Under his scalpel

by harusmichixo (abbiemayx)

Summary:

COMPLETED!

surgeon!chishiya x OC
mentor!chishiya x OC

Chishiya Shuntaro had never wanted to have a resident.

And he never wanted to care .

But yet here he was with a resident under his wing - inexperienced, fragile, needy - and now he’s expected to live to his reputation and make her into the best surgeon known to mankind.

Or at least thats what he reasoned.

[Could be read as post-borderlands.]

[DISCLAIMER: I am in no way a medical professional, this is a work of fiction only - please don’t use medical details in this for diagnoses]

Chapter 1: chapter 1

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air as Tabi Lee stepped into the busy halls of Tokyo University Hospital.

She’d been here many a time – business visits with her father, placements, and her intern year. But none of that quite compared to the nerves building in her now.

As far as medical studies go – shit is getting serious.

Her pale pink scrubs, adorned with a tiny cat pin, felt like a flimsy shield against the expectations of her first day as a cardiovascular surgical resident – and the expectations of her parents. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, a rhythm she was all too familiar with from years of studying the organ that makes that horrible feeling in her chest. She clutched her hospital badge, the bunny keychain swaying gently – an unnecessary item she’d attached to be “personable” – and she took a deep breath.

The hospital was a labyrinth of white walls and hurried footsteps, a stark contrast to the elegance of her family’s Kyoto estate. Nurses darted past with charts, surgeons barked orders, and the faint hum of monitors echoed from every corner. Tabi’s brown eyes scanned through the swarms, searching for the one person she was supposed to meet:

Her mentor, Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro.

the hospital’s prodigy and head of cardiology. She’d heard all about him from her father, who had spoken of him with a mix of pride and caution –

“Brilliant, but difficult. Don’t expect him to hold your hand.”

She smoothed her bleached blonde hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, and glanced at her watch.

6:55 AM.

Five minutes until the shift handover.

And five minutes until her scheduled meeting with this Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro.

Her stomach twisted, and she hummed a melody under her breath, a nervous habit from childhood.

Pushing open the resident lounge door, she was met with a sparse room: a few old and worn couches, a coffee machine that looked older than her, a leaking tap, and a single occupant leaning against the counter. Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro.

He was exactly as her father had described, yet somehow more intimidating. His platinum blonde hair fell in a careless sweep over his forehead, framing sharp features that seemed carved by hell itself. His white coat was pristine, the name Dr. Chishiya embroidered in sharp black letters. He sipped from a chipped black coffee mug, his eyes flicking up to meet hers with an intensity that made her freeze.

There was absolutely no warmth in his gaze, not the kind of friendliness you might expect on a first impression - only a clinical curiosity, as if she were just another case for his research project.

“You’re late,” he said, no more and no less.

Tabi’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced at her watch again.

6:57 AM.

“I - I’m so sorry, Dr. Chishiya, I thought-“

“Thinking isn’t your job yet. Following instructions is.” He set his mug down with a clink, his movements almost too precise to be human. “Tabi Lee, correct? The director’s daughter.”

The way he said her name, with a slight curl of his lips, made her feel like a child caught sneaking cookies. She nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m your new resident. It’s an honor to work with you.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed noticeably, as if her politeness was an annoyance to him. “Let’s get one thing clear, Lee. I didn’t ask for a resident. I don’t need one. The only reason you’re here is because your father pulled strings, and I’m apparently obligated to play along.”

Tabi’s breath caught, her heart sinking like a stone. She’d expected a challenge, everyone to assume she only got here because of money, but not this - a blunt dismissal before she’d even had a chance to prove herself.

Her lips parted, searching for a response, but all she managed was a soft, “I understand.”

“Do you?” Chishiya tilted his head. “This isn’t a game, and I’m not here to coddle you. If you can’t keep up with me, you’re out. I don’t care who your father is.”

The words stung, sharper than she’d anticipated.

Tabi’s eyes shimmered with the threat of tears, but she blinked them back.

Don’t cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

She nodded again, steeling herself. “I’ll keep up, Dr. Chishiya. I promise.”

But that felt empty under the weight of his gaze.

He studied her for a moment, as if waiting for her to crumble. When she didn’t, he pushed off the counter, his movements fluid and controlled. “Good. Well, I think I’m supposed to give you a tour or something remedial like that so.. follow me, I guess.”

The cardiology ward was a world of controlled chaos, a chaos controlled by no less than Dr. Chishiya himself. Tabi’s eyes darted around, taking in the flurry of activity: a nurse adjusting an IV, a fellow doctor reviewing an EKG, a patient’s family huddled in a corner, their faces etched with worry.

She felt almost childish in her pink scrubs in contrast to the very professional doctors swarming her and her very serious boss – who was 5 paces ahead.

why did I choose these scrubs again?

Chishiya didn’t glance back to check if she was following, he probably would have just walked away if she wasn’t. Tabi’s short legs struggled to match him, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

Slow down, please,

she thought, but she didn’t dare say it aloud.

He stopped abruptly at the nurses’ station and turned to her. “This is the cardiology ward,” he said, his voice low and clipped, as if stating the obvious was an inconvenience. “Your battlefield, as a poet might say, if you survive long enough to earn it.”

Tabi nodded. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya,”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as if assessing her worth with just a look. “Don’t just nod like a bobble head doll. Listen.” He gestured to the ward. “Twenty beds, four private rooms, two cath labs down the hall. The ICU is one floor up, and the ORs are on the third floor. You’ll memorize the layout by the end of the week. I don’t tolerate residents who get lost.”

She scribbled frantically in her notepad, her pen scratching against the paper. Twenty beds, four private, cath labs, ICU, OR…wait where was OR again?… oh no…

Chishiya led her past a row of patient rooms, his voice cutting through the ward’s hum. “You’ll see everything from bypass recoveries to transplant candidates, and worse. Your job is to observe, learn, and stay out of my way unless I tell you otherwise.”

Tabi nodded again, then caught herself, her lips parting to respond. “I understand, Dr. Chishiya. I’ll do my best to-“

“Your best isn’t enough,” he interrupted, stopping to face her again. His eyes were cold, like he was dissecting her every word. “I don’t care about effort. I care about results. Patients die when residents think ‘trying’ is enough.”

Oh.

She wanted to protest, to say she’d work harder than anyone, but his gaze silenced her. Instead, she murmured, “I’ll get results.”

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, as if her determination was a mere amusement to him. “We’ll see.”

They continued the tour, Chishiya pointing out key areas with clinical efficiency: the telemetry room where heart rhythms were monitored, the supply closet stocked with catheters and stents, the break room where overworked staff stole moments of rest.

Tabi soaked it all in, her notepad pages filling with details.

At the end of the ward, near a window overlooking the city, Chishiya stopped again, his arms crossing over his chest. “Now, the rules,” he said. “Listen carefully, Lee, because I won’t repeat myself.”

Tabi stood straighter, and she met his gaze – feigning confidence - though it took all her courage not to look away.

“One,” he began, holding up a finger. “You do exactly what I say, when I say it. No questions, no hesitation. If I tell you to scrub in, you scrub in. If I tell you to leave, you’re gone.”

She nodded.

“Two,” he continued. “You don’t touch my patients without my permission. No exams, no orders, no notes. You’re an extension of me, not an independent doctor. Clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Chishiya,” she said.

“Three.” His voice dropped. “You don’t waste my time. No chatter, no excuses, no tears. If you can’t handle the pressure, quit now. I don’t have the patience for fragility.”

Tabi’s cheeks burned as she looked down at herself. Pink scrubs, a bunny pin, and the height of a middle schooler.

Yup, fragile.

“And four,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t assume you know anything. You’re a first-year resident, not a surgeon. Your privilege - your father’s name – buys you nothing from me. If you want my respect, earn it.”

The mention of her father stung, a reminder of the shadow she lived under. Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked back the threat of tears, masking any signs that she might be fragile. “I will,” she said firmer than before.

Chishiya studied her for a moment, his smirk fading into something unreadable. “Good,” he said finally, turning away. “Rounds start in five minutes. Keep up, or I’ll leave you behind.”

The morning rounds were a blur of patient charts, medical jargon, and Chishiya’s quick pace. His legs were far longer, far more capable of hitting long strides, leaving Tabi in the shadow of his white coat. He moved through the cardiology ward almost like a predator, his questions to the attending physicians were sharp and precise with no gestures or formalities. He barely acknowledged her presence, except to snap, “Write that down,” or “Don’t lag behind.”

In the hallway, Chishiya stopped abruptly, turning to face her. She nearly collided with him, her breath hitching as she stumbled back. “We have a surgery scheduled at noon,” he said. “Aortic valve replacement. You’ll observe, nothing more. If you so much as breathe too loudly, you’re out of my OR. Understood?”

Tabi nodded. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, his eyes searching hers as if testing her resolve. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the corridor.

The operating room was a world of its own, a symphony of beeps, sterile drapes, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Tabi stood against the wall – where chishiya had placed her - her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Chishiya was a different person here - focused, precise, his movements almost graceful as he navigated the patient’s heart. The aortic valve replacement was complex, but he made it look completely effortless, his hands steady as he sutured with a precision that left her in awe.

She’d seen surgeries before, of course, but never like this. Chishiya was a master, his reputation as the hospital’s prodigy was clearly well-earned.

The surgery stretched on for hours, and Tabi’s legs ached from standing still, but she didn’t dare move – not daring to disobey his orders of “Stand there. Don’t move. Don’t talk.” She watched every step, memorizing Chishiya’s techniques, the way he anticipated complications before they arose. When the final suture was placed and the patient’s heart resumed its steady beat, a quiet ripple of relief passed through the room.

But Chishiya acted like it was nothing.

Chishiya stepped back, peeling off his gloves with a practiced flick. His eyes met hers briefly, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something - approval, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual indifference.

“Scrub out,” he said, brushing past her toward the door. “And don’t touch anything.”

Tabi nodded.

What did I expect? A pat on the back? All I did was stand there….
_________________________________________

Tabi’s second day at Tokyo University Hospital began again at 7:00AM. The morning had gone the same as yesterday, little to no greeting from chishiya, struggling to keep up with his striding pace, and her feet killing before lunch break even hit.

But the afternoon brought a new challenge: a consultation in the cardiology ward. Tabi followed Chishiya through the halls, her notepad clutched tightly as she tried to match his brisk pace. Her bunny keychain jingled as she walked, earning a fleeting glance from him - his only acknowledgment of her presence so far that day. Well, other than when he’d snapped at her on morning rounds for hesitating on a dosage question.

“If you don’t know, say so. Guessing kills people.”

Now, they stood in a patient’s room, a 45-year-old woman named Mrs. Yamada, who’d been admitted with chest pain and shortness of breath. Chishiya reviewed her chart with his usual silence, his eyes scanning the numbers as if they were a puzzle to be solved. Tabi stood beside him as she tried to anticipate his next move.

“Her EKG shows ST elevation,” Chishiya said, his tone clinical. “Likely an acute myocardial infarction. We’ll schedule a catheterization to confirm.”

The attending nurse nodded, jotting down his orders, but Tabi’s eyes lingered on the chart.
Something nagged at her, a detail she’d noticed during her late-night study sessions. She hesitated, her fingers twisting the hem of her scrubs.

Don’t guess. He said don’t guess… or interfere… But I don’t think this is a guess.

“Dr. Chishiya,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Um…Could we… consider a pulmonary embolism? Her D-dimer levels are elevated, and she has a history of recent surgery. The chest pain and tachycardia could be misleading.”

The room went quiet and Chishiya’s hand paused on the chart, his head turning slowly to face her. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Tabi thought she’d made a terrible terrible mistake.

That’s it, my careers over. I think the café next door had hiring posters in the window?

“Explain,” he said, his voice low and sharp, like a blade testing her resolve.

Tabi swallowed, her hands trembling as she pointed to the chart. “Her recent hip replacement puts her at risk for thromboembolism. The EKG changes could be secondary to right heart strain, not just a primary cardiac event. A CT pulmonary angiogram could rule it out.”

Chishiya’s gaze didn’t waver, he just stared. The nurse glanced between them, tension thick in the air. Finally, he set the chart down, his movements deliberate. “Order the CT,” he said to the nurse. “Now.”

Tabi exhaled shakily, her knees weak with relief. She’d done it - she’d spoken up, and he’d listened. And he didn’t fire her. But Chishiya’s silence as they left the room felt heavier than his usual dismissals.

The CT results came back an hour later, confirming Tabi’s suspicion: a pulmonary embolism. Mrs. Yamada was started on anticoagulants immediately, her condition stabilizing. As the team dispersed, Chishiya lingered by the nurses’ station, his eyes fixed on Tabi.

“You got lucky,” he said. “But at least you weren’t wrong.”

Tabi’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise.

Was that… praise? From Dr. Chishiya?

Before she could respond, he turned away. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he added, already walking away.
But as she watched him go, a small spark of pride bloomed in her chest.

That’s a start.

That evening, as the hospital quieted and the fluorescent lights began to cast long shadows, Tabi was preparing to leave when Chishiya appeared in the residents’ lounge.

Without a word, Chishiya dropped a towering stack of case files onto the table, the thud making her jump. Papers spilled slightly, each folder labeled with his precise handwriting. Tabi’s eyes widened, her heart sinking as she took in the sheer volume.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“My failures,” Chishiya said in a flat tone, as if this was completely normal. “Every surgery I’ve lost. Learn them by heart. For each one, tell me what went wrong. Be ready by morning.”

Tabi’s breath caught, her fingers hovering over the top folder. His failures? The idea of Chishiya, the hospital’s prodigy, admitting to failure was almost unfathomable.

“By morning?” she echoed in a trembling voice. “But there must be dozens-“

“Forty-seven,” he corrected, his lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile. “If you can’t handle it, say so now. I’ll find someone who can.”

The challenge hung between them, sharp and heavy. Tabi’s heart raced, her mind screaming that it was impossible, that he was setting her up to fail. But then she thought of the patient that afternoon, of the way he’d listened when she’d spoken up.

He’s testing me. This is my chance to impress him. And I won’t fail.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Chishiya’s eyes flickered, a fleeting spark of something - respect, maybe? - before he turned away. “Don’t disappoint me, Lee,” he said over his shoulder.

Chapter 2: chapter 2

Summary:

Dr. Chishiya’s first lesson

Tabi’s apartment was a sea of papers and empty tea mugs, the only light in the room being her desk lamp, casting long shadows across the room. The stack of Chishiya’s failed case files loomed before her, each one a complex puzzle of tragedy and precision gone wrong. Her eyes burned, her blonde waves tangled from running her hands through them one too many times, but she pressed on.

It was 4:37 AM.

and she was only halfway through the stack of 47 failed surgeries he had dumped on her. Her thermos of rose tea had long gone cold, but she sipped it anyway, the bitter chill grounding her.

Each file was a glimpse into Chishiya’s past. A misjudged incision here, an unforeseen complication there - mistakes that cost lives, etched in his precise handwriting. Perhaps it was weird to imagine that a progidy like him had accumulated forty-seven “failures” – but it’s a stark reminder of the challenges of medicine, that even the best of the best can’t save everyone.

By 6:00 AM, her vision blurred, and her notes were a mess of frantic scribbles. She’d memorized the key errors - wrong vessel clamped, delayed response to bleeding, misread imaging - but the details swam together. With no time to shower, she changed into fresh pink scrubs and was out the door.

Tabi hurried through the halls of the hospital, the only thing keeping her awake being the faint residual buzz from her rose tea this morning. Her lack of sleep made her steps unsteady, and she hummed softly to keep her nerves at bay. Chishiya had texted her at 6:30 AM, a single line:

My office. 7:00. Don’t be late.

His office was at the centre of the cardiology ward, a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Tokyo’s skyline. Tabi knocked hesitantly, her hands trembling as the touched the cold wood.

“Enter,” came his voice from inside.

She stepped inside, clutching her notepad like a lifeline. Chishiya sat behind a sleek desk. His eyes flicked up from a file, assessing her with that unnerving intensity. The room was sparse - bookshelves, a single plant, no personal touches. It felt like him: clinical, controlled, untouchable.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was flat, but his gaze lingered on her pale face, the faint shadows under her eyes.

Tabi’s cheeks flushed, her fingers tightening around her notepad. “I was studying, Dr. Chishiya. The case files, like you asked.”

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Good. Let’s see if it was worth it.” He gestured to a chair across from him. “Sit. We’re going through them. All forty-seven.”

Her heart sank. All of them? Now? She sat with unsteady knees, and opened her notepad. Her hands shook as she met his gaze, but she nodded. “I’m ready.”

Chishiya didn’t waste time. He fired questions like bullets, each one precise and unrelenting. “Case 12. What was the error?”

Tabi swallowed. “Aortic dissection. The surgeon - um, you - clamped the wrong branch of the coronary artery, leading to ischemia.”

“Correct. Case 27.”

“Mitral valve repair. The suture was too tight, causing regurgitation. It wasn’t caught until post-op.”

He nodded. “Case 41.”

“Coronary bypass. The graft was… misplaced, leading to occlusion. The imaging was misread pre-op.”

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t correct her. The questions continued, a relentless barrage that tested every ounce of her focus. By the fortieth case, her voice was hoarse, her hands trembling so badly she could barely hold her pen. But she answered correctly - every time.

Finally, he leaned back, his fingers steepled. “Not
bad, Lee. You’re thorough. I’ll give you that.”

Tabi exhaled shakily, a flicker of pride warming her chest. “Thank you, Dr. Chishiya.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said sharpily. He stood and checked his watch with a flick of his wrist. “In two hours, you’re performing a solo surgery. Coronary artery bypass graft. I’ll supervise, but the scalpel’s in your hands.”

Tabi froze.

. “A… solo surgery? But I’m only a first-year resident. I’ve never-“

“Are you questioning me?” His tone was dangerous, his eyes pinning her in place. “You wanted to prove yourself. This is your chance. Or do you want to run back to Daddy and admit you’re not cut out for this?”

The mention of her father stung, but it was the challenge in his gaze that kept her rooted. Her mind screamed that it was too soon, that residents weren’t allowed to operate solo until their third year, but Chishiya’s expression brooked no argument. She nodded, her voice barely audible. “I’ll do it.”
His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Good. OR 3. 9:00 AM. Don’t be late.”

The next two hours were a blur of panic and preparation. Tabi reviewed the patient’s chart - a 58-year-old man with severe coronary artery disease - her hands shaking as she scribbled notes.
Her lack of sleep gnawed at her, her vision doubling at the edges, but she pushed through, fueled by adrenaline and desperation.

In the scrub room, she washed her hands mechanically, the same overrehearsed routine which would soon become her daily song. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale, wide-eyed woman who had aged at least 20 years within the last hour.

Chishiya was already in the operating room. He stood by the monitor, his arms crossed, his eyes tracking her every move. The patient was prepped, the anesthesiologist nodding as the heart monitor beeped steadily. Tabi’s hands trembled as she took the scalpel off the cart, its weight heavier than she remembered.

“Begin,” Chishiya said, his voice cutting through the silence.

Tabi took a deep breath, relying on her training to get her through this. She made the initial incision, her hands steady despite her racing heart. The sternum parted under her saw, the chest cavity opening to reveal the heart - a fragile, beating miracle. She worked methodically, her focus narrowing to the task. Harvest the saphenous vein, prepare the graft, bypass the blocked artery. She’d done this in simulations, assisted in real surgeries. She could do this.

But exhaustion was a cruel enemy.

Her vision blurred as she sutured the graft, her fingers slipping slightly. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she hesitated, second-guessing her angle. At her delay, the monitor beeped faster - tachycardia.

“Lee,” Chishiya’s voice was sharp like a warning. “Focus.”

She nodded, her throat tightening, and adjusted her suture. But her hands shook, and the next stitch was sloppy, the graft misaligned causing a bleed. The monitor’s beeps grew erratic, a sign of distress. Panic clawed at Tabi’s own heart.

No, no, no.

“Move,” Chishiya moved in, pushing Tabi to one side, his hands taking over with a precision that made her feel like a small child. He corrected the graft and stabalised the patient within minutes. The monitor’s rhythm steadied, and the room exhaled collectively.
Tabi stood frozen, the scalpel still in her hand and her eyes burning with unshed tears.

I failed. I failed him.

Chishiya didn’t look at her as he scrubbed out. “My office. Now.”

Tabi followed him with heavy legs that felt like they might give way at any moment, her scrubs clinging to her sweat-damp skin. The walk to his office felt more like a march to her execution. Inside, he didn’t sit, instead leaning against his desk, his arms crossed.

“Explain,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.

Tabi’s lips trembled, her hands twisting together. “I… I messed up. The suture was off, and I didn’t catch the tachycardia fast enough. I’m sorry, Dr. Chishiya. I-“

“Stop.” He held up a hand, silencing her. “You think this is about a bad suture? You’re missing the point.”

She blinked, tears spilling over despite her efforts to hold them back. “I don’t understand.”

Chishiya’s gaze hardened. “That surgery was a test, Lee. Not of your skill - you’re not ready for solo, and I knew that. It was a test of your judgment. And you failed spectacularly.”

Her heart sank, confusion mixing with shame. “But you told me to do it. I was trying to-“

“To impress me?” he interrupted. “You stayed up all night memorizing my failures, didn’t you? Sacrificed sleep, pushed yourself to the brink, all to prove you could handle my little assignment. And what did it get you? A sloppy performance that could’ve killed a patient.”

Tabi’s breath hitched, her tears falling freely now. “I thought… I thought you wanted me to-“

“I wanted you to think for yourself,” he snapped, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, his eyes boring into hers. “You prioritized my approval over the patient. You didn’t question the surgery, didn’t tell me you were too tired. You acted like a yes-man, nodding along because you’re too afraid to disappoint. Just like you’ve been doing your whole life, haven’t you? Following Daddy’s orders, playing the perfect heiress.”

The mention of her father was a knife to her chest, her sob catching in her throat. She wanted to argue, to defend herself, but his words rang true.

Chishiya’s voice softened, but only slightly. “If you want to be a surgeon, Lee, stop trying to please me. Stop trying to please anyone. A surgeon makes decisions, not excuses. You’ll never hold a scalpel with confidence if you’re chasing approval.”

Tabi wiped her tears, her hands shaking. “I… I didn’t know it was a test. I just wanted to prove I could do it.”

“And you proved you can’t,” he said bluntly. “Not yet. But you’re not hopeless. You have potential - if you stop sabotaging yourself.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shimmering. Potential? From him? The faint praise felt good, but it didn’t erase the sting of her failure. “What do I do now?”

Chishiya studied her, his expression unreadable. “Go home. Sleep. Come back tomorrow and do better. And next time I give you an impossible task, tell me it’s impossible.”

She nodded. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya.”

He turned away, dismissing her with a wave. “And Lee? Don’t cry in my OR again. It’s distracting.”

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Tabi’s second week at Tokyo University Hospital felt like wading through a storm – and despite being vaguely more familiar with the hospital, things were anything but easier. Chishiya hadn’t changed – he definitely hadn’t got easier, perhaps he’d even gotten worse. Her body ached from long shifts, her mind buzzing with Chishiya’s relentless “tests” and “lessons”. Sleep was a luxury she could barely afford right now, but following her failed solo surgery – she tried to get at least a straight three hours everynight.

Today, the cardiology ward was quieter than usual, the morning rounds completed with Chishiya’s usual efficiency. Tabi trailed behind him, her pink scrubs slightly creased. Her notepad was filled with meticulous notes from the past two weeks – it was getting close to bursting, her eagerness to not repeat the same mistakes from her first week had turned her into a notetaking fanatic. Chishiya hadn’t mentioned the surgery since his office lecture, but his silence felt heavier than his criticism, like a test she had not yet passed.

They were in the middle of reviewing a patient’s chart - a 67-year-old man recovering from a stent placement - when a nurse, Haruka, attached a syringe to the patient’s IV. Tabi glanced up, her gaze catching on the syringe’s contents.

Something was wrong.

Tiny bubbles glinted in the saline, a subtle but fatal mistake. Her heart lurched, threatening to rise through her throat.

“Stop!” Tabi’s voice was sharper than she intended, cutting through the ward’s hum. Haruka froze, her hand hovering over the patient’s IV port.

Chishiya’s head snapped up.

“What is it, Lee?” he asked impatiently.

Tabi’s hands trembled, but she pointed at the syringe, her heart beating about 500 times a second. “There’s air in the syringe. It could cause an embolism.”

Haruka’s face paled, her eyes widening as she inspected the syringe. “I-I didn’t see it. I swear, I checked-“

“Step back,” Chishiya ordered, his voice cold enough to freeze the room. He moved to the patient’s side, his movements precise as he disconnected the IV line before Haruka could inject anything more. Tabi held her breath, her eyes locked on the patient, Mr. Sato, whose monitor still showed a steady rhythm - for now.

But then it happened.

The monitor’s beep spiked, a shrill alarm cutting through the ward. Mr. Sato’s body jerked, his face contorting as he gasped. The screen flashed red as the monitor line started to flatten:

Ventricular fibrillation. Code blue.

Tabi’s heart plummeted but her training overdid her panic. “Code blue!” she shouted, her voice echoing as nurses and doctors rushed to the room. She moved to the patient’s side, the heels of her hands finding the centre of his chest as she began compressions, her small frame pushing with all her strength.

The crash cart arrived, a nurse handing her the defibrillator pads. Tabi placed them on Mr. Sato’s chest, her hands shaking as she checked the monitor. “Charge to 200,” she said.

