Zzz: Prometheus

Sixth Street was as busy as usual, with Thirens and humans walking around, petting the cute stray cats in the area and visiting the poular stores.

People hustled between shops, laughing, arguing, bargaining. The smell of flowers, grilled meats, noodles, and strong coffee filled the air. Somewhere in the distance, a Bangboo shouted wildly, probably chasing a stray cat.

But louder than all that?

"TABOOOO!! GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE—!!"

A small blur jumped from the second floor onto the street before sprinting up the road. He was followed closely by an equally panicked Bangboo, trying its hardest to keep up. Tata scooped him up before running even faster.

"Man, he's really mad, hehehe!! FUTURE TABO PROBLEM!!" Tata yelled, sprinting and jumping over delivery crates, ducking under hanging laundry, and parkouring up the side of a food stall.

Behind him, Enzo barreled through the crowd, waving his wrench like a madman. "YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE PUNISHMENT!? YOU OWE ME A NEW TV!!"

Tata didn't respond, he was too busy leaping over a parked N.E.P.S car, giggling as the old officer inside lazily waved a hand.

"Sigh, youth these days. The kid's gonna give Enzo some gray hairs soon," the officer muttered, adjusting his cap and going back to sleep.

At this point, nobody even blinked when Tata caused a scene. It had become the norm on Sixth Street. Honestly, it was only when things got too quiet that you needed to start worrying.

Tata did a flip onto a car before climbing up a building. There, he parkoured across the rooftops, finally losing the old man.

Having shaken him off, Tata wiped the imaginary sweat from his brow but frowned, noticing an old lady struggling to carry her groceries up some stairs.

He recognized the old lady immediately.

"Granny Mala?" Tata blinked.

Granny Mala was one of the well-known grandmas of Seventh Street, sharp-tongued, hilarious, and famous for smacking teenagers (and anyone) with her cane if they got too rowdy or annoying.

But today, she wasn't her usual firecracker self. She hunched forward, one hand gripping the railing, the other struggling with two heavy grocery bags.

"Granny!" Tata called out, landing lightly beside her.

Enha-Eh!! [Mrs. Mala, you don't look so good.]

Tupa exclaimed softly, worried.

"Ah, Tata dear and little Tupa…" Mala huffed, smiling tiredly. "Don't mind me, child. I'm just... whew... making my way home. No need to help these old bones."

"Pfft! Don't be silly, Granny." Tata smiled. Without warning, he crouched down and popped her onto his back like she weighed nothing. "Tata's Taxi Service, at your command!"

"Ai-ya! Tata! You rascal!" Mala laughed, lightly tapping his head. "You'll spoil me!"

Tupa, alongside them, grabbed the grocery bags with its tiny arms, wobbling as it carried them.

"Hang on tight!" Tata said brightly, already dashing up the stairs.

They reached the top floor — apartment 70B. Tata knocked at the door with his foot.

A moment later, it swung open to reveal a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with short-cropped hair and a casual gamer hoodie. She blinked in surprise.

"Granny Mala! What kind of trouble are you causing now?" said Lani, owner of the God Finger arcade store on Seventh Street.

"No trouble, no trouble!" Mala chuckled, sliding off Tata's back carefully. "This sweet boy and his Bangboo helped me home."

Lani reached down to give Tupa a playful head pat, earning a happy digital weeeeh!

"Thanks, Tata. Granny's back hasn't been the best recently, and I told her I would go and get the groceries, but she clearly didn't listen to the doctor's advice."

"I'm old, not useless," Granny Mala huffed before entering the apartment to put the groceries away.

Lani shook her head at her granny's stubbornness, pulling a card from her pocket and handing it to him. "Here. Free credits for God Finger next time you swing by the arcade."

"Really?! Awesome!!" Tata grinned. He was low on funds thanks to his pocket money being halved after making Lighter two weeks ago. "Thank you, big sis Lani!"

"You're welcome. Take care of yourself. And stop making your dad yell all the time — I could hear him from my apartment."

"No promises." With a final cheeky grin and wave, Tata turned, grabbed Tupa, sprinted straight to the edge of the building — and jumped.

Seven stories down. The wind rushed past him as he braced for impact. He landed with a light thud, knees bending slightly, then stood up like it was nothing.

"Guess I'll go play some games until the old man cools off," Tata decided, not wanting to deal with that whole mess right now.

People nearby glanced. It's not every day you see a kid jump from a ten-story building unharmed.

Even among Thirens, his strength and agility were something else. Rumors had even floated around Sixth Street that this five-year-old once beat a polar bear Thiren in an arm-wrestling match.

Those who knew him just waved. Tata laughed, waving over his shoulder, heading straight for God Finger arcade.

---

After ten minutes, Enzo gave up, hunched over and panting. "...Future me can handle this..." he grumbled, glaring in the direction Tata had disappeared. "I need a drink..."

---

Meanwhile, Tata and Tupa zipped straight to the arcade.

He spent the next hour grinding tokens, making new high scores on old games, and stuffing his face with cheap candy sticks. Tupa buzzed behind him like a tiny cheer squad, occasionally joining him in co-op games.

