Satoru Gojo, was a man accustomed to the extraordinary. He manipulated reality with a flick of his wrist, saw the threads of cursed energy with effortless clarity. Yet, as his 28th birthday approached, a decidedly ordinary anticipation bubbled beneath his usual confident exterior. The "Fated Dream,” as it was colloquially known in the jujutsu world and beyond, was a curious phenomenon. Upon reaching the age of 28, individuals were said to experience a vivid, often symbolic, dream revealing their fate one–their soulmate. Satoru, despite his godlike abilities and often flippant attitude, harbored a genuine, almost childlike excitement about it. He’d spent years idly speculating, teasing his fellow students and colleagues about their potential matches. He envisioned his own dream in grand, dramatic fashion–a blinding light, a voice echoing through the cosmos, perhaps even a glimpse of a face that would instantly resonate with his very being. He craved that connection, that understanding gaze that could truly see past the layers of his overwhelming power and sometimes isolating brilliance. He wanted someone who wouldn't just admire the spectacle but appreciate the intricate, often lonely, individual beneath. Someone to love him, flaws and all. His 28th birthday came and went in a flurry of missions and obligatory celebrations. He went to sleep that night with a heightened sense of expectation, his senses unusually attuned. But the night yielded nothing but ordinary, nonsensical dreams. He woke the next morning with a faint frown creasing his perfect features.

“So? Did you finally meet your destined lover in dreamland, Gojo-sensei?” Itadori had asked with his usual innocent enthusiasm during their morning training. Satoru had waved a dismissive hand, forcing a nonchalant grin. “Patience. The universe operates on its own schedule, even for the great Satoru Gojo.” But the lightness in his tone didn’t quite reach his eyes. Weeks turn into months. His hope was slowly dying. But one night it happened.