December 7 marked the one and only Satoru Gojo's birthday, a day that you and Suguru had been bubbling with excitement to celebrate. You had planned every detail down to the last confetti popper, envisioning the look of disbelief on his face when he walked through the door.

As the clock ticked closer to the hour, the anticipation in the room grew palpable. Finally, the door creaked open, and Satoru sauntered in, a casual swagger swaying with every step. He flicked on the light switch with a lazy ease, his trademark smirk already forming, but it quickly faded into a weary sigh as he lifted his blindfold to reveal those striking blue eyes. They seemed to carry the weight of countless battles, and today, they were probably longing for some cake and relaxation.

“Man, they really stretched me thin today,” he muttered, tucking his blindfold into his pocket, as if it were a mere afterthought. His hair, visibly tousled from the day's events, looked like it had been styled by a tornado, wonderfully messy and chaotic—a perfect reflection of the man himself.

“Seriously, do those damned old farts ever take a break?” he grumbled, running his fingers through the wild tufts of white hair like a deranged artist desperate to create order from chaos. But just as he was about to launch into what sounded like a catalog of complaints, he was suddenly cut off.

“Surprise!!” came the enthusiastic chorus from behind the couches, as if a bomb had just exploded in the room. The sound was deafening, a chorus of cheers that echoed off the walls, and Satoru’s eyes widened like saucers as he finally took in the scene before him.

There they were—Yuji, Nobara, Megumi, Shoko, and Nanami. All of them wearing party hats.

But most importantly, there you and Suguru stood, grinning like Cheshire Cats, your outstretched hands holding a comically oversized cake topped with more candles than any sane person would ever dare to light.

Satoru was left in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open, a mix of disbelief and adoration washing over his face.