But eventually, Tata's sugar high crashed, and the tokens Lani gifted him were all used up.

Tata stretched his arms overhead, a long yawn escaping his mouth. "Man… I'm beat…"

And as his eyes wandered, they landed on the familiar orange and brown storefront of Tin Master Coffee Shop, Coff Cafe.

The place was quiet, only a few customers inside. Tata's nose twitched as the warm smell of coffee drifted out.

"Might as well say hi to Mister T," Tata thought, pushing open the door.

Inside, Tin Master stood behind the counter, wiping a spotless mug. His polished chrome body gleamed under the lights, coffee bean hopper spinning smoothly on top of his head.

Steam lightly hissed from the espresso spout on his face, little puffs slipping out from the vents on his shoulders. But something in the way his head hung, or how his shoulders drooped, felt… off.

"Mister T?" Tata called, stepping closer.

Tin Master's glowing black-and-white face brightened faintly as he looked up. "Ah… Tata. A pleasant surprise, like the first whiff of Arabica at dawn. It's good to see you."

Tata hopped onto a bar stool, kicking his legs. "You okay, Mister T? You seem… kinda down today."

Tin Master paused, setting the mug he'd cleaned for the fifteenth time aside. His fingers drummed softly on the counter.

"Well… truth be told, I've been trying to figure out how to bring more people through these doors. So I came up with something new — tomorrow, we're hosting a book club event here. A chance for locals to share stories they love, drink coffee, and enjoy some fresh pastries. I wanted to make it really special, you know."

"Oh, cool! That sounds fun." Tata thought about bringing the old man. He might even find him a girlfriend if he was lucky.

"It was supposed to be." Tin Master gave a soft sigh, steam softly hissing from his vents. "But the bakery I ordered from? They just canceled on me this morning. No fresh goods and no backups. I called every other place I could think of, but no one can fill that big of an order on such short notice."

"We're expecting eighty, maybe a hundred people, Tata. I wanted to give them something worth remembering, not just a really good cup of coffee."

Tata frowned, thinking. "That's rough… and there's no one around you can order from? What are you planning to do then?"

Tin Master gave a little shrug, shaking his head. "Unfortunate as it may be, I'll probably have to call it off. Shame, really. I was hoping to make this place feel like home for more folks."

"Hey, can I get a drink?" Tata asked casually, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course. One hot chocolate, extra marshmallows, coming right up." Tin Master straightened a bit, his hands moving smoothly as he prepared the drink.

Tata smiled, wrapping his small hands around the cup as Tin Master handed it over.

"…What time's the event tomorrow?" Tata asked between sips.

"Noon sharp," Tin Master answered. "Not that it matters much if I have to cancel."

The two chatted casually as Tin Master continued serving new customers. Finally, after finishing his drink, Tata hopped off the stool, brushing off his shorts. "Thanks, Mister T! You're the best."

"Anytime. Be careful on your way home, alright?" Tin Master lifted a hand in a small wave, watching as the kid and his Bangboo bounced out the door.

Outside, Tata cracked a grin at Tupa. "Alright, let's go. We've got work to do."

---

"YOU WANNA DO WHAT?!" Enzo shouted that evening, arms crossed, scowl deep.

Tata stood in front of him, arms spread wide like Starlight Knight's. "Help Mister T!! We're gonna bake everything he needs!"

Enzo squinted, arms tightening across his chest. "Kid... you've never baked a day in your life."

Tata puffed his cheeks out. "But I watched SO I'VE MANY SHOWS."

Enzo opened his mouth, about to fire back, then paused, deflating a little. He rubbed his temples with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Show me what you got, Jordan Hamray Jr. Show me proof you can do this, and maybe I'll allow it."

Ten minutes later, Enzo stood in the living room, arms limp at his sides, staring at the kitchen.

The kitchen. Packed. To. The. Brim.

Bags of flour, sugar, cream, strawberries, mangoes, chocolate butter, and a mountain of eggs. Measuring cups, mixers, cookie trays, piping bags, even some weird-looking metal molds.

"…Where did all this even come from?" Enzo asked, voice flat.

"I used my secret savings!" Tata beamed, hands on hips, while trying to ignore his shattered heart and broke pockets.

Enzo dragged a hand down his face. "Kid… you don't even know how to cook toast. You've never cooked an egg. The only time you step in this kitchen is to steal my mini Chocoboos from the snack shelf."

"I'll show you, old man!" Tata said, sprinting into the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back holding something behind his back, grin stretching ear to ear.

"Close your eyes!"

"Oh no, no, no—"

"Come on! Trust me!"

Enzo grumbled, closing one eye halfway. "Fine."

Tata shoved a strawberry cream-filled croissant right into Enzo's mouth.

The old man blinked.

And then…

The kitchen faded.

Suddenly, Enzo was standing in a glowing strawberry field, soft petals floating in the breeze.

Beautiful, angelic-like women in flowing robes surrounded him, feeding him strawberries and pastries like he was in a Roman emperor's private garden. Somewhere, gentle harp music played.

"…What… the… hell…" Enzo whispered in his mind, eyes rolling back slightly as flavor fireworks exploded in his mouth.

