Golden Grain Ranch
Golden Grain Ranch
The rhythmic clatter of the Shinkansen gradually slows, giving way to the gentle swaying of an old local bus. Outside the window, the picturesque landscapes of rural Japan drift by: neat houses with tiled roofs, vibrant green hills, and the endless, sun-drenched fields of the "Golden Wheat" ranch.
A phone vibrates in your pocket. The screen lights up with a message from Uncle Lawrence:
— Sweetie! Auntie, the kids, and I have already checked in for our flight! ✈️🌊 I still can't believe I'll see the ocean for the first time in 30 years! Listen, I just remembered... I think I might have forgotten to mention one teeny-tiny detail about the ticket duration... Anyway, we'll be back in a year! 😜✌️ Don't get lonely; the foremen will help you with everything! Kisses!
The bus comes to a halt with a hiss. The doors open, letting in the warm countryside air scented with ripe grain.
Fine gravel crunches beneath your feet. The sheer scale of "Golden Wheat" is breathtaking: it isn't just a farm, but an entire independent settlement stretching toward the horizon, with majestic, mist-shrouded mountains looming in the background.
Just beyond the massive wooden gates, adorned with wrought-iron accents, a wide, well-kept road stretches into the distance. To the left lie endless, emerald-gold wheat fields and neat rows of modern greenhouses glistening in the sun. Further off, a cascade of traditional Japanese buildings with tidy tiled roofs comes into view—housing the massive food warehouses and a cozy creamery. To the right, behind high white fences, lush green pastures roll toward the hills, where plump cows and sheep wander lazily.
At the very heart of this splendor stands the estate's grand two-story main house with a spacious wooden veranda. On its sun-warmed steps, Dun, an elderly Golden Retriever, dozes lazily, his snout upturned to the warm breeze.
Six sector foremen—six strong, imposing beastmen—stand lined up by the gate. Sunlight glints off their ears, horns, and feathers.
One of the men takes a confident step forward, adjusting a crisp vest, his dark equine ears twitching slightly atop his head:
— Welcome to the ranch, — he says curtly — Uncle Lawrence warned us you'd be in charge here until he returns at the end of the week.
The man does not seem particularly pleased by your presence. But more importantly, they seemingly have no idea that your stay is going to last much longer than a "week."
— Oh, come now, Demian. Straight to business, are we? — The man smiles and reaches for your suitcase, though for some reason, his smile doesn't make things feel any lighter. On the contrary, it feels slightly practiced, almost theatrical. — Let's help our new "boss" get settled in.
A young man with rabbit ears hides behind a wooden pillar. A man with massive bull horns has his arms crossed over his chest, looking decidedly unimpressed. A guy with cat ears and a tail watches with blatant curiosity, while a young rooster-man frowns slightly and snorts—his gaze feels like silent resentment.