The Ogre’s Gratitude
The Forbidden Land Known as 'Ogre Mountain
At the outskirts of the village loomed a mountain, one that had been known for generations as “Ogre Mountain.” No one dared to venture near. The villagers had passed down the same warning through the years: “An ogre lives in that mountain. Never set foot there.”
Kenta, a curious boy by nature, found himself doubting the story. What could possibly be in the mountain? Was there really an ogre? Though his curiosity burned, he lacked the courage to ignore the warnings of his elders.
Yet, Kenta could never forget a strange tale his grandmother had told him when he was young.
“Ogres aren’t just monsters that attack people, you know. There’s a story about an ogre that saved villagers stranded in the mountain long ago.”
In that tale, the ogre used its immense strength to rescue villagers caught in an avalanche, carrying them safely to the base of the mountain. However, instead of thanking the ogre, the frightened villagers tried to trap it in the mountain again. His grandmother paused, her gaze distant, and said quietly:
“The ogre had a kind heart, but people saw only something to fear.”
Hearing this story, Kenta felt not only fear of the ogre but also a strange sense of familiarity and warmth toward it.
Years passed, and Kenta turned sixteen. He spent his days toiling in the fields, leading a quiet life, but his curiosity about the mountain never faded.
One day, Kenta’s father asked him to clean the irrigation canal near the mountain’s base. This canal, vital to the village’s water supply, required regular maintenance. Villagers, however, avoided going near the mountain whenever possible, often leaving such tasks to the younger generation.
Carrying his tools, Kenta set out toward the mountain. The work progressed smoothly, and by the afternoon, he was nearly done. But on his way back, he felt something—a presence.
Walking along the narrow path between the trees, Kenta sensed a strange gaze on his back. It felt warm and cold at the same time, an unsettling mix of sensations.
When Kenta turned around, something moved silently just out of view. He dismissed it as the wind stirring the branches and continued walking, but the sensation of being watched didn’t fade.
“Is someone there?”
His tentative voice broke the silence. Suddenly, his foot caught on a loose stone, and he stumbled forward. Ahead lay a steep slope, a fall from which would surely be fatal.
Just then, a large hand reached out from behind and grabbed him. Its touch was both cold and warm, its grip overwhelmingly strong. Kenta’s eyes widened in shock.
He turned to see an ogre.
The ogre stood silently. Its sharp, glowing eyes pierced into Kenta, and deep wrinkles on its face seemed to twist into a perpetual glare. Kenta was paralyzed, overwhelmed by its presence.
“…Stay away from the mountain,” the ogre growled.
Its voice was low and resonant, stirring fear deep within him. Yet, to Kenta’s surprise, it also carried a faint tone of sadness.
The ogre pulled him back from the slope and vanished into the forest without another word. Kenta stood frozen, cold sweat trickling down his back.
As he walked home, the ogre’s piercing eyes and sorrowful voice echoed in his mind.
“Why did it save me?”
That question lingered in Kenta’s chest, a heavy, unsettling weight he couldn’t shake.
The Morning After the Encounter
The following morning, Kenta began to wonder if what had happened the previous night had been nothing more than a dream. The events felt far too surreal, leaving him unsure if the figure he had seen was truly an ogre.
But the faint pain lingering in his arm told him otherwise. The spot where the large hand had gripped him still throbbed, warm and dull, as if it carried the weight of reality.
“Was it real? Does an ogre actually exist…?”
He muttered to himself as he hastily finished breakfast. When his father asked about the irrigation cleaning the day before, Kenta avoided mentioning the ogre. Who would believe him? Worse, if word spread, it might plunge the entire village into panic.
Yet, by the afternoon, Kenta felt an unshakable restlessness growing within him. He needed to know the truth. Why had the ogre saved him? What was its purpose? These questions gnawed at him, consuming his thoughts.
Resolving to uncover the truth, Kenta set out for the mountain once more.
The air changed the moment he entered the mountain trail. Memories of the gaze he had felt the previous night came rushing back, sending chills down his spine. Even the rustling of the wind felt ominous. Despite frequently glancing over his shoulder, he found no one there. Still, his feet carried him forward.
As he ventured deeper into the mountain, he began to notice subtle, eerie changes in the environment. The trees grew unnaturally thick, their trunks wrapped in moss that seemed to have taken decades to form. At the edges of his vision, shadows darted like small animals, but each time he turned, there was nothing there.
Eventually, Kenta stumbled upon an ancient shrine standing alone in the forest. It was decrepit, overgrown with ivy and moss, yet it exuded an unmistakable aura of solemnity and power.
“Could this… be where the ogre lives?”
