Shizuka was known throughout the troop as the beautiful one. Not because her fur was the shiniest or her face the most unusual, but because of the calm way she moved through the world. Her eyes were soft and thoughtful, her posture graceful, and her presence brought a quiet peace to those around her.
On this particular morning, the forest was still waking up. Mist hovered lightly between the trees, and dew clung to the leaves like tiny crystals. Shizuka sat on a flat rock near the edge of the clearing, letting the early sunlight warm her back. She closed her eyes slowly, enjoying the gentle heat.
It was grooming time.
Grooming was an important ritual among monkeys. It was not just about removing dirt or lice—it was about trust, connection, and care. To sit still while another picked through your fur meant you felt safe. To groom someone else meant you were offering kindness.
Shizuka tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation.
A familiar pair of hands began to move through her fur with practiced care. Fingers parted the soft strands gently, searching patiently. Shizuka did not flinch. She breathed slowly, her shoulders relaxing with each careful motion.
Every now and then, a tiny louse was found—small, persistent, unwanted. It was carefully removed and flicked away. Shizuka let out a soft sound, not of discomfort, but of relief. Grooming always made her feel lighter, calmer, as if worries were being lifted one by one.
Around them, the forest continued its quiet rhythm. Birds hopped between branches. Leaves rustled in the breeze. Other monkeys groomed each other nearby, some chatting softly, others half-asleep.
Shizuka shifted slightly, exposing her neck. That was one of her favorite places to be groomed. She trusted completely, lowering her guard, closing her eyes again. Her breathing deepened.
This moment was not rushed.
Each movement was slow and respectful. Fingers paused often, not only to search but to soothe. Sometimes no lice were found at all—only warmth and gentle touch remained. But that was enough. Grooming didn’t always need a task; sometimes it was simply closeness.
Shizuka remembered her younger days, when she was small and restless, unable to sit still for long. Back then, grooming sessions were short, interrupted by curiosity and play. Now, she appreciated these quiet moments more than anything.
They made her feel seen.
A young monkey wandered closer, watching with interest. He tilted his head, curious about the calm scene. Shizuka opened one eye briefly and looked at him, her expression peaceful. The young one seemed to understand and sat nearby, quietly observing.
Soon, he began grooming another monkey beside him, clumsy at first but trying his best. Shizuka watched for a moment, then closed her eyes again, content.
As the grooming continued, Shizuka’s posture softened even more. Her head leaned slightly to one side. The tension in her back melted away. Each removed louse felt like a tiny release—not just from itchiness, but from discomfort she hadn’t even noticed before.
Sometimes, she let out a small sigh.
Those who knew Shizuka well understood these sounds. They were signs of trust, of comfort, of belonging. To be groomed like this meant she was safe within her community.
The sun climbed higher, warming the clearing. Light danced across Shizuka’s fur, highlighting its natural beauty. She didn’t know she was beautiful in the way others saw her—but she knew how it felt to be cared for.
That feeling mattered more.
At one point, the grooming paused. Shizuka stirred slightly, sensing the change. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Gentle fingers rested still against her shoulder.
She reached out and touched the arm lightly—a quiet request to continue.
The grooming resumed, and Shizuka relaxed again.
This was the language of monkeys. No words, no explanations. Just touch, patience, and understanding.
When the session finally ended, Shizuka sat upright slowly. She stretched her arms, rolled her shoulders, and shook her fur gently. She felt refreshed, lighter, almost new. The tiny irritations were gone, and in their place was a deep sense of calm.
She turned and offered a brief grooming in return—a few careful strokes, a shared moment of balance. Giving was as important as receiving.
Nearby, the young monkey approached again. Shizuka looked at him and made space beside her. Hesitantly, he began grooming her arm, his movements unsure but sincere.
She allowed it.
He missed a few spots. He was slow. But Shizuka didn’t mind. She remained still, patient, encouraging him simply by staying.
Because grooming was not about perfection.
It was about care.
As the day continued, the troop moved on together, climbing into the trees, searching for food, living their shared lives. Shizuka followed with ease, her steps light, her spirit calm.
The lice were gone—but more importantly, the connection remained.
And as the forest hummed with life around her, Shizuka carried that quiet beauty with her—the beauty of trust, gentleness, and being lovingly cared for.
