The Lucky Bell of the Mountain Temple
Far above the clouds, where the cedar trees grow tall and the wind sings through the stones, there is a temple only cats can find.
It is small.
Quiet.
Wrapped in moss and memory.
And at its heart hangs a single bronze bell — no bigger than a paw.
In the village below lived a small black cat named Kuro.
She was quiet.
Shy.
The kind of cat who listened more than she spoke.
Other cats were loud like drums — chasing, laughing, always seen.
But Kuro?
She often felt like a shadow beneath their paws.
One morning, after a night of sad dreams, Kuro found a note left by her grandmother:
"Even the smallest bell still makes a sound."
Beside it lay a tiny red string — the kind used for good-luck charms.
Kuro held it close.
And looked up at the mountain.
The path was steep.
The stones were cold.
The wind was sharper than claws.
But Kuro walked.
Step by step.
Along the way, she met her fears.
A fox statue with eyes like fire.
A bridge swaying over dark water.
A tangle of thorns that snagged her kimono.
But with each step... she whispered to herself:
"Small steps still move forward."
"Small bells still ring."
Finally — as the sun kissed the edge of the world — Kuro reached the temple.
It was silent.
Waiting.
With trembling paws, she tied her grandmother’s red string around the bronze bell.
She closed her eyes.
And rang it.
Chiinngggg.
A clear, beautiful sound — soft as falling petals — filled the air.
It echoed down the mountain.
It echoed in her heart.
When Kuro returned home, the village cats noticed something different.
Not louder.
Not brighter.
But steadier.
Like a bell that knew its own sound.
And from that day on...
Whenever a gentle wind blew through the village...
Kuro would smile.
Because sometimes...
Small is exactly enough.