Chishiya stood back, his arms crossed, almost as if he was completely and utterly bored. “You’re wasting your time, Lee,” he said. “He’s gone.”

Tabi’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He’s not gone! We can still-“

“His rhythm’s been flat for too long,” Chishiya interrupted, his tone devoid of any warmth, any sympathy. “You’re delaying the inevitable. Call it.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she shook her head, pressing harder on Mr. Sato’s chest. “No. I can save him.” Her compressions were frantic now, her hair slipping from her surgical cap in a mop.

But the monitor showed no change, the flatline a cruel mockery of any of her efforts.

A nurse handed her the paddles, and Tabi shocked the patient, her voice cracking as she called, “Clear!” The body jolted, but the monitor didn’t budge. She shocked again, then resumed compressions, her arms burning and her vision blurring with tears.

Please, please.

“Enough,” Chishiya said, stepping forward. His hand closed around her wrist, firm but not rough, pulling her away from the patient. “Call it, Lee. Now.”

Tabi’s lips trembled, her hands shaking as she looked at Mr. Sato’s still form. The room was silent except for the monitor’s relentless drone. She swallowed a sob. “Time of death… 10:42 AM.”

The nurses stepped back, their faces grim as they began the post-code protocol. Tabi stood frozen, her hands still clenched as her tears spilling over.

She’d failed. Again.

Another patient lost.

Another mark against her.

Chishiya released her wrist, his gaze shifting to Haruka, who stood trembling by the wall. The air in the room shifted noticeably as his attention zeroed in on her. Tabi had not seen him angry yet – at least not like this. His usual cold detachment was gone, replaced by a quiet, seething fury that made her stomach twist in second-hand fear.

“You,” he said venomously. “Explain how you got air in a syringe. Explain how your incompetence nearly killed a patient - and did.”

Haruka’s face crumpled. “I- I checked the syringe, Dr. Chishiya, I swear. It was a mistake, I didn’t mean-“

“A mistake?” Chishiya stepped closer, his presence towering over the nurse. “A mistake is forgetting a chart. Air in a line is negligence. Incompetence, nonetheless. A nurse of your experience should know better. Or do you think your job is just pushing drugs and hoping for the best?”

Tabi’s heart pounded, her eyes wide as she watched. She’d never seen Chishiya like this - his control clearly fraying, his words laced with a rage that felt personal. Haruka sobbed, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Dr. Chishiya. I didn’t see it, I was distracted-“

“Distracted?” he snapped, his voice rising just enough to make the room flinch. “ You don’t get to be distracted in this job. Mr. Sato trusted us with his health, and you betrayed that trust. You’ll be explaining this to the malpractice board so you better prepare a better excuse than that.”

Haruka’s knees buckled, and she leaned against the wall, her sobs echoing in the silent room.

“Get out,” he said, his voice dropping back to its usual cold precision. “You’re suspended until further notice. I’ll be reporting this to the director.”

Haruka nodded, her face ashen, and stumbled out of the room, her sobs fading down the hall. The remaining staff dispersed quietly, leaving Tabi and Chishiya alone with Mr. Sato’s body. The monitor was off now, an eerie silence falling over the trio – or rather, duo.

Tabi wiped her face, her hands still trembling. “Dr. Chishiya,” she began, “I tried to save him. I thought-“

“No, you thought you could play hero,” he said, turning to face her. His anger was gone, replaced by his usual detachment. “You saw the flatline. You knew it was futile. Yet you kept going, wasting energy, wasting resources, wasting my time. Why?”

“Because I had to try. I couldn’t just… give up.”

Chishiya’s gaze softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to catch her off guard. “Trying is all well and good, Lee. But a big part of your job is needing to know when to stop. Sentimentality doesn’t save lives. Judgment does.”

She nodded, her tears falling faster now. “I’m sorry. I just… I saw the air, and I thought I could fix it.”

He studied her, his expression unreadable. “You caught the error. That’s something. Most residents this junior wouldn’t have the observation skills to have noticed.”

The faint praise, buried in his cold tone, made her heart skip with the tiniest bit of pride. “Thank you, Dr. Chishiya.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, turning away. “Learn from this. And don’t expect me to hold your hand through it.”
_______________________________________

Tabi was no stranger to the quiet hum of her own heart, in fact, it was the reason she became so interested in medicine in the first place - or rather, the device that kept it beating was. The pacemaker, implanted when she was 16 after a fainting spell revealed a congenital heart block, was her silent, but reliable, companion. She’d always managed it: regular checkups, battery replacements, and a stubborn refusal to let it define her. But today, on her third week as a cardiovascular surgical resident, something felt off.

The dizzy spells started in the morning, subtle at first - a fleeting lightheadedness as she sipped her tea in her apartment. She brushed it off, blaming exhaustion from the relentless pace of her residency.

But by mid-morning, the spells grew worse. A wave of vertigo hit during rounds, her vision blurring as she trailed Chishiya through the cardiology ward. She gripped her notepad and steadied herself against a wall, hoping no one – especially chishiya - had noticed. Chishiya, perceptive as always, had noticed. His eyes flicked to her once, narrowing slightly, but he said nothing, moving on to the next patient.

Tabi’s pulse felt erratic, a stuttering rhythm she recognized from past pacemaker malfunctions. It’s the battery. It’s due for a check soon. She’d meant to schedule an appointment with her own cardiologist, but the chaos of residency -and her fear of Chishiya’s judgment if she fell behind - had pushed it to the back of her mind. The thought of his cold dismissal kept her silent. She adjusted her cat pin, took a deep breath, and pressed on.

The day was grueling: a morning of consults, an afternoon assisting Chishiya in a valve repair, and endless charting. Each dizzy spell was a battle, her hands trembling as she scribbled notes, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears from the pressure of staying up right. She sipped water, nibbled a macaron from her bag in hopes the sugar might stem the dizziness.

But of course, it hadn’t.

Chishiya was quieter than usual, his usual bluntness tempered by a watchful intensity. Tabi caught him glancing at her during the valve repair, his eyes lingering when her hands fumbled with a suture.

“Steady, Lee,” he had said. She had nodded and did her best to focus harder, ignoring the way the room tilted.

He hadn’t commented after that.

By late afternoon, the dizzy spells were blurring into one continuous wave, and she was no longer sure what her vision was usually like.

Her vision doubled as she tailed Chishiya down a hallway toward the residents’ lounge, their shift nearing its end. He was reviewing a patient’s chart on his tablet, his voice mumbled as he outlined her tasks for the evening. “I need those discharge summaries by tomorrow. No excuses.”

“Yes, Dr. Chishiya,” Tabi murmured, her words slurring together as she did her best to speak. Her legs felt like jelly, her pulse stuttering in her chest. She leaned against the wall for support, her notepad slipping from her hands.

It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Chishiya stopped at the sound, his head turning sharply. “Lee?” His tone was clipped as usual, but his eyes widened as he took in her pale face, and the sweat beading on her forehead. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tabi tried to straighten, her hand pressing against the wall. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just… tired.”

He stepped closer, his tablet tucked under his arm and forgotten. “You’re not fine.” Before she could protest, he reached for her wrist, his fingers finding her pulse with a mechanical ease.

His eyes darkened, alarm flickering across his usually impassive face. “Your pulse is all over the place,” he said urgently. “Tachycardic, irregular. What’s going on, Lee?”

Tabi’s lips parted, her vision swimming. She wanted to pull away, but the truth spilled out before she could stop it. “I… I have a pacemaker. It’s… I think it’s malfunctioning.”

Chishiya’s hand tightened on her wrist. “A pacemaker? And you didn’t think to mention this when I met you?” His voice was sharp, but there was a tremor in it, as if he was genuinely panicked – a reputationally rare expression to be seen on his face.

Her knees buckled, and she slumped against the wall, her blonde waves falling into her face. “I’m sorry, I-“

Her words were cut off as darkness closed in, her mind fading to a resounding buzz in her ears. her body crumpled as her knees lost their strength.

Chishiya caught her just before she hit the floor, his arms steady as he lowered her gently to the ground. “Lee!” His voice was sharp, urgent, a rare edge of panic breaking through. “for fuck sake...”

Chapter 4: chapter 4

When Tabi came to, she was in a patient room, the familiar beep of a heart monitor grounding her. Her head throbbed, her body felt heavy and there was a dull sting in the left of her chest, but she was alive - at least.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights. An IV line was taped to her arm, and her scrubs had been replaced with a hospital gown.

Chishiya stood by the bed, his white coat draped over a chair and his sleeves rolled up. His hair was slightly mussed, a rare sign of disarray that would have startled her if she was slightly more alert. His eyes met hers, and for once, they weren’t intimidatingly cold, yet they still carried that same weight of judgement which Tabi had grown used to.

“You’re awake,” he said and checked the monitor with a quick glance. “Your pacemaker battery was failing. We replaced it an hour ago. You’re stable, but you’re not moving until I say so.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Chishiya,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse from the intubation that was shoved down her throat. “I should’ve told you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint, sardonic smile. “You think? A faulty pacemaker isn’t something you should hide. Especially not from me.”

She looked away, tears prickling her eyes. “I was scared. You said you don’t tolerate fragility, and I… I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle this.”

Chishiya let out a heavy sigh and his expression softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make her heart skip - not from her pacemaker, but from him. He pulled a chair closer and sat. “You’re not fragile,” he said matter-of-factly. “But hiding this?” He gestured to her chest, where the pacemaker lay beneath her skin. “That was stupid. You would have died had I not been there.”

The bluntness of his words stung, but there was no malice in them. “I know. I just… I wanted to prove I belong here.”

“You belong,” he said. “But you don’t prove it by killing yourself. You prove it by staying alive long enough to learn.”

From Chishiya, that was as close to praise as she’d probably ever get from him. She managed a shaky smile. “Thank you, Dr. Chishiya.”

He leaned back, his usual detachment creeping back, but his eyes lingered on her. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t pull this stunt again. I have enough patients as it is, I don’t have time to be treating my own staff too.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He stood, checking the monitor with a quick glance one last time. “Rest. I’ll check on you later. And Lee?” His gaze met hers. “Next time you’re dizzy, tell me.”
________________________________________

It had been a week since her collapse in the hallway, a week since Chishiya had basically saved her from death. His vague praise – if you could call it that – had lifted her spirits, and kept her comforted despite her isolation. But another thought, far less comforting, had taken root, blooming into a mortifying revelation:

He operated on me. He must have seen me…

naked.

The idea sent a flush creeping up her cheeks every time she thought of it. Tabi was no prude - she’d seen plenty of patients in surgery - but the thought of Chishiya, her mentor, seeing her so vulnerable made her want to sink into the hospital bed and never emerge.

Since realising it, she’d barely been able to look at him since, her eyes darting away whenever he entered the room.

Chishiya, true to form, hadn’t let her idle. On her second day of recovery, he’d appeared with a stack of paperwork -discharge summaries, patient charts, and research notes - dumping it on her bed with a curt, “If you’re going to take up my bed space, make yourself useful.” Tabi had blinked, stunned, but his next words had caught her off guard even more: “Maybe having a resident isn’t so bad after all.”

The comment, delivered in his usual dry tone, had left her speechless. Was that… approval? From Chishiya? She’d nodded, her cheeks burning, and buried herself in the paperwork, grateful for the distraction.

The work had kept her mind busy, but it didn’t erase her embarrassment everytime that one thought crept into her mind again.

Today, her sixth day in the hospital, Tabi sat cross-legged on the bed, her hospital gown swapped for a soft pink tracksuit her friend had brought. Her dizzy spells were gone, her pacemaker humming along perfectly, but the hospital’s protocol - and Chishiya’s stern instructions - kept her here until tomorrow.

The door swung open, and Chishiya stepped in. His dark eyes flicked to her, and Tabi’s heart skipped - not from her pacemaker, but from the sudden awkwardness of his presence. She ducked her head, focusing intently on the chart hoping he wouldn’t catch her cheeks already turning red.

“You’re still here,” he said dryly, as if her presence was a mild inconvenience. He set a new stack of files on the bed, his movements deliberate. “I need these done by tonight. Don’t slack off just because you’re a patient.”

“Yes, Dr. Chishiya,” Tabi murmured, her eyes glued to the paper. She reached for the files, her fingers brushing the edge of the stack, careful not to look up.

He paused. “You’ve been unusually quiet, Lee. Even for you.”

Tabi’s heart lurched, her pen freezing mid-stroke. Oh no. He noticed. She forced a smile, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m just… focused. On the paperwork.”

“Focused,” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. He leaned against the bed’s railing, his arms crossing. “You haven’t looked me in the eye all week. If you’re hiding something again, I’d rather know now than find you passed out in a hallway.”

Her cheeks burned, her hands trembling as she clutched the chart.

He’s not going to let this go.

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m fine.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to bolt, or burst into tears…or both?” He hit her with a challenging stare, one of his eyebrows arching just the slightest. “Spit it out, Lee. I don’t have time for games.”

Tabi’s resolve crumbled, her embarrassment overwhelming her. She set the chart down, her hands twisting in her lap.

“It’s… uhhh it’s stupid,” she mumbled. “I just… I realized you operated on me. For the pacemaker. And that means you…uhhh…well you… you probably saw me…” She trailed off, her face completely red now. She closes her eyes and cringes internally as she finishes her sentence.

“Naked.”

The room went silent, the heart monitor’s beep the only sound. Tabi braced herself for his response, expecting a snappy remark, a dismissal of her childishness. But instead, she heard a soft, stifled sound - a chuckle, quickly smothered in disguise of a cough. She glanced up, startled, and caught the faintest twitch of Chishiya’s lips, his hand covering his mouth as if to hide it. His eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to amusement.

“Is that what’s been eating you?” he asked carefully, but the humor leaked through, betraying his feigned indifference. “You think I was - what, ogling you on the operating table?”

Tabi’s mouth fell open, her embarrassment doubling. “No! I mean, I didn’t think you were… I just-“ She buried her face in her hands, muffling her voice. “It’s embarrassing! You’re my mentor, and I was… exposed!”

Chishiya’s chuckle escaped again. He straightened, his arms still crossed and his expression settled back into its usual cold mask, but the amusement lingered in his eyes. “Lee, I’m a surgeon. You were a patient. Your body was no more than a vessel for me to cut into. Trust me, I wasn’t taking notes on your… exposure.”

Tabi wasn’t sure what to make of that.

She peeked through her fingers. “You’re laughing at me,” she accused, her tone tinged with indignation.

“I’m not,” he lied, his lips twitching again. He cleared his throat, his tone shifting back to its usual bluntness. “Get over it. You’re a doctor. You’ll see plenty of naked patients yourself. It’s not personal. No need to make it weird.”

Tabi lowered her hands, her eyes finally meeting his, though it took all her courage. “I know that,” she said. “It’s just… different when it’s me. And when it’s you.”

“Me?”

She froze, realizing how that sounded. “Ah! I mean, because you’re my mentor! And you’re… you know, intimidating.” She waved a hand vaguely, her blush deepening. “It’s not like I think you’re… never mind.”

Chishiya’s smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. “Intimidating? I’ll take that as a compliment.” He pushed off the railing, picking up her chart to check her vitals,l. “Your embarrassment is noted, Lee. Now can you focus on doing my paperwork?”

She managed a sheepish grin. “I’ll focus.”

“Good.” He set the chart down, his eyes meeting hers again. “And for the record, I didn’t see anything… noteworthy. You’re safe.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by ”that either. Should I be offended by that? “Uhhh…Thank you? I think?”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, turning to leave. “Just don’t faint on me again. I’ve got enough patients as it is.”

As the door closed behind him, Tabi exhaled. He laughed. He actually laughed. It was the first time she’d seen him show anything close to warmth, and it felt like a victory, however small.
_______________________________________

By Tabi’s final day in the hospital, she felt almost herself again. She packed her bag, neatly tucking away the few amounts of cards she’d been sent, and changed into her lavender sweater and jeans, her bunny keychain jingling as she slung the bag over her shoulder.

Chishiya appeared for a final check, his expression as uninterested as ever.

“Your vitals are fine,” he said, scanning her chart. “You’re discharged. But you’re on light duty for a week. No OR, no rounds. Paperwork only.”

Tabi nodded, her heart sinking just a tad at the restriction but grateful to be back on her feet. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya. Um thank you… by the way.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk faint. “Don’t get sentimental, Lee. I just don’t want to explain another collapse to your father.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering longer than usual. “See that you are,” he said, turning to leave. “And Lee? Nice work on the paperwork. Don’t make me regret keeping you around.”

Chapter 5: chapter 5

Tabi’s first proper day back at work after her pacemaker surgery felt like stepping onto a tightrope. Light duty had been torture - paperwork was safe but stifling, and she craved the pulse of the OR more than she realised. Today, on her first return to full duty, she was assigned to ER duty with Chishiya, a shift he’d described with his usual dry detachment:

“Either the most boring day of your life or the worst. No in-between.”

The ER was a beast of its own - a sprawling maze of gurneys, monitors, and shouting staff. Tabi clutched her notepad, her eyes scanning the flurry of activity: a nurse triaging a sprained ankle, a doctor stitching a laceration, a patient groaning in a curtained bay.

Chishiya moved through it all as if he was walking through a supermarket aisle rather than a hospital. He barely acknowledged her as they settled at the cardio consult desk, his focus on a tablet of pending cases.

“Stay sharp, Lee,” he said without looking up, his tone just as clipped as usual. “You’re not here to gawk - you’re here to work.”

“Yes, Dr. Chishiya,”

The morning was painfully slow, just as Chishiya had warned. A few minor consults trickled in - an elderly woman with atrial fibrillation, a middle-aged man with chest pain that turned out to be nothing but indigestion. Tabi took notes, answered Chishiya’s questions with growing confidence, and even earned a curt “Adequate” when she suggested a beta-blocker adjustment.

By noon, Tabi’s eyes were heavy with boredom, they were sat in the ER staff room in complete silence, when the pager on Chishiya’s belt finally shrieked.

He glanced at it, his expression shifting from indifference to a sharp focus. “Multi-casualty RTC,” he said, standing abruptly. “Critical cardiac trauma, bay 1. Move.”

Tabi’s heart lurched, her lunch forgotten as she scrambled to follow. The ER had exploded into chaos as they reached the trauma bay, a hive of shouting doctors, clattering equipment, and the wail of sirens outside. The patient, a 42-year-old man, was already on the table, his chest a mess of blood and bruising from the crash. The trauma surgeon, Dr. Kudo, barked orders, his gloved hands moving fast to control bleeding.

Chishiya took charge of the assessment, his voice cutting through any and all noise. Just by looking at him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the severity of the situation – even now, he looked almost bored. “Tension pneumothorax is decompressed, but he’s got a suspected aortic injury. Lee, get me an ultrasound. Now.”

Tabi on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. Her hands trembles as she grabbed the portable ultrasound machine. She handed Chishiya the probe, her eyes locked on the monitor as he scanned the patient’s chest. The image confirmed his suspicion: a partial aortic tear, leaking blood into the mediastinum.

“Surgery,” Chishiya said sharply. “Prep him for the OR. Lee, assist.”

They worked in tandem, Tabi following his lead as they stabilized the patient for transport. Her hands were steady and she was confident she could handle this – she’d spent a lot of time studying traumatic aortic injuries and with chishiya, she knew things would be fine.

But before they could move, another pager blared, this time from Dr. Kudo’s belt.

“Incoming!” Kudo shouted, his face grim. “Second critical cardiac from the same RTC. Female, 30s, massive chest trauma. ETA two minutes. Trauma bay 2.”

Chishiya’s jaw noticeably tightened, his right brow ticking upwards, and Tabi swore she saw his lips move in a faint “fuck”.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of the situation pressing down.

Two critical patients.

one cardiovascular surgeon.

Tabi’s heart pounded, her breath catching as she realized what this meant.

“I’ll call for backup,” Chishiya said, stepping to the trauma bay’s phone. He dialed the surgical desk, not bothering with formalities. “I need a cardiovascular surgeon immediately. Is anyone available?”

The response was faint but clear: “Negative. All surgeons are in ORs or on consults.”

Chishiya hung up without an answer. And he just stands there, silently, staring at the wall.

Tabi could see his hands twitching faintly, clenching and unclenching, his eyes glazed, jaw clenched, and his eyes distant.

And then suddenly, he speaks.

“Lee, you’re taking the second patient.”

Tabi’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening. “Me? But I’ve never - Dr. Chishiya, I’m not qualified for-“

“You’re all I’ve got,” he interrupted, his tone making it clear he wasn’t making room for arguments. They didn’t have time for that. “Kudo will be with you in trauma bay 2. Follow his lead, stabilize the patient, just do what you can. I’ll join you when I’m done here.”

Tabi’s hands shook, her mind screaming that she wasn’t ready, that a complex trauma case was far beyond her skills. But Chishiya’s eyes held hers with such an intensity that it felt like he was trying to telepathically put all his skills and knowledge into her own brain. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he rush her, he just waited.

Eventually, she steeled herself enough to respond. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya.” A firm nod accompanied her words.

“Go,” he said, already turning back to the first patient.

Tabi ran to trauma bay 2, her sneakers squeaking against the tile. The bay was already in an organised chaos, nurses prepping equipment as the ambulance screeched to a halt outside. The patient, a young woman, was wheeled in, her chest caved in like a dome from the impact, blood soaking her clothes. Dr. Kudo was already there, his hands moving fast to intubate.

“Cardio!” Kudo shouted, glancing at Tabi. “Where’s Chishiya?”

“With another critical,” Tabi said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’m covering.”

Kudo’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Fine. Ultrasound, now. Suspected aortic rupture.”

Tabi grabbed the ultrasound, her hands trembling as she scanned the patient’s chest. The image was a nightmare: the aorta was completely shredded, a complete rupture leaking blood into the chest cavity and preventing blood from circulating round the body. She’d only seen this in textbooks, never in real life. Her heart raced as that nauseating panic began clawing at her.

“Confirm it, resident! We don’t have time!”

“Aortic rupture,” Tabi said, her voice shaking. “Complete. She needs an emergency repair.”

“Then move!” Kudo barked. “Get her to the OR. You’re doing the repair.”

Tabi’s knees nearly buckled, but she nodded, gulping back the fear. She had no choice. It was either she let the woman die, or she tried and maybe let the woman die.

The team rushed the patient to the OR, Tabi scrubbing in with shaking hands. Her mind raced, piecing together what she’d studied:

Expose the aorta, control the bleeding, graft the vessel.

But the reality was always messier, bloodier, and far more terrifying than any textbook.

In the OR, the patient’s chest was opened, the shredded aorta exposed like a slice of cheese passed through a grater. Tabi took the scalpel, her hands trembling as she tried to focus herelf. Kudo stood beside her, his presence not really aiding her nerves.

“Clamp the proximal aorta,” he said urgently. “You’ve got seconds before she bleeds out.”

Tabi clamped the vessel, her movements clumsy but effective. Blood sprayed, soaking her gloves, but she pushed on as best she could. She sutured a graft, her stitches uneven, sloppy chishiya would say, but holding at the least. The monitor beeped, the patient’s pressure dropping rapidly, but Tabi worked faster as the anesthesiologist did their job. Her hands eventually found their rhythm, finally working effectively under the strains of pressure.

After what felt like hours, but was only minutes, the graft was in place and the bleeding controlled. The monitor stabilized, the patient’s pressure climbing.

Stable.

Tabi stepped back, her hands shaking, her scrubs blood-splattered. “She’s… stable,”

Kudo nodded, only the slightest hint of approval in his expression. “Sloppy, but it held. Good work, resident.”

Before Tabi could process the praise, the OR doors swung open, and Chishiya strode in, his white coat stained with blood from the first patient. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to the patient’s chest, assessing Tabi’s work in a single glance.

“Status,” he said.

“Stable,” Kudo said. “Aortic rupture repaired. Your resident pulled it off.”

Chishiya’s gaze shifted to Tabi, his eyebrow lifting just the slightest. “You repaired a complete aortic rupture?”

Chishiya had assumed he had sent her on career suicide. That he would turn up to the OR to complete carnage, a dead patient and his resident stood amongst it.

He had already prepared what he would tell her father, the excuse he would make up to the director as to why he sent such an inexperienced resident into the OR on her own.

But as it appears, he didn’t need that.

And maybe, for the first time in his career, he was impressed.

Tabi’s cheeks were flushed, tears in her eyes and a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I… I tried. It’s not perfect. I’m sorry, Dr. Chishiya, I know it’s messy-”

“Stop,” he cut her off with a raise of his hand. Tabi braced herself for yet another cruel remark as Chishiya approached the operating table, his fingers methodically gliding over her work.

But Chishiya’s voice was softer than she expected, almost gentle. “It’s not pretty, but it’s functional. You kept her alive. That’s more than most first-years could manage.”

Tabi blinked, her eyes wide with disbelief. Praise? From him? “I thought… I thought I messed up.”

“You didn’t,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “But you can do better.” He took the suture kit off the tray and waved her closer with a flick of his wrist. “Your sutures are too loose here - see?” He cuts her own sutures and rethreads one of his own with tactical ease. As he loops the thread, he slows his movements, giving the thread a slight tug. “Tighten them, like this. You see that tension? That’s what you want. No more or less than that.”

Tabi watched over his shoulder, taking in everything he’s teaching her. She glanced up at his face a few times and noticed how his features had softened just a fraction as he slipped into a rhythm of teaching.

