Under His Scalpel - Chishiya x OC
*:･ﾟ✧ summary: surgeon!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.
fic tags!: surgeon!chishiya, mentor!chishiya, resident!oc, slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers (?), medical au, chishiya is bad at feelings, chishiya is a little shit, semi-inspired by greys anatomy, fluff, maybe some angst, surgery, potentially ooc chishiya
warnings: medical detail, injury detail, surgery detail, patient death, incorrect medical information (my knowledge of medicine comes from greys anatomy so PLEASE do not use this fic to diagnose)
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 for a short moment before opening it.
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.
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:
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.
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.”
“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 –
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.”
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.
“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 against the floor. 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.”
“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.
“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.
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.