SNAP.

He was back.

Tata was waving a hand in front of his face. "Old man? You alive?"

Enzo grabbed the kid by the shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. "Do you need any help?"

Tata grinned wide. "Yup."

---

The next few hours were pure chaos.

"Alright, chef, pass me the cream!" Tata ordered, standing on a stool, sleeves rolled up, apron tied tight.

"Yes, chef!" Enzo grunted, handing over the piping bag.

Tupa beeped happily, trying to help — but accidentally knocked over a cup of flour.

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" Tata barked, sandwiching two slices of bread between Tupa's little round sides.

EH-NAAAAA?! [AN IDIOT SANDWICH!]

Enzo burst out laughing at that.

They worked nonstop, rolling dough, whisking creams, carefully measuring everything. Enzo was surprised , Tata knew exactly what he wanted, explaining each step clearly, even scolding Enzo when his icing wasn't smooth enough.

By midnight, Enzo slumped into a chair, yawning. "Alright, alright, I'm tapping out, chef. I've got a shop to open tomorrow."

"Roger that, old man." Tata grinned, giving him a playful salute.

Tupa ran over and helped Enzo carry a tray of finished croissants to the cooling rack, beeping a quiet little goodnight before going to his room to recharge.

And so, the night stretched on. Tata kept working, as he piped, filled, glazed, and packed box after box. His little hands moved fast, while covered in flour and sugar.

By 8 in the morning, the last box was finally sealed shut, tied with a neat ribbon.

Tata collapsed onto the kitchen floor, arms spread wide, Tupa hovering over him worriedly.

"…Hehe, we did it, buddy…" Tata mumbled, half-asleep already. "We're gonna save Mister T's event…"

Outside, the sun rose over Sixth Street.

---

Enzo yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Kid?" he called groggily, stepping over a tipped-over mixing bowl.

Then he stopped.

The kitchen was filled, wall to wall with neatly packed boxes, trays of croissants, danishes, muffins, strawberry tarts, chocolate eclairs, and pastries Enzo couldn't even name.

"…Holy crap."

He blinked and spotted Tata, sprawled flat on the floor, snoring softly, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, apron still tied crookedly around his waist. Tupa hovered nearby, occasionally poking Tata's cheek with a worried expression.

Enzo let out a long breath, smiling despite himself. "Once the kid sets his mind to something, he doesn't stop till it's done…"

He walked over, scooped the sleeping boy into his arms, and carried him to the sofa. After gently setting him down, Enzo grabbed a blanket from the backrest and tucked it over him, brushing a hand through the kid's messy hair.

"Rest up, chef."

---

Later that morning, Enzo pulled up outside Tin Master Coffee, yawning. He stretched, cracking his back, then walked inside, the little bell on the door jingling.

"Morning, Tin Can," Enzo greeted, giving a small wave.

"Good morning, neighbor," Tin Master said, perking up a little behind the counter. "Can I get you your usual espresso?"

"You bet. Oh, and hey—" Enzo leaned on the counter, raising a brow — "you end up canceling that book event you were talking about yesterday?"

Tin Master paused, head tilting. "How did you—" Then it clicked. "Ah… Tata. I forgot I mentioned it to him."

He gave a small shake of his chrome head, vents puffing faintly. "I was just about to cancel last night, but I held off… silly, I know, but I had this tiny hope someone would show up with the order. Of course, no one did."

Enzo let out a long breath of relief, sipping his espresso. "Good. Because otherwise, all the kid's hard work would've been for nothing."

Tin Master's eyes flickered.

"…Actually?"

---

The event was a hit.

The café was packed.

Locals filled the seats, laughing, chattering, coffee mugs in hand as they sampled pastry after pastry. The book club discussion was lively, but honestly, most people were more interested in the food.

"Did you try this strawberry one?"

"Oh my god, I'm getting another."

"Who made these? Are they from some fancy downtown place?"

Even vendors and neighbors had stopped by, drawn in by the smells wafting down the street. Enzo leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, smirking proudly as he bragged to the neighbors.

"Yup. My kid did all that. Stayed up the whole night baking."

Tin Master stood nearby, looking around in awe, his metal hands clasped together. "Truly remarkable… if only I had tear ducts."

---

Near the end of the event, a small figure stumbled through the door, yawning, panda eyes under his lids.

"Morning, Mister T…" Tata mumbled, barely awake, Tupa buzzing along beside him.

"Tata! My dear boy!" Tin Master rushed over, arms outstretched. "I can't thank you enough — this event — it's all thanks to you!"

Tata waved him off sleepily, scratching his head. "Ehh, it's nothing. Just wanted to help…"

---

By the end of the day, every pastry was gone, and every box empty. People were already posting photos on the Inter-Knot, raving about the café's mysterious new treats, promising to come again.

Inside, as Tin Master wiped down the last table and Tata sipped a free hot chocolate, Tin Master turned, lowering himself to Tata's eye level.

"…Tata, I must ask — would you consider becoming this shop's new supplier for baked goods?"

Tata blinked, straw still in his mouth. "…Huh?"

-----

A.N

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