Once upon a time, the Digital World was in grave danger. Evil spread across the land, corrupting some and crushing others. A chosen few heroes stood up to turn it back, confronting loss, betrayal, and power beyond their comprehension; the odds were slim, and victory would come at a heavy price.
This is not that story.
This story starts in Primary Village, on a bright, sunny Hatching Day. The eggs are starting to move. Who will we meet today?
One egg has been wobbling pretty violently. Its inhabitant wants out.
Eventually, the little blob thinks to put his wings on opposite sides of the egg and stretch and push, and with that the egg splits in half. "Putti!" he exclaims, shaking traces of fluid off his golden wings.
The world is big and pretty. He knew this already, somehow - but it's different seeing it. He marvels for a moment. It's almost as pretty as he knows he is.
Speaking of himself, he's going to do his best to devour his eggshell. This feels Correct. It split into two equal pieces, each of which is far too big to fit into his mouth, but that is a challenge, and Puttimon will not back down from a challenge. He stretches his mouth open wide and fits it around the slightly smaller piece, then with a crunch, he crunches it.
Cronch!
The pieces of shell fracture in his mouth, sweet and salty like peanut brittle.
Puttimon likes it! He chomps his way through the rest of the shell.
He looks up. The sky is full of delicious-looking fluffy white things. He leaps into the air and flaps his tiny wings furiously, but he can only get a few body-lengths into the air before falling back to the ground. That's annoying! In his rage and fury, he munches on some grass.
The delicious-looking fluffy things are unfazed, but the grass yields readily to his bite. It's crisp and leafy, with the perhaps surprising flavor of a breeze lifting his feathers.
That is surprising! But it’s also very welcome. Maybe this will help him get to the fluffy things? Only one way to find out: keep eating grass.
Grass! Munch munch. It's not much variety, but it's a nice flavor.
(Meanwhile, other eggs are hatching too.)
!!
He hadn't considered that those other eggs might contain potential friends. A clear oversight. He considers which is more important, reaching the sky or befriending as many other creatures as he possibly can.
He swallows his current mouthful of grass and hop-flutters over to the nearest potential friend and bumps into them gently. "Putti!" he chirps.
"Tsubu," it replies, rolling in a small circle. It hop-bumps him back, perhaps a little more forcefully.
Puttimon considers this action. He wants to do something back, but any further escalation of hop-bumping might be perceived as unwarranted aggression, and failure to match Tsubumon's energy would be disappointing. (He doesn't think this in so many words. It's more like "he bump me!!! bump back? hmm. hmmmmmmm. no.") What to do, what to do?
After some thought, he stretches out a wing and gently pats Tsubumon. Pat pat.
This elicits a low "buu...". And a little bouncing-in-place.
Ooh, bouncing! Good plan. Puttimon bounces high and flutters his wings to get even higher.
If bouncing is sure to result in victory then you must bounce! Someone said that, surely. Regardless Tsubumon bounces as high as it can, with great enthusiasm if perhaps less height than Puttimon. ...Speaking of which, it feels like maybe his flutters are getting him more height than last time.
(A few other 'mon are stopping to watch the bouncing.)
Puttimon trills with joy at his increased hopping ability! Then he decides to see if eating even more grass will result in even higher hops.
It certainly results in eating more grass! And if he keeps trading off the eating and hopping, then before too long he'll be able to keep himself in the air on his own flutterpower.
(Tsubumon isn't seeing the same kind of results, though. After a bit he'll hop off to do something else.)
Aw, but he was gonna... whatever, not important, he can fly again. He takes a few more fortifying bites of grass and hops into the air and starts fluttering his wings as hard as he possibly can. He will rise! He will ascend! He will eat the fluffy things in the sky!
Flutterflutterflutter he's going he's rising he's doing it... nope. He falls the half-dozen body lengths back to the ground.
Squish.
He growls as ferociously as he can, which given his limited size amounts to more of an adorable squeak. He thinks about eating some more grass, but he’s bored of grass. He will instead... hop up and down in frustration. That sounds productive.
Once he’s done with this important task, he shakes himself vigorously and looks around to see if there’s anything interesting happening. Since he can’t do the best thing.
Two blobs are circling each other, occasionally making a lunge but never getting off a clean hit?
Another blob is hopping up at some fruit hanging from a trellis vine, but never quite reaching it?
One 'mon is zig-zag-zipping around the field, occasionally bumping into eggs?
...oh! That second blob has Puttimon's problem! But while Puttimon can't solve his own problem, he's got enough hops to solve this version.
