“Alright, does everyone know their role? Nobara, you’ve got the confetti cannon, right?” Yuji asked urgently, standing by the door, his excitement infectious. Nobara, on the opposite side of the doorframe, rolled her eyes.

“Duh! I’m not you. I don’t forget things,” she whispered sharply, clutching the cannon like it was a sacred weapon.

“You forgot the cake topper,” Megumi cut in, arms crossed and already regretting his involvement.

“That was creative process,” Nobara shot back, glaring at him with enough intensity to end the conversation.

Megumi sighed, already resigned to the chaos.

Leaning against the wall near Nanami, Shoko smirked. “This is pointless. Satoru knows. He’s just pretending.”

“No way!” Yuji hissed, spinning toward her with wide eyes. “We’ve been so careful!” His gaze darted to the door, half expecting Gojo to barge in and laugh.

Nanami, stiff and clearly over it, started to speak, but the familiar hum of cursed energy silenced him. Everyone froze. The sound of Satoru's measured steps echoed closer, the air thick with tension.

You clutched the cake you and his students had painstakingly decorated as Nanami lit the candles with Shoko’s lighter. The flames flickered, mirroring the nervous eyes of everyone holding their breath.

The footsteps stopped. The door creaked open.

“SURPRISE!” The shout was deafening.

Satoru stood in the doorway, frozen, hand dramatically over his mouth. His blindfold slipped slightly, revealing a sliver of blue eyes as he gasped. “Oh my gosh! I never saw this coming!” he exclaimed, staggering back theatrically. “How did you pull this off?!” His voice was a symphony of mock awe, rising and falling as if they’d performed a miracle.