoned bedtime lullabies. By eight, she was gone. Abandoned and unwanted, she drifted through shadows until a stranger gave her a name worth fearing and a purpose soaked in blood. She learned to weaponize the very thing that cursed her: the ability to see and twist minds, to thread thoughts like needles through fabric, to reshape perception itself. But power came at a cost-hers was a mind never quiet, never still. A life of whispers, screams, and fragile barriers barely holding her together. That was, until Jujutsu High. Until him. Satoru Gojo was the one thing she couldn't understand. The one person whose thoughts she couldn't read, whose energy she couldn't touch. The boy with eyes too bright and a presence that burned through the fog in her head. To him, she was a puzzle missing its edges. To her, he was silence-blessed, impossible silence. For a time, they were tethered. Quietly, dangerously, beautifully. Then, as all fragile things do, it broke. Years later, she returns to a world already unravelling-curses stirring, ghosts of youth bleeding into war-and finds him again. Older. Colder. Still untouchable. But his touch still quiets the voices. And she still craves the silence.