Puttimon hops up and flutters up to the fruits and attempts to bite through the vine. This fails, because he doesn't have teeth and his bite strength is not great. After some deliberation, he closes his mouth around the vine and slides down it sideways, detaching the fruits as he goes. They shower onto the ground, as does Puttimon.
"Putti!" he says modestly.
The little guy nods an appreciative "bota!" and sets to eating the fallen fruit, half a sphere at a time.
Puttimon will try one too. It’s only fair he get to taste the fruits of his labor!
The fruit crushes easily, bursting with tangy juice and pulp. His surface also feels tougher, more like a hide or a carapace, but the feeling passes quickly.
It’s good that the feeling passed quickly. Puttimon doesn’t want to be less soft! Being soft is great! This is clearly not a fruit for him. It’s nice that Botamon likes it, though.
He pats Botamon and hops off in search of friendlier fruits.
These little red fruits are growing right at ground level.
Or this tree has some bright clusters of fruit, if he'd rather look higher.
Oh no choices. He’ll... try the groundfruits first, because if he wants the treefruits he’s in a better position to get them later than the other blobs, who he’s noticed mostly don’t have wings.
He heads over to the groundfruits. Nom!
Nom. This fruit is tender and juicy and layered with a warm assurance that things are going to turn out just fine.
Ooh. That’s a nice flavor.
He wonders if the leaves taste as nice. Nom?
The first leaf he tries tastes green and a little bitter-sweet. The flavor reminds him of soaring gently through cool puffy things (clouds!), watching the setting sun paint the world, in every warm color from purple to gold. The sky, the ground, the clouds - even his own arms and wings and legs bathed in autumn hues.
...Puttimon didn't think he'd done that yet! He doesn't even have most of the appendages that were bathed in autumn hues, and his wings don't look like the wings in that memory did! (They were pretty, though.) The memory fits, though - it makes sense to him in that way that memories do, and it nestles into his brain where memories go.
It's nice. He munches on some more leaves.
The next leaf tastes similar, but instead of flying, this one reminds him of a conversation. Chatting with a woman somewhat taller than him, feeling more relaxed and comfortable than he'd felt in ages. She's wise and kind and radiant in that smile, and she pays him more attention than anyone ever has, because she sees something special in him. With her, he's finally safe.
The third leaf is a little greener, calling to mind the feeling of the air scattered by his madly fluttering wings, his body tight with exertion as he finally holds his body aloft, his practice and effort giving him the strength to support himself and reach for his goal. He may not have the clouds yet, but he can still fly, and nobody can take that from him. Victory is only a matter of time.
The fourth leaf he bites into takes him to the moment of finally capturing the winged warrior who had stood in his way so many times. Holding her aloft in his blackened left claw. Punching his pristine right hand through her chest; pulling it out, bloody, gripping her shining golden Digi-Core. Crunching it in his mouth. Feeling her otherwise-immortal soul dissolve, her power now his forever.
Pleasant pleasant aaaaaah!
"Putti!" Puttimon squeaks, hopping away from the plant in a panic. That was not a nice memory! He doesn't like that memory at all! He tries to stop thinking about it, but it turns out that when you only have about a dozen memories, trying not to think about one of them is not very easy.
After a few seconds of panicked hopping in circles and some tears falling from his eyes, he remembers the berries that made him feel like everything was going to be okay. He hops back to the plant and, being exquisitely careful not to get any leaves in his mouth, he noms a couple of berries.
Everything will be sweet and red and juicy and okay. The past is in the past. There won't be any danger here, and he won't have to leave.
...Puttimon is going to cry some more now, because he misses someone he barely remembers who told him things like that before. Before what? He still doesn't understand. He just knows that she was there, and she isn't anymore; he has one memory of her, from this dumb trauma plant, and that's all he has.
It turns out that crying while eating strawberries with your face is a good way to end up covered in sticky red juice and tears. This is far from ideal.
A red-and-blue creature several times his size pads up near him, keeping itself low and visible.
Puttimon looks up. "Putti," he says, sniffling.
"Hey there, little sundrop," he says, quietly. "Memory troubles?"
(Getting comfortable he stretches his right foreleg out and a bit forward. It's not exactly an invitation, but a hug-inclined blob could certainly bounce in there.)
Puttimon nods, then hops into close quarters. He would like as many hugs as possible.
Hug a snug bug. Elecmon gives him a squeeze and a few pats.
After a minute or two, he adds, "Know what always takes my mind off the past? Going for a run. Can't panic when you're focused on your body."
Hmm. Hmmm. “...Putti,” Puttimon says, and theatrically tries to wipe the juice from his face with one wing. Being sticky is more uncomfortable than being sad, at the moment.
