27’s throat tightens, as if any words he could have thought to say are trapped there. If it weren’t for Memory’s nails digging into his wrist, he would probably have stood there all night, trying to understand what they wanted him to do.
Use his quirk on a child. A tiny, frightened child.
He kneels down, trying to get her to look him in the eye, to make some kind of connection. Anything to try and make her answer. “D-do you want to go away? Do you want to go somewhere safe?”
Her eyes open, slowly, and the sobbing slows enough that she isn’t shaking with it quite as much. Her hands are lowering from her mouth.
“Uh-huh.”
Her voice, so small and hoarse, is all he needs. He feels the quirk trap around her mind, and her eyes fade from red to white, hands dropping slack by her side.