In a quiet forest near a small mountain village stood an old temple that had long been forgotten by most people. The temple was surrounded by tall bamboo trees, their gentle rustling mixing with the songs of birds and the whisper of the wind. Few ever came to visit, except one man — the temple’s caretaker and administrator, Mr. Hideo.
Mr. Hideo was a calm, patient man in his late fifties. He had worked at the temple for many years, maintaining its grounds, sweeping the fallen leaves, and caring for the few sacred statues that still stood. Though the temple was old and nearly abandoned, he loved it deeply. It was his home, his peace, and his life.
One morning, as the golden sun rose behind the mountain, Mr. Hideo heard strange noises coming from the courtyard — soft chattering, little footsteps, and the sound of something knocking over a bucket. He walked out, broom in hand, expecting perhaps a stray cat or bird.
Instead, he found a small monkey sitting beside the well, holding a wooden ladle upside down like a toy. The little creature looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Its fur was golden-brown, and its face had a gentle, almost human expression.
“Well, well,” Mr. Hideo said softly. “And who might you be?”
The monkey tilted its head and squeaked, then climbed up onto the edge of the well, balancing itself gracefully. It wasn’t afraid — if anything, it seemed amused by the human’s presence.
“Ah, so you’re not shy,” Mr. Hideo said, chuckling. “You must be hungry.”
He fetched a small bowl of rice from the kitchen and placed it near the monkey. The little one sniffed it, then began to eat, making funny noises of satisfaction. Mr. Hideo sat nearby, watching quietly. Something about the monkey’s movements seemed… unusual. There was a certain intelligence in its eyes, as if it understood more than a normal animal would.
From that day forward, the monkey started visiting the temple every morning. Mr. Hideo named it Saru, which simply meant “monkey” in his language — a simple name for a creature that seemed to enjoy simple joys. Saru would play with the broom, drink from the well, and sometimes sit quietly near the altar while Mr. Hideo prayed.
As weeks passed, their bond deepened. The administrator began talking to Saru as if it were a person. He told it about his life — how he once had a family who moved to the city, how he chose to stay behind to care for the temple, and how sometimes he felt lonely. Saru would listen intently, its eyes full of emotion, as though it understood every word.
One day, while cleaning the main hall, Mr. Hideo noticed something strange. The small golden statue of the temple’s guardian spirit — a deity that looked half-human, half-animal — seemed to be slightly glowing. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but when he looked closer, he could swear the light was real.
He turned toward Saru, who was sitting by the doorway, watching him quietly. For a brief second, their eyes met, and he felt something — a warmth, a connection deeper than words.
That night, the forest was filled with heavy rain and thunder. Mr. Hideo stayed inside the temple, worried about Saru. He placed an extra bowl of fruit near the altar, hoping his little friend would find shelter.
But when lightning struck nearby, he rushed outside and found Saru standing under the rain, completely drenched but still calm, staring at the sky as if in a trance.
“Saru!” Mr. Hideo shouted, running toward him. “Come inside! You’ll get sick!”
But the monkey didn’t move. Instead, it slowly turned its head toward him — and for the first time, Mr. Hideo saw something glowing faintly in its eyes.
He froze. The light was soft and golden, the same glow he had seen from the statue earlier that day. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The storm around them grew quieter, as if the wind itself was listening.
Then, just as suddenly, the glow faded, and Saru blinked, shaking the rain from its fur. The world returned to normal. Mr. Hideo carried the little monkey inside, wrapped it in a towel, and stayed up all night by the fire, watching it sleep.
From that night on, strange things began to happen at the temple.
The flowers in the garden bloomed brighter than before, even out of season. The air inside the temple became lighter, as if filled with unseen warmth. Visitors who came rarely reported feeling peaceful the moment they stepped in — some even claimed they saw a golden shadow darting between the trees.
And every morning, Saru would sit in front of the altar, hands folded together in a gesture that looked eerily like prayer.
Mr. Hideo couldn’t explain it. He simply accepted it, feeling that the temple was finally alive again.
One evening, an elderly monk from another town came to visit. He looked around the temple quietly, then noticed Saru sitting on the steps, grooming itself. His eyes widened slightly.
“Ah,” the monk murmured. “So the spirit has chosen form.”
Mr. Hideo was confused. “What do you mean, Master?”
The old monk smiled faintly. “Many years ago, this temple was protected by a guardian spirit — a being of nature that watched over both man and beast. When people stopped visiting, the spirit’s presence faded. But sometimes, when kindness and devotion return, the spirit takes form once again… often as an animal.”
He looked at Saru, who was now watching them both. “This monkey, my friend, is not ordinary. You’ve been speaking to a spirit without knowing.”
Mr. Hideo was speechless. He turned to Saru, who simply blinked and tilted its head, as if saying, “Now you know.”
After that day, Mr. Hideo treated Saru with even more reverence. He continued to care for it, but with a quiet awe in his heart. The monkey followed him everywhere — helping him sweep the courtyard, carrying little offerings, even ringing the bell at dusk.
But the true wonder came one spring morning.
The temple was bathed in sunlight, cherry blossoms falling like pink snow. Saru climbed to the highest branch of the sacred tree and began chattering softly. Mr. Hideo watched, smiling. But then, something miraculous happened — a warm light surrounded the monkey, glowing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding.
When the light faded, Saru was no longer there. In its place stood a golden figure — tall, radiant, and gentle, with eyes that shimmered like sunlight on water.
The figure spoke softly, its voice like the wind through leaves. “You cared for me when no one else would. You gave warmth to a forgotten place, and through your kindness, I remembered who I was.”
Mr. Hideo fell to his knees, tears filling his eyes. “You… you were the guardian spirit all along?”
The figure nodded. “Yes. This form was once mine, long ago. But I had lost faith in humanity — until you showed me compassion without expecting anything in return.”
It stepped closer, touching his shoulder. “Now, the temple will never be lonely again. I will protect it once more.”
Then, in a final burst of golden light, the figure disappeared, leaving behind only the faint echo of a monkey’s cheerful laugh.
From that day onward, the temple flourished. The villagers returned, drawn by its beauty and peace. The flowers never wilted, and at night, a soft golden glow could sometimes be seen among the trees — a sign that the spirit was still watching.
As for Mr. Hideo, he continued his daily routine with a smile. Every morning, when he swept the courtyard, he would pause and whisper, “Good morning, Saru.”
And sometimes, if you listened closely, the wind would carry back a playful chattering sound — the laughter of a little monkey who had once been loved enough to become divine. 🐒✨
