Chapter 35

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The dawning for a new age for Gojo Satoru, is the least of his problems, the newest addition to his collection of first years grew from two to three under a fortnight and now he suffers a biological problem. He could go to his personal doctor somewhere in Tokyo but where that doctor is aloof, baffled by his strangeness and well... rather healthy body for someone that has never been vaccinated unless prescribed to, she calls it his godly immune system. That he only ever goes in to see her for his annual health check-ups and eye tests. But this dilemma calls for intimacy and where he likes his personal doctor falling on hand and foot to his every need and desire for the extortionate pay he's giving her.

That is just not it.

"Shoko-chan, you have a sec?" The white toothbrush adds plopping out first into the mortuary, there the tiny wooden desk features a rather tired woman.

Her bags heavy with long heavy nights missed out on her slumber drugged sleep, haunting nightmares that frighten her from the softest of dreams. Shoko Ieiri presents herself in the laidback setting of the dead incarnated from her ghastly deathly pale skin, garish in discolouration to aged pale blues, mellowing sunflower yellows like a bruise. Her lips thin with stress and age chapped and bitten but it was the hollowness of her sunken eyes that made her look even dreaded in the familiar tale of Frankenstein.

Swivelling in her chair all essential movements ceasing to a halt now her lifeless body drapes her clothes like a clothes-hanger. Sitting in the room like a waxed version of herself barely even breathing let alone showing any signs of interest into the man himself.

"Gojo, what's the honour?" her voice comes out dry and her throat parched with anything of the value of liquids in sight neither in the room or on her person.

It makes one wonder if she has become one with the room or the room with her. Gojo ponders this much as it's the only time he sees his old classmate anyway, either a mangled body that was possessed by a curse comes in or he sees her in passing in the hallways, not like it used to be back then in his time.

"Well... uh, I, have a problem." Lost for words is an understatement in Gojo's persona, the man never shuts up about anything.
There's never a dull moment in his life yet, Shoko actually finds him lost for words, tumbling out of his mouth even.

This is an eyebrow raiser, her mask of wax breaking away from the fold as her interest begins to heighten with the acute idiosyncrasies presenting themselves to her the longer Gojo shows his awkwardness.

To the fact that he even had one in the beginning is a shifting of the tides, sun setting in the East type of impossible.

It's rather uncomfortable to say the least but her precise doctors sense checking with the scalpel close to her fingertips. Just what sort of problem is he having to cause this on.

"It's just something small." Rubbing his head, Shoko swivels fully in her chair, struck with surprise.

Okay this is getting weird now, what is happening for Gojo to be acting this way? Yes, he is strange but aren't all Sharmen's of his calibre having seen things no human should, losing people that he cares about in the most unexpected of ways. Fighting horrors from children's tales and bed wetting dreams to scare them at night.

Gojo Satoru is getting embarrassed if not ashamed of something... as his pale skin illuminates with hues of blushing pinks from under his turtleneck jacket.

"It's just that I'm having a hard time with 'it' getting up, erect I mean and even when I do it's even worse," his steady breathing becoming shorter and ragged. "it's so fast." Head falling down with a slump, his voice coming out in nothing but a mumble. "Please fix it."

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