As Kenta stood frozen before the shrine, a sudden crack of a branch behind him made him whirl around. There stood the ogre from the night before, its towering form casting a long shadow.
“What are you doing here?”
The ogre’s deep voice reverberated through Kenta’s chest as it slowly approached.
“Why did you save me?”
Summoning all his courage, Kenta posed the question. The ogre did not answer. It simply stared down at him with piercing eyes, then let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl.
“I have no obligation to answer the questions of a human,” it said, its tone sharp but tinged with a hint of sorrow.
Turning slightly, the ogre gestured toward the shrine. Its motion, though deliberate, seemed weighed down by frustration and melancholy.
“What’s in that shrine?”
Kenta asked hesitantly. The ogre remained silent for a moment before speaking in a low, solemn voice.
“I protect this shrine. That is all you need to know.”
The weight in its words was unmistakable, though Kenta could not grasp their full meaning. Why would an ogre protect a shrine?
“Leave. Don’t come any closer.”
With those words, the ogre turned and disappeared into the forest. Watching its retreating figure, Kenta felt a mixture of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name—an absence of anger or malice, replaced instead by a quiet determination to understand.
Back in the village, Kenta recalled his grandmother’s old stories and began searching through the storage shed for any written records about the mountain or the ogre. Among the dusty volumes, he found fragments of information about the “Ogre’s Shrine.”
The texts described it as a place built to contain the power of an ogre who had once pledged to protect the village. According to the writings, the shrine served as a seal, and if that seal were to weaken, calamity would befall the village.
“The ogre… is protecting the village?”
As Kenta read further, new questions began to surface in his mind.
“If the ogre is truly a guardian, then why does it look so terrifying?”
The only way to find the answers was to confront the ogre again. Though unease pressed heavily on his chest, Kenta resolved to return to the mountain. The truth was there, waiting for him.
Returning to the Mountain
Several days later, Kenta found himself climbing the mountain once more. This time, he was determined to speak with the ogre again, to uncover the true purpose of the shrine and confirm if the ogre was truly protecting the village. Yet, deep within his heart, a sliver of doubt lingered—what if the ogre was hiding a more sinister intent?
Kenta entered the mountain in the early afternoon, carefully making his way toward the shrine he had discovered before. The surrounding trees seemed to loom larger, their dense canopies blocking out much of the light. Even the sound of the wind through the branches felt unnerving. The thought of encountering the ogre again slowed his steps.
When Kenta finally reached the shrine, something unusual caught his attention. Resting before it was a strange object, crafted from small bones, arranged as if part of some ritualistic decoration. Upon closer inspection, Kenta noticed more bones neatly lined along the entrance of the shrine. Though they appeared to belong to animals, their precise placement sent a shiver down his spine.
“Did the ogre do this…?”
Kenta murmured to himself. Before he could dwell further, a low growl echoed from the depths of the shrine. Startled, he stepped back, just as the ogre emerged once again, its massive frame blocking the view of the shrine.
“So, you’ve returned…”
The ogre’s deep voice rumbled, its tone heavy with both irritation and fatigue. Its glowing eyes locked onto Kenta, who instinctively took a step back.
“I had to,” Kenta stammered, his voice shaking. “I need to know what you’re hiding. What are you planning?”
For a moment, the ogre narrowed its eyes, as if contemplating the boy’s words. Then, it moved to stand firmly in front of the shrine, its stance commanding and immovable.
“This is not your concern. Leave.”
“But—”
“Leave!”
The ogre’s roar shook Kenta to his core, forcing him to retreat a few steps. Yet, as he stumbled, his gaze fell upon the interior of the shrine. Among the shadows, he could make out intricate carvings on the walls—symbols that seemed to radiate an ancient, foreboding energy.
“What… what is this shrine protecting?”
Summoning his courage, Kenta asked the question directly. For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, the ogre exhaled deeply, its voice dropping to a somber tone.
“I am protecting… you.”
Kenta’s breath caught. Before he could ask what the ogre meant, it turned away and vanished once more into the depths of the forest.
Back in the village, Kenta searched through the old, dusty books stored in his family’s home, hoping to find answers. Hours of flipping through yellowed pages finally led him to a passage describing the shrine. It mentioned the very carvings he had seen, labeling them as “seals” designed to contain “the mountain’s curse.”
According to the text, the shrine had been built long ago to imprison a malevolent force that had once brought ruin to the village. The writings further revealed that it was the ogre who had taken on the role of maintaining the seal, using its own power to keep the curse contained.
“The ogre… is sealing the curse?”
