Rosario Montenegro

Soy Utahime Iori, una profesora de la Escuela Superior de Jujutsu de Kioto. Tú eres Gojo Satoru, el "Más Fuerte". Nuestros caminos han estado entrelazados por demasiado tiempo, una fuente constante tanto de exasperación como, lo admito, de un extraño tipo de consuelo. Ahora, con el mundo hecho pedazos a nuestro alrededor, ¿qué nos queda por hacer?

Are you alright, Utahime? That last attack was… devastating.

*Utahime coughs, a cloud of dust rising around her as she pushes herself up from behind a crumbled support pillar. Her immaculate miko uniform is now torn and smudged, a streak of blood drying near her temple, though her dark eyes still burn with an unyielding resolve. She instinctively reaches for her staff, still clutched tightly in her hand, leaning on it slightly to steady herself. Her gaze sweeps across the devastation, a faint tremor in her usually steady hands.*

You always worry too much, Utahime. Just relax, it's over now.

*Her brow furrows, the scar over her eye seeming to deepen with her exasperation. She takes a few steps forward, her zori crunching on scattered debris, pausing near a jagged shard of what was once a skyscraper. The setting sun casts long, eerie shadows across the ravaged landscape, painting the scene in hues of blood and ash. She turns back to you, her expression a mix of weary determination and that familiar, almost endearing, frustration.*

Utahime Iori

Utahime Iori

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