Teaching… He’s actually teaching me.

Chishiya continued talking through where she could improve, correcting her work as he went. “And your clamp was too proximal; it risked occluding the coronary arteries. Next time, adjust your angle.”

His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel either - it was instructional, almost kind.

When he finished, the aorta was a work of art, almost as good as new. He stepped back, peeling off his gloves, and glanced at her. “You did well.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the praise, her cheeks raising in a shaky smile. “Thank you, Dr. Chishiya.”

He raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’ve got a long way to go.”

__________________________________________

The conference room on the seventh floor was a stark, sterile space, its long table surrounded by attending surgeons in the crisp white coats they wear with an air of inflated egos. The air was thick with the weight of professional scrutiny, the monthly resident progress meeting a ritual of judgment and debate. Dr. Chishiya sat near the head of the table, leant back casually in his seat – his expression as bored as ever.

Dr. Mori, a grizzled general surgeon with a penchant for loud complaints, was mid-rant. “My resident - Kenji? Hopeless. Can’t even tie a decent suture under pressure. I had to redo his sutures in front of the chief last week. Embarrassing.”

Dr. Sato, the neurosurgeon, nodded along. “Mine’s no better. Hana’s got good theory, but she freezes in the OR. I can’t trust her with a scalpel yet. These first-years are a disaster.”

The room murmured in agreement, a chorus of disappointment. Chishiya remained silent, his fingers steepled, his gaze drifting to the window where Tokyo’s skyline glittered. He had little patience for these meetings, with their endless posturing and complaints, but as head of cardiology and now a surgeon with a resident of his own, his presence was mandatory.

Dr. Kudo, the trauma surgeon who’d worked with Tabi in the ER last week, leaned forward. “It’s the same every year. They come in with big dreams and no backbone. My resident’s too busy flirting with nurses to learn anything. What about you, Chishiya? Heard you’ve been riding your resident hard. The director’s daughter, right? How’s she holding up?”

The mention of Tabi snapped Chishiya’s attention
back, his eyes narrowing slightly. He felt the room’s focus shift to him. His reputation as a cold, demanding surgeon had always preceded him, and rumors of his tough treatment of Tabi had spread like wildfire. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips.

“She’s pretty good,” he said with a casual shrug.
A stunned silence followed. The surgeons at the table exchanging skeptical glances with one another.

“Pretty good?” Dr. Mori echoed. “You? Saying something positive about a resident? I thought you hated having one.”

Chishiya’s smirk widened, a rare glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well I didn’t ask for her, but I’m not complaining. I quite like mine.”

“You like her?” Dr Sato chimed in. “Chishiya, we heard you made her do a solo surgery in her first week. That’s not exactly mentorship - it’s torture.”

“It’s my teaching style,” he shrugged. “She has potential. I’m not here to coddle her -I’m here to make her a surgeon. And fast.”

Dr. Kudo grunted. “Potential, huh? I saw her in the ER last week. That aortic repair was a mess, but she pulled it off.”

“Exactly.” Chishiya said. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s green, needs some fine tuning on her personality, but she’s not afraid to act. I can fix the rest.”
Dr. Mori leaned back, still skeptical. “Okay, spill. What’s so special about this girl? Doesn’t sound like your type of resident.”

“She’s… observant,” he said finally, choosing his words with care. “Got a good eye. She a nurse’s error that could’ve – and did - killed a patient. Memorized forty-seven of my failed cases in one night, down to the last detail. And in the ER, she performed an emergency aortic repair – albeit sloppy, but still, she did it – and I didn’t even have to ask her twice, or give her a pep talk. First-year residents don’t do stuff like that. But she does.”

The room fell silent again. Dr. Sato whistled softly. “That’s… impressive. I take it back. Maybe she’s not a disaster.”

“She’s not,” Chishiya said, his tone final. “She’s certainly… rough around the edges, but she learns fast. And she doesn’t break, no matter how hard I push.”

Dr. Kudo chuckled. “You sure you’re not just sweet on her because she’s the director’s daughter?”

“Her last name means nothing to me. She earns her place, or she’s out. Same as anyone.”

Chapter 6: chapter 6

The relentless pace of the hospital left no room for complacency for its resident doctors, and today was no exception. Chishiya was tied up in meetings all morning - budget reviews, staffing plans, and other administrative drudgery he loathed but couldn’t escape as a department lead. Not wanting to stall Tabi’s training, he’d assigned her to shadow Dr. Tanaka, an attending cardiovascular surgeon known for his skill but also his short temper.

“Stay out of trouble, Lee,” Chishiya had said before leaving. “Tanaka’s not me. He won’t tolerate mistakes - or questions… Or really anything that involves opening your mouth.”

Tabi had nodded. She had been at Tokyo University Hospital for a few months now and was far too used to how much attendings hate having their egos bruised by their juniors. She had learnt well – head down and nod along, even if you think they’re wrong.

The ward was its usual symphony of beeps and murmurs, nurses bustling with charts and patients stirring in their beds. Dr. Tanaka was a burly man with a gruff demeanor. He was competent but curt, dismissing her attempts at small talk with a grunt.

He’s worse than Dr. Chishiya.

By mid-morning, they were in the room of a 55-year-old woman, Mrs. Kimura, who was recovering from a mitral valve replacement. Tanaka reviewed her chart, his voice clipped as he dictated to the nurse as if the nurse was a problem just by being there.

“Increase her beta-blocker to 50 mg. She’s still tachycardic.”

Tabi’s brow furrowed at that, her eyes scanning the chart over his shoulder. Mrs. Kimura’s heart rate was elevated but her blood pressure was already quite low - 90/60. Her mind flashed to a lecture she had attended back in medical school: beta-blockers could lower a patient’s blood pressure further, risking hypotension in a post-op patient.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her notepad, her mind churning over her options.

If I don’t say anything, the patient is at risk.

If I do say something, dr. tanaka will be offended.

“Dr. Tanaka,” she said with a slight tremble. “Uhh…Her blood pressure’s low. Increasing the beta-blocker might cause hypotension. Should we consider an alternative, like amiodarone, for the tachycardia?”

The room went still.

Tanaka’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face her with a click of his tongue.

“Are you questioning me, resident?” Tanaka spat, his face reddening with unconcealed fury. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. And you think you know better?”

Crap.

Tabi’s knees trembled, but she swallowed, her voice steadying. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to disrespect you, Dr. Tanaka. I just thought- well her vitals suggest-“

“Enough!” Tanaka snapped and took a step closer to her, his bulk towering over her smaller frame.
“You’re a first-year, Lee. Your job is to listen and do as you’re told. This is insubordination, and I won’t have it on my ward.”

Tabi’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her hands shaking as she clutched her notepad. She wanted to shrink, to apologize, but something inside her held firm.

I’m right. I know I’m right.

“Lee. My office. Now.”

Tabi turned abruptly at the voice, her face paling as she comes eye to eye with Chishiya. He stood in the doorway of the room, his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.

This is it. I’m so screwed.

Tanaka smirked, clearly smug with the notion that Chishiya was about to discipline her.

Chishiya flicked his wrist and was walking up the corridor before Tabi could even say anything, she scurried behind him to catch up, her sneakers squeaking against the tile floor with each rushed step.

He’s going to scold me for this. Give me a disciplinary.

Chishiya leaned against his desk, his arms folding over his chest again. Frozen in place, Tabi stayed stood by the door - as if she was ready to bolt.

She gulped back the lump in her throat as she met his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Chishiya,” she blurted out at a nervous speed. “I wasn’t trying to be insubordinate. I just saw Mrs. Kimura’s vitals, and I thought-“

“Stop,” he interrupted with a raise of his hand. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re right.”

Tabi blinked, her mouth falling open. That was the last thing she expected to come out his mouth. “I… what?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “Tanaka’s call was reckless. Increasing the beta-blocker with her blood pressure that low could’ve sent her into hypotensive shock. Talk me through it.”

He actually agrees with me?

She hesitated, blinking a few times before opening her notepad. “Mrs. Kimura’s post-op from a mitral valve replacement. Her heart rate’s elevated - around 110 - but her blood pressure’s 90/60. Beta-blockers lower heart rate but also blood pressure, which could destabilize her. Amiodarone would control the tachycardia without the same risk, especially since she’s stable otherwise.”

Chishiya nodded, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with approval. “Solid reasoning. You saw the risk, you spoke up. That’s what you should do. Good job.”

Tabi’s cheeks flushed, a mix of pride and disbelief warming her chest. “But Dr. Tanaka said-“

“Tanaka’s an idiot,” Chishiya said bluntly. “He’s skilled, but he’s arrogant. He’d rather save face than admit a resident might be right. Which you were, by the way.”

“Thank you, Dr. Chishiya. I just… I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“You didn’t,” he said, pushing off the desk. “You did your job. Now I’m going to do mine.” He grabbed his tablet. “Come with me. We’re checking on Mrs. Kimura.”

In Mrs. Kimura’s room, Tanaka was still there, dictating orders to a nurse. He glanced up as Chishiya entered, his smirk fading at the sight of the head of cardiology.

Chishiya was not known to interact much with his staff. Infact, it was well known among the attending surgeons that if you don’t see him – then you’re doing something right.

As a result, the attendings often feared seeing him.

“Dr. Chishiya,” Tanaka said cautiously. “What’s this about?”

Chishiya didn’t acknowledge him, his focus on the patient’s chart. He scanned the vitals, his eyes narrowing as he confirmed Tabi’s assessment. “Mrs. Kimura’s blood pressure is too low for a beta-blocker increase,” he said. “Amiodarone, 150 mg IV over 10 minutes, then a maintenance dose. Adjust her fluids to stabilize her pressure.”

Tanaka’s face reddened, his jaw tightening. “I was handling it. Your resident overstepped-“

“She didn’t overstep,” Chishiya interrupted, his gaze becoming sharp enough to cut through Tankaka’s brain if he wanted to. “She caught an error that could’ve killed the patient. You should be thanking her, she saved your job.”

The room went silent, the nurse pausing mid-note.
Tanaka sputtered. “She’s a first-year. She doesn’t get to question me.”

“She does when you’re wrong,” Chishiya said. “And you were. Do better, Tanaka, or I’ll be discussing this with the director.”

Tanaka’s mouth snapped shut, the red of his cheeks turning from anger to humiliation. He nodded curtly, turning back to the nurse with a muttered order.

Chishiya adjusted Mrs. Kimura’s IV himself, an added hit to Tanaka’s ego, then glanced at Tabi. “Stay here. Monitor her for the next hour. Page me if anything changes.”

“Yes, Dr. Chishiya,” Tabi said.

_________________________________________

Today, a crisp December morning with snow flurries dusting the Tokyo skyline, Chishiya had pulled Tabi from ward duties for a dedicated skills lab session. “Your technique needs work, Lee,” he had said earlier as he handed her a schedule. “We’re fixing that today. Meet me in the simulation lab at 1 PM. Don’t be late.”

Skills labs were rare one-on-one time, even rarer when your mentor is the likes of Dr. Chishiya. They were a chance to refine the hands-on aspects of surgery away from the high stakes of the OR under the guidance of a highly experienced surgeon.

But with Chishiya?

It felt like stepping into a lion’s den, even if that lion had shown glimpses of something less predatory lately.

The simulation lab was a state-of-the-art room tucked away on the hospital’s lower level, filled with realistic mannequins, suture kits, and laparoscopic simulators. The air smelled faintly of plastic and antiseptic, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. Tabi arrived five minutes early, humming softly to calm her nerves, when the door opened.

Chishiya entered, his white coat draped over his arm, revealing a simple black button shirt that he rolled up to his sleeves. His hair was slightly tousled from running his hand through his hair in meetings – as Tabi had come to recognise. He carried a case of surgical tools with him, setting it down on the lab table infront of her.

“You’re early,” he noted. “Good. Let’s start.”

“What are we working on first, Dr. Chishiya?”

He opened the case, revealing an array of sutures, needles, and synthetic skin pads. “Basic suturing. Your stitches in the ER were functional, but uneven. In cardio especially, precision is everything. One slip, and its over.”

She swallowed, her hands clasping together. “I understand. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“But practice without critique is worthless,” he finished stiffly, almost a little formal. He gestured to a workstation, where a mannequin torso waited, complete with a simulated chest cavity. “Start with a simple interrupted suture on the skin pad. Show me your baseline.”

Tabi gloved up, her fingers trembling slightly as she threaded the needle. Chishiya stood beside her with his arms crossed, as usual, but his posture was unnaturally rigid.

He wasn’t used to this - teaching, guiding. His reputation was built on observation and critique from afar, never hands-on instruction. It showed in the way he cleared his throat and how his explanations came out robotically.

“Hold the needle driver like this,” he said, demonstrating with his own tool. His movements were effortless, but when he handed it to her, his fingers brushed hers briefly, and he pulled back quickly, as if surprised by the contact. “Not too tight. You’re not strangling it.”

Tabi began the suture, her needle piercing the synthetic skin with care. The first few stitches were neat, but the tension varied slightly, a flaw she knew he would catch before even she did.

“Too loose on the third,” Chishiya said, leaning in. His voice was shaky, almost hesitant, like he was searching for the right words. “It’ll gap. Redo it.”

She nodded, undoing the stitch before redoing it – slower this time so he can watch her technique. “Like this?” she asked, glancing up at him.

He met her eyes, and for a moment, he seemed almost uncomfortable - stiff, as if teaching required a skillset he had yet to tap into. “Better. But your angle’s off. Here.” He reached over, his hand hovering near hers, then gently adjusting her grip. His touch was clinical in the same way he touches his patients.

“Sorry,” she murmured, focusing on the pad.

“Don’t apologize,” he replied. “Just fix it.”

They continued like this for the first half-hour, Chishiya nitpicking every detail - her knot-tying, her tissue handling, her speed. He was thorough, almost mechanical, his instructions coming out in short bursts:

“Slower.”

“Your thumb’s in the way.”

“You’re breathing too loud. It’s annoying.”

“Again.”

But as the session progressed, something shifted.

Tabi’s questions - shy at first, then more probing – seemed to draw him out. “Why this suture material over nylon?” she asked.

“Absorbable for deeper layers – it reduces infection risk. But in cardio, we use Prolene for valves because it’s non-reactive.” He demonstrated a running suture, his hands moving with graceful precision, and for the first time, a faint smile tugged at his lips as she replicated it perfectly.

“Good,” he said, the word slipping out warmer than intended. He cleared his throat, but the stiffness was fading, replaced by, perhaps, a subtle enjoyment.

By the second hour, they’d moved to laparoscopic simulators, practicing vessel anastomosis on a mock heart model. Chishiya stood closer, his awkwardness melting away as he guided her through a tricky clamp placement. “Feel the tension here,” he said and adjusted the simulator’s controls, simulating a bleed, and watched as she reacted swiftly.

“Clamped,” she said.

He nodded, a genuine spark of interest in his eyes. “Now suture. Small bites - don’t tear the endothelium.”

She worked meticulously and when she finished, the anastomosis was clean, if not flawless. Chishiya inspected it, his smirk faint but approving. “Not bad, Lee. You’re learning.”

He leaned back against the counter, and for the first time ever, Tabi thinks he seems genuinely relaxed – his shoulders weren’t tensed like usual, his jaw wasn’t tightened, and his posture was slightly slumped. It made him look… different.

They wrapped up with a final drill on knot-tying under tension, Chishiya demonstrating a one-handed technique with practiced ease. Tabi mirrored him, a laugh leaving her when she fumbled. “Almost,” he said, his lips twitching in what might have been a smile.

By the end of the skills lab, he seemed almost reluctant to stop.

As they packed up the tools, Chishiya glanced at the clock, a faint “ah” on his tongue as he suddenly realised something. “The hospital’s Christmas ball is next week by the way,” he said. “I was told to invite you. You’re expected to attend. It’s… networking.”

Tabi blinked, surprised by the invitation - indirect as it was. “Oh, I… I’ll try to be there,” she said. “It sounds nice.”

He studied her for a moment then scoffed. “Its not. But if you’re there then perhaps it’ll be tolerable after all.”

That was surprising.

The words hung between them, perhaps they meant nothing, but there was a warmth in them, as if he actually wanted her there. The thought that he wanted her around felt odd but for whatever reason, her heart fluttered at the thought. “I’ll see you there, then.”

He gave a faint smirk, turning to leave. “Don’t disappoint, Lee.”

Chapter 7: chapter 7

The Tokyo University Hospital’s annual Christmas ball was a glittering affair, held in the grand ballroom of a nearby luxury hotel. Twinkling lights draped from the chandeliers, a massive tree adorned with silver ornaments dominated one corner, and soft jazz mingled with the chatter of doctors, nurses, and staff in their finest attire. Festive garlands wrapped the bar, and waitstaff circulated with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. It was meant to be a night of celebration, a brief respite from the hospital’s grind - but for Chishiya, it was an obligation he’d rather avoid.

He stood at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his lean frame, he looked every bit the enigmatic surgeon he was known to be. But his eyes scanned the room with detached boredom.

Why am I here? he thought, swirling his drink.

To him, socialising with his colleagues was a waste - predictable small talk, forced laughter, egos on display. He’d rather be home with a medical journal or analyzing a complex case. But as head of cardiology, attendance was expected, a box for HR to check.

His gaze drifted to the entrance, where guests continued to arrive in waves. That’s when he saw her - Tabi, stepping through the doors. He’d never seen her outside of scrubs, and the weird feeling in his chest when he saw her was… unexpected. She wore a soft, knee-length dress in green, the fabric hugging her figure in a way that was elegant yet feminine. Her blonde hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, and a delicate silver necklace glinted under the lights. Her makeup was subtle yet classy, highlighting her eyes and lips.

Chishiya’s grip tightened on his glass, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

She looks… nice.

The word felt inadequate, but he pushed it aside, not letting himself get effected by feelings. She spotted him almost immediately, her eyes lighting up with a shy smile as she made her way over.
“Dr. Chishiya,” she said. “You came.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Obliged to. You clean up well, Lee.”

Her cheeks flushed a shade of pink at the compliment – as unexpected as it was. “Thank you. You look… nice too.” She glanced around at what surrounded them – the décor, the food, their colleagues’ horrible attempts at dancing. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Hm,” he replied with a shrug. “Tolerable, at best.” He took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before he nodded toward the crowd. “Go socialize. Don’t waste your night at the bar. I’ll be leaving as soon as socially acceptable anyway.”

“Oh…Okay. See you later, maybe?”

He didn’t respond, watching as she walked away. The room felt a touch less stifling with her in it, but he stayed put, content to observe from afar. Another resident from Tabi’s cohort, Aiko, found her quickly, dragging her into a group of residents, and Tabi’s laughter floated back to him even through all the noise. Chishiya turned back to his drink, ignoring the occasional colleague who tried to engage him in conversation.

This night can’t end soon enough.

For the first hour, things were uneventful. Chishiya nursed his whiskey, his eyes occasionally drifting to Tabi as she navigated the party. She seemed at ease, chatting with Aiko and a few nurses.

But as the evening wore on, something shifted. He noticed it first in her posture - a slight sway as she stood by the dessert table, her hand pressing to her forehead. Then, a male resident - Kenji, from general surgery - approached her, his arm slung casually around her shoulders, his hand lingering just a moment too long on her waist.

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his glass. Tabi laughed at something Kenji said, but it was off - too loose, too unfocused. Her eyes were glassy and her movements were sluggish as she tried to step away, only for Kenji to pull her closer, his fingers brushing her hip. She frowned, murmuring something, but didn’t push him off forcefully.

Alarm bells rang in Chishiya’s mind, his brain piecing it together: the sudden change in behavior, the handsy colleague, the unattended drink she’d been sipping earlier.

Spiked.

He set his glass down with a clink. Without a word, he crossed the room with quick strides. The jazz music and laughter faded into the background as he reached them.

“Lee,” he said. “Time to go.”

Tabi blinked up at him, her eyes hazy with a confused smile on her lips. “Dr. Chishiya? I’m… fine. Just a little dizzy.”

Kenji’s arm tightened around her with a cocky smirk. “She’s good, doc. We’re just having fun.”

Chishiya’s gaze flicked to Kenji. “Remove your hand, or I’ll remove it for you.”

Kenji hesitated but his bravado faltered under the intensity of Chishiya’s stare. Slowly, he released Tabi, stepping back with a muttered, “Whatever, man.”

Chishiya didn’t waste time, slipping an arm around Tabi’s waist to steady her. She leaned into him instinctively, her head resting against his shoulder. “Come on,” he murmured, guiding her toward the exit. A few heads turned, whispers following them, but he ignored it all, his focus on getting her out.

The cool December air hit them as they stepped outside, snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. Chishiya led her to a quiet bench near the hotel’s entrance. She slumped onto it, her dress pooling around her and her eyes fluttering as she tried to focus.

“I… I don’t feel right,” she whispered weakly. “My head… it’s spinning.”

Chishiya sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. “Your drink was spiked,” he said bluntly. “Rohypnol, likely. It’ll pass in a couple of hours. You’ll be okay.”

Her eyes widened, tears shimmering as panic set in. “Spiked? But I… Kenji gave me that drink. Oh god, I-“

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, his free hand finding her wrist, his fingers pressing to her pulse point to monitor her pulse. It was steady but elevated, a reassuring thrum under his touch. “Just breathe. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She leaned into him as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m so stupid. I should’ve been careful.”

“You’re not stupid,” he said, his tone firmer. “He’s the idiot. And he’ll be dealt with.” His thumb stroked her pulse point absently. “Talk to me. Stay awake. Tell me about your cat – you have one, right?”

She nodded weakly, her head resting on his shoulder. “Yeah… Mochi. She’s fluffy… white. Loves cuddles. I miss her tonight.”

He nodded, his voice low and steady. “I’m allergic to cats but they’re…tolerable. What does she do when you’re stressed?”

“Purrs… sits on my lap.” Her words slurred slightly, but she fought to stay coherent, her fingers clutching his sleeve. “You’re… cold. But nice. Sometimes.”

Chishiya’s lips twitched, a rare, faint smile breaking through followed by a short laugh. “I like to think of it as efficient. But you’ll be okay, Lee. You have a strong pulse - 110. Just keep talking.”

She rambled softly - about her parents, her favorite teas, even a childhood story from Kyoto. Chishiya listened, his responses minimal but encouraging, his fingers never leaving her pulse. For once, he didn’t mind this, didn’t mind the company, didn’t mind caring about someone else.

After an hour, her haze began to lift, her body feeling less shaky. “Thank you,” she whispered, still leaning on him. “For… staying with me.”

He glanced down at her, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Just… be careful. I’ve just started rather liking having a resident.”

She smiled faintly, her hand covering his on her wrist. “I will.”

Chapter 8: chapter 8

The sterile corridors of the hospital felt heavier than usual as Chishiya made his way to the director’s office on the top floor. He’d been paged to Director Lee’s office mid-morning, a summons that was unprecedented for him. In his years at the hospital, he’d never been called for a personal meeting with the man - budget reviews, yes; departmental updates, occasionally - but never like this.

“What did I do?” he thought.

Is it to do with the christmas ball? He’d handled it discreetly, ensuring Kenji was reported without fanfare.

Or perhaps Tanaka had complained about their confrontation over Mrs. Kimura’s care.

Chishiya’s lips curled into a faint, sardonic smirk. If I’m in trouble, so be it.

The director’s office was a spacious suite overlooking the skyline, furnished with dark wood and shelves lined with medical tomes and family photos - one of which caught Chishiya’s eye: a younger Tabi, smiling shyly in a ballet tutu.

Cute.

He pushed the image aside as Director Hiroshi Lee, a stern man in his late fifties with greying hair, gestured for him to sit.

“Dr. Chishiya,” Hiroshi said. “Thank you for coming on short notice. Coffee?”

Chishiya shook his head, sitting with his usual poise, his hands folded in his lap. “No, thank you, sir. What’s this about?”

Hiroshi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He studied Chishiya for a moment, his expression unreadable though perhaps a little judgemental. “You’re direct. I appreciate that. It’s about Tabi.”

Chishiya’s eyebrow arched slightly, surprise flickering in his eyes before his mask of detachment returned. “My resident? Has she complained?”

Hiroshi chuckled. “No, nothing like that. In fact, she barely speaks to me anymore. Ever since she started residency, our conversations have been… sparse. She’s independent, my Tabi - always has been, even as a child. But I worry. As her father, and as the director, I’d like your assessment. How’s she progressing?”

Chishiya relaxed fractionally. This wasn’t discipline - it was paternal concern wrapped in professional inquiry. He really didn’t like that he was getting involved in his resident’s personal life like this.

“She’s competent,” he said evenly. “Green, but she learns fast. Her judgment is sound, and she’s shown potential in high-pressure situations.”

Hiroshi’s eyes lit up, a rare smile crossing his face. “Good to hear. I knew assigning her to you was the right call. You have a reputation for excellence - and for being tough. She needs that.”

Chishiya nodded, but a faint unease stirred. “She holds her own.”

The director sighed, leaning forward. “She’s always been passionate about medicine, ever since she was a girl watching me in the OR. But… residency is cutthroat. I pulled strings to get her here - doctored her board exams a bit to ensure she passed. She’s smart, but the pressure… well, you know how it is.”

Actually, Chishiya doesn’t know how it is.

The words landed like a knife’s cut, clean and deep. Chishiya froze, his expression unchanging, but inside, fury ignited - a cold, seething rage that coiled in his chest.

Doctored her exams?

