🌾 What You See First

There are no walls.

There are no banners.

There are flowers.

Entire fields of flowers where several Mikemon—like cats basking in the sun—are simply… lying around. They don’t stand guard. They don’t train. They don’t obey.

That is their role.

Farther in, the heart of the place beats with a gentle, sweet scent: warm tea, fresh grapes, damp earth.

And there she is.

Bastemon, reclined on her improvised sofa-throne, sunk deep into cushions. One tail hangs down, almost asleep. The other goes tap… tap… tap…, marking a rhythm no one dares to interrupt.