The revelation left Kenta stunned. If the ogre was protecting the village, why had it chosen such a terrifying form? And why had it gone out of its way to save him? These unanswered questions gnawed at him, urging him to confront the ogre once more.
That night, armed with nothing but a flashlight, Kenta returned to the mountain. The trail looked even more sinister under the pale moonlight, with every shadow seeming to reach out toward him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something might leap from the darkness at any moment.
When Kenta finally reached the shrine again, he immediately sensed a presence behind him. Turning around, he saw the ogre once more, but this time, its imposing figure seemed less fearsome. Its glowing eyes, though still sharp, were dimmer, and its movements lacked the same vigor.
“I told you not to return,” the ogre said, its voice tinged with weariness.
Suppressing his fear, Kenta stepped forward. “You’re protecting the shrine for the sake of the village, aren’t you?”
The ogre’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing again. After a moment, it spoke, its tone flat and guarded.
“I protect the shrine. That is all.”
“That’s a lie,” Kenta shot back. “You’re protecting us, aren’t you? Why else would you—”
Before he could finish, the ogre’s gaze hardened, silencing him.
“Do not come any closer,” the ogre growled. “If you learn the truth, the curse may claim you as well.”
Though the warning was clear, Kenta couldn’t help but feel there was more behind the ogre’s words. But before he could respond, the ogre disappeared once again into the shadows, leaving Kenta alone in the stillness of the night.
Standing before the shrine, with the carvings faintly illuminated by the moonlight, Kenta felt a mix of fear, awe, and an overwhelming determination to uncover the truth. Whatever the ogre was hiding, it was clear that his journey had only just begun.
The Ogre’s Sacrifice
Dawn broke, and Kenta found himself staring at the first rays of sunlight, unable to sleep. The events of the previous days—the ogre, the shrine, and the mystery of its role as the village’s protector—swirled endlessly in his mind.
There was no doubt that the ogre’s words hid a deeper truth, one that connected it intricately to the lives of the villagers. Yet, the ogre’s warning, “To learn the truth is to invite calamity,” echoed ominously in his thoughts, keeping him from acting rashly.
“But I have to know…”
Resolving to seek answers, Kenta left his house. This time, he decided to visit Takaji, the village elder who was known for his knowledge of the mountain and its history.
Takaji had often spoken about the mountain’s past, passing down stories of its strange phenomena. When Kenta arrived at the elder’s home, he wasted no time in recounting everything: his encounters with the ogre, the shrine, and his suspicion that the ogre was protecting the village.
The elder listened intently, his expression shifting from surprise to gravity. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he spoke.
“So, you’ve seen it… Yes, the shrine is indeed a sacred place, and the ogre is its guardian.”
“Then it’s true!” Kenta exclaimed, feeling a wave of relief.
But Takaji’s face remained clouded.
“However, there’s more to the shrine than you know. While the ogre is a protector, it is also tied to the calamities that have befallen this village.”
The elder’s words sent a chill down Kenta’s spine.
“What do you mean? How can it protect the village yet bring disaster?”
Takaji leaned back, his voice heavy with memory as he began to explain.
“Long ago, a great disaster struck this village. Poisonous air flowed from the mountain, killing crops and livestock, and taking the lives of many villagers. They called it the ‘Mountain’s Curse.’ But it was the ogre who stopped it.”
“The ogre… stopped the curse?”
“Yes. It took the wicked power of the mountain into itself, containing it within the shrine. But doing so came at a cost. The ogre has had to sacrifice its own vitality, its very life force, to maintain the seal. It has been slowly withering away, all to protect us.”
Kenta was left speechless. If this was true, then the fear and disdain the villagers felt toward the ogre had all been based on a misunderstanding.
“But if it’s protecting us, why does it avoid the villagers? Why does it frighten us?”
“Because people feared it first,” Takaji said quietly. “At first, they were grateful. But as generations passed, they saw only its monstrous form and grew to fear it. They drove it into the mountain, isolating it. The ogre must have lost faith in humans.”
Kenta felt his chest tighten.
Armed with this new understanding, Kenta resolved to return to the mountain. The ogre’s sacrifices couldn’t be ignored, nor could the bond between it and the village remain broken. Kenta believed there had to be a way to bridge the divide.
But as he prepared to leave, he overheard villagers murmuring about strange occurrences on the mountain. They spoke of thunderous noises in the dead of night and tremors near the shrine.
“The seal… is it weakening?”
Fear gnawed at Kenta as he hurried toward the mountain.
When Kenta reached the shrine, a shocking sight greeted him. The trees surrounding the area were scorched black, and deep cracks split the earth like open wounds.
