But Kiryu Kazusuke’s next moves disproved Imagawa Ori’s guess.
The second stitch, the third, the fourth…
His movements maintained a steady rhythm, neither hurried nor slow.
The spacing of each stitch was essentially identical, and the depth of each needle entry and the exit points were all controlled remarkably well.
When a row of sutures was finished, it was as neat as print.
Takigawa Takuhei, standing opposite him, had already expected as much in his heart, but at this moment he still found it unbelievable.
When he sutured, in order to ensure alignment, he always had to compare the edges repeatedly and tug several times. Not only was he slow, it also caused greater damage to the tissue.
But Kiryu Kazusuke’s suturing gave off a sense of effortless ease.
He even had the feeling that the other man could probably find the most suitable point to place the needle with his eyes closed.
He was far too practiced.
The scrub nurse also looked astonished.
She had handed suture needles to countless doctors, and with one glance she could tell the level of skill.
Kiryu Kazusuke’s ability had completely surpassed the scope of a resident, and was even better than some of the senior residents in the medical department.
Thinking of this, she glanced at Takigawa Takuhei.
That’s right. She meant you.
“Next layer.”
Kiryu Kazusuke, completely immersed in his own world, paid no attention to what others thought.
He switched to a new suture and began the continuous suturing of the subcutaneous tissue.
His speed clearly increased.
The needle moved quickly through the yellow fatty tissue.
Kiryu Kazusuke’s left hand barely needed to assist; every turn and every lift of the needle holder in his right hand brought the tissues on both sides together at just the right angle.
A continuous suture was soon completed.
The dead space in the deeper layer of the incision was effectively eliminated, laying a good foundation for the healing of the epidermis.
If his K-wire fixation just now had been a work of art brimming with imagination and explosive force,
then his suturing now was more like a piece of craftsmanship that pursued detail to the extreme.
It did not have that earth-shattering impact.
But it was equally flawless.
This level had already far exceeded what a resident, or even an ordinary senior resident, should possess.
Suturing was purely a matter of practiced skill; there were no shortcuts to speak of.
This made Imagawa Ori change her opinion of him once again.
A person with astonishing talent in K-wire technique could actually still settle down and painstakingly polish something as basic and tedious as suturing.
That temperament was even more terrifying than talent itself.
“Final layer. Intradermal suture.”
Kiryu Kazusuke’s voice rang out again as he switched to 5-0 nylon.
Intradermal suturing was also called cosmetic suturing.
Its principle was to bury the suture completely within the dermal layer of the skin, leaving no visible needle holes or knots from the outside. After healing, only a faint white line would remain.
Even many specialists might not be able to master this technique well.
Everyone in the operating room was focused on watching him work.
Kiryu Kazusuke’s movements became gentle.
The needle tip traveled horizontally through the dermal layer, from one side to the other, like a fish gliding beneath the surface of the water.
He did not pull the thread completely through, but left a tail.
Then the needle tip pierced in again beside the hole it had just emerged from, following the edge of the incision and shuttling back and forth within the dermal layer, bringing the skin edges on both sides together like a zipper.
The original incision became an extremely fine red line.
“Done.”
Kiryu Kazusuke cut the end of the thread, buried the knot under the skin, and completed the final step.
The entire suturing process, from deep layer to superficial layer, took less than ten minutes.
If the K-wire procedure Kiryu Kazusuke had performed just now was art akin to a stroke of divine inspiration, then the suturing now was craftsmanship tempered through countless repetitions.
Although it could not be called especially stunning, this skill that revealed true mastery in the smallest details was equally worthy of admiration.
That was how Imagawa Ori felt.
She raised her head, her gaze passing over the operating table and falling on Kiryu Kazusuke’s face, most of which was hidden behind his mask.
Was this really a newcomer who had graduated from medical school less than a year ago?
Why had she never noticed before?
Was it because he had always been in the second assistant’s position, holding retractors, and never had the chance to show his ability?
