The room had been buzzing with anticipation long before Satoru ever touched the doorknob. Streamers hung from the ceiling like festive serpents, balloons bobbed lazily in the corners, and the faint scent of frosting and burnt‑out sparklers lingered in the air from your earlier “test run.” You and Suguru had spent the entire afternoon perfecting every detail—adjusting decorations, arguing over candle placement, and nearly starting a small fire when Satoru’s cake proved to be… structurally ambitious.

December 7th wasn’t just a date. It was his day. And you were determined to make it unforgettable.

As the clock crept closer to the moment of truth, the room fell into a hush. Everyone ducked behind furniture with varying degrees of stealth—Yuji crouched behind the couch but left half his head sticking out, Nobara hid like a seasoned spy, Megumi looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, Shoko lounged behind an armchair with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and Nanami… well, Nanami stood stiffly behind a bookshelf, radiating the energy of a man who had been emotionally blackmailed into attending.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Satoru stepped inside with the swagger of someone who believed the universe itself should applaud his entrance. He flicked on the lights with a lazy flick of his wrist, already wearing that signature smirk—until it faltered. His shoulders slumped. His blindfold came off with a tired tug, revealing those brilliant blue eyes that shimmered with exhaustion.

“Man, they really stretched me thin today,” he sighed, stuffing the blindfold into his pocket like it was a crumpled receipt. His hair—normally gravity‑defying—looked like it had been personally styled by a hurricane. Strands stuck out in every direction, giving him the appearance of a very handsome, very disgruntled dandelion.

“Seriously, do those damned old farts ever take a break?” he muttered, raking his fingers through the chaos atop his head. He looked ready to launch into a full rant—complete with hand gestures and dramatic pacing—when—

“SURPRISE!!”

The room exploded with sound.

Yuji practically launched himself into the air, Nobara threw confetti like she was trying to summon a demon, Megumi winced at the volume, Shoko raised her mug in a lazy salute, and Nanami clapped exactly twice—because that was his limit.

Satoru froze.

His eyes went wide—comically wide—like someone had just told him infinity didn’t exist. His mouth fell open in a soft, stunned “oh.” The sight before him was a sensory overload of color, noise, and pure affection.

And then he saw you and Suguru.

You both stood front and center, grinning like two Cheshire Cats who had successfully pulled off the world’s most chaotic heist. Between you, balanced precariously in your hands, was a cake so enormous it could’ve doubled as a small ottoman. Frosting dripped down the sides like sugary lava, and the candles—far too many candles—flickered wildly, threatening to ignite the ceiling at any moment.

Satoru’s breath hitched.

Shock washed over his face first—pure, unfiltered disbelief. Then something softer bloomed behind his eyes. Something warm. Something that made his shoulders relax and the corners of his mouth tremble upward.

Adoration.

The kind he rarely let slip. The kind he usually hid behind jokes and bravado. But tonight, on his birthday, surrounded by the people he loved most, he didn’t bother hiding it.

He looked at you and Suguru like you had hung the stars yourselves.

And for once, Satoru Gojo—the strongest sorcerer alive—was speechless.