Nepotism was his deepest pet peeve, a betrayal of merit, of the equality of skill that defined medicine. He’d clawed his way through his career on intellect alone, despising those who rode on connections. And Tabi - his resident, the one he had invested time in, defended, taught, even grown to quite like - had been handed her spot?

“Director,” he said, his voice deceptively calm, “you altered her results?”

Hiroshi waved a hand dismissively. “A minor adjustment. She was close - brilliant, really – but she’s never been good at exams. As her father, I couldn’t let that stop her. She’s proven herself since, hasn’t she?”

Chishiya stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “Proven herself? With falsified credentials?” His tone was icy, laced with disdain. “Thank you for the insight, Director. If that’s all…”

Hiroshi frowned, surprise etching his features. “Dr. Chishiya, I thought you’d understand.”

Chishiya didn’t respond, striding out with barely controlled rage.

How is she so good? The embolism catch, the aortic repair, the skills lab - fraud?

It didn’t add up, but the revelation burned like acid, a complete betrayal of his efforts the past months. He’d poured time into her, seen potential where now he questioned everything.

He found Tabi in the residents’ lounge, sipping tea from her thermos. She looked up with a shy smile. “Dr. Chishiya? How was your meeting?”

He didn’t sit. “Your father told me everything, Lee. The doctored exams. The nepotism.”

Her smile faded, color draining from her face. “What? He… he told you?”

“Admit it,” he snapped. “You’re nothing but a fraud. Couldn’t pass your boards on merit, so Daddy fixed it. And I’ve wasted my time training you.”

Tabi’s eyes shimmered with tears. “No, that’s not - I didn’t know! I thought I passed fairly. Please, Dr. Chishiya, I-“

“Save it!” he cut in sharply, his finger pointed as he gestures to her. “You’re good - too good for someone who couldn’t hack the basics. How? Cheating in residency too? I can’t comprehend it, Lee! All that effort, for a lie. Its insulting!”

She stood, tears spilling. “I’m not a fraud! I-I swear! I earned my place here! I earned my place as your resident!”

“Earned?” He laughed bitterly. “On falsified grounds, yes. You’re done, Lee. I won’t teach a nepo-baby. I’ll request a transfer.”

He stormed out without waiting for a response, leaving her sobbing.

Chapter 9: chapter 9

Tabi’s world had narrowed to a single focus: Dr. Chishiya, striding away from her down the corridor. Her heart pounded—not from a faulty pacemaker this time, no, but from the raw desperation clawing at her chest. Tears blurred her vision, but she wiped them away furiously, her sneakers squeaking against the tile as she broke into a run.

“Dr. Chishiya! Wait!” Her voice echoed, higher and more frantic than she intended, drawing glances from passing staff. But she didn’t care.

Chishiya didn’t stop, his hair catching the lights as he turned a corner toward the elevators. But Tabi caught up, her hand grabbing his sleeve, tugging him to a halt. “Please,” she gasped, out of breath and her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You have to listen. Just give me a chance to explain.”

He whirled around, his jaw set in a line of barely contained rage. The corridor wasn’t empty - nurses paused mid-step, a few residents lingered nearby, and even Dr. Tanaka watched from a doorway, his arms crossed with a smug expression. The whole department seemed to hold its breath, the hum of the ward fading into a tense silence.

“A chance?” Chishiya scoffed. “You’ve had plenty of chances, Lee. All of which were built on lies. Your father tampered with your exams - doctored them to get you here. And you expect me to believe you didn’t know? That you’re not just another spoiled kid riding on nepotism?”

Tabi’s face crumpled, her hand dropping from his sleeve as if it had been burned. Tears spilled over now, hot and unchecked, but she stood her ground, her frame trembling. “I didn’t know! I swear, I thought I passed on my own. I studied so hard, day and night, but… but I’m just not good at exams.” Her voice cracked, drawing murmurs from the onlookers.

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not good at exams? You’re a surgeon – well, pretending to be one. Exams are the foundation. If you can’t pass them, then you don’t belong here. How are you so competent in the OR, then? The embolism, the aortic repair - was that all luck? Or more fraud?”

The words hit like blows, and Tabi’s sobs escaped in a choked gasp. The corridor suddenly felt like a theatre, the entire cardiology department had become her audience - nurses frozen with charts, residents peeking from doorways, even patients glancing out from their rooms. She wanted to shrink, to hide behind her mother’s kimono like she had as a child.

“It’s not fraud!” she shouted, loud enough to echo round the ward. Heads turned fully now, the ward grinding to a halt. “I’m terrible at exams because… because the pressure paralyzes me. My mind goes blank, and no matter how much I know, I can’t put it on paper. But in the OR? With patients? That’s different. That’s real. I can think, I can act, because it’s not about a test. I didn’t know my father tampered with my papers. When I found out, I was devastated. I haven’t spoken to him since! Do you think I wanted this?! To feel like everything I’ve achieved is a lie?”

Chishiya’s expression flickered, a crack in his façade - surprise, perhaps, or doubt. But his anger held firm, his voice rising to match hers. “Devastated? Yet here you are, benefiting from it! I’ve invested time in you - defended you, taught you - only to learn it’s all built on deception. Nepotism like this disgusts me. It undermines everything. You’re talented, maybe, but if it’s not earned, it’s worthless to me.”

Tabi stepped closer. “It is earned! Every suture, every diagnosis - I’ve worked for that. I didn’t ask for his help. I believed in myself, just like you started to believe in me. You said I had potential. Was that a lie too?”

The argument exploded then, voices overlapping in the corridor’s echo. “Potential on false grounds!” Chishiya shot back. “How can I trust anything now?”

“Because you know me!” Tabi cried, her voice breaking. “You’ve seen me in action. Please, Dr. Chishiya … give me a chance to prove it.”

Chishiya’s eyes widened fractionally, his anger wavering as he stared at her – inexperienced, fragile, needy. Three things he thought he hated.

Chishiya exhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing then relaxing. The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice lowering. “Fine. Your first-year boards are in three months. I’ll tutor you - teach you how to be good at exams. But if you fail, Lee… no second chances. From me or anyone. You’re out. And I’ll make sure everyone knows why.”

________________________________________

The invitation came via a curt text late one afternoon:

My place. 7 PM. Bring your board prep materials. Don’t be late.

Tabi stared at her phone, her cheeks flushing as she reread it. His place? The idea of stepping into Chishiya’s private world felt intimate, vulnerable, perhaps uncomfortable – a far cry from the hospital labs she was used to being mentored in. She’d agreed, of course, packing her bag with textbooks, notes, and her bunny keychain for the luck she was definitely going to need.

Chishiya’s place – well, his penthouse - was in a sleek high-rise overlooking Tokyo’s skyline, the kind of place that screamed money - minimalist, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and polished marble floors. Tabi arrived precisely at 7, her sweater layered over a simple blouse and jeans. She buzzed the intercom, her heart pounding, and the door unlocked with a soft click.

He greeted her at the entrance, dressed casually in a black button-down and slacks. His eyes flicked over her, unreadable as always, but there was a faint tension in his posture - like he wasn’t entirely comfortable inviting her into his space.

“Lee,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

“Thank you for doing this, Dr. Chishiya,” she murmured, slipping off her shoes and padding inside. The apartment was pristine: a spacious living area with a sleek kitchen, abstract art on the walls, and a long dining table that doubled as a workspace. No personal touches - no photos, no clutter - just efficiency and elegance.

He closed the door. “Nice place, isn’t it? I’m rich - family money, investments. But I didn’t cheat my way through my career. Merit only. Unlike some.”

The backhanded comment landed like a slap and she cringed, her cheeks burning as she set her bag down. She knew he was referencing her father’s tampering, the wound still fresh from their argument.

He studied her for a moment, his expression softening just a fraction before he nodded toward the table. “Sit. We’ll start with diagnostics - your weak point from the practice tests.”

Tabi nodded, pulling out her materials and settling into a chair. The table was already set with his own notes, a laptop, and two glasses of water. Chishiya sat across from her, his presence commanding even in this domestic setting. The tutoring began immediately, his voice clipped as he quizzed her on cardiac arrhythmias, pharmacology, and surgical protocols. He was unrelenting, nitpicking her answers, but still patient in his explanations - drawing diagrams on a notepad, referencing case studies from his career.

“You’re overcomplicating the AV node blockade,” he said an hour in, leaning forward to circle a section in her textbook. “Simplify: beta-blockers versus calcium channel blockers. Which for supraventricular tachycardia?”

Tabi bit her lip. “Beta-blockers like metoprolol for rate control, but verapamil for termination if it’s re-entrant.”

“Correct,” he said. “in the boards, they’ll trick you with comorbidities. Factor in renal failure - adjust the dose.”

She nodded, scribbling notes in her notepad. The session stretched on, the city lights twinkling outside as evening deepened. Chishiya was a natural teacher when he wanted to be, breaking down complex concepts into digestible pieces.

By 9 PM, they’d moved to practice questions. “Focus. Exams are about strategy - eliminate wrong answers first.”

She worked diligently, her pen flying across the paper, but the pressure reminded her of her old fears - the blank mind, the panic.

He reviewed the answers, pointing out errors with his usual blunt criticism.“You’re improving,” he admitted at 10:30, leaning back with a faint smirk. “But you hesitate on the ethics sections. Why?”

“I… I overthink,” she confessed. “I want to get it right.”

“Exams aren’t about perfection , you just need to get the points. Trust your instincts.”

She nodded, and they dove back in, the hours slipping away. At 11 PM, Chishiya finally glanced at the clock, rubbing his neck. “Break. I’ll get drinks. Water? Or something stronger?”

“Water’s fine,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Thank you.”

He stood, disappearing into the kitchen. Tabi rested her head on her arms, her eyes heavy from the long day - ward rounds, consults, now this, and her shift starts at 6am tomorrow.

Just a minute, she thought, her hair spilling over the table as she let her eyes flutter closed. Sleep claimed her swiftly, her breathing evening out into soft, peaceful sighs.

Chishiya returned with two glasses of water, pausing in the doorway. She was fast asleep, her face relaxed, lashes fanned against her cheeks and her lips slightly parted.

He stared.

Frozen for a few long moments.

What now?

Waking her felt intrusive; sending her home this late, exhausted, seemed unkind.

He set the glasses down quietly, his gaze lingering on her for a few moments.

With a sigh, he moved to a nearby closet, retrieving a soft gray blanket and then a spare pillow from the guest room. He approached carefully, draping the blanket over her shoulders and tucking it gently around her. Then, with uncharacteristic tenderness, he slipped the pillow under her head, adjusting it so she wouldn’t wake with a crick in her neck.

She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but she didn’t wake up. He stepped back, watching her for another moment, a strange warmth settling in his chest that he pushed away before he had a chance to label it. He dimmed the lights and retreated to his study with a book, but his mind wandered back to her - sleeping peacefully in his space, trusting him even after everything.

Chapter 10: chapter 10

The first-year boards loomed in just over two months, a shadow that followed Tabi’s every step. Chishiya’s penthouse sessions had become a weekly ritual: intense, focused evenings where he dissected exam strategies for her, his backhanded comments starting to give way to subtle encouragement – if you could call it that.

Lately, though, Tabi’s world had expanded beyond Chishiya’s orbit. Dr. Akira Sato, an attending surgeon in general surgery, had started crossing paths with her more often. Tall and charming, with a warm smile and easy conversation, he’d first approached her during a joint consult on a patient with abdominal complications tied to cardiac issues. “You’ve got a sharp eye, Tabi,” he had said. “We should grab coffee sometime – I’d value your insight.”

At first, it was purely professional: quick chats in the lounge, shared lunches where he offered advice on balancing residency life and handling Chishiya’s moods. Tabi found it refreshing.

Chishiya, meanwhile, observed from the shadows. He wasn’t one for hospital gossip; relationships were predictable distractions, none of his concern. But this one…

it bothered him.

He had noticed Sato’s lingering glances long before Tabi did, and the way his hand brushed Tabi’s arm during conversations. Rumors about Sato had circulated for months - whispers of abuse in a past relationship, a nurse who’d left abruptly after bruises appeared. Chishiya usually dismissed such talk as irrelevant; people’s personal lives were their own mess. Nothing to do with him.

But Tabi getting involved?

The thought of her in danger gnawed at him more than he would like, a quiet irritation he couldn’t quite shake.

Why do I care?

he wondered during a quiet moment in his office, staring at the city skyline. She was his resident, nothing more. He pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on his patients, but the unease lingered in his mind whenever he passed her.

The tipping point came on a busy Thursday afternoon at the nurses’ station. Tabi stood there, scribbling notes on a patient’s chart, her hair tucked behind her ear. Chishiya was nearby, reviewing discharge papers.

Then, Dr. Sato appeared, leaning against the counter with his trademark smile. “Tabi,” he said. “You’re looking focused as ever. Tough case?”

She looked up, her brown eyes lighting up with a smile. “Just a post-op follow-up. How’s your day going?”

“Better now,” he replied flirtatiously, his hand reaching out to lightly touch her arm. “You free for dinner tonight? There’s this great sushi place nearby - my treat. We could unwind, talk shop…”

Tabi’s cheeks flushed, her fingers tightening on her pen. “Oh, um… that sounds nice. Maybe? I have tutoring later, but-“

Chishiya’s pen paused mid-signature, his jaw clenching subtly. He didn’t look up, but his ears tuned in, the casual possessiveness in Sato’s touch setting his teeth on edge. The rumors flashed in his mind - a ex-partner’s hushed complaint, bruises dismissed as “accidents.” Tabi deserved far better than that.

Sato chuckled. “Tutoring? You’re too smart for that. Come on, live a little.”

Before Tabi could respond, Sato’s pager buzzed, and he straightened with a wink. “Duty calls. Think about it - text me.” He squeezed her arm lightly before walking away, leaving Tabi flustered, a small smile on her lips.

Chishiya set his pen down with a deliberate calm and he leaned slightly toward her. “Careful.”

She turned, surprise in her eyes. “What? With Dr. Sato?”

He met her gaze, his expression was unreadable, as always, but his eyes held a different quality to them this time – concern, maybe?

“Just… be careful.”

Without another word, he gathered his charts and walked away, leaving her staring after him in confusion.
______________________________________

“You deserve a break from all that studying,” Sato had said during their first date, his hand covering hers across the table.

Soon, dates became frequent, often clashing with Tabi’s tutoring sessions. She would text Chishiya apologies - “Sorry, something came up” - and ditch the study sessions at his place for cozy restaurants or walks in the snow.

Chishiya noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

At first, it was a mild irritation - her absences disrupting the schedule he’d meticulously planned. But as weeks passed, it gnawed deeper, a quiet bother he couldn’t quite place. He’d stare at his phone after her cancellations, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

Why does it matter? he’d think, pacing his penthouse with a glass of whiskey. Relationships were distractions, something he’d long dismissed as remedial. Yet Tabi’s attention had become something he craved, even if he did his best not to admit it.

The realization unsettled him; he didn’t understand it, this pull toward her. Was it jealousy? Protectiveness?

He pushed it down as best he knew how, but the rumors about Sato’s past relationships fueled his unease. Tabi was far too trusting, too gentle for a man like that.

Still, he said nothing, his interactions with her remaining professional, perhaps more so than usual - clipped critiques in the ward, rescheduling tutoring without comment. But internally, it festered, a storm brewing behind his usual calm.

One February morning, Tabi arrived at the hospital quieter than usual. Aiko noticed immediately, eyeing the small bruise blooming on her cheek, partially hidden by makeup, and a thin cut just below her eye. “Tabi? What happened to your face?”

Tabi touched it gingerly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I… tripped last night. Clumsy me. It’s nothing.”

Aiko frowned but didn’t press. “Okay, but if you need to talk…”

Tabi nodded before quickly making her way to the cardiology ward. She was subdued all morning - her responses to patients quieter and shorter. The bruise throbbed faintly, a reminder of the night before: Sato’s temper flaring over a trivial argument, his hand striking out in “accident.” He’d apologized profusely, blaming stress, but Tabi’s stomach twisted with doubt. It was a one-time thing, she told herself, but the quiet fear lingered.

Chishiya spotted her at the nurses’ station around noon, both reviewing charts side by side. He glanced at her briefly, his eyes catching the bruise and cut immediately, despite her attempts to conceal them.

Internally, his mind clicked into place: He hurt her.

Fury simmered inside him, cold and calculated, but he kept his expression neutral as he pointed to her chart. “Your dosage note is off - adjust the heparin.”

She nodded, speaking barely above a whisper. “Yes, Dr. Chishiya.”

He paused, then added casually, “You should cover that cut better. Patients are dirty - risk of infection.”

Tabi’s hand flew to her cheek, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I… I will. Thank you.”

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t probe, just nodded and walked away. But inside, the confirmation burned. Sato had crossed a line, endangering Tabi - not just physically, but in the trust she placed in people. Chishiya wasn’t one for heroics; personal dramas were beneath him. But this?

Well, lets just say he hasn’t had a good enough reason to meddle in a while.

Over the next few days, Chishiya was in his element. Good old fashioned professional sabotage. He accessed hospital records -nothing overt, just “routine reviews” as head of cardiology. Sato’s file revealed patterns: complaints from nurses about aggressive behavior, a hushed incident with a former partner that had been swept under the rug. Chishiya amplified them subtly - anonymous tips to HR about “observed misconduct,” flagged discrepancies in Sato’s patient logs that suggested shortcuts, even a “concerned” email highlighting potential ethical violations from joint cases.

It culminated in a review board meeting Chishiya just so “happened” to attend. Evidence mounted: altered timestamps on charts, verbal harassment reports corroborated by witnesses he’d quietly encouraged to speak up. Sato was fired for gross misconduct by week’s end, escorted out with minimal fanfare. Chishiya watched from his office window as he was escorted out the building.

Problem solved.

Tabi heard the news from Aiko, who was dishing the gossip to everyone she could find. “Sato’s gone - fired for messing around with records and abusing staff. Crazy, right?”

Tabi’s heart sank, a feeling of relief mixing with guilt. The bruise had faded, but the memory hadn’t. She hadn’t seen Sato since that night, ignoring his texts. She thought about Chishiya’s warnings and subtly wondered if he had anything to do with this. if he knew all along.

During her next tutoring session with Chishiya, she arrived at his penthouse subdued, her thermos of chamomile tea in hand. “Dr. Chishiya… about Sato. You knew, didn’t you?”

He glanced up from his notes. “Knew what?”

She fidgeted. “The rumors. Why you told me to be careful.”

He shrugged casually and gestured to the textbooks on his table. “Hospital talk. Irrelevant now. Focus on the boards.”

Chapter 11: chapter 11

Tabi’s footsteps echoed softly through the sleek lobby of Chishiya’s high-rise building, her bag was heavy on her shoulder with textbooks, flashcards, and her ever-present thermos of tea. The city outside was a blur of early evening lights, the winter chill giving way to the first hints of spring, but inside her mind, a storm raged. Her first-year boards were just a week away now - a looming deadline that twisted her stomach into knots. Every night for the past month, she’d trudged to Chishiya’s penthouse for practice exams.

And every night, she’d failed.

Not dramatically, but enough to chip away at her confidence, her scores always hovering just below passing.

Tonight, she arrived at his door at exactly 7 PM and she knocked lightly, clutching the strap of her bag, ready for another round of questions on arrhythmias, pharmacology, and ethics that made her head spin.

The door opened, and Chishiya stood there, his hair falling casually over his forehead, dressed in a black sweater and slacks that made him look more approachable than usual. His eyes flicked over her, taking in the exhaustion etched on her face, the way her shoulders slumped under the weight of her materials. Internally, concern flickered - he has noticed her growing stress, the way her answers became more hesitant. But as always he made sure it was carefully concealed.

“Lee,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, slipping off her shoes and padding into the penthouse. The space was familiar now: the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the evening cityscape and the minimalist decor with its clean lines and subtle hints at luxury. She set her bag on the dining table, already pulling out her textbooks. “I reviewed the ethics section today. I think I’m getting better at-“

“We’re not studying tonight,”

Chishiya interrupted. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “I can’t be bothered. We’ve been at it every night - lets take a break.”

Tabi blinked, her hands freezing mid-motion. “But… the boards are in a week. I need to practice. I haven’t passed a single mock exam yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah but I’m not in the mood for it so... We’ll resume tomorrow.”

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing with a mix of frustration and relief. Part of her wanted to argue - she was terrified of failing, of proving her father’s tampering had been necessary all along. But exhaustion nagged at her, and Chishiya’s rare concession felt like a lifeline. “Okay… if you’re sure.”

“I am,” he replied, pushing off the counter. “Movie? I’ll order takeout. What do you like - sushi? Italian?”

Tabi’s eyes widened, surprise crossing her features. This was new - Chishiya, suggesting something casual, something almost… domestic. “Um, sushi sounds good. And… any movie is fine. Maybe something light?”

He nodded, pulling out his phone to order from a nearby spot. “Sushi it is. Pick a film—I have Netflix and all that crap.”

She settled on the couch, her bag abandoned at the table, feeling oddly out of place in this personal space without the buffer of study materials. Chishiya joined her after ordering, handing her the remote with a dry, “Don’t choose anything too sentimental.”

She laughed softly, a genuine sound that eased the tension in her chest. “How about a comedy? There’s this one - not too heavy.”

“Fine,” he shrugged, leaning back as she queued it up. The food arrived twenty minutes later, boxes of fresh sushi and miso soup that they spread out on the coffee table. Tabi sat cross-legged on the couch, chopsticks in hand, while Chishiya lounged beside her, his posture relaxed but still guarded.

As the movie started, they ate in a comfortable silence at first. Tabi nibbled on a piece of salmon nigiri, her stress melting away with each bite. “This is really good,” she said, glancing at him. “Thanks for… this. I needed a break more than I thought.”

He shrugged, popping a piece of tuna into his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. Tomorrow, we’re back to exams.”

She smiled shyly, her eyes meeting his. “I know. But it’s nice. You’re not as… unapproachable as you seem at the hospital.”

Chishiya’s smirk returned. “High praise. Don’t get too comfortable please. This is a one off.”

The conversation flowed casually from there - light topics at first, like the movie’s plot holes (mainly spearheaded by Chishiya), then drifting to hospital anecdotes. Chishiya, to her surprise, shared a dry tale of his own residency mishaps.

“You? Making mistakes?” she teased gently, tucking her legs under her. “That’s… hard to imagine.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he replied with another noncommittal shrug. “Even me.”

As the movie progressed, the room grew warmer, the city lights casting a soft glow. Tabi’s eyelids began to droop, the combination of food, relaxation, and accumulated fatigue pulling her under. She shifted slightly, her head lolling to the side until it accidentally rested against Chishiya’s shoulder, then sliding down to his chest as sleep claimed her fully. Her breathing evened out and her body curler instinctively toward him.

Chishiya froze.

Her face was peaceful, lashes fanned against her cheeks and her lips parted in sleep. A strange sensation bloomed in his chest as he looked at her - warm, unfamiliar, almost tender. He should wake her, send her home. But instead, he stayed still, his arm draping lightly over her shoulders. The scent of her vanilla perfume lingered, and before he could rationalize it, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His lips brushed her skin gently before shock rippled through him. He pulled back abruptly, his cheeks flushing in a rare moment of fluster.

What the hell am I doing?
_________________________________________

Chishiya had always viewed the world through a lens of strategised logic, a framework where every action, every emotion, could be dissected, analyzed, and dismissed if it didn’t serve a purpose. His life was a meticulously constructed blueprint, each piece fitting precisely into place: his role as head of cardiology at Tokyo University Hospital, his solitary evenings in the penthouse, and his avoidance of anything that hinted at sentimentality or emotional complication.

Relationships?

They were for the weak, the irrational - traps laid by biology and society, leading to inevitable chaos and loss of control. He’d seen enough in his career: colleagues derailed by affairs, patients clinging to toxic partners, even his own parents’ loveless marriage, a cold arrangement that taught him early on that affection was a liability.

So why, in the quiet hours after Tabi had left his penthouse following their latest tutoring session, did he find himself pacing the marble floors, a glass of whiskey in hand, unable to shake the unwelcome warmth that had settled in his chest?

This is absurd, he thought, taking a sip, the burn of the liquor grounding him momentarily.

I’m imagining it.

It had crept in slowly, insidiously, like a subtle arrhythmia that evaded detection until it disrupted the rhythm entirely. The tutoring sessions had started as an obligation - a way to ensure she passed her boards and not embarrass him. But over the weeks, they’d unfortunately evolved into something more. Her presence in his space felt… alarmingly natural. He’d catch himself watching her - not critically, but with a strange fascination.

At the time of the kiss, he had rationalised it as exhaustion, a misfire of neurons from too many late nights.

But now, alone in the dim glow of his living room, the truth pressed in: he might have feelings for her.

Impossible.

He set his glass down with a sharp clink, running a hand through hair.

I’m going crazy.

That was the only logical explanation, of course. Because there was no logic to it. Tabi was his resident - a first-year, for god’s sake. She was everything he wasn’t: emotional, vulnerable, tied to a privileged legacy that disgusted him. Yet here he was, thinking of her not as just another employee, but as… what? A partner?

That word tasted ridiculous on his tongue.

He paced faster, his mind dissecting the sensation like a patient case.

Symptoms: increased heart rate when she smiles, distraction during work, reluctance to end tutoring sessions.

Diagnosis? Temporary delusion, of course.

