Danganronpa Extra Life

Saving the One He Didn't Remember

Tears...?
Kamukura Izuru's fingers brushed the warm liquid running down his cheeks, surprise coloring the motion. He half-expected them to disappear at his touch, foreign as they were. But they remained, blurring his vision, obscuring the hairpin and the blood and the body of Nanami Chiaki.

As he thought her name, snippets of conversations—"...Gala Omega, right?" "...new game came out..." "...talent..." "...more than the Ultimate Gamer..."—flooded his brain so fast it left him dizzy. Flashes of a fountain, and a gaming console, and the same girl before him. Memories? Impossible. His past self was dead.  But he was remembering things that hadn't happened to him, seeing Nanami's smiling face and feeling his chest flood with warmth, and now he was looking at her body, and he was—he was—

His breath hitched sharply. Someone had taken a knife and carved a hole in his chest, while someone else had taken a hammer and driven a nail into his head. That was what these feelings were. Grief, hysteria, confusion, Logic supplied, and Izuru felt his hands tremble. He'd known what they were called, but he'd never experienced anything like them before, and it was throwing him off guard. There was too much happening, too many things spinning around, and for once in his life he couldn't begin to make heads or tails of it.

But even while part of his mind was distraught, overwhelmed by emotions and trying to understand what was happening to him, the other part was coolly analyzing the situation, examining Nanami's body with clinical efficiency. As if in a trance, he crouched, ignoring the blood seeping into his pants, and reached for her wrist. He noted her fading pulse, clammy skin, and bluing fingertips. Combined with her earlier pale complexion, dizzy confusion, and of course heavy blood loss, the diagnosis was most likely...

Class 4 hypovolemic shock, caused by massive exsanguination. Patient has lost consciousness and will be dead in minutes without treatment. Necessary steps: establishing airway to breathe. Applying pressure to wounds to stem further blood flow. Replenishing intravascular volume. Administering antibiotics to prevent septic shock and infection.

Patient will be dead in minutes without treatment.
Nanami Chiaki will be dead in minutes without treatment.
Nanami Chiaki will be—

Before he could comprehend why he was doing so, Izuru found himself yanking off his blazer. His eyes ran over Nanami's still form, pinpointing the most serious injuries as his hands tore the material into strips. Three penetrating wounds in her abdominal area, multiple penetrating wounds and cuts on her arms and legs, one penetrating wound in her foot, one laceration on her forehead...

It only took a few seconds to establish a patient airway by rolling her over, lifting her chin and opening her mouth. Then Izuru tore off her jacket, blouse and bra in one clean motion, paying no heed to her bare breasts. Mindlessly, he wrapped the makeshift bandages tightly around her injuries, hands moving at a blur. Only one thought, one he couldn't even understand the reason behind, rang through his mind:

He could not allow her to die.

Hypovolemic shock was reversible, if treated swiftly enough. Contrary to popular belief, one's brain did not shut down immediately upon experiencing traumatic injuries of this manner. There was a small window, the span of minutes, where it sluggishly slowed due to lack of oxygen as blood failed to travel to it. Slowed, but not stopped, and if quick enough medical action was taken, death could be warded off.

Three minutes. He had three minutes to treat her shock before her organs started taking damage. Each minute after that steadily increased the odds of permanent organic or neurological damage; with the amount of blood she'd lost, he suspected she would last no longer than ten minutes before dying. No—he probably had less than three minutes. How much time had he wasted, lost in his confused daze? No more than seconds, he suspected, but every one counted.

Unknown to most, Hope's Peak Academy had an extensive underground complex that ran beneath the entire campus. Izuru had spent most of his existence down here, first by order of the Steering Committee, then by order of Enoshima, to keep himself a secret from the academy. He'd long since memorized the web of tunnels and rooms. The one they were currently in wasn't too far from the rooms he'd been kept in as the Steering Committee tested him—the rooms that had the equipment that just might permit him to save her.