Chimper #1823
Before the sun rises over the Dojo, Master Chimpo can usually be found sweeping the same stretch of stone floor he has already cleaned the day before. The younger trainees once believed this was a meditative ritual tied to some ancient philosophy. Chimpi asked him about it once. Master Chimpo paused, leaned on his broom, and admitted that he simply enjoys the quiet before everyone wakes up. It is the only time the Dojo truly listens. Many assume his frog patch hides a legendary secret, or that his long white beard marks him as a relic of a forgotten era. Master Chimpo has heard every version of the story and has never corrected a single one. Instead, he offers gentle guidance, a raised eyebrow, or the occasional riddle that seems important until it is not. The truth is, he finds that Chimps grow faster when they believe there is something more to discover. He was once an adventurer, though he rarely speaks of it. Not because the stories are too grand, but because he prefers to hear the ones being written now. Each stumble, each small victory, each moment of doubt — these are the things he pays attention to. By the time the Dojo fills with noise, Master Chimpo has already put the broom away. The floor is no cleaner than before, but the day has begun exactly as it should.