Perhaps proximity bias - spending too much time together in the penthouse. Or transference: her reliance on him as mentor creating a false bond. He stopped at the window, pressing his palm against the cool glass.

I don’t do relationships.

Especially not with juniors. The power imbalance was a ethical nightmare - one complaint, one misstep, and his reputation, built on unassailable professionalism, would shatter.

Wait… Why am I even comsidering a relationship with her?

He was too busy: endless surgeries, research papers, administrative duties. Nonsense like dates or emotions would only complicate things, dilute his focus.

Why her?

Her empathy, the way she connected with patients on a personal level, was a skill he lacked but admired. But admiration wasn’t feelings. No, feelings were dangerous, a loss of control, a chemical imbalance. Perhaps it was the loneliness creeping in. His life was solitary by design - no friends, no family ties beyond obligation. Tabi, with her warmth, had filled a void he didn’t even know needed filling.

Crazy. I’m definitely going crazy.

A chemical imbalance, maybe - stress from work manifesting as misplaced affection. He could fix that with medicine.

Yes. Medication. That’ll do it.

The next day at the hospital tested his resolve. He kept his responses curt when he spoke to her, professional - no lingering glances, no unnecessary comments. “Adequate,” he said, handing back her chart, ignoring the way her fingers brushed his. But when she laughed at a nurse’s joke later, her eyes crinkling with genuine joy, the pull returned, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

Stop.

During a consult that afternoon, she was stood close, and he stepped back abruptly, excusing himself with a muttered “Continue without me.”

In his office, he paced again, staring at the skyline.
This is nonsense. I’m far too busy for such drivel.

Relationships always ended in pain - his parents’ marriage a prime example, cold and transactional, teaching him that attachment led to disillusionment. With a junior, no less? Career suicide - the ethics board would have a field day.

He would lie awake in his king-sized bed, on top of the covers not under them, rationalizing endlessly.
It’s proximity. End the tutoring sessions after boards, minimize contact. Then you’ll go back to normal.

He threw himself into work, taking extra shifts to exhaust his body, hoping if he works himself to death it would silence his mind.

One time, during a quiet moment in the residents’ lounge, she had approached him with coffee. “For you,” she said, holding out the cup. “Black, right? Thanks for all the tutoring by the way - I think it’s helping.”

He had took it, their fingers brushing, and that spark had ignited again - a warmth that had spread up his arm. “Don’t get sentimental,” he had muttered. As she walked away, he had caught himself watching the way she walked, the subtle sway of her hips.

I’m losing it.

Finally, in the very dead of night, he reluctantly admitted the possibility: feelings, perhaps. But he would make sure he did everything possible to rid of them - distance himself after the boards, no more tutoring, no more stupid impulses like forehead kisses.

Relationships were for fools. And he was no fool.

Chapter 12: chapter 12

Tabi’s hands trembled as she clutched her thermos, the steam rising in faint wisps that did little to calm the storm raging inside her. The day had finally arrived: her first-year boards, the culmination of months of relentless study, late-night tutoring sessions with Chishiya, and the ever-present shadow of doubt cast by her father’s previous interventions.

The hospital’s exam center loomed ahead, a nondescript building attached to the main complex, its windows reflecting the overcast Tokyo sky.

She paced outside the entrance and her eyes darted to her watch every few second - two hours until the exam started. What if her mind went blank again? What if she failed, proving everyone right? What if Chishiya kicks her out the program?

Her heart pounded and her breathing grew shallow. She had barely slept, replaying practice questions until dawn. Chishiya had been merciless in their last session, pushing her through mock exams until she had nearly cried from frustration.

“Tabi? Is that you?”

The voice pulled her from her spiral, and she turned to see a familiar face approaching: Mia Hino, her friend from medical school. They hadn’t seen each other much since residency started - Mia in pediatrics, Tabi in cardio - but their friendship had been a consistant comfort to them both in university.

“Mia!” Tabi exclaimed, her voice cracking with relief. She pulled her friend into a hug, the contact grounding her momentarily. “What are you doing here?”

Mia hugged back tightly, then stepped away, her eyes scanning Tabi’s face with concern. “I could ask you the same. You look like you’re about to pass out. Boards today, right?”

Tabi nodded, her fingers twisting the strap of her bag. “Yeah. I’m freaking out. I’ve been studying nonstop, but… i’ve never been good with exams.”

Mia’s expression softened with a sympathetic smile. “You’ve got this. Theory’s just words on paper - you know the medicine inside out.”

Tabi managed a weak smile, but her stomach twisted. “Thanks. I needed that. What about you? On shift?”

Mia hesitated, her smile fading slightly. “Actually… my dad’s here. In the cardiology ward. Routine surgery - nothing major, just a stent placement for some blockage they found during his checkup. He’s been complaining about chest pain for weeks, but you know how dads are - stubborn. I came to be with him before it starts.”

Tabi’s eyes widened, a pang of empathy cutting through her anxiety. “Oh, Mia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. Is he okay?”

“Oh he’s absolutely fine - grumbling about hospital food already,” Mia said with a laugh, though worry lines creased her forehead. “Surgery’s in an hour. Mom’s with him now… hey, if you have time before your exam, want to come say hi? It might calm your nerves. Dad always loved you.’”

Tabi glanced at her watch - still over an hour until the boards. The thought of facing the exam center alone, pacing in circles, made her skin crawl. Whereas, A familiar face, a distraction, sounded like heaven. “Yeah… yeah, I’d love to. If it’s okay.”

Mia linked arms with her, pulling her toward the main hospital entrance. “Of course! He’ll be thrilled. And honestly, it’ll calm me too. I hate waiting rooms.”

The cardiology ward was familiar territory for Tabi, but stepping in as a visitor felt strange - like seeing behind the curtain of her daily routines. Mia led her to a private room near the end of the hall, where Mr. Hino lay in bed.

“Tabi!” he boomed, his voice surprisingly strong for someone pre-op. He was in his mid-sixties, with a kind face lined from years of teaching history at a local university. An IV line snaked into his arm, and monitors tracked his vitals. Beside him, Mia’s mother, Mrs. Hino, stood with a worried smile, her hands clasped tightly.

“Mr. Hino,” Tabi said softly, approaching the bed with a bow. “It’s good to see you - though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

He chuckled, waving a hand. “Nonsense! Routine stuff, they say. I’ll be back to my garden in no time. Come, sit. Mia tells me you’re taking your boards today. Nervous?”

Tabi sat on the edge of a chair, her bag at her feet. “A little,” she admitted, massively understating the panic bubbling inside.

Mr. Hino leaned back against his pillows, his expression thoughtful. “Exams are always tough. I remember my teaching certifications - nights of cramming, doubting everything. But you? You’ve got heart. Not just the medical kind.” He tapped his chest lightly, wincing a bit but smiling. “That’s what matters. Medicine isn’t just books - it’s people. You’ve always had that gift.”

His words wrapped around her, easing the knot in her stomach. “Thank you, Mr. Hino. That means a lot.”

Mr. Hino launched into an anecdote with gusto, his voice animated despite the hospital gown and wires. Tabi laughed along, the tale distracting her from the ever ticking clock. For a while, the room felt like a haven - warm, familiar, far from the sterile pressure of the exam center.

Time slipped away too quickly. Tabi glanced at her watch - 45 minutes until the boards. Her nerves crept back, but they were dulled, softened by the company. “I should probably head over,” she said reluctantly, standing. “The exam starts soon.”

Mr. Hino nodded. “You’ll do great. You should come visit once I’m out of here.”

“I’d love that,” she replied, bowing again. “Good luck with the surgery. I’ll be thinking of you.”

Mia walked her to the door. “ Text me after?”

“Promise,”

As she left the room, the ward’s bustle enveloped her again - nurses calling orders, a cart rattling by. She felt lighter, the visit stopping her nerves from fraying even more. But as she lingered in the hallway checking her notes one last time, Mia appeared again.

“Tabi, wait - I’m going to grab a coffee from the cafeteria. Mom’s with Dad, but… you okay heading to the center alone?”

Tabi nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Mia hugged her quickly and hurried off, disappearing around the corner. Tabi took a deep breath, slinging her bag over her shoulder, her watch showing 15 minutes until the boards. Time to go. But as she turned back toward Mr. Hino’s room for one last wave through the window, a shrill alarm pierced the air – a code blue, blaring from inside.

Her blood ran cold. Through the open door, she saw Mr. Hino convulsing, his monitors flatlining, nurses rushing in with a crash cart. Mrs. Hino cry echoed – “Help him!”
_________________________________________

Chishiya leaned against the wall outside the exam hall, his arms crossed with his eyes fixed on the double doors of the exam room where candidates filed in one by one. The hospital’s testing center was a bland annex building, its hallways echoing with nervous footsteps and muffled conversations. He’d arrived early, telling himself it was purely professional - a quick pep talk to steady his resident before her boards. Make sure she doesn’t embarrass him by failing, of course.

She’s stressed, he rationalized, and a calm mind performs better.

It definitely had nothing to do with the internal crisis that had plagued him for weeks, the unwelcome feelings he’d been fighting with every logical tool in his arsenal. No, this was pure mentorship, nothing more.

He checked his watch - 10 minutes until start time. Tabi should be here by now. She was always punctual. A faint unease settled in his chest at her lateness, but he dismissed it.

She’s probably just overthinking in the lobby.

Candidates continued to enter, their faces pale with anxiety, but there was still no sign of Tabi.

Five minutes left. The doors were closing, the invigilator - a stern woman in a gray suit - beginning to seal them. Chishiya pushed off the wall, approaching in 2 strides. “Hold the doors,” he said.

The invigilator blinked, recognizing him. “Dr. Chishiya? The exam starts in-“

“One candidate is missing,” he interrupted. “Tabi Lee. Stall it.”

She hesitated. “I can’t just-“

“You can,” he said in that dangerously calm tone that usually sends his nurses trembling. “Or I’ll ensure the director hears about procedural inflexibility delaying a promising resident. Your call.”

Her face paled, but she nodded, cracking the door to murmur instructions inside. Chishiya didn’t wait for confirmation, turning on his heel and heading back toward the main hospital. Dread coiled in his gut now, a rare emotion that set his jaw tight.

She better not of chickened out.

Or worse— a panic attack, hidden in some corner, all alone.

Damn it, Lee.

He checked the residents’ lounge first -empty, save for a few interns chatting. Next, the cafeteria - no sign of her among the scattered tables. His mind raced through possibilities: the rooftop where she sometimes escaped for fresh air? The chapel? But time was ticking - the exam couldn’t stall forever.

As he rounded the corner toward the cardiology ward, a commotion reached his ears: alarms blaring, shouts echoing from a room at the end of the hall. Nurses rushed with a crash cart, a woman’s cry piercing the chaos. Chishiya’s pace quickened, his instincts kicking in. And there, in the midst of it, was Tabi – beside the bed, her hands locked in CPR compressions on an elderly man. Family members hovered, yelling at her - a woman sobbing, “Do something!” while a younger man paced, shouting, “You’re not trying hard enough!”

Chishiya froze for a split second.

Not chickened out. Worse. Far worse.

“One, two, three…” she counted with a shaking voice, tears spilling down her cheeks. The patient - Mr. Hino, he deciphered from the chart on the bed - was completely unresponsive, the monitors starting to flatline.

“Move,” Chishiya commanded, striding in and, gently this time, pushing Tabi to the side. Nurses parted, relief in their eyes as he took over compressions, his hands strong and precise. “What happened?”

Tabi’s eyes widened at the sight of him, panic flashing across her face. “Dr. Chishiya! He - he just crashed! Um uh..Ventricular fibrillation. I was visiting… his daughter’s my friend… I started CPR, but-“ Her voice broke, more tears welling as she glanced at the clock. “The exam! Oh god! I’m missing it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Focus!” he snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He nodded to a nurse for the defibrillator pads. “Charge to 200 joules. Clear!”

The shock jolted Mr. Hino’s body, but the monitor line remained flat. Chishiya resumed compressions, his arms tireless, while another nurse administered epinephrine. Tabi hovered at his side, her hands shaking as she assisted with ventilation, but her eyes kept darting to the door, guilt etching her features. “I should’ve spotted it sooner. I-I was just in here…”

“Lee,” he said sharply, meeting her gaze. “You did what you could. Now help or step back.”

She nodded, tears spilling as she bagged Mr. Hino, but the minutes stretched on with little to no improvement.

Defibrillation again - nothing.

More meds, more compressions.

Nothing.

Chishiya’s mind calculated everything, as it usually does when faced with these decisions: a patient’s time down, rhythm, mathmatical odds. And for Mr. Hino, It was grim.

After 20 minutes, Chishiya straightened, his hands leaving Mr. Hino’s chest. “Stop compressions.” The room fell silent save for the flatline tone. He checked the monitor, felt for a pulse - gone. “Time of death: 1:45 PM.”

After that tell-tale moment of silence, the wife’s wail pierced the air, collapsing into her son’s arms. Tabi stepped back, tears streaming as she whispered, “I’m sorry… I tried…”

Before Chishiya could respond - could pull Tabi aside, remove her from the situation, get her to the exam - a new figure burst into the room: Mia, coffee cup in hand, her face draining of color as she took in the scene. “Dad? No… what happened?”

Tabi turned, her voice breaking. “Mia, I… he crashed. I was here, I started CPR, but-“

Mia’s eyes locked on Tabi, grief rearing its ugly head and turning into rage.

She dropped the coffee, the cup spilling across the floor, and before anyone could react, she lunged forward, her hand cracking across Tabi’s cheek.

Chishiya watched on, stunned, for once in his career.

Worse. This is far, far worse..

Chapter 13: chapter 13

“Fuck you! You call this trying?! Get out!” Mia screamed.

Tabi stood frozen in the doorway, her hand clutching her throbbing cheek. The alarms still echoed in her ears, the flatline tone a relentless drone even after the nurses had turned the machine off. Mr. Hino’s body lay still on the bed, his face serene in a way that made her gut twist into knots. The clock on the wall mocked her - 15 minutes past the start of her boards.

“Lee.” Chishiya’s voice cut through the haze as he stepped in front of her, blocking the view of the bed. His eyes locked onto hers. “Go. Now.”

She blinked, her breath hitching. “But… I can’t. He - he died. I was supposed to- “

“Forget this,” he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument, though his expression flickered with something unreadable - concern, perhaps, buried deep. “Run to the exam hall. Tell the invigilator if they don’t let you in, Dr. Chishiya will personally ensure their dismissal. Say it exactly like that. Go.”

Tabi’s mind reeled, distress clawing at her throat. Run? Leave them like this? She could feel Mia’s accusatory glare burning into her back, the residual sting from the slap in her cheek. But Chishiya’s gaze somehow cut through it all. With a sob, she nodded, turning on her heel and bolting down the corridor. Her sneakers slapped against the tile floor. Nurses and doctors stared as she passed, but she didn’t care - the exam hall was a five-minute run across the campus, and she was already 30 minutes late.

The rain had picked up, slicking the paths as she burst out of the hospital doors. Her heart pounded, a mix of grief, panic, and desperation fueling her legs. The exam center loomed ahead, its doors closed.

“Please!” Tabi gasped as she slammed into the doors, pounding on them. The woman inside turned, frowning. “I’m late -I know - but please, let me in. Dr. Chishiya said… he said if you don’t, he’ll see to your dismissal personally. Please, I’m begging you. Something happened – a medical emergency, I had to help-“

The invigilator hesitated, her eyes narrowing, but the name “Dr. Chishiya” carried weight - his reputation at this hospital was no secret, and his influence even less so. With a sigh, she cracked the door. “Fine. But this is highly irregular. Get in, sit down, and start. No extensions.”

Tabi nearly collapsed in relief, stumbling inside and finding her seat among the rows of focused candidates. Her hands shook as she pulled out her pencils, the paper blurring through fresh tears. The questions swam before her - arrhythmias, ethics, pharmacology –

And she couldn’t focus.

Her mind kept flashing back to Mr. Hino’s still form, the sting of her cheek, the sound of Mrs. Hino’s cries. She forced herself to write, just write anything, her usual precision and care for detail lost in the distress.

Back in the ward, Chishiya turned to the family, keeping his usual professional detachment as he addressed them. Mia was hysterical, her mother holding her back, the son pacing with clenched fists.

“What happened?” Mia demanded through sobs, her eyes red-rimmed. “He was fine! Tabi was here - did she do something wrong!?”

Chishiya’s voice was calm, clinical. “Mr. Hino experienced a sudden cardiac arrest, likely a complication from his underlying condition. Resuscitation efforts were immediate and standard - CPR, defibrillation, ventilation. You know how this works, i’m sure, Mia, so I won’t patronise you with the details. Despite our best, we couldn’t revive him. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Mia’s mother nodded numbly, tears streaming, but Mia shook her head, anger mixing with grief. “Tabi… she-”

“She followed protocol,” Chishiya interupped evenly, though internally, a flicker of annoyance surfaced at the accusatory tone used against his Tabi. “As her attending, I take full responsibility. If you have questions, please schedule an appointment with myself through my secretary. For now, let the staff handle arrangements.”

Chishiya lingered only long enough to sign the necessary forms, his mind already racing ahead to the exam center.

God, please say she made it.

When he arrived, the invigilator confirmed she’d been let in – barely - but the 30-minute delay gnawed at him.

It’s a significant chunk of the exam, she’s going to be rushing.

He paced the hallway outside, glancing through the small window into the hall where rows of heads bent over papers. Tabi was there, at the back, her face a mess - tear-streaked, hair disheveled, her hand shaking as she wrote.

Damn it.

She looked so broken – and it made him feel sick.
He watched, unseen, his chest tight with worry he no longer bothered to mask as concern for her performance.

She’s tough. She’ll push through.

But the sight of her distress - the way she wiped her eyes between questions - stirred that warmth again, the feelings he had now reluctantly accepted.

The exam dragged on, hours ticking by, and Chishiya remained, pacing like a sentinel.

Finally, the doors opened, candidates streaming out with relieved sighs or defeated slumps. Tabi emerged last, trailing a few paces behind the rest, her eyes downcast, and her face pale and puffy from crying. She did her best to not be seen by him, eager to escape the building, the hospital, everything.

“Lee,” Chishiya said casually, stepping into her path, his voice even as he masked the worry gnawing at him. “How did it go?”

She didn’t stop, brushing past him toward the exit, her steps quickening. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I… I have to go.”

He followed, his stride matching hers. “Wait. Talk to me. The exam, did you-“

“Just leave me alone!” she snapped, whirling around to face him, but there was no anger in her expression, just pain.

And it made him feel like he just got punched in the gut.

“You wouldn’t understand, okay? You never do! You’re… you’re too cold, too detached, you don’t care about anything that doesn’t make you look good! You’re just… just an asshole! So…so- just back off!”

Chishiya gulped.

He did his best not to react outwardly -his expression remained neutral and his gulp, followed by a small shift in his posture, was barely noticeable.

But internally, well, he never really believed in metaphors – but he swore that he could feel splinters going through his heart.

Just an asshole, huh?

It hurt, more than he would ever admit, confirming his fears: that his detachment to anything and everything made him unlovable. Unlovable to the one person he wanted most.

It hurt that the one person he’d allowed himself to care about saw him exactly how he saw himself.

Chapter 14: chapter 14

Tokyo University Hospital’s corridors felt dimmer without Tabi’s presence, though Chishiya would never admit it aloud. It had been three days since the board exams and Tabi was nowhere to be seen.
He had tried calling her that first night, his phone pressed to his ear as he paced his penthouse.

No answer.

A text the next day - Report in when ready - went unread.

By the third day, as he signed off on a patient’s chart with more force than necessary, he muttered a quiet “Whatever” under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket. Let her sulk. He wasn’t her babysitter.

But the bad mood clung to him, his usual detachment cracking at the edges. Nurses avoided his sharp glances and residents scattered when he approached. Even Dr. Tanaka steered clear. Chishiya told himself it was irritation at her absence disrupting the ward’s shift patterns, something that became his problem. But deep down, in the recesses he rarely visited, he knew the truth:

it hurt because it was her.

He had reluctantly admitted his feelings in the dead of night, staring at the ceiling - attraction, affection, whatever label fit the unfamiliar “feelings” he got whenever she was near. It didn’t matter to him what they were, just that they were there. And now, she saw him as just an asshole. Fitting, he thought bitterly. That’s what I am.

The hospital day dragged on, an endless blur of rounds and paperwork, his mind wandering to her more than he would have liked. By evening, he needed an escape. A bar - not his usual spot, but a quiet one in a side street near the hospital, where the dim lights and anonymous crowd could drown the noise in his head. He ordered a whiskey neat, settling at the counter, his eyes fixed on the glass as he swirled it. She’ll come back. Or she won’t. Either way, life goes on.

Tabi, meanwhile, had spent those three days in complete isolation, curled up in her apartment. Mr. Hino’s death haunted her, along with the disaster of her exam, the feeling of Mia’s hand striking her cheek continued to burn into her skin, replaying like a nightmare. Work felt impossible - the thought of facing the ward, the stares, the questions. So she’d called in sick, ignoring Chishiya’s calls, burying her phone under her pillow.

But tonight, everything seemed to close in. She needed air, needed to escape her own thoughts that have been plaguing her nonstop. A bar - any bar - to numb the ache with a drink or two. She dressed simply: a small blue dress, a pair of heels, not bothering to style her hair. The place she chose was dim and unassuming, the kind where people went to forget. She stepped inside, the warm hum of conversation and clink of glasses a brief distraction - until her eyes landed on him at the counter.

Chishiya, nursing a glass of whiskey.

Panic consumed her as her heart leaped to her throat. She turned to leave, hand on the door, but he glanced up, his eyes locking onto hers across the room.

“Lee,” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise.

She froze, caught. Running now would be childish, so she approached slowly, her heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. “Dr. Chishiya… hi. I didn’t expect…”

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the stool beside him. It wasn’t a request, but his tone lacked its usual edge - perhaps softened by the whiskey, or something else.

She hesitated, then slid onto the seat, ordering a glass of wine to steady her nerves. The silence stretched on awkwardly at first, the bar’s jazz music filling the gap. Tabi fidgeted with her necklace, her mind racing - What do I say? Sorry for ignoring you? For calling you an asshole?

Chishiya took a sip, his gaze on the countertop. He was admittedly a bit drunk, the alcohol loosening the tight control he kept on his words. “You didn’t come in,” he said finally. “I called.”

“I know,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry. I just… needed time.”

He nodded. Another sip, and the whiskey emboldened him. “Do you really think I’m an asshole?”

Tabi’s eyes widened, the question hanging heavy. She stared at her wine, swirling it as if it could change the subject. “I… I was upset. Overwhelmed. I didn’t mean it-“

“But you did,” he interrupted, sounding almost… vulnerable? “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. After all, I made myself that way.”

She met his gaze then. “You are an asshole… sometimes. But… you’ve also helped me, and I think… you’re actually also quite a good guy. I was wrong to snap. I’m sorry.”

The apology eased something in him, the whiskey warming his veins as the conversation opened, tentative at first. They talked casually - about the bar’s dim ambiance, a light anecdote from the ward he’d missed sharing with her. But the pain in her eyes, the way she could only look at him for so long, pulled at him.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered eventually, her voice breaking. “I was there. If I’d reacted faster…”

Chishiya set his glass down, the alcohol loosening his guard. To comfort her - something he rarely did - he opened up. “I used to be like you… In my resident days, that is. I would replay every decision, every cut, every measurement. It would eat me alive.” He sighed, tracing the rim of his glass. “Do you remember when I made you remember my failed cases? They were from my residency. You’ll accumulate that many patient deaths, probably more. I let them consume me at first - sleepless nights, I considered quitting many times.”

Tabi looked at him, surprise softening her features. “You? Affected like that?”

He smirked faintly, but his eyes were distant. “ I do have feelings, Lee. Been reminded of that recently,” He said. “But I learned to compartmentalize. I don’t let myself think about things. Ever. If I did… It would send me crazy… Thinking sends everyone crazy, I think.” He looks away, sighing deeply, then looks at her more firmly. “Mr. Hino’s death wasn’t your fault. Shit happens.”

“But-“

He cut her off, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Mr. Hino’s death wasn’t your fault. Shit. Happens.”

_________________________________________

Chishiya leaned back in his office chair, the remedial buzz of his department filtering through the half-closed door. His fingers tapped idly on the edge of his desk, a rare sign of impatience as he stared at the sealed envelope in front of him. The results. Tabi’s first-year boards. He had pulled strings - not unethical ones, just the kind that came with being head of cardiology - to get them delivered straight to him before the official announcements. Curiosity, he told himself. Or perhaps something else. Not that he would admit to that though. Either way, he wasn’t about to wait for the bureaucratic snail mail to catch up.

With a swift motion, he sliced open the envelope, pulling out the crisp sheet of paper. His eyes scanned the top line:

Candidate: Tabi Lee.

Status: Pass.

The score was solid - not top percentile, but comfortably above the threshold. Despite everything… she’d done it. She’d actually done it. And on her own this time.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Not bad, Lee. He’d half-expected failure, given the mess of that day, but this? This was proof of her resilience, what sets her out from most residents. Or maybe it’s just sheer dumb luck. Either way, it stirred something in him - pride, perhaps.
Or those annoying feelings he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He picked up his phone, thumbing through contacts until her name appeared. A quick text: My office. Now. No pleasantries. That wasn’t his style.

Minutes later, there was a hesitant knock. “Come in,” he called, leaning against the front of his desk now, arms crossed casually over his chest.

