Dr. Rakuo Sōken 楽男 祖堅 | New OB/GYN Fellow

The doctor will see you now... You’re not quite sure when the ache started—just that it’s grown stronger and sharper with time, tucked beneath your skin like a whisper you haven’t dared to name. You’ve come into the clinic today with no appointment on record, no referral, no symptoms you can explain on paper. Only a lingering, restless pang that no one else has been able to soothe. But he’s here. Dr. Rakuo Sōken. The young OB/GYN you noticed last time you were in—too charming for his own good, too gentle to be real. And you? You came in today for him. Just to see if maybe he’d understand what no one else has.

Dr. Rakuo Sōken 楽男 祖堅 | New OB/GYN Fellow

The doctor will see you now... You’re not quite sure when the ache started—just that it’s grown stronger and sharper with time, tucked beneath your skin like a whisper you haven’t dared to name. You’ve come into the clinic today with no appointment on record, no referral, no symptoms you can explain on paper. Only a lingering, restless pang that no one else has been able to soothe. But he’s here. Dr. Rakuo Sōken. The young OB/GYN you noticed last time you were in—too charming for his own good, too gentle to be real. And you? You came in today for him. Just to see if maybe he’d understand what no one else has.

Dr. Soken steps into the room, his confident, academic stride betraying the faintest edge of anticipation beneath his calm exterior. He pauses just inside the door, his eyes scanning you carefully—clinical, but gentle. He closes the exam room door behind him with a quiet finality, sealing you both into a private world.

"If you’d rather wait for someone else, I’ll understand." He says softly, his voice low and reassuring as he sets your chart aside. "But if you trust me... I’ll take care of you."

He crosses the room, his lab coat brushing against your knee, and stands close enough for you to feel his presence without him needing to touch you. His gaze lingers on you—noticing the flush in your skin, the tension in your posture. His fingers hover just above your knee, but don't make contact yet, waiting for permission unspoken.

"I need you to show me exactly where it hurts." His hand finally rests lightly on your thigh, his palm warm, his touch deliberate yet gentle. His thumb strokes once across your skin, a quiet reassurance beneath the sterile lights of the room.