After finishing his work at the hospital each day, was he secretly practicing these most basic and most tedious procedures over and over again on pigskin and models?
“Good work.”
But Imagawa Ori quickly gathered her thoughts and gave a slight nod to everyone in the operating room.
Only then did the anesthesiologist, circulating nurse, scrub nurse, and the others come back to themselves.
The operation was over.
Imagawa Ori took off her surgical gown and tossed it into the recycling bin.
“Organize the surgical records.”
Before leaving, she turned back and gave one more instruction, then strode away.
The hospital had just admitted the president of some large corporation.
She had to go take a look.
After taking off her surgical scrubs and changing into her own white coat, Imagawa Ori headed straight for the VIP ward area on the top floor of the inpatient department.
As the top medical center in the prefecture, Gunma University Hospital naturally had an area dedicated to serving celebrities and the wealthy.
The rooms here were all private rooms, and their decor and facilities were comparable to those of a high-end hotel.
Of course, the price was also astronomical.
In other words, anyone who could stay here was either rich or powerful.
As far as Imagawa Ori was concerned, as long as a patient staying here was related to her in some way, she would make time to visit no matter how busy she was.
The elevator doors opened.
She straightened her white coat before stepping out.
The corridor of the VIP ward area was laid with thick carpeting, and the faint, elegant scent of expensive aromatherapy lingered in the air.
Imagawa Ori walked to the door of one room and knocked lightly.
“Come in.”
A steady male voice came from inside.
Imagawa Ori pushed the door open and entered.
The room’s furnishings were comparable to a suite in a five-star hotel, with an independent reception area and rest area fully equipped. Beyond the huge floor-to-ceiling windows was the cityscape of Maebashi.
An elderly man with graying hair but a vigorous spirit was leaning against the hospital bed, reading a newspaper.
Beside the bed stood a middle-aged man in a black suit with a respectful expression. He was probably a secretary or assistant.
“President Fujiwara, hello. I’m Doctor Imagawa Ori from First Surgery.”
She walked to the bedside and bowed slightly.
This President Fujiwara before her was the founder of a large construction company in the Kanto region. He had been admitted for observation due to a minor heart problem.
Although this patient had nothing to do with First Surgery, since she knew about it, there would be no harm in coming over to greet him.
“Doctor Imagawa, hello.”
President Fujiwara put down the newspaper and responded politely as well.
“I heard you are the youngest specialist in this hospital. Truly young and promising.”
“Chairman, you flatter me.”
The two exchanged pleasantries for a while.
Imagawa Ori stepped forward and very naturally picked up the medical chart on the table to flip through it.
“It’s only some routine examinations. There’s no major problem, but the weather has been turning cooler lately, so President Fujiwara should still be careful to keep warm and avoid emotional fluctuations.”
“Thank you for your concern, Doctor Imagawa.”
As he spoke, President Fujiwara gave the secretary beside him a look.
The secretary immediately understood. From the briefcase he carried with him, he took out a thick white envelope and handed it to Imagawa Ori with both hands.
“Doctor Imagawa, this is a small token of the chairman’s appreciation.”
“You are so busy with work, yet you specially took time to come and visit. You’ve truly gone to the trouble.”
But Imagawa Ori did not take it immediately. Instead, a somewhat troubled expression appeared on her face.
Although she very much wanted it, if she reached out for it directly at this point, her intention would be a little too obvious. It would not be appropriate.
“How could I accept this? I’m only doing my job.”
“Doctor Imagawa, please don’t refuse. This is just a small token of our appreciation. We will have to trouble you often in the future.”
The secretary’s attitude was also very firm.
With the conversation having reached this point, Imagawa Ori finally accepted the envelope with apparent reluctance.
The envelope was very thick, and very heavy.
There was no need to open it and look. By feel alone, she could estimate that there was at least five hundred thousand yen inside.
“Then… thank you, Chairman.”
“Please rest well. If you need anything, call me at any time.”
Imagawa Ori put the envelope into the pocket of her white coat, bowed again, and then withdrew from the hospital room.