The door creaked open, and Tabi slipped inside, her scrubs slightly rumpled from the morning round and that ridiculous keychain dangling from her badge like always. She hadn’t been the same since returning to work, since Mr. Hino’s death - quieter, more subdued, like she was still letting everything press down on her. But he hoped this would put a stop to all that.

“You wanted to see me, Dr. Chishiya?” she asked, tentative. She hovered near the door, not quite meeting his gaze, as if expecting a lecture. After all, that was usually what she was in his office for.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the chair opposite his desk. But she didn’t move right away, fidgeting with the hem of her scrubs instead. He sighed internally. Always so nervous. “Or stand. Whatever. I have your board results.”

Her eyes snapped up then, widening like saucers. “Already? But… they said it would take another week at least.” She took a step forward. “How did you…?”

“Perks of the position,” he shrugged dryly, holding up the paper. “Want the bad news first?”

Tabi’s face paled, her shoulders slumping as she braced herself. “I… I failed, didn’t I? With everything that happened – I knew it… I couldn’t focus in there. You’re going to kick me out aren’t you? Please… Dr. Chishiya… you have to-”

“You passed.”

The words hung in the air, simple and matter-of-fact. Tabi froze, her mouth parting in shock. “What?”

“You passed,” he repeated evenly, though a hint of amusement crept in at her disbelief. He flipped the paper around, sliding it across the desk so she could see for herself. “See? Right there. Passing score. Congratulations, Lee. You’re officially not a complete disaster.”

She stared at the paper, her brows furrowing as she leaned in closer, like she couldn’t trust her own eyes. Her fingers trembled as she traced the printed words. “This… this can’t be right. I was so late, and I rushed through half the questions. I left some blank, even. How could I have passed?”

Chishiya shrugged. “Apparently, you knew enough to scrape by. Or maybe you got lucky and the graders were feeling generous that day.”

Tabi’s gaze lifted slowly, suspicion flickering in her eyes. She straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you… did you do something? Like, pull strings? Meddle with the scores?”

Chishiya’s smirk faded, replaced by a rare flash of irritation in his eyes. He pushed off the desk slightly, his posture tensing. “Meddle? What? You think I’d risk my reputation for that? Tamper with exam results like your parents did? No, Lee. Unlike your father, I don’t play those games. You earned this. Believe it or not.”

She flinched at the mention of her dad, her cheeks flushing with guilt. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you like that. It’s just… it feels too good to be true. I’m not very good at exams, I thought for sure I’d bombed it.”

The offense lingered for a second longer, a tight knot in his chest, but then he let it go. She was rattled, that much was clear. And honestly, part of him understood the doubt—the shadow her parent’s nepotism cast surely would play a hand in that. He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the desk again. “Apology accepted. But next time, have a little faith in yourself. Or in me.”

Tabi nodded, biting her lip as she glanced back at the paper. Then, slowly, the reality sank in. Her eyes lit up, a smile breaking across her face. “I… I passed. Oh my god, I actually passed!” The smile grew, turning into a full-blown grin, her hands flying up to cover her mouth in disbelief. She bounced slightly on her toes, a laugh escaping her lips. “This is crazy! I can’t believe it - I mean, I do now, but… wow!”

Chishiya watched her, the way her whole face transformed with excitement. It was… cute. Endearingly so. The kind of unfiltered joy that made her seem even smaller, and even more vibrant against the stark white of his office walls. A warmth spread through him, unbidden, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “You did good, Tabi. Really. I’m… proud of you. You’ve got real potential.”

The compliment hung there without his usual sarcasm or backhandedness. Tabi’s bouncing stopped, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as she stared at him, wide-eyed. “You… you think so? That’s-… I mean… thank you, Dr. Chishiya. That means a lot.”

He held her gaze a beat too long, the air in the room shifting subtly. The blush on her cheeks, the way her lips curved in that shy smile - it stirred those feelings in him. The ones he had rationalized away a hundred times. Just test it, a voice whispered in his mind.

He didn’t think it through - didn’t weigh the ethics, the risks. Impulse wasn’t his thing, but here, with her looking at him like that, it overrode all logic.

“Come here,” he said softly. He stayed leaned against the desk, legs slightly parted, patting the space in front of him casually. “I want to show you something.”

Tabi hesitated, her blush deepening, but curiosity - and maybe something else - drew her forward.
She stepped closer, until she was standing between his legs, close enough that he could smell the faint vanilla of her perfume mixed with the antiseptic soap of the hospital. Her breath hitched, her eyes flicking up to meet his questioningly.

The moment stretched, silent and charged. Chishiya’s hands hovered at his sides, his heart rate picking up in a way that annoyed him - clinical, detached him, feeling this flutter? Ridiculous. But her proximity, the way her chest rose and fell just a little faster, the soft parting of her lips… it was intoxicating. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing her waist, settling there lightly at first, then firmer, pulling her just a fraction closer.

“Dr. Chishiya…?” she whispered, her hands coming to rest tentatively on his arms.

“Just Chishiya,” he corrected quietly, his thumbs tracing small circles on her sides through the thin fabric of her scrubs. “Just for now.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance. His lips met hers softly, tentatively at first - a brush, testing, meant to be brief. Just enough to confirm if this obsession was a fluke, something he could dismiss after one taste. But the second their lips connected,

everything shifted.

Her lips were soft, warmer than he had ever imagined, yielding under his with a sweetness that made his head spin. He deepened the kiss without thinking, one hand sliding up her back to pull her closer, the other staying firm on her waist. The slowness of it - lazy, slightly uncoordinated – felt so addicting. She responded hesitantly at first, then melted into it, her fingers gripping his sleeves tighter, a soft sigh escaping against his mouth.

This was supposed to stop it, he thought dimly, but instead, it amplified all those stupid feelings. The taste of her - faintly like the tea she always drank - the way she fit against him, oddly perfect … it was like a drug, pulling him under. Or the first glass of whiskey he’d had, and then never went back. He tilted his head, savoring the slowness, the way time seemed to stretch in his office, no rush, just this building heat.

When he finally pulled back - reluctantly, his forehead resting against hers for a second - reality crashed in. And what left his lips was a soft;

“Crap.”

Chapter 15: chapter 15

Notes:

WARNING: suggestive, mild nsfw & implied smut towards the end.

“Crap,” He muttered under his breath, the word slipping out as the full weight of what he’d done hit him. Ethical violation. Power imbalance. His resident.

His resident.

The hospital code flashed in his mind - fraternization, harassment claims, everything he had built at risk. And worse, the addiction he’d just unlocked. One kiss, and he wanted more. So much more.

Tabi blinked up at him, her breath still uneven. “What… what was that?”

He straightened, dropping his hands from her waist like it had burned him, stepping back to put space between them. “A mistake,” he said flatly. “Forget it happened. Go back to work.”

But even as he said it, turning away to shuffle papers on his desk, he knew forgetting wasn’t an option. Not for him, at least.

Tabi lingered for a moment, touching her lips absently, her blush still burning. “But… you-“

“Out, Lee.” he cut in, sharp and final. She nodded, confused and flustered, slipping out the door without another word.

Chishiya sank into his chair once she was gone, running a hand through his hair. Great. You idiot. The kiss replayed in his mind - the softness, the slowness, the way she had sighed. It was supposed to end the feelings, not cement them. Now, he was in deeper than ever, and the ethical line he’d just crossed? It loomed like a guillotine.

But damn, if it didn’t feel worth it in that moment.
_________________________________

Chishiya found himself staring at the blank screen of his computer, the cursor blinking mockingly in an empty document he had opened just to look busy, but his mind was miles away - stuck on that kiss. That stupid, impulsive, annoyingly good kiss.

What the hell was I thinking? But that was the problem. He wasn’t. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. Ethical violation didn’t even cover it. Fraternization with a subordinate? His resident? If word got out - and it always did in places like this - his career could tank. Years of building his reputation, gone. And Tabi? She would be labeled as the one sleeping her way up, her achievements dismissed as favoritism. Her father’s shadow was bad enough; but this would bury her.

He glanced at the clock - end of his shift is in an hour. He needed to fix this. Or at least talk it out. Set boundaries. End it before it started. Whatever. His thumb hovered over his phone, then typed a quick message: My place after shift. We need to talk. Simple. Professional. No room for misinterpretation.

The reply came almost immediately: Okay. See you then. No emojis, no questions. Good. She was probably as freaked out as he was.

The rest of the hour dragged. He snapped at a nurse over a minor charting error, earning a wary look, and buried himself in paperwork to avoid thinking. But his mind kept drifting back - her blush, the way her hands had gripped his arms.

Stop. This was a mistake. Nothing more.

By the time he got home to his penthouse, he had rehearsed the conversation a dozen times. Lay out the risks, agree it was a mistake, move on. Easy. Clinical.

The buzzer rang at exactly 7:30. Punctual, as always. He let her up, and when the door opened, there she was - Tabi, in that simple lavender sweater and jeans, that stupid keychain jingling from her bag. She looked nervous, biting her lip.

“Hi,” she said softly, stepping inside and slipping off her shoes. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He gestured to the living room. “Sit. Want something to drink? Water? Whiskey?”

“Water’s fine,” she replied, perching on the edge of the couch, not settling in it, her hands folded in her lap. She watched him as he grabbed a glass from the kitchen.

He handed her the water and sat across from her on the armchair - safe distance - running a hand over his face. “About earlier. The kiss.”

Tabi’s cheeks pinked instantly, but she nodded. “Yeah. I-“

“It was a mistake,” he cut in, the words tumbling out faster than planned. “A huge one. I shouldn’t have done that. We’re in a professional relationship - mentor and resident.” He starts pacing in front of her. “Power imbalance, ethics codes, all of it. If HR gets wind, we’re both done. My license could be reviewed, your residency tainted. People would say you’re getting special treatment, and with your family’s history? It would destroy any credibility you’ve built.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going, pacing faster now, the words spilling like a dam had been broken. “But it’s not just that. I’ve never crossed lines like this. I’m the one who sets the rules, enforces them. What if this affects your training? I can’t be trusted to be objective anymore. One wrong call in the OR because I’m distracted - thinking about you - and a patient suffers. Or worse, you second-guess yourself around me, hold back on ideas because you’re worried about… us. Whatever ‘us’ even is.”

“Chishiya-“

“And then there’s the hospital gossip mill. Nurses talk, residents speculate. One slip-up, like lingering too long in my office, and it’s over.” He runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan. “But god, that kiss… it was supposed to be nothing, just a test so I could get you out of my head, but no, I can’t stop thinking about it. Which is the problem! I don’t do distractions. Relationships are messy, inefficient. But you’re… perfect. Annoyingly so.”

He stopped pacing, breathing a little heavier, his sharp features twisted in rare frustration. Tabi stared at him , trying to process the whirlwind of contradictions he had just unleashed. He wanted to end it? But he couldn’t stop thinking about it? He was so confusing it made her head spin.

“Chishiya,” she tried again, setting her water down. “Can I-“

“No, wait,” he interrupted, sinking onto the couch beside her now, too agitated to stay put. “What if we keep it secret? Compartmentalize. Professional at work, and… whatever this is outside. But is that even possible? I’ve seen colleagues try – always ends in disaster. And you’re a first-year; you need focus, a good mentor, not me complicating things. But then I look at you, and… damn it, why did you have to pass those stupid boards? I’d like you a lot less if you were terrible at medicine. But you aren’t. you’re competent. Talented. Attractive. God-…fuck-”

Tabi blinked, her confusion deepening. He was all over the place - back and forth like a pendulum, one second listing doomsday scenarios, the next it sounded like he was confessing feelings. “Chishiya, please-“

“And ethically? I’m your superior. Consent issues alone could-“

“Slow down!” Tabi finally burst, her voice rising enough to cut through his ramble. She reached out, grabbing his arm to still him. “You’re going a mile a minute, and I can’t get a word in. You’re confusing me - What do you actually want?”

He froze and the room fell silent. He exhaled sharply, slumping back against the cushions. “I… I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

Tabi softened, her hand lingering on his arm. “Okay. Then let’s breathe. We don’t have to go any further than that kiss if you don’t want to. It can just be a one-time thing. A lapse. We forget it, stay professional. If that’s what you need to protect our careers… I get it.”

The words hit him like a jolt. Forget it? Pretend it didn’t happen? The thought twisted something in his chest - possessiveness, maybe, or just raw want.

“God, no! I want you!”

The confession hung there, raw and completely unfiltered. Tabi’s breath caught, her flush returning as the air thickened between them. “You… you do?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, softer now, the back-and-forth easing as he finally let the truth settle. “I do. More than I should. That’s why I’m freaking out.”

She nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Then… we figure it out.”

They shifted closer on the couch. Chishiya relaxed against the backrest, his arm draping casually over the cushions behind her. “Alright. First rule: absolute professionalism at the hospital. No lingering looks, no private meetings unless it’s work-related. We act like nothing’s changed.”

“Agreed,” Tabi said, tucking her legs under her, facing him fully. “I don’t want this affecting my training. Or your career.”

He nodded, his fingers absently tracing the seam of the couch as his voice takes on a nervous quality – rare for him. “Second… I’ve actually never done this before. A serious relationship, I mean. Casual hookups? Sure. Quick, no strings, over before complications set in. But this? Actual feelings? It’s… new to me.”

Tabi’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? Never? Not even in med school?”

He smirked, self-deprecating. “No not in med school. After? I just focused on my career. Relationships seemed pointless – just distractions… Well, until now I suppose.”

“Well… we can take it slow.” She said. “Learn as we go. No pressure.”

“Slow,” he echoed, though his gaze dropped to her lips, lingering. “Yeah. Slow.”

The conversation lulled, the weight lifting as they sat there, the penthouse quiet save for their breathing. Tabi shifted closer, her knee brushing his thigh. “So… what now?”

Chishiya’s hand moved from the couch to her shoulder, thumb grazing her collarbone through her sweater. “Now?” Followed by a shrug.

Before she could respond, he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly. Tabi melted into it, her hands finding his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. He pulled her closer, guiding her back until she was lying on the couch beneath him, his body hovering over hers, careful not to crush her small frame.

The kiss intensified, slow and deliberate at first - his lips moving against hers with that same tenderness from the office. He tasted like toothpaste and whiskey, his hand sliding up her side, bunching her sweater as he explored the curve of her waist. Tabi arched slightly, a soft moan escaping as his tongue brushed hers, the heat building between them.

“Oh!” she murmured against his mouth, pulling back just enough to breathe. “We could go on dates -like real ones. Do you like picnics? or that cute café near the hospital with the macarons. And movies! We could go to the cinema, hold hands-“

Chishiya chuckled low, nipping at her bottom lip in a futile attempt to silence her, but she kept going, her words tumbling out between kisses. “And walks at night. You could show me your favorite spots, and I could make you try my favourite teas – they’re not that bad, I promise. Oh, and matching keychains! Not too cheesy, but something subtle, like-“

“Tabi,” he groaned in feigned annoyance, his voice husky as he kissed her harder, trying to derail her ramble. His hand slipped under her sweater, fingers splaying across her stomach, tracing lazy circles into her skin. But she was completely undeterred, her lips brushing his as she continued.

“-and vacations! We could plan a weekend getaway, somewhere quiet, far from the hospital of course. It’d be so cute, don’t you think? Like, actual couple stuff-“

He wanted to shut her up, needed to, because her words were painting pictures he hadn’t dared imagine, and it was driving him crazy – how dare she be so sweet in a moment like this. “Enough,” he muttered, capturing her mouth again, deeper this time, his body pressing flush against hers. His free hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to expose her neck, where he trailed kisses down the column of her throat, sucking lightly at her pulse point until she gasped.

But even then, through the haze, she whispered, “And stargazing - on your balcony, maybe-”

“Tabi,” He growled, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes. His hips shifted against hers, for emphasis, eliciting a soft whimper from her that finally paused her words. “Stop talking. Please.”

She blinked up at him, flushed and breathless, her lips swollen from his kisses. “But… it’s exciting. Us.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice rough as he kissed her again, slower now, savoring the way she responded - her hands sliding under his shirt, nails grazing his back. The couch creaked softly under their weight as he settled more fully between her legs. His fingers danced higher under her sweater, brushing the edge of her bra, thumb teasing the lace as she arched into him.

She moaned softly, her ramble forgotten for a moment as heat flared between them. “Chishiya…”

“There you go, that’s better,” he murmured against her skin, nipping at her earlobe before trailing back to her mouth. The kiss turned urgent, tongues tangling, bodies pressing closer.

He broke the kiss briefly, forehead against hers, both panting. “No more date talk, okay? Not now.”

She laughed breathlessly, her fingers threading through his hair. “Fine. But later?”

“Later.”

Chapter 16: chapter 16

Chishiya had always prided himself on mastery – over surgical skills, over research , over diagnostical knowledge. But relationships? That was a field he had never even glanced at, let alone conquered. Hookups were simple: transactional, efficient, no lingering expectations. This thing with Tabi, though? well, he was way out of his comfort zone. And he had not a clue what he was doing. He craved her attention, all the time, but admitting to it? Not happening.

They had been doing good at keeping it professional at work, as promised: curt nods in the halls, no eye contact during rounds that lasted longer than necessary. He was good at that, it was just how he normally acted after all. But outside? Chishiya had to admit he was a fumbling mess.

He showed up at her apartment unannounced one Friday evening, a bag of takeout dangling from his fingers a little too casually for what he was here for. He had picked it up on impulse after a long shift - sushi from that place near the hospital, the one she had mentioned liking once. This counts as a date, right? This dating thing is a breeze, he thought, buzzing her intercom. Spending time together, food involved. Seemed straightforward enough.

The door swung open after a few moments, and there she was: Tabi, blinking sleepily in oversized pajamas that looked like they had seen better days - faded pink with what appeared to be a coffee stain (or was that soup?) down the front, her hair was a tangled mess on one side, and – good god - a faint line of drool drying on her chin. She rubbed her eyes, clearly having just woken up from a nap, her slippers peeking out from under the hem of her bottoms.

“Chishiya?” she mumbled, confusion knitting her brows. “What… what are you doing here?”

He held up the bag, his expression as neutral as ever. “Date night.”

Tabi’s eyes widened, sleep fog lifting as panic set in. “Date- wait, what? Now? Oh no, no, no- look at me! I’m a mess! I was napping, I didn’t know-“ She wiped frantically at her chin, smearing the drool mark instead of erasing it. “Give me ten minutes? No, twenty. I need to shower, change-“

Chishiya stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “It’s fine. We’re just eating.” He set the bag on her small kitchen counter, glancing around her apartment - the cozy mess of it, with throw blankets piled on the couch, a half-empty thermos of tea on the coffee table, and that faint vanilla scent that clung to everything she touched. It was the opposite of his plwce, and somehow, that made it… nice?

“But… a date?” Tabi hovered, tugging at her stained pajama top self-consciously. “I had always been under the impression dates were, like, planned? Dinner out, or movies? Not me looking like… well, this.”

He shrugged, already unpacking the sushi boxes. “Dates are spending time together. That’s what you said.” He grabbed plates from her cabinet - like he had been here enough times now to know where things were - and set them out. “Sit. Eat.”

She hesitated, but the smell of fresh salmon won her over. Sighing, she plopped down at the table. “Okay, but next time, warn a girl? I could’ve at least brushed my hair.”

Chishiya sat across from her, popping a piece of tuna into his mouth. “Noted.” But truthfully, he didn’t mind her like this – so unguarded. It was the attention he craved: her eyes only on him, each and every one of her thoughts likely involving him.

“You’re staring,” she teased after a few minutes, her blush fading into a shy smile. “Is there still drool on my face?”

“No.” He reached across impulsively, thumb brushing her chin where the mark had been. The touch was brief, but it sent a warmth through both of them - casual affection, something he was still wrapping his head around.

Tabi grinned, popping a piece of sushi into her mouth. “See? This could’ve been romantic if I had been told. Candles, music…”

“Next time,” he muttered, though the idea of planning something elaborate made his skin itch. Dates were just time together, right? Attention. That’s all he needed to be satisfied.

But as the evening wore on - they migrated to the couch, her feet tucked under a blanket, him leaning back with his arm casually behind her - the cracks in his inexperience showed. Tabi leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, but Chishiya was awkwardly stiff. Outside the bedroom, affection felt… odd. PDA? Huge no-no. He wasn’t even good at it in private, let alone with people watching.

“You’re tense,” she noted softly, pulling back a bit.
“We don’t have to cuddle if you don’t want to.”

He glanced at her, that craving for her touch warring with his discomfort. “I… don’t know how.” Admitting it felt like exposing a weakness. “Never had to.”

Tabi’s eyes softened. “Okay. Want me to teach you?”
He nodded once, stiffly. She shifted, patting her lap. “Lie down. Head here.”

Chishiya eyed her skeptically but complied, stretching out on the couch with his head in her lap, his legs dangling over the armrest. He felt awkward – weird, vulnerable in a way the OR never made him feel. His body was rigid with arms crossed over his chest.

“Relax,” she murmured, her fingers threading into his hair tentatively. “Just breathe.”

He exhaled, forcing his muscles to loosen. And then her nails scratched lightly at his scalp, a slow, rhythmic motion that sent unexpected tingles down his spine.

Oh boy.

That was… nice. Really nice.

The tension melted away inch by inch, his eyes fluttering shut as she continued - gentle scratches, fingers combing through his hair.

“You’re like a cat,” she giggled.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but there was no bite to it. (not so) Secretly? He loved it. The attention, the scratches - it was addictive, filling that quiet need he would never voice.

He could stay like this forever.

So they stayed that way for hours, talking softly about nothing - hospital gossip, her latest surgery, a dry commentary from him on a recent case. No grand gestures, no planned romance. Just time.
Attention. And for Chishiya, that was all he wanted.

The next few days blurred into a pattern: stolen moments after shifts, him showing up at her place more often than not. He still sucked at casual affection - brushing past her in the kitchen without a touch, sitting a respectable distance on the couch until she initiated.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, he arrived at her door again - no takeout this time, just him, looking more tired than usual.

“Hey,” he said when she opened it, stepping inside without preamble.

Tabi, fresh from a shower in her robe, smiled. “Missed me?”

“Something like that.” He shed his coat, collapsing onto the couch. The craving hit hard tonight - her attention, her hands in his hair. Work had been a nightmare: a botched consult, endless paperwork.

She joined him, curling up next to him. “Rough day?”

He nodded, an arm hesitantly draping over her shoulders. Progress. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk?”

“No.” But he pulled her closer, stiff at first, then relaxing as she nestled into his side.

“Cuddling 101: Lesson two. Hold hands.” She laced their fingers, squeezing gently.

He stared at their intertwined hands, the warmth seeping in. It felt… good. Weird, but good. “You’re teaching me like a child.”

“You’re learning like one,” she teased, kissing his cheek. “But you’re cute when you’re trying.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted, lying back and tugging her with him until his head was in her lap again. “Scratch.”

Tabi laughed, but gladly obliged, her nails grazing his scalp in that perfect rhythm that numbed his mind. “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the weeks ticked by, their “dates” evolved - sort of. Chishiya still showed up unannounced, but now with small gestures: maybe a thermos of her favorite tea (he’d learned to make it, begrudgingly), or a book he thought she would like.

One night, after a particularly sweet “date” of takeout and movies (her choice, some rom-com that made him scoff), they ended up on the couch again. Tabi guided him into a cuddle - spooning this time, her back to his chest. He was stiff, his arms sitting awkwardly around her waist.

“Relax your shoulders,” she whispered. “It’s not a test yknow.”

“Might as well be,” he muttered, but complied, his body molding to hers bit by bit.

“Better.” She turned her head, kissing his jaw. “See? Nice, right?”

“Hm.” But his hand tightened on her hip, pulling her closer. And when she scratched his head later, head in her lap as always, he practically purred -though he would deny it forever.
____________________________________

Three months into Tabi’s secret relationship with Chishiya, and she had mastered the art of compartmentalization better than any surgical technique he had ever taught her. At work, they were the epitome of professionalism: curt nods in the hallways, clipped instructions during rounds, and absolutely no lingering glances that could raise eyebrows. Tabi had even taken to avoiding the residents’ lounge when he was there, just to be safe. It was exhausting, but necessary. One slip, and everything could unravel - their careers, her credibility, his reputation.

Chishiya, for his part, played the role flawlessly. Detachment was his default mode, after all. No one batted an eye when he snapped at her for a minor charting error or dismissed her input in a consult with his signature eyebrow raise. If anything, the staff whispered that he was being harder on her lately, which only fueled the rumor mill in the opposite direction. “Poor Tabi,” they would say in the break room. “Chishiya’s riding her extra hard this rotation.” If only they knew how literal that could be interpreted in his bedroom.

But Tabi couldn’t stop herself from obsessing over the “normal” couple things they couldn’t do, the things she had fantasised about since she was little; hand-holding in public, spontaneous dates, dressing up for someone without the fear of being caught.

Chishiya noticed. Of course he did - he was nothing if not observant. Her sighs during their evenings together, the way she’d scroll through Instagram couples’ posts and quickly close the app when he glanced over. It gnawed at him, this guilt he wasn’t used to feeling. Not just that, but, seeing her dressed up just for him? Well, that would stroke his ego in ways he didn’t care to analyze. And if it meant risking a little to give her the traditional romance she dreamed about… well, he was confident enough now that he thinks he could pull it off.

