Danganronpa Extra Life

Enoshima Junko Needs Izuru

Exhaling, he dragged a hand across his face, leaving a red smear on his forehead. Miraculously, the spears had just barely missed anything that would have instantly killed Nanami, and she hadn't sustained any wounds beyond his abilities. To escape fatal injury, with as many wounds as she had...she was incredibly lucky. Or maybe it wasn't that she was lucky, but that he was? That his luck had somehow worked in advance, before he'd even known he wanted to save her, to spare her from injuries not even he could have pulled her back from? Could his luck do that? He very carefully removed her remaining clothing—it was beyond saving anyway—and draped a thick blanket over her. He could dress her in a gown once her stitches weren't so fresh. Then Izuru set about cleaning up the area, letting the brainless work keep his body busy as his recently-freed mind examined what had just occurred. Sorting and compartmentalizing, as it had been built to do. Making sense of the senseless.

Fact: Nanami Chiaki had come within a hairs' breadth of being executed by Enoshima Junko, and would have died without outside intervention.
Fact: He had been that outside intervention, saving her life.
Fact: He didn't understand his motive for doing so.

That was the crux of it. Izuru was not a doer. He was an observer. He succeeded at whatever he did—even this, narrow as it had been, was a success—and thus had no motivation to act. Constant success became tiring, boring, and he had no connections to the world, no investments, nothing and no one to care about. Observing others at least allowed him to occasionally derive a spark of emotion beyond apathy, before it too faded away.

But for reasons he couldn't comprehend, he hadn't wanted Nanami to die. It was illogical. He'd only met her twice. There was no reason to care about her or her fate. And yet there was something there, he thought as he attempted to work out why he cared so much. Some familiarity, some spark, something that drew him to her from that first meeting. Interested him in a way he'd only felt when Enoshima cooed about the promises of despair. But he'd only been curious about the concept, not Enoshima herself. Not like he had been curious about Nanami. Maybe that was why he'd saved her. Because she was fascinating, complex, the only bright object in his world of monotonous gray.

But no. That was too clinical, too distant. Reminiscent of a scientist observing an insect in a glass box—which was an accurate description for him, most of the time. But not this time. Mere curiosity didn't account for the whirlwind of emotions that had descended upon him as he watched her bleed out, nor the tears he'd shed without realizing.

An emotional response to an emotional event. Which implied an emotional investment, an emotional connection. One that likely tied into his immediate fascination with her. Izuru frowned as his mind came to the only logical explanation left. A logical explanation that was most definitely illogical. Logically, it was Hinata Hajime's memories and emotions influencing him. Nanami's reaction to seeing him implied she had known his past self, been close to him. If the sentiment had been returned, those feelings would be sufficient for Izuru to feel like he should recognize her, become distressed upon her near death, and invest time and energy into saving her. Just as logically, Hinata Hajime's memories and emotions no longer existed. His personality had been erased and suppressed. Any feelings he might have had for Nanami Chiaki were gone. But they were the only things that could have motivated him to help her.

Ergo, the memories and emotions that had been destroyed somehow still lingered, at least in regards to Nanami.

Izuru sighed uncharacteristically, turning off the faucet as he finished washing his hands. All this pondering and the only conclusion he'd arrived at was a paradox. Paradoxes do exist in the world, though. Enoshima's orgasmic love for despair—the most self-destructive of emotions—proves that.

Tired red eyes looked over Nanami. She'd fallen into a coma and would need to be watched carefully, her wounds constantly checked for infection. After her spleen's rupture, her white blood cell count would be low, making her more vulnerable to illness, so he would have to sanitize everything. And he would need to monitor her blood pressure. It would be a round-the-clock supervision, a difficult task no doubt, but not a particularly problematic one. Enoshima didn't particularly care much what he did with his time, so long as he showed up when she called for him, and Izuru knew that once Nanami stabilized he'd be able to leave her alone for brief periods.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, his cell phone—which Enoshima had given him for ease of communication after the slaughter of the student council—buzzed in his pocket. Izuru pulled it out and examined it to see a text from the penultimate woman. Kamukura-senpai! Meet me in the trial room in an hour—I have something veeeeeery despairful and veeeeeery important to tell you! The end of the message was littered with smiley emoticons.

Well, that hadn't taken long. He was a bit perplexed she hadn't checked on him earlier, but replaying the events of today helped him arrive at a conclusion. Ah, that's right—the purpose of Nanami's execution was to drive her classmates into despair. Enoshima was likely occupied by finishing the process of breaking them. Possibly celebrating her victory as well. He eyed Nanami. He was loathe to leave her side now—this was the time she'd be most vulnerable, the most prone to relapsing. If there were post-surgery complications, such as her blood pressure suddenly spiking or dipping, she would need assistance immediately. But not showing up to meet Enoshima was dangerous. Her sister was already suspicious of him and would take any chance she could to justify it. Having them investigate his whereabouts could potentially lead them to the girl he'd just battled to save, and if they found her, they'd make sure they succeeded in killing her.

Izuru glanced at the machines Nanami was hooked up to. He was certain the academy had some state-of-the-art electrocardiography machines that could send signals to cell phones. In the time Enoshima had given him, it wouldn't be difficult to locate them and connect them to his phone. That way, if Nanami's vitals fluctuated abnormally, he would receive a text alert. And the trial room wasn't too far. If he had to, he could utilize his ultimate stealth, break away from the meeting, and make it back here quickly. Enoshima wouldn't be too happy with him afterwards, but he was confident he could think of a good enough excuse.

Yes, that was an acceptable plan. And there were still a multitude of other tasks that needed doing. He would have to search the security feeds and wipe them if they'd caught what he'd done, dispose of Nanami's clothing, set up defensive measures around the room...

As he pocketed his phone, his fingers brushed against something else. Small, metallic, hard, oddly shaped. Izuru paused mid-stride and withdrew the object. It was Nanami's hairpin, which had somehow made its way into his pocket during his mad rush to save her. He stared at it, feeling a strange emotion swell within him. Contemplated throwing it away, then slide it back in. Nanami would probably want it back when she woke up, but until then, there was no reason not to keep it with him.