I'm hung up on the Tyki is a clone theory and really wanted to point out that Pasta figured something that took us 100 years out in like 5. So cloning isn't off that list. And I wanted a fatherly Pasta and write something about Tyki's birthday.

Allen rocked the frightened child in his arms, humming melodies of songs he couldn't recall the lyrics to, trying to calm the boy.

Wet hands were clinging to his shirt and bloodshot blue eyes were wide open, staring into nothingness.

Allen had failed, and thus was the result.

The child in his arms had a weak body and was sick on top of it, never mind entirely helpless and not what Allen had wanted to deal with.

"Let's get you out of here," Allen said and began to lift the boy out of the container completely, green water dripping of naked limbs.

But the boy didn't react, the only indication that he was aware of his surroundings at all, came in form of the grip on Allen's shirt tightening.

Allen carried the boy out of his laboratory and up the steps into the living area of the house. He walked past the kitchen, bathroom and the living room to climb up another staircase leading to the two bedrooms of the house.

First he opened the door to his own room, but seeing how much dust lingered in the corners, Allen turned around and opened the door to the bedroom he was actually using. Not much had changed in the past years, besides the fact that most clothes now lying here on the ground were Allen's. None of them would fit the boy though, Allen would have to buy new clothes or change his own to the boy's size. For now though Allen just picked up one of his shirts and dressed the boy in it. For him the shirt was more like a dress, reaching even over knees still, even though Allen himself and therefore his clothes weren't big. His creation was definitely underweight and too small for the age he was supposed to be.

He'd have to get the boy something to eat, Allen thought as he examined the ribcage feeling every bone beneath his fingertips. The boy needed the nutrients. Ah, perhaps he should test first if the boy could eat at all. He wasn't entirely conscious yet and behaved more or less like a doll for now. Like this it was likely the boy wouldn't be able to eat himself. Allen could only hope he'd wake from the stasis soon, it would make everything easier, never mind that Allen couldn't wait to meet the personality hidden within this boy.

When he was done with the physical examination, Allen sat the boy down beside him and put his arm around him. The boy's head rested on Allen's chest, letting him hear the man's heartbeat. For now the boy was like a newborn, and babies liked this kind of thing didn't they?

"What a pretty soul you have," Allen mused and raked his long fingers through the boy's dark hair. "So bright and strong. I want to see who you'll become."

But the boy kept staring, focused on nothing and everything at the same time.

"I suppose you have earned yourself your own name then since you can't be Nea," Allen continued.

And he definitely couldn't be Nea, or even become Nea. There was a familiar darkness resting within him, but it wasn't the one of the first Apostle. And trying to force another Noah onto the little boy in his arms would only be cruel and pointless torture.

"How about Tyki?" At this the boy finally snapped out of his behavior and looked Allen directly into the eyes, clarity slowly crawling into them.

"It would suit you and fit very well with the new last name I had to pick out for myself."

Allen nodded, content with himself, then smiled at the little boy.

"Welcome to the world, Tyki Mikk."

Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think!