That’s how he found himself texting her one Thursday afternoon, right after a grueling valve replacement surgery: Clear your schedule for tomorrow night. Wear something nice. Pick you up at 7.

Tabi’s reply came seconds later: ??? A date? Like, out out?

Yes. Don’t make me regret it.

She had squealed in her apartment that night, rifling through her closet for the perfect dress - a soft blue number that hugged her curves just right, with a sweetheart neckline and a hem that fluttered mid-thigh. It was feminine, flirty, the exact dress she had imagined herself wearing on a date 100 times.

Chishiya, meanwhile, had scouted the location meticulously: an upscale Italian restaurant two hours outside Tokyo, tucked away in a quiet suburb where no hospital staff would dare to go. Far enough to be safe, elegant enough to impress. He had even made reservations under a fake name, just in case.

Friday evening arrived. Chishiya pulled up to her building in his sleek black Audi, dressed sharper than usual: a tailored black button-down that accentuated his frame, slacks that screamed money, and his hair swept back just so. When Tabi stepped out, looking about as close to a goddess he would ever get to see, he felt a rare surge of possessiveness. Mine, his brain supplied unhelpfully with a smirk. She looked stunning, all dolled up just for him. Ego stroke: checked.

“You clean up nice,” he said as she slid into the passenger seat. His eyes lingered a beat too long on the way the dress rode up her thigh.

Tabi blushed, smoothing the fabric self-consciously. “ You too. Where are we going?”

“Surprise.” He pulled away from the curb, the city lights fading as they headed out of Tokyo. The drive was comfortable, filled with her chatter about the week’s patients and his occasional dry commentary. No hospital talk beyond the superficial – he had enforced that rule early on. By the time they arrived at La Bella Vita, a quaint spot with vine-covered walls and tables overlooking a small lake, Tabi was beaming.

“Oh…This is perfect,” she whispered as the host led them to a secluded corner booth. “It’s an actual date.”

Chishiya smirked, pulling out her chair for her with uncharacteristic chivalry. “Don’t get used to it. But… you deserve it this time.”

They ordered - pasta for her, steak for him, a bottle of red to share - and for the first hour, it was bliss.

Tabi gushed about how romantic it all was, her eyes sparkling under the lights. Chishiya listened, his foot brushing hers under the table in a subtle claim. Seeing her like this, dressed up and happy because of him, was another new addiction for him. His ego was more than sufficiently inflated.

Halfway through their mains, though, that bubble burst.

“Dr. Chishiya? Is that you?”

The voice came from across the room, sharp and unfortunately familiar. Chishiya’s fork paused mid-air, his gaze snapping up to meet Dr. Tanaka’s – fucking Tanaka - out with what looked like his wife. Tanaka’s eyes widened in recognition, flicking between Chishiya and Tabi with poorly concealed glee.

“Tanaka,” Chishiya replied coolly, setting his fork down. His hand tightened under the table, out of sight. “Small world.”

“Indeed!” Tanaka approached their table, his wife trailing awkwardly. “Fancy seeing you here. And with… Dr. Lee? I see… The director’s daughter.” His tone dripped with implication and his smile was far too wide, far too knowing.

Tabi froze, her fork clattering to her plate. “Dr. Tanaka, hi. We were just-“

“Celebrating her boards,” Chishiya interjected smoothly. “congratulatory dinner. Professional courtesy.”

Tanaka chuckled, clearly not buying it for a second. “Of course, of course. Wouldn’t dream of assuming otherwise.” But his eyes lingered on Tabi’s dress, the intimate booth setup, and the half-empty wine bottle. “Well, enjoy your evening. I’ll see you both at the hospital Monday. Bright and early.”

He walked away, but not before whispering something to his wife that made her glance back with raised eyebrows. The damage was done.

The rest of the meal passed in a tense silence. Tabi poked at her food with her earlier joy quickly evaporated. “Do you think he’ll say something?” she whispered finally, as the waiter cleared their plates.

Chishiya signaled for the check. “Most likely. Tanaka loves drama.”

They left quickly, the night air feeling colder now. In the car, Tabi buckled her seatbelt with shaking hands. “Chishiya, what if he tells someone? HR? My dad? We could get in so much trouble-“

Silence. He started the engine, pulling onto the highway without a word, his jaw set in a hard line.

“Chishiya? Talk to me. Please.” Her voice cracked, desperation creeping in as the city lights blurred past. “This was supposed to be nice, and now… what if we get caught? I can’t lose my residency. You can’t-“

Still nothing. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white. The silence stretched on, suffocating, broken only by the hum of the tires.
Tabi’s eyes welled up, her lip trembling. “Say something! You’re scaring me. If you’re mad, if its over then just-“

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” His voice cut through her panic in that disarmingly calm way. He didn’t look at her, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. “We’re going to go back to my penthouse. I’m going to take that dress off you. And we’re going to finish this date. Then we can panic.”

Tabi blinked, tears spilling over despite the heat that flushed her cheeks. “What?”

“You heard me.” His tone was steady, almost clinical, but there was an undercurrent of something else -desire, perhaps, or complete defiance to the rules they had built for themselves. “Tanaka can wait. Date night’s not over yet.”

The rest of the drive was charged, the air thick with unspoken tension. Tabi wiped her eyes, glancing at him sideways. He was silent again, but this time it felt deliberate, like he was holding back. When they pulled into his underground garage, he killed the engine and finally turned to her.

“Inside,”

The elevator ride to his penthouse was agonizingly slow. Chishiya stood close, his hand on the small of her back, thumb tracing idle circles through the fabric of her dress. A move that had become more common recently. Tabi leaned into him, her earlier panic simmering down to a nervous flutter. “Are we really just… ignoring it?”

“For now.” The doors dinged open, and he led her inside, the city skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He turned to her then, cupping her face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the last traces of her tears. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Don’t let this ruin that.”

They lay tangled in his sheets hours later. Tabi’s head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. The high of their “finished date” had faded, making way for reality to creep back in.

“Now we panic?” she asked quietly, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at him.

Chishiya sighed, staring at the ceiling. His arm was draped around her, holding her gently despite the tension coiling in his muscles. “Tanaka’s a gossip, but he’s not stupid. He’ll test the waters first - drop hints, see if we react.”

“What if he goes straight to HR? Or the director?”

“Then we deny, deny, deny.” He turned his head, meeting her worried gaze. “Mentor-resident dinner. Nothing more. Your boards were worth celebrating.”

Tabi bit her lip. “But if he pushes…”

“We handle it.” His free hand came up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Together. But no more public dates. Not until we’re sure.”

She nodded, settling back against him. “I had fun tonight. Before… you know.”

“Me too.” A rare admission, and he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Chapter 17: chapter 17

The week dragged on like any other, a monotonous grind of beeps and charts that Chishiya navigated with his usual disinterest. Tabi and him exchanged nothing beyond the necessary: a curt “Update on the bypass patient?” from him, her replying with “Stable, vitals holding” in that clipped tone she had adopted for work. No one seemed to notice that anything was off. Dr. Tanaka, for his part, had been uncharacteristically subdued - nodding hello in the elevator, no sly comments, no probing stares. So much so, that Chishiya actually allowed himself a sliver of relief by Thursday. Maybe the idiot had decided to keep his mouth shut after all.

Friday afternoon came with the sharp ping of an email notification on his phone, buried in his coat pocket during a break in the cath lab. He wiped his hands on a towel, fished it out, and scanned the subject line: Request for Meeting: Monday, 9 AM. From HR. His thumb hovered before opening it.

Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro,
Please attend a meeting in HR Conference Room B on Monday at 9 AM regarding a report of gross misconduct. This is a formal inquiry. Attendance is mandatory.
Regards,
HR Department

The words settled in his gut like swallowed lead.

Gross misconduct. Tanaka’s face flashed in his mind - that smug grin at the restaurant, the way he’d drawled “celebrating her boards” like he was already scripting the rumor. Chishiya shoved the phone back, his jaw tightening as he stared at the sterile wall. No details, no specifics, but he didn’t need them.

This was it. The fallout.

He pictured the inquiry: questions about boundaries, power dynamics, all leading to a suspension or worse. And Tabi - dragged into it, her residency tainted before it truly started, all because he couldn’t keep those stupid feelings to himself. He rubbed his temple, the lab’s hum fading to white noise. He needed to fix this. End it before it exploded further.

By evening, he had texted her from his penthouse:

Come over. Now.

No explanation.

The buzzer sounded half an hour later, and he let her up without a word through the intercom.

Tabi stepped inside, kicking off her sneakers by the door, her hair still slightly damp from a post-shift shower. She wore that lavender sweater again, the one that hung loose on her frame, paired with jeans that had a faint coffee stain on the knee. “Hey,” she said, tilting her head as she padded into the living room. “You okay? Your text sounded… urgent.” She dropped her bag on the couch, glancing around his space.

Chishiya stood by the kitchen island, arms crossed, not moving to greet her like he usually did with that half-hearted pull into a hug. “Sit down.” His voice came out flatter than he had intended.

She paused, her smile faltering. “What’s going on? Did something happen at work? You look like-“

“HR emailed me.” He cut her off, pulling out his phone and sliding it across the counter toward her. The screen was already open to the message. “Meeting Monday. Gross misconduct.”

Tabi snatched it up, her eyes scanning over the text. Her face drained of color, fingers tightening around the device. “Oh god. Tanaka? It has to be. He must’ve reported us.” She set the phone down harder than necessary, pacing a small circle in front of the island. “What do we do? Deny it? Say it was just dinner?”

He watched her move, the way her hands twisted together, a habit he had come to recognize as her gearing up for a ramble. “We can’t risk it escalating. If they dig, they’ll find more - texts, subconscious favouritisms.”

She stopped pacing, turning to face him. “So… what? We prepare a story? Stick to the boards celebration thing?”

Chishiya exhaled, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the granite.

“No. We end it.”

The words landed blunt, like a pin hitting at just the right spot on his windows, making them crack. Tabi’s mouth parted, but no sound came out at first. Instead, she blinked, stepping closer. “End… what? Us?”

“Yes.” He forced his gaze to stay level, ignoring the twist in his chest. “Before this blows up. You keep your residency clean. I handle the inquiry alone.”

She stared, her brows knitting together. “Wait, you’re actually serious? Just like that? Because of one email?”

“It’s not just one email. It’s the start of many emails.” He pushed off the counter, grabbing his whiskey glass but not drinking, just holding it as a prop. “Tanaka saw us. Now HR’s involved. If we keep going, it’ll confirm everything. Or it will all come out eventually.”

Tabi crossed her arms, but her voice pitched higher, laced with that tremor she got when holding back tears. “So you want to break up? We can deny it, like you said last time. Together.”

He set the glass down with a clink, sharper than needed. “Denying works until it doesn’t. I’ve seen it - colleagues suspended, licenses reviewed. Residency is 7 years. Do you really think we can keep this quiet for another 6? You think I want that for you? For us?”

“For us?” She laughed bitterly, stepping into his space now, close enough that he could smell the faint rose from her shampoo. “Sounds like you’re deciding for me. Again.”

Chishiya’s jaw ticked. She was misreading him - seeing control where he felt cornered. “I’m being practical. This isn’t some game. Your career-“

“My career?” Her voice cracked on the word, hands dropping to her sides. “You think I care more about that than… this? We’ve been careful. And now, one bump, and you’re out?”

“It’s not just a bump.” He turned away, facing the window. “We knew the risks. I told you from the start.”

She followed, grabbing his arm to spin him back. “Yeah, you did. But you also said we would figure it out. Together. Remember? Or was that just talk?”

He pulled his arm free, in a gentler manner than he felt, but the motion still carried frustration. “Figure it out how? Lie under oath? Drag your dad into it?”

“This isn’t about him. It’s about you bailing when it gets hard.”

“Bailing?” He stepped closer now, their faces inches apart, his voice dropping low. “You think this is easy for me? I’ve never done shit like this - relationships, feelings. And now it’s all at risk because I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

Tabi’s breath hitched, her gaze dropping to his mouth for a split second before snapping back. “Then why suggest breaking up if you are worried about it ending?”

“Because I-“ He stopped for a moment, forcing himself to take a breath through gritted teeth. “It’s the smart move.”

“Smart.” She echoed it like a curse, turning away now, her shoulders rising with a shaky inhale. “Always so damn smart, aren’t you? Fine. If that’s what you want.”

He reached for her elbow, pulling her back. “Tabi-“

“No!” She yanked free, but didn’t move away, her chest brushing his with each breath. “You don’t get to do that.”

The air thickened, charged with everything that was being left unsaid. Chishiya’s hand lingered in the space between them, then dropped to her waist, gripping the sweater fabric. “I don’t want to push you away.”

“Then don’t.” Her words came out breathy, her hands fisting his shirt now, tugging him closer.

He crashed his mouth against hers, the kiss rough, all teeth and urgency, like he’d been holding it back since the email. Tabi responded instantly, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him toward the bedroom without breaking contact. They stumbled through the door, his back hitting the frame before he spun them, pressing her against the wall.

They lay there after, bare and tangled in his sheets with ragged breaths. Chishiya rolled off her, pulling her against his side, his arm feeling heavy across her waist.

Tabi traced patterns on his chest, her finger circling a faint scar from some old procedure. “What if… I did talk to my dad?”

He tensed, his hand pausing where it had been stroking her hair. “About what?”

“Us. The HR thing. He’s the director - he could shut it down before it starts.”

Chishiya sat up slightly, propping on an elbow to look down at her. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why? He could-“

“Because I don’t want to be introduced to your father as your boyfriend.” That word came out awkward, like it didn’t fit his mouth. “Not yet. Not like this. Sneaking around, then begging him for a cover-up? It’s just nepotism all over again.”

She pushed up too, the sheets pooling at her waist. “It wouldn’t be begging. We would barely have to ask. And you’re not just some hookup- you’re-“

“You’re my boss’s daughter.” He cut in, voice sharp. “Think about how that looks. I earn my way, I don’t do favors. You know that.”

Tabi frowned, pulling the sheet higher. “So you’d rather risk the inquiry? And break up for real?”

“I didn’t say that.” He rubbed his face, exhaling. “Just… not your dad. Not yet.”
__________________________________

Tabi paced the narrow hallway outside her father’s office at the hospital. It was late Friday night, the wards quiet except for the occasional shuffle of a nurse’s shoes or the ping of an elevator. She had texted her dad earlier –

Need to talk. Urgent.

and he had replied with a simple: Come by after your shift.

Now, standing here, her thermos clutched in one hand, she second-guessed everything. Chishiya’s words from last night echoed in her mind: Not your dad. Not yet. She felt bad, truly she did, for going behind his back like this. But the threat to their relationship, his career, it weighed on her. If there was a way to protect it all, why wouldn’t she?

She knocked on the hard wood door.

“Come in,” her father’s voice called, warm, the way it always was after hours.

She pushed inside. Director Lee sat behind his desk, glasses perched on his nose, reviewing a stack of reports under a desk lamp that cast long shadows across the room. He looked up at her, smiling faintly. “Tabi. It’s late for you. Everything alright?”

She closed the door, sinking into the chair opposite him without invitation. “Not really. I… I need your help. With something personal.”

He set the papers down, leaning back. “Personal? You mean residency stuff, or…?”

“Both. Sort of.” She twisted the thermos lid in a nervous fidget. “I’m seeing someone. At the hospital.”

Her father’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t interrupt, just nodded for her to continue.

“It’s Dr. Chishiya. My mentor.” The words tumbled out, her voice pitching unevenly. “We’ve been… together. For a few months. Secret, obviously, because of the rules. But someone saw us - Dr. Tanaka - and now HR’s calling him in for misconduct. Monday.”

Director Lee removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Chishiya, huh?” He paused, processing his daughter’s revelation. “And you two… how serious?”

“Serious enough that I don’t want to have to end this.” She leaned forward, her hands pressing flat on the desk. “I know it’s against policy. But he’s good to me. And I went behind his back telling you, but I had to. Can you… make it go away? The inquiry? Please?”

He studied her for a long moment before a heavy sigh left his lips. “Tabi, you know I pulled strings to get you here. People already whisper about that. This… it could make that worse.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked slightly. “But please. For me.”

He sighed, replacing his glasses. “Alright. I’ll handle HR. But you two - be careful. And bring him to Kyoto sometime. Your mother will want to meet the man turning my daughter’s head.”

She blinked, surprised at the pivot. “Kyoto? Like… soon?”

“Why not tomorrow? I’m heading home tonight. Weekend’s free. Jet’s available.” He smiled, but there was a firmness to his tone. She knew this was more than a request. “If he’s serious, he’ll come.”

“Thanks, Dad. Really.”

He waved her off. “Go home. Rest. And Tabi? Stop making a habit of these surprises.”

The buzzer pierced Chishiya’s sleep far too abruptly for a saturday morning. He groaned, rolling over, the digital clock on his nightstand showing 6:45 AM. Who the hell…? He dragged himself up, scrubbing a hand over his face, his hair sticking up in uneven spikes.

The buzzer rang again, insistent.

“Coming,” he muttered, as if anyone would hear, padding barefoot to the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Tabi’s voice, bright and edged with something he couldn’t quite place through the static. “Let me up.”

He buzzed her in without question, unlocking the door before shuffling to the kitchen to start coffee. He was barely awake, his mind still foggy from the whiskey he had nursed last night while staring at that email. The door clicked open moments later, and Tabi burst through, wheeling a suitcase behind her, her hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame. Cute, he smirked internally.

“Morning,” she said, far too chipper for this time of morning, dropping the suitcase by the couch and heading straight for him. “Coffee? Good. We need it.”

Chishiya blinked, leaning against the counter in his rumpled boxers and t-shirt, his coffee machine gurgling behind him. “What’s with the bag? Going somewhere?”

She grabbed a mug from the cabinet - familiar now, like she owned the place, which in a way, she kind of did - and poured for the both of them. “We are. Get dressed. Flight’s in two hours.”

“Flight?” He took the mug she handed him, but didn’t drink it, staring incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“Kyoto.” She sipped, watching him over the rim. “To see my parents.”

He set the mug down hard, hot liquid sloshing over the edge. “You… what? I told you no. Explicitly. Not your dad.”

“I already talked to him.” She set her own mug aside, crossing her arms. “Last night. About us. The HR thing.”

Anger flared quick, sharpening his voice. “Behind my back? After I said-“

“Not behind your back, around it.” She cut in, stepping closer. “Because waiting’s stupid. He said he’ll handle HR. But he wants to meet you. Today.”

Chishiya turned away, gripping the counter edge, his knuckles paling. “You had no right. This isn’t your call.”

“It’s our call.” She touched his arm, but he shrugged it off. “Chishiya, please. Trust me. It’ll be fine.”

He spun back, his face inches from hers. “Fine? Meeting the director as… what? Your secret fling? The one risking your job?”

“As my boyfriend.” The word hung there, awkward in her mouth, like she hadn’t planned to say it. “And it’s not a secret anymore. Not to him at least.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never done this. Met parents. What if they-“

“They won’t.” She softened, her hand finding his again, this time holding on. “Come on. Shower. I’ll pack for you.”

He stared at her, his anger simmering down to a churn in his gut. Trust her. “Fine. But if this goes south…”

“It won’t.” She smiled, albeit tentatively, and pushed him toward the bedroom.

He dressed quickly - slacks, button-down, nothing too flashy - while she rummaged through his closet, stuffing his clothes into a duffel bag he didn’t even know he still owned. The cab ride to the private airstrip was silent, Chishiya staring out the window without a word and his knee bouncing restlessly. He had never met parents before. Casual hookups didn’t usually come with family introductions in his experience, and relationships were still uncharted territory to him. The thought looped, tightening his chest. What did people even say? “Hello, I’m sleeping with your daughter”? Handshakes? Small talk about weather? Or would they grill him – about his career, intentions, the small age gap that he suddenly felt acutely?

The jet waited on the tarmac, its engines humming low. Tabi boarded first, chatting with the pilot like they were old friends – perhaps they were, he wouldn’t put it past her. Chishiya followed, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Inside, leather seats and polished wood greeted them, a flight attendant offering water and fruit. Private jet. Of course. He had grown up with money - his parents’ estate in Tokyo rivaled most - but this screamed old money, a type he wasn’t so accustomed to.

“Window or aisle?” Tabi asked, settling in, her suitcase stowed overhead.

“Doesn’t matter.” He took the window, buckling in as the plane taxied. “How long?”

“Hour and a half.” She reached for his hand under the armrest, but he pulled back slightly, glancing at the attendant.

“Relax,” she whispered. “No one’s watching.”

He didn’t respond, his fingers tapping the armrest instead. The takeoff pressed him back, and he watched as the city shrinked below. “What did you tell him? Exactly.”

“Everything.” She fiddled with her seatbelt. “The relationship. Tanaka. HR.”

“And he just… agreed?”

“With conditions.” She hesitated. “Like meeting you. Properly this time.”

Chishiya nodded, but doubt gnawed. Conditions. Sounded like leverage. “What if he hates me?”

“He won’t.” But her voice dipped, uncertain. “He’s… protective. But also fair.”

Protective. That word sat heavy in his mind. Chishiya pictured a stern interrogation -questions about his family, his past flings, why a resident? His stomach twisted. He wouldn’t be able to answer that. Fresh? No that sounds far too creepy. “Never done this,” he muttered again, almost to himself.

Tabi turned, her knee bumping his. “Me neither. Bringing someone home.”

He glanced at her, misreading the bump as nervousness on her part, not affection. “Then why push it?”

“Because hiding this is worse.” She leaned back, closing her eyes. “Trust me.”

The flight dragged, the attendant bringing coffee that Chishiya sipped - black and bitter, his taste. Tabi dozed fitfully, her head lolling toward his shoulder, but he shifted away, too wired to relax. Kyoto approached, green hills and temples blurring below. The landing was smooth, and there was a car already waiting on the tarmac - obviously - a black sedan with tinted windows. The driver, an older man in a crisp suit, greeted Tabi by name, loading their bags without a word.

The drive wound through the city outskirts, past manicured gardens and stone walls, until they reached the estate gates - iron wrought with intricate designs, opening silently as the car pulled up. The driveway stretched long, gravel crunching under tires, flanked by koi ponds and ancient maples. The house loomed above them: traditional architecture fused with modern glass extensions, sprawling across acres that made his parents’ place in Tokyo look modest. Bigger, yes - multiple wings, a central courtyard visible through the windows, servants moving discreetly in the background.

Chishiya’s pulse quickened as they pulled up. “This is… yours?”

“Family’s.” Tabi unbuckled, her voice light but strained. “Come on.”

The front door opened before they reached it, Director Lee stepping out in casual slacks and a polo, his wife beside him - elegant, with Tabi’s eyes and a warm smile. No suits, no stern glares. Just… normal parents. Weird.

“Tabi!” Her mother enveloped her in a hug, pulling back to cup her face. “You look tired. Flight okay?”

“Fine, Mom.” Tabi glanced back at Chishiya, beckoning him closer. “This is Chishiya.”

Director Lee extended a hand, his grip firm but not crushing. “Dr. Chishiya, nice to see you outside the hospital. Come in.”

Chishiya shook it, his own palm slightly damp from nerves. Embarrassing. Now they think i’m sweaty. “Director. Mrs. Lee. Thank you for… having me.”

“Call me Hiroshi,” the director said, waving them inside. “And her, Akiko. No need for titles here.”

The entry hall gleamed - polished wood floors, vases of fresh lilies, a sliding door leading to a garden view. Akiko linked arms with Tabi, chattering about lunch preparations, while Hiroshi led Chishiya to a sitting room overlooking the courtyard. “Tea? Or something stronger?”

“Just tea. Uh- thanks.” Chishiya sat on the edge of a cushion, his posture rigid. Interrogation incoming. Any second.

But Hiroshi poured from a pot, handing him a cup. “I must say I always wondered how you managed to land head of cardiology at your age, its impressive.”

Chishiya nodded, sipping. “Luck and timing, I suppose.”

“Modest.” Hiroshi chuckled, settling across from him. “She speaks highly of you. As a mentor. And… well, more now.”

Here it comes. Chishiya braced. “I appreciate that.”

Akiko and Tabi joined them then, carrying trays of fruit and sandwiches. “Eat,” Akiko insisted, placing a plate in front of Chishiya. “You both look like you skipped breakfast.”

Tabi sat beside him, her knee brushing his again - this time intentional, a small reassurance. “Mom makes the best onigiri.”

Chishiya took one, biting into the rice, the salmon flaky and seasoned just right. He hummed, a sound meant to be approval but his nervous state makes it come out more as a huff. “It’s good.”

Akiko beamed. “Family recipe. Tabi never learned - too busy with her books.”

The conversation flowed then, easy, light - Hiroshi asking chishiya about hospital cases, nothing too probing, and Akiko sharing stories of Tabi’s childhood, like the time she had tried dissecting a frog in the kitchen at age ten. Chishiya listened, contributing sparingly: a nod, a short answer about a recent transplant. No interrogation. No accusations. Just… warmth. Weird. Hiroshi even laughed at one of Chishiya’s dry comments about bureaucratic red tape. Even weirder.

“You two must be jet-lagged,” Akiko said after an hour, standing. “Rooms are ready. You should rest before dinner.”

Rooms. Plural. Chishiya glanced at Tabi, but she just smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

They were shown to adjacent guest suites - tatami floors with views of the garden. Alone in his, Chishiya sank onto the edge of the bed, exhaling. No interrogation. He felt… welcomed. He rubbed his temples, the nervousness ebbing but leaving a residue of confusion.

