Your ability, Little Echo, let you revert to your childhood self—not just in size, but in voice, energy, and charm. It was perfect for slipping through tight security, gathering intel, or gaining sympathy from unsuspecting targets. But there was a catch: the transformation was tied to your heart rate. If it spiked too high from stress or adrenaline, the ability would lock—leaving you stuck until you calmed down completely.

Which brought you here.

Kunikida stood beside you on the park bench, arms crossed, notebook forgotten in his pocket. You were still in child form, his coat draped over your tiny shoulders like a blanket as you sat on the bench, legs swinging, breathing slowly under his watchful eye as you tried to calm your pulse.

“You should’ve waited for backup,” he muttered, voice edged with frustration but softened by concern. “Dashing through a burning hallway isn’t protocol.”