In the bustling forest where sunlight filtered through layered canopies and the air was alive with distant chirps and rustling leaves, a peculiar situation had begun to unfold among the monkey troop. It all started the day a new monkey arrived—a monkey the others quickly nicknamed Bread Monkey because of his unusual habit of hoarding bread scraps he scavenged from the nearby village. Whether it was stale pieces from a market stall or soft buns tossed out by kind villagers, Bread Monkey carried them everywhere—wedged under his arm, stuffed into cheek pockets, even tied in little leaf bundles around his waist.
But while many of the monkeys found this quirk entertaining, one monkey did not.
That monkey was Miko, the mysophobic monkey—a creature obsessed with cleanliness, order, and everything free from dirt, crumbs, or any sign of contamination. Miko was the type of monkey who wiped down branches before sitting on them, avoided muddy puddles like they were poison, and spent half his day grooming himself with such intensity that even the elders whispered he sparkled in the sun.
When the troop first welcomed Bread Monkey, most of them didn’t think much of it. New strangers came and went. Outsiders often stayed for a few days before moving on. But this time, something was different: the troop leaders announced a follow-up—a routine integration visit conducted by two older monkeys to check how well the newcomer was fitting in.
Everyone expected the follow-up to go smoothly.
Everyone except Miko.
From the moment Bread Monkey stepped into their forest carrying his crumb-covered treasures, Miko’s eye twitched with distress.
He hated crumbs.
He hated food stuck on fur.
He hated the way Bread Monkey sat on clean rocks and left behind sticky patches of old bread.
By the time the follow-up day arrived, Miko’s dislike had grown into a fierce storm of irritation.
The Day of the Follow-Up
Early in the morning, the sun barely rising, two elder monkeys—Graytail and Nara—arrived to observe Bread Monkey and the troop. They sat proudly on a thick branch overlooking the clearing, taking notes in the way only wise monkeys could: with deep nods and thoughtful grunts.
Bread Monkey, meanwhile, was happily munching on a half-eaten roll he’d saved from yesterday. Crumbs flew everywhere—onto the ground, onto his fur, onto a nearby leaf, and worst of all—toward Miko, who sat stiffly two branches away.
Miko’s eye twitched again.
The troop gathered enthusiastically around Bread Monkey, curious to see if he would behave differently under official observation. But he was exactly the same—carefree, cheerful, and completely oblivious to the chaos he left behind.
At one point, Bread Monkey decided to share.
“Anyone want a bite?” he chirped, holding up a piece of bread so stale it could have doubled as a stone.
Several monkeys declined politely. A few took tiny nibbles. One accidentally dropped his piece into the dirt and laughed it off.
But Miko?
He recoiled, fur bristling so dramatically that even the elders stared.
“No,” Miko hissed, his voice tight. “Please keep that… that thing away from me.”
Bread Monkey blinked innocently. “It’s just bread.”
“It is filthy,” Miko declared, taking three steps back and brushing imaginary crumbs off his chest. “Crumbs and dirt and bacteria everywhere! I can practically feel the mold spores!” He shuddered.
Bread Monkey scratched his head, confused. “But food is food. And bread is delicious!”
“Not when it’s from the ground,” Miko retorted, lifting his nose. “Not when you’ve stuffed it in leaves for days. Not when—”
A small crumb drifted through the air.
Landed on Miko’s arm.
Silence.
Then—
“AAAAHHHH!”
Miko flailed, whipping his arm around in a frenzy, desperately trying to rid himself of the tiny offender. He rolled on the branch. He shook his entire body. He even attempted a backflip, landing in a heap of indignation.
Bread Monkey shrank back, eyes wide. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
But Miko was already storming off, muttering about contamination and emergency grooming procedures.
The Elders Step In
Graytail, one of the elders, cleared his throat.
“Well,” he grumbled, “that went… interestingly.”
Nara frowned. “We must consider whether Bread Monkey’s habits disrupt the troop harmony.”
Bread Monkey’s ears drooped. For the first time, he seemed to realize his bread obsession wasn’t universally adored. He glanced toward the direction Miko had run, guilt tugging at his furry heart.
“I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable,” he whispered. “I just… I just like bread. It reminds me of where I came from.”
Graytail nodded. “We understand, little one. But living in a troop means finding balance.”
Meanwhile, several young monkeys were snickering behind nearby leaves, retelling Miko’s dramatic meltdown with exaggerated gestures.
Miko’s Return
After twenty minutes of frantic grooming, dusting, and leaf-scrubbing, Miko returned, looking spotless—and still deeply annoyed.
“Are we done with the follow-up?” he demanded.
“No,” Nara replied calmly. “You must be part of this discussion as well.”
Miko stiffened as everyone turned to look at him.
Bread Monkey shuffled forward. “Miko… I’m sorry. I didn’t know it bothered you that much.”
Miko crossed his arms. “You never think, do you? You leave crumbs everywhere. You sit on clean branches with food stuck to your fur. You sneeze crumbs! Who sneezes crumbs?!”
Bread Monkey’s cheeks darkened. “It’s not my fault bread is crumbly.”
“That is literally the definition of bread!”
The troop burst into giggles again.
But Graytail raised a hand. “Enough.”
He looked between the two monkeys.
“We do not have to be the same to live together,” he said. “Bread Monkey, you must try to be tidier. And Miko, you must learn to accept that the forest is not sterile.”
Miko huffed. He knew the elder was right—but that didn’t make him like crumbs any better.
Bread Monkey nodded earnestly. “I can try. Maybe… maybe I can keep my bread in one place? Like a little stash tree far away from the sleeping branches?”
Miko brightened slightly. “And maybe you could… brush off before coming close to others.”
Bread Monkey grinned. “Deal!”
A New Beginning
The follow-up continued, and the elders were pleased to see both monkeys attempting to adapt. Bread Monkey shook crumbs off before joining activities. Miko practiced breathing exercises whenever something felt “unhygienic.”
It wasn’t perfect.
Sometimes bread still crumbled. Sometimes Miko still panicked over a speck of dirt.
But something unexpected happened:
they slowly began to appreciate each other.
Bread Monkey admired Miko’s neatness.
Miko admired Bread Monkey’s cheerfulness.
And while Miko still disliked bread, he no longer disliked Bread Monkey.
Well… not too much.