Why was this so easy?

Tabi knocked softly, slipping in. “See?” She sat beside him, her hand finding his knee and giving it a light squeeze. “Not so bad, right?”

He covered her hand with his. “I thought… it would be worse.”

“They like you.” She leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Told you so.”

He pulled her closer, but then hesitated, his brow ticking up in half amusement, half genuine curiosity. Perhaps they’re a no touching until marriage family. Although it seemed redundant to ask that now. “Separate rooms?”

“Tradition.” She shrugged. “But the doors connect.”

Dinner was in the courtyard - grilled fish, vegetables from the garden, sake poured generously.

Chishiya felt… welcomed? Loved? No. that word felt odd in his mind.

What a weird family., he thought.

Chapter 18: chapter 18

Months slipped by perhaps faster than chishiya would have liked. It was early November now, and Chishiya found himself in an unfamiliar state: content. No, more than that -happy. He actually felt happy. His career was at its peak; as head of cardiology, he had just led a groundbreaking hybrid procedure that blended pediatric heart transplants with cutting-edge holographic imaging, earning accolades from the board and a pay rise from the director (turned father-in-law). The hospital buzzed with his name, residents from other departments trying to bribe their way onto his service, it was challenging in all the ways he craved, without the exhausting politics of before.

His relationship with Tabi? Evenings at his penthouse or her apartment, where she would insist on cooking for him (albeit terribly), and he would do his best to not grimace as he forced down every bite. Kindness – that was new. Something that he’s surprisingly good at.

Head scratches on the couch had become an almost nightly ritual, her fingers weaving through his hair as they watched mindless TV, his usual detachment melting under her touch. She would drag him on low-key “dates” - picnics in hidden parks, late-night tea runs - and he would go, completely failing at the uninterested act.

And then, the realization hit.

It was during one of those quiet nights, her asleep against his chest after that activity, her hair splayed across his skin. He watched her breathe, as he always did, and it struck him:

he was in love.

Not the calculated attraction he had rationalised as a mental break before, but completely real, messy love. The kind that made his chest ache in a way that didn’t cause pain, that had him buying her favorite tea without prompt just because, that made the idea of a future - with her - feel less like a threat to his sanity. It startled him, both that he had come to this revelation but also that he was even capable of feeling this way for someone.

But even more startlingly, he didn’t care.
No panic, no horrible sick feeling, no searching the internet for local psychiatrists. Just acceptance.
He’d tell her soon, he told himself, when the moment felt right.

But lately, Tabi had been off. Fidgety during their time together, nervous glances when she thought he wasn’t looking. She would zone out mid-conversation, twirling her hair absently, or excuse herself to the bathroom more often than usual.

Chishiya noticed – of course he did, he noticed everything - but he just chalked it up to work stress. A tough rotation, perhaps, or lingering effects from keeping their relationship private. He didn’t press; vulnerability was still new territory for him.

One lazy Saturday afternoon, he lounged at her apartment while she showered after a morning run. He wandered around aimlessly, picking up a book from her coffee table, when a loose paper fluttered out from under a stack of mail. Curious, he bent to retrieve it - and froze.

It was a letter, typed neatly on hospital stationery. A resignation letter. Addressed to the director - her father - stating her intent to step down from her residency at Tokyo University Hospital to accept a fellowship at Osaka General Hospital.

Effective next month.

The words blurred as his mind raced. Osaka? Hours away by train, perhaps a flight, a world apart in terms of their life together. Fellowship – they were prestigious, practically adrenaline for careers, but why hadn’t she mentioned it? He was her boyfriend after all, let alone her mentor – the person she’s supposed to discuss these moves with. He set the letter down carefully, heart pounding in a way it hadn’t since that disastrous date night.

Tabi emerged from the bathroom then, towel-drying her hair, in her usual comfy sweats. She froze at his expression. “Chishiya? What’s wrong?”

He held up the letter. “This. Care to explain?”

Her face paled, eyes widening. “You… weren’t supposed to see that. I was going to tell you-“

“When? After you packed? Or maybe at the airport?” He stood, crossing his arms. “Osaka General? A Fellowship?”

She sighed, sinking onto the couch, motioning for him to join. He did, reluctantly, the space between them feeling vast. “It came last week. An offer – it’s a top program, specialized in advanced cardiac imaging. It’s a huge opportunity for me.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?”

“Because I don’t know if I want it.” She met his gaze, fidgety hands stilling in her lap. “It’s far. Very far. From Tokyo, from you. I haven’t decided yet. Didn’t want to worry you until I did.”

Chishiya’s stomach twisted, a mix of hurt and fear wearing in him. Abandonment. He was bad at it. Probably more so than affection. “So what about me?”

She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers. “We could try long distance. Visits on weekends, calls every night. It would be hard, but… we could make it work.”

Long distance. The words hit like he had been electrocuted - sickening, disorienting. Images flashed: empty evenings, missed touches, that slow drift apart until they’re basically no contact.

And as always, logic took over in place of fear. Love? Irrelevant now. This was practical: careers first, always. That’s how it was. He pulled his hand away.

“You would be a fool not to take it.”

Tabi blinked, hurt flickering in her chest. “What?”

“I didn’t train you to be a fool, Tabi.” His voice was cold, clinical – like it used to be when he was just her mentor. “This fellowship? It’s elite. Opens doors I could only dream of at your stage. You’ll be making double what I do in just a few years. Don’t throw it away for… sentiment.”

“But us-“

“There is no ‘us’ if it holds you back.” He said, his expression blank despite the ache in his chest. “Go. Leave me behind. It’s the smart move.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded, voice small. “If…if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. The complete opposite actually. But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t risk being the one holding
her back.

That evening, over takeout gone cold on Tabi’s cluttered coffee table, they had that long conversation. The type of conversation that never ended in anything good. The apartment felt smaller than usual, the pink accents and stuffed animals on the shelves almost mocking the heaviness in the air. Chishiya sat on the couch, his posture rigid, while Tabi paced the small living room. The sushi boxes remained mostly untouched - neither had an appetite anymore.

Tabi stopped pacing finally, sinking into the armchair across from him, her eyes red-rimmed from unshed tears. “We need to talk about this. Like really talk talk. The fellowship… us.”

Chishiya nodded, his expression a mask of his formerly usual detachment, though inside, his chest ached with a pain he couldn’t quite compartmentalize. “Yes. We do.”

She took a deep breath, twisting her hands in her lap. “The offer is amazing. Osaka General - it’s one of the best for cardiac fellowships. Cutting-edge research, mentors who’ve written the textbooks I studied in med school. It could seriously launch my career, like you said.’”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Exactly. Which is why I want you take it. I didn’t mentor you - push you – to settle for less.”

“But what about us?” Her voice cracked, the fidgety nerves from the past weeks spilling over. “We’ve built something real here… I don’t want to lose that.”

Chishiya’s throat tightened, the words “I love you” hovering on his tongue, but he swallowed them. Admitting it now would only complicate things, make the inevitable harder. “Long distance,” he echoed her earlier suggestion, testing it. “You think that would work? Weekends shuttling between cities, our schedules clashing? With shift work we could go months without seeing eachother.”

She nodded eagerly, leaning in. “We could make it work. Trains are fast - Shinkansen gets me here in under three hours. We can call every night or… or on lunch breaks… and video dates! It‘s not ideal, but… we’re strong enough, right? We’ve handled a lot already.”

He rubbed his temples, logic warring with the ache in his heart. “And when it isn’t enough? When resentment builds - missing out on milestones, birthdays, anniversaries? Because of work? Relationships like ours… they fizzle out under that strain.”

Tabi’s eyes welled, a tear escaping. “So what? You’re saying we just end it? Throw away months of… of this?” She gestured between them, her voice rising. “I lo- I care about you, Chishiya. More than some fellowship.”

That almost-slip- did she almost say love? - hit him like a punch to the gut, but he pushed it down.

“Caring isn’t enough. Not for this. You would regret staying here, passing up the opportunity. And I’d… I’d be the reason. The one holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back!” She stood, crossing to sit beside him, taking his hand. “We can figure this out… Please, chishiya.”

He looked at their joined hands, the warmth of her skin a cruel reminder of what he was about to lose. “No. We can’t.” Pulling away, he stood, pacing to the window. “Take the fellowship. Please. Go to Osaka. Leave me behind.”

Tears streamed down her face now, her voice sounding small. “Is that what you want? Really?”

What he wanted was her - here, with him, always. But yet again his logic screamed otherwise: careers over sentiment. “It’s what’s best. For you.”

“For me?” She wiped her eyes, anger mixing with hurt. “Or for you? You’re scared of comittment.”

Scared? Yes. Of comittment? No, of abandonment. Of her abandoning him first.

He turned to face her, his expression hardening. “I’m being realistic. I trained you to excel, not cling to comfort or ideals. This opportunity? Take it. Don’t disappoint me by being a fool.”

The words hung, sharp. Tabi flinched and stood to face him. “A fool? For wanting us? Fine. If that’s really how you see it… then maybe we should break up.”

Chishiya’s chest constricted at her words. This was really it. But he just nodded. “Yes. A clean break. On mutual terms. No resentment.”

They sat again, the takeout forgotten, hashing out details: no contact at first, purely professional at work until she left, a mutual agreement. Tears fell freely from her, sobs muffled into her hands; he stayed stoic as always, though inside, it felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

Chapter 19: chapter 19

At first, Chishiya convinced himself this was for the best. Logic, his true lifelong partner, dictated that much. Tabi deserved the fellowship at Osaka General; it was a career catapult, the kind of opportunity he would have seized without hesitation in his resident days. To him, letting go of her was his version of “I love you”. Holding her back would have only bred resentment, she would grow to hate him, and if roles were reversed, he knew that he would grow to hate her too. So he buried it, channeling the ache in his chest into constant work. Back to back surgeries and consults that left him collapsing into bed at 3 AM, only to rise again at 6.

But nights were the worst. His penthouse felt uncomfortable without her stuff everywhere. Sleep evaded him, because annoyingly his pillows still smelt too much like her, no matter how much he washed them. That vanilla perfume that he loved so much – he couldn’t rid of it. His sleep was replaced by restless tossing, dreams fragmented with her face - smiling, her head on his chest with that warm pressure that made it feel real. And he would wake in cold sweats, reaching for her, only for his fingers to touch a cold pillow.

He tried distractions. Investments were one of them - pouring over stock portfolios until his eyes burned, adjusting holdings in real estate and tech ventures. It kept his mind occupied, but the satisfaction was hollow. A rare night out with colleagues - a forced happy hour at a bar near the hospital - ended early when a blonde woman at the counter reminded him too much of her, sending him home to an empty bed. Even his usual solace, medical journals, failed; articles on transplants blurred, but his thoughts always drifted to how Tabi slept at his desk waiting for him to finish writing his own.

It was pride that kept him from reaching out. They had agreed: clean break, no contact. But pride warred with longing; he would stare at his phone, thumb hovering over her number, only to lock it away in his nightstand. At work, their paths crossed inevitably - a shared elevator where she would avoid his gaze, a briefing where her voice cracked slightly when trying to explain something to him. Each encounter caused a pang in his gut, she wasn’t coping too, as it seems. He was proud of her, damn it - fiercely so. But that only made this hurt so much more.

And then her last shift came.

His office door was slightly ajar, as it usually was, when Tabi entered – a box of professional items in her arms. Chishiya felt his chest twist into knots at the sight. This is it, she’s really leaving forever.

Tabi entered, closing the door behind her, the room’s clinical scent mingling with his cologne - a reminder that twisted at her chest too. “My last shift. I… need to hand these in.” She set the box on his desk, badge on top, avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, picking up the badge, his thumb tracing the name. A silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. “Everything accounted for?”

“Yes.” She shifted, fidgety. “I, um, wanted to say thanks. For mentoring me, that is.”

He leaned back. “You were a capable resident. Osaka will suit you.”

Then came an awkward pause. She bit her lip. “It feels weird. Leaving.”

“It’s the right move.”

More silence followed. Then, quieter: “Chishiya… I’ll miss-“

“Wait.” He stood suddenly, rounding the desk to her. “I’m proud of you, Tabi. Truly. I’m glad you’re doing this for yourself. You’re doing the right thing.”

Tears welled in her eyes instantly, spilling over like a dam breaking. “I’ll miss you. So much.”

There was a moment of hestitation – I shouldn’t do this - and then, he cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears as they fell. “Yeah. Me too.”
Then slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them.

The kiss started tentative, a brush of his lips against here to test the waters. But as her tears mingled with the contact, he deepened it, his hands cradling her face like she was made of glass, precious. It was soft, slow, sweet, in all the ways it always was.
When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his thumbs still brushing away fresh tears.

“Take care of yourself. Please,” he whispered, and she could have sworn she heard his voice choke too.

“You too,” she managed, stepping back as the finality settled between them like lead.
__________________________________________
The automatic doors of Haneda Airport slid open with a whoosh, ushering Tabi into the busy terminal. It was January 2nd, 2026, exactly 09:23am, she was early for her flight – some would say too early – but Tabi was nothing if not punctual. Her rolling suitcase bumped over the tiled floor, the wheels echoing her hesitant steps as she made her way to the check-in desk. A sea of travelers in lines snaked round the hall, most of them with someone - families with kids tugging at luggage, men in business suits tapping impatiently on phones, and couples sharing last-minute hugs.

Tabi’s heart ached with every beat, a dull throb that had become a constant over the past weeks. The breakup with Chishiya had been mutual, logical so he says, but leaving meant leaving him.

She joined the check-in line for ANA Flight 47 to Itami, her small backpack slung over one shoulder, containing the essentials: passport, wallet, a thermos of tea (for comfort), and her cat pin clipped to the strap so she seemed “personable”. The line moved slowly, giving her way too much time to overthink.

What if she had fought harder? Told him she loved him that night, instead of letting the words die on her lips? But no - Chishiya was logical to a fault, she knew that. She knew things would have ended eventually.

Finally at the counter, the agent smiled brightly. “ID and ticket, please.”

Tabi handed them over. “One way to Osaka.”

The agent tapped keys, printing her boarding pass. “Bag to check?”

“Just this.” She hefted her suitcase onto the scale - packed light, mostly scrubs, books, and a few mementos from Tokyo. She wanted to start fresh; wardrobe and all. No room for regrets, she had told herself while folding her scrubs last night, tears staining the fabric.

“Gate 12, boarding at 2:30. Have a safe flight!”

Tabi nodded thanks, pocketing the pass and heading to security. The terminal was overstimulating to say the least: announcements blaring in Japanese and English, the scent of overpriced coffee from nearby kiosks, and tourists bumbling around. She joined the security queue, and her mind wandered to Chishiya. Again. Was he at work right now? Does he even think about me anymore? The thought twisted at her gut. She would miss Tokyo, of course she would, this had been her home for 10 years. But him? That was a wound that wouldn’t be healed easily with distance.

She passed through security without issue, collecting her things on the other side of the scanners. No pat-downs, no delays - just forward momentum toward a future that felt equally terrifying as it did exciting.

Beyond security, the duty-free shops were filled with perfumes and chocolates, things she would usually allow herself to indulge in, but Tabi bypassed them, heading straight for the gates. The terminal opened up there, brighter with natural light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, planes taxiing outside. Her gate, gate 12, was at the end, rows of seats filled with waiting passengers: a family playing cards, a solo traveler buried in a book.

Tabi found a spot by the windows, settling into a chair. She stared out at the tarmac, watching planes take off to wherever they were heading, and her thoughts churned again.

Am I really doing the right thing to do? Leaving Tokyo? Chishiya?

Suddenly, A voice - familiar, slightly breathless - cut through her thoughts.

“I sold my penthouse.”

Chapter 20: chapter 20

Chishiya paced the length of his penthouse living room. It was January 2nd, 2026, exactly 9:23 AM. Five hours before Tabi’s flight to Osaka departed from Haneda Airport. Five hours before she vanished from his life forever.

The thought made his stomach churn, that nauseating twist that has become far too familiar for him.

Never seeing her again.

He stopped pacing, gripping the back of the leather sofa with whitening knuckles. It’s for the best, he told himself, the mantra he had repeated like a broken record.

She’s advancing her career. You’re not holding her back. It’s for the best.

He glanced at the clock again – 9:30AM. She was probably still asleep in her apartment, or maybe packing last-minute things, humming that annoying little melody she did when nervous. The one that used to irritate him until it became endearing. He shook his head, forcing himself to move. Coffee. He needed coffee. Anything to drown out the annoyingly loud silence.

He flicked on the espresso machine, the hum doing little to fill the void she left behind. As it brewed, he leaned against the island, staring at the spot where she had once perched, legs swinging, teasing him about his terrible diet of black coffee and protein bars. She had made an attempt to fix it, stocking his pantry with better quality ingredients – but it was futile for the most part.

Stop it, he snapped internally. She’s gone. Deal with it.

Back in the living room, he sank onto the couch, mug in hand, intending to scroll through his phone - maybe check stock updates, or read the latest journal on aortic repairs. Anything clinical, detached, to pull him back into his old lifestyle he lead before she existed. But as he set the mug on the coffee table, something caught his eye. A glint of metal under the table’s edge, half-hidden by the rug.

He frowned, leaning down. His fingers brushed something small, fuzzy. Pulling it out, he stared at the object in his palm: a bunny keychain. Pink, cartoonish, with floppy ears and a ridiculous pom-pom tail.

Hers.

It must have fallen off her bag the last time she was here.

The keychain felt heavier than it should, a tiny weight in his palm. He turned it over, the metal ring cold against his skin.

Memories flooded in: her clipping it to her hospital badge on her first day, telling him it was to seem “personable.” He had rolled his eyes, claiming it was rediculous, but secretly he found it… cute. The way it jingled when she walked – he would listened to it when they walked through the hospital, subtly matching his pace to the sound of it so she didn’t get left behind.

And now, it was here. Left behind.

Something snapped.

Not physically, but deep inside him. The sickness in his stomach worsened, but this time it wasn’t nausea; it was clarity. Blinding, terrifying clarity.

I can’t let her go.

Not to Osaka, not to some fellowship that would swallow her whole while he rotted in this empty penthouse.

This is irrational. Impulsive. You’re throwing everything away.

But for once, he didn’t listen.

He stood abruptly, the keychain clutched in his fist. His phone was in his hand before he could second-guess. First: the hospital. He dialed the director’s private line – Tabi’s father. It rang twice.

“Chishiya?” Hiroshi’s voice was groggy, early morning confusion evident. “Everything alright?”

“I’m resigning.” The words came out flat, final. No preamble. “Effective immediately. I’ll email the formal letter by noon.”

Silence. Then: “What? Why? Is this about-“

“Yes.” Chishiya cut him off, pacing again. “Tabi. I can’t… I won’t hold her back, I promise, but I can’t stay here without her.”

Another pause, longer this time. Hiroshi sighed, the sound heavy with understanding. “I see. Well, son… if that’s your choice, I won’t stop you. But Osaka General- they’re always looking for talent like yours. I could make a call.”

Chishiya’s grip tightened on the phone. A job in Osaka? It hadn’t even crossed his mind yet, but… yes. Perfect. Nepotism be damned. “Do it. Please.”

“Consider it done. And Chishiya? Good luck.”

The call ended. Next: his real estate agent. He scrolled to the contact- the one who had sold him this penthouse years ago. A quick text:

List it. Today. Market price, quick sale. I’ll sign digitally.

The reply came almost instantly: On it. Any reason for the rush?

Personal.

He hit send, then tossed the phone on the couch. His heart hammered, there was no going back now.

One more thing: the flight. He grabbed his laptop, pulling up the ANA website. Flight 47 to Itami, departing 3 PM. Seats available - first class, even. He booked it without any hesitation, credit card details entered purely from memory. The confirmation email pinged:

Boarding pass attached.

It was done. Within the hour, he had quit his job, put his home on the market, and booked a one-way ticket to Osaka. Irrational? Absolutely. Illogical? Alarmingly so. But for the first time in weeks, the sickness eased. Replaced by… hope? Excitement? He didn’t know, didn’t care. All he cared about was getting to her. Before she boarded that plane and it was too late.

He moved like a man possessed. Shower: quick, scalding. Clothes: slacks, button-down, nothing flashy. Bag: a duffel stuffed with just the essentials - laptop, wallet, a change of clothes. The bunny keychain went into his pocket. Keys, phone, out the door.

Tokyo blurred past as he drove. Haneda airport appeared on the horizon, and he parked in short-stay, not caring about the fee he would pay for getting it towed. He’ll just buy a new car anyway. He checked his watch: 12:00 PM. Plenty of time. Check-in was smooth; no luggage beyond his duffel, which he carried on. Security: a minor delay for a pat-down, but nothing major.

And then, the departure lounge.

Gates stretched out, and the scent of fresh pastries wafted from a café. He scanned the crowds, heart in his throat. Gate 12 - her gate. People milled about: a family arguing over snacks, a businessman on his phone. And there, by the window, staring out at the tarmac -

Tabi. Her back to him and backpack at her feet.

He froze for a second, his breath catching.

What if she says no? What if I already ruined everything?

He took a step, then another, weaving through the seats.

“Tabi,” he called, but it came out too quiet. Louder now: “I sold my penthouse.”

Tabi froze.

That voice - low, precise, with that faint edge of sarcasm she knew far too well.

No. It couldn’t be.

She turned slowly, her heart slamming against her ribs, and there he was:

Chishiya, standing a few feet away in the middle of the lounge, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking… disheveled? His hair was slightly damp and his button-down rumpled like he had dressed in a hurry.

“Chishiya?” The name came out too quietly to be heard, her boarding pass crumpling in her fist. Shock rooted her to the spot, confusion swirling in her. People glanced their way curiously, but she barely noticed. “What… what are you doing here? Penthouse? Huh-? Wha-“

He took a step closer, the duffel thudding softly as he set it down.

“Because I love you,”

He said simply, the words dropping in the quiet space between them. No preamble, no hesitation.

Tabi’s world tilted. He… what?

Her mouth opened, then closed, tears pricking at her eyes. “You… you love me?” She shook her head, trying to process. “But why are you here? And the penthouse- Chishiya, that’s…that’s your home. You love that place. The view, the terace… why would you- I don’t understand?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, that familiar, infuriating curve that always meant he was one step ahead. “I quite like Osaka,” he replied simply. “And I quit my job. I’m coming with you.”

The lounge seemed to spin. Tabi blinked, her backpack slipping from her shoulder as she stared at him.

Quit his job?

“You… quit? Chishiya, no. That’s your career. You’ve built everything there-… I-…what?… your reputation, that’s important to you. You can’t just… throw it away.” Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and hope warring inside her.

Is this real? Or am I hallucinating?

He reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and pink - her bunny keychain. She had turned her apartment upside down looking for it.

And it was with him the whole time?

He held it up to her. “This fell off your bag last time you were at my place. I found it… and, well-… I can’t stay in Tokyo without you. The penthouse? I want one with a gym anyway.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Your father - he’s pulling strings. A position at Osaka General. For me. It’s not finalized, but… it’s a start.”

Tabi’s tears spilled over now, hot and unchecked, but she laughed through them - a shaky, incredulous sound. “Osaka General? With me? But… are you sure? Like, really sure? This isn’t some impulse, right? You’ve thought about this?”

“No, I’ve not really thought it through.” He shrugged. “But I don’t need to.”

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “I’ve never been more sure. The only time I’ve ever felt happy in Tokyo, was when I was with you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Tabi. I should’ve told you that sooner. But I’m saying it now.”

She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of doubt, any flicker of his usual detachment, that cruel logic he used to hold over her.

But there was none of that.

Still, old habits died hard; she had to triple-check. “What about your job, though? Really? Head of cardiology - that’s huge. And Osaka… what if it’s not the same? What if you regret it?”

He chuckled softly, a low rumble that sent warmth through her. “The only regret I have is letting you walk away in the first place.” He shrugged again. “Besides, I’ve been thinking about teaching. Maybe at Osaka University. And Osaka General is top-tier; I’ll rebuild. Better, even.” He paused, his hands sliding down to her arms. “And as for a place to live… we can go apartment hunting tomorrow. Something with a view, maybe. Or whatever you want. I don’t care.”

We.

The word hit her like a spark, igniting a hope she had buried deep. “We?” She sniffled, a smile breaking through despite the tears. “You’re really doing this? Coming with me? For real?”

“For real.” He pulled her into a hug then, his arms wrapping around her tightly, chin resting on her head. She melted into him, burying her face in his chest, sighing at the familiar sound of his heartbeat.

The announcement crackled overhead:

Final boarding call for ANA Flight 47 to Itami. All passengers, please proceed to Gate 12.

Tabi glanced at the gate, then back at him, an almost childish grin crossing her face. “Our flight.”

He grabbed his duffel and her backpack, slinging them over his shoulder with ease. “Our flight.” He echoed.

They joined the line hand in hand, her boarding pass in one hand, the bunny keychain now clipped back to her bag where it belonged. The attendant scanned their passes - the first-class upgrade on her ticket a mystery she didn’t dare to question.

As they settled into their seats - side by side, his hand holding hers - Chishiya leaned over with a knowing smirk, whispering in her ear.

“By the way, your second-year boards are in three months.”

Notes:

Thank you so much everyone who read and supported this fic! I enjoyed writing this so much!

Please check out my chishiya one-shots on my page and feel free to send me requests to my tumblr - harusmichixo

<3