Hmm. Hmm...
Yeet!
Puttimon is now flying through the air, a pond coming into view ahead of him.
Sploosh!
Puttimon giggles uproariously. The red creature is a Good Big Friend. He washes his face clean, then hops onto the shore and wiggles himself dry. He still feels a little bit pensive, but he's not really sad anymore, which is a win. He's gonna be staying away from the strawberry plant for a while, though. Instead he heads over to the fruits that hang in clusters, flutters into the air, and bites into one cautiously. Hopefully this will not turn out to be another trauma plant?
The fruit is very juicy: sweet and slightly tart and tingly like sunlight all across his surface, feeling warm and radiant.
A good and non-traumatic fruit! Puttimon eats the rest of the fruit he nibbled, swallowing the pebble-like core of it along with the sweet flesh. Then he noms several more clusters, hungry after all that crying and swimming.
This calming activity may give him some time to think, and notice that he knows some things about himself that he might not remember learning as such:
Nickname: Form: Puttimon Field: Virus Busters Attribute: none
Data: GB kind (form) [tags] 5 Righteous Soul (Puttimon) [VB] 1 Spit Bubbles (Puttimon) [NSp] [Technique] 2 Angel Dust (Puttimon) [VB] [Technique] 2 Flutter Wing [WG] 3 Avian Body (Poromon) [WG] 1 /3 Nimble Wing (Poromon) [WG] 3 unknown data Total weight: 17 GB
Bonds: Tsubumon ☆ Elecmon ☆ Botamon ○
...what the heck?
Puttimon beholds his data. Okay, having a Righteous Soul sounds pretty nice. Spit Bubbles and Angel Dust sound... interesting? And hey, he's got Bonds! He remembers hanging out with those 'mon. Maybe he should... bring them... fruit?
He plucks several of the non-traumatic fruit, holding their stems in his mouth, and goes looking for friends.
Botamon is with a group of other blobs, wordlessly singing a tune together.
Tsubumon is jumping up at some low-hanging tree branches. It can occasionally bounce off a fruit, but it's not knocking anything loose or getting a grip.
...hmmm. Botamon's thing seems fun but Tsubumon needs help, which is important. Puttimon hops over to Tsubumon's tree, drops off his clusters of the sunlight-y fruit, and flutters up to try to bite off a newfruit.
A first attempt at biting just sets the branch it's on to swaying.
Hmmmmmm.
Puttimon might not be the best suited to this job, honestly, but he's not going to let that stop him. Next attempt: the same thing he did with the grapes, where he bites onto the branch and tries to pull it off with his body weight.
This branch seems to support him well enough.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. He will - he will -
He will try to fly and pull it off. Flapflapflap.
Flying upwards just un-bends the branch a little, as he takes some of the weight of the fruit.
He lets go of the fruit and-
Hey. He's got a thing on his head. What if... he gets under the fruit... and flies upward and he stabs it.
Well, that puts a little crack in it?
Again!
A chunk breaks loose and falls to the ground. It's full of... smaller fruit?
VICTORY!
Puttimon does a little wingy dance in the air. He leaves the chunk that fell for Tsubumon and goes to investigate the rest of the fruit. Is it also filled with smaller fruit? More importantly, can he nom it?
It is, it is also filled with smaller fruit!
It may not be immediately obvious how to nom it, though. Bite at the edge? Stick his face up into the hole he's made?
The latter. He can wash his face again afterwards.
Well, the fruit orb still bobs away from him, but between his wing dexterity and his determined biting he can tear a few seeds loose.
When popped each turns out to contain a little seed, surrounded by juice that's tart and rich and deep crimson. He can almost feel his friends(?) flying close beside him, united with him in a shared purpose.
He doesn't know if he has plural friends with a shared purpose. Besides, his purpose at the moment is mostly to eat new and interesting fruit. But the concept is pretty nice!
Speaking of friends, he goes to check on Tsubumon. Is he enjoying the friendfruit and/or the sunfruits?
Tsubumon has indeed found the dropped chunk of friendfruit! He's happily chewing his way through the juicy inner seeds.
He looks up to nod his thanks to Puttimon. ("Tsubu!")
"Putti!"
Puttimon pats him on the head with his wing and knocks down another couple of friendfruit, now that he knows his horn can do it. Then he considers his relationship to Tsubumon.
He likes Tsubumon; they have hopped together, and Tsubumon likes pats, and Puttimon enjoys patting Tsubumon. But something is missing. He thinks it might be connected to the thing Elecmon had that Tsubumon and Puttimon didn't have. Not the thing where he’s big - besides being big, he did a thing. It had information density.