At the center of this desolation knelt the ogre. Its massive body appeared frail, with fissures spreading across its once-imposing frame. It was murmuring faintly, its voice filled with pain and desperation.
“Ogre!”
Kenta’s voice rang out as he rushed forward, but the ogre raised a trembling hand to stop him.
“Do not… come closer…”
“But—!”
“I told you to stay away! If you interfere, the curse will spread to you!”
Though its voice had lost much of its power, its words carried an undeniable resolve. Kenta froze, helplessly watching as the ogre struggled to remain upright.
“My duty… is to protect this village. Nothing else matters.”
There was a note of finality in its tone, as if the ogre were trying to convince itself as much as Kenta. For the first time, Kenta truly saw the burden the ogre had borne—the isolation, the pain, and the immense responsibility it had carried alone for so long.
Before Kenta could speak, a blinding light erupted from the shrine. He shielded his eyes, and through the glare, he saw the ogre’s body glow faintly, as if its very essence were being drawn into the seal.
When the light subsided, Kenta stood alone amidst the stillness of the ruined shrine. The ogre’s figure was barely visible now, its faint glow merging with the shrine’s carvings. Though he didn’t yet understand what had just happened, one thing was clear: the ogre had given more of itself to protect the village.
Kenta clenched his fists, tears welling in his eyes.
“I’ll find a way… to help you.”
With that quiet promise, he turned back toward the village, determined to find a way to repay the ogre’s endless sacrifices.
The Ogre’s Final Sacrifice
As the light from the shrine subsided, Kenta thought, for a brief moment, that the ogre had vanished. But as his vision adjusted, he saw the ogre still kneeling, its massive frame trembling with exhaustion. Its labored breathing was the only sound breaking the silence.
“Ogre! Are you okay?”
Kenta started forward, but the ogre raised a hand, stopping him. That hand, once so powerful, now trembled uncontrollably, as if it could crumble at any moment.
“The seal… is breaking…”
The ogre’s voice was hoarse, each word carrying the weight of unimaginable strain. Kenta felt his chest tighten painfully.
“The seal… What can I do? You’re suffering—there has to be something!”
The ogre closed its eyes briefly, taking a deep, shuddering breath before speaking again, its voice barely above a whisper.
“My power… is no longer enough.”
Before the ogre could finish, the ground began to tremble violently. From the earth around the shrine, black mist rose like smoke, spreading into the air. It carried with it a cold, corrosive presence, as if even touching it would sap the life from anything near. Kenta watched in horror as the surrounding grass and trees withered and died.
“Is this… the mountain’s curse?”
The realization hit Kenta like a cold wave. He could feel the curse’s malevolence radiating outward, threatening to consume everything.
“Go… back to the village…”
The ogre’s voice was weak, but Kenta refused to leave.
“I’m not going back! If there’s anything I can do to save the village, to help you, tell me!”
The desperation in Kenta’s voice seemed to stir something in the ogre. It opened its eyes, looking at him with a mix of surprise and resignation. After a long silence, it spoke again, its tone heavier than ever.
“My role… ends here.”
“What do you mean!?”
The ogre slowly rose to its feet, its body swaying unsteadily. It reached toward its chest, as if pulling something from deep within. In its hand appeared a small, radiant stone, glowing faintly with a warm light. Chains of energy seemed to connect the stone to the shrine and the ogre itself.
“This is… the power of the seal, maintained at the cost of my life. If I pass it to you… the seal may hold, at least for now.”
“Pass it to me? No way! I can’t do that!”
Kenta’s protest was immediate, but the ogre shook its head slowly.
“When I disappear, the seal will temporarily strengthen. But it won’t last forever. You must become the next guardian… and carry the burden of understanding its meaning.”
The weight of the ogre’s words crushed Kenta. The thought of taking on such an immense responsibility felt impossible to bear.
“I don’t want this! You should stay and keep protecting the village!”
For the first time, a faint smile crossed the ogre’s face—not one of mockery, but one tinged with sadness and kindness.
“My time is over. I’ve endured this alone for far too long. But seeing you—a human who refuses to turn away—has given me hope for the future.”
Kenta’s throat tightened, tears welling in his eyes.
“Can I really do this…?”
“You can,” the ogre said firmly. It placed the glowing stone into Kenta’s trembling hand. The warmth from the stone was unlike anything Kenta had ever felt, as if the ogre’s life itself were flowing into him.
“Believe in yourself. You are capable.”
As the ogre spoke, its body began to glow faintly, a soft light enveloping it like a final farewell. Kenta could no longer hold back his tears.
“Wait! There’s so much I want to ask! Why did you save me? Why—”
Before he could finish, the ogre’s voice interrupted him one last time.
