Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were following something—someone.

Some kind of person, or animal, or spirit perhaps? You’re not sure.

It was difficult to make them out. They keep just leaving your view once you've felt like you caught up to them. They weaved expertly through the brush of the mountain path, swinging on vines, jumping over rocks, all while you had to push past it all on the ground.

Another presence is with you—someone familiar to you, but you couldn’t make them out in the corner of your vision. You’re not exactly sure why you both were following them; you just knew you had to. They were someone important, someone you needed to follow, talk to. 

If only they weren’t so damn fast, that’d make it easier for you to catch up to them.

“Hey… hey, wait up…” you pant, out of breath from running after the stranger. “You know we can’t—huff—climb the terrain like you…”

The stranger pays no mind, still moving slowly enough to remain in your sights, but