He must have eaten some kind of surpassingly excellent fruit. That is the only explanation Puttimon can think of. So he goes off to interrogate Elecmon to the best of his ability.
Not over here at the song circle.
Not back at the trauma plant.
Here he is, interacting with a couple of other little blobs.
"Putti," Puttimon says in greeting.
"Oh hey there, pop-fly! How's it going? We were just having a little chat here about personal space."
The goopy one of the two blobs burble-pouts.
Well, you see, "Putti."
He waves his wings in frustration. "Putti... putti. Putti."
"So something not too urgent, but very important. Not somewhere you can show me. You need help... finding something?"
...hmm.
He turns to an imaginary friend. “Putti,” he says. Then he hops to face his previous position. “Putti?” he responds. He hops back. “Putti!”
"You talked to someone," he guesses, "or you want help talking to someone, or - you want to talk, with words?"
He hops, three times.
("Communication! Just like we were saying.")
(The lop-eared 'mon whines.)
Turning back to Puttimon, he replies, "Speech is a pretty big technique to fit into a little body. If it's not working for you, you could try eating and training and growing into a bigger form? Talking should be a lot easier once you have more data to use."
So it is part of being big. "Putti," he swears.
Well, nothing for it but to eat more fruits. He hops against Elecmon and nuzzles him, partly in thanks and partly because he looks big and soft.
Elecmon is very soft, apart from his tail!
"Hmmm. How are you with those wings of yours, so far?"
In answer, he flutters up to sit on Elecmon's head.
"Impressive! Then you can probably land yourself, so...
"Would you like a launch to anywhere?"
Hmmmmmm.
He hops off Elecmon's head and nods his appendage up and down.
Then he'll have to figure out where to go!
If he's looking for new fruits, some of these might catch his eye:
These ones look clustery like the ones on the trellis, but they're pink and up in a very leafy tree.
These ones are closer to the ground, and seem to come in several different colors all mixed up together.
These ones are a whole new shape he hasn't tried. A reptilian 'mon is chomping away at one.
Ooh. Many colors might be even better than one color. He gestures in that direction.
Then up, up and away!
Up here there's a pretty good view of the whole garden!
There's the singing circle, there's the tree where he left Tsubumon (now with a few other 'mon gathering), there's the pond, and the trauma plant (inexplicably mobbed).
Little 'mon are clumping up at all different places of interest, food and games and what look like a couple little fights. A few even seem to have grown into bigger forms, though none as big as Elecmon.
Ahead, the fruit patch approaches.
Puttimon looks at the fights with a combination of fascination and dismay. On the one hand: oh no, potential friends are being unfriendly to one another! On the other hand: that looks fun.
But fruit is fun too. He starts flapping his wings to brake as he approaches, observing the plant to be somewhat pointy.
Then he can come to a deft landing just before the thicket.
The plant does look pointy. The leaves have little bristles underneath, and past the leaves and berries he can see thorny stalks crossing this way and that.
What he's really here for, though, is the berries. Each berry is a little cluster, maybe like a tiny friend fruit would look if you peeled the shell off. They hang in groupings like a spread-out version of the vine fruit.
Lots are a bright pink-red; others are smaller and pink-white. Some are a dusty dull black, and some a deep lustrous black. A few are red-purple or green-white.
A few berry groups are close to the ground, but most of them are higher, following the leaves in their arc up and then back over the top of the thicket.
This presents no problem at all to a high-flying blob like Puttimon!
He decides to nom a couple of berries of each color, unless the first couple turn out to be really bad.
Wings are handy!
Red berry: firm, very sour, somewhat bitter, an earthy smell of tunnels.
Shiny black berry: sweet and bitter and sour; a tactile feeling of familiar people gently bumping his sides in passing.
Green-white berry: pulls a little of its stem off with it; bitter and crunchy.
...not Puttimon’s favorite berries. The second one's implications are okay, but bitter is a new flavor, and not one he likes. He shakes himself vigorously and goes to investigate the nearest fight.
That would be this other pair of blue and orange 'mon. (Or maybe the same two again? They're bigger and they don't look quite the same as they did.)
The orange one slithers around to bite at the blue one's little tail. The blue one rolls to avoid it.
Hmm.
Puttimon is going to flutter above them and shower Angel Dust on the both of them. (He remembers, briefly, a different place - little scuffles between puttis, Angel Dust flying everywhere. It doesn't hurt. It feels nice, actually; cozy, and drowsy, and like nothing else really matters except getting some sleep. It only lasts for a little while - long enough to run, or long enough to cool down a bit.)