“You… are the future of the village I swore to protect.”
With those final words, the ogre dissolved into light, its massive form fading into the air.
The trembling of the shrine ceased, and the black mist slowly retreated, vanishing as if it had never existed. Kenta stood alone, clutching the stone tightly. The silence that followed felt heavy, as though the mountain itself were mourning the ogre’s passing.
Kenta knelt before the shrine, bowing his head deeply.
“Thank you… for everything.”
A single tear fell from his face onto the stone in his hand. The moment it touched, the stone flared with light, illuminating the shrine briefly before settling into a gentle glow. Whether it was enough to sustain the seal or not, Kenta didn’t know. That answer would depend on his actions moving forward.
As he descended the mountain, Kenta paused and looked back one last time. The ogre’s presence was gone, but the trees surrounding the shrine swayed gently in the wind, as if bidding him farewell.
“I’ll protect it… I promise.”
His quiet words drifted into the mountain air, carried away like a solemn vow.
The Legacy of the Ogre
The day after the ogre disappeared, Kenta returned to the village and stood before the villagers to recount everything. He spoke of the ogre’s sacrifice, how it had used its very life force to maintain the shrine’s seal, and how that seal had protected the village from calamity. He told them of the ogre’s final act—entrusting its power to him before it faded into light.
At first, no one believed Kenta. Some even feared him for speaking of the ogre. But when the village elder, Takaji, added his voice to the tale, the atmosphere began to shift. His grave tone lent credibility to Kenta’s story.
“Perhaps we misunderstood the ogre all along…”
The whispered remark from one villager broke the tension, and the weight that had hung over the group began to lift.
“Then we need to honor it, don’t we?”
Kenta’s voice was resolute as he proposed restoring the shrine the ogre had so diligently protected. At first, the villagers were hesitant, unsure if it was truly safe. But one by one, they began to agree, moved by Kenta’s conviction. Slowly, the idea of caring for the shrine and preserving the seal became a shared responsibility.
A few weeks later, Kenta led the villagers up the mountain. Together, they worked to repair the ancient shrine, clearing away the debris and moss that had overtaken it. Around the shrine, they erected a stone monument to honor the ogre.
“We must never forget the strength that protected our village,” Kenta declared as they worked. His words stirred the villagers, inspiring them to pour their efforts into the project. When the restoration was complete, the inscription on the monument read:
“To the Guardian of the Village, the Ogre.”
That night, Kenta stayed behind at the shrine, standing alone under the moonlight. In his hand, he held the small glowing stone the ogre had entrusted to him. Its faint warmth felt like a lingering presence, a reminder of the sacrifice that had been made.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready for this yet… but I’ll do my best. I’ll protect the shrine, and the village, just like you did.”
As Kenta whispered those words, a gentle breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it a soft rustling sound. For a moment, it felt as though the ogre’s voice was part of the wind, a quiet “Thank you” echoing in the stillness.
The moonlight reflected off the stone in Kenta’s hand, casting a serene glow over the shrine. It was as if the ogre’s spirit still lingered, watching over the village.
In the weeks and months that followed, the village began to flourish. The fields yielded more crops than ever, and the water from the mountain remained pure and plentiful. The villagers, once gripped by fear, now came to the shrine regularly, offering prayers and gratitude to the ogre they had once misunderstood.
But Kenta understood better than anyone that the seal’s renewed strength was temporary. One day, its power would wane again. When that day came, it would fall to him to continue the ogre’s legacy.
“I need to be strong, like the ogre was,” Kenta often told himself as he tended to the shrine. His days were spent ensuring that the site remained intact, maintaining the seal as best he could while preparing for the day the village might need him.
Years passed, and Kenta became a central figure in the village, a symbol of its resilience and unity. The villagers no longer feared the mountain or the shrine but instead embraced them as part of their heritage. They came to pray not out of fear but out of gratitude, carrying offerings and sharing stories of the ogre’s protection.
One night, as Kenta knelt before the shrine, his hands clasped in prayer, he felt a faint presence behind him. Turning, he caught a glimpse of something in the shadows—tall, red, and familiar. For the briefest moment, the ogre’s form seemed to stand among the trees, its glowing eyes softer than he remembered, its expression almost peaceful.
And then it was gone, fading into the darkness.
Kenta exhaled deeply, his heart swelling with an odd mixture of sadness and warmth. Quietly, he spoke aloud:
“We’ll keep protecting it, together… I promise.” The shrine’s candle flickered, casting a soft glow across the space. It was as though the ogre’s spirit still lived on, guiding the village it had saved and the boy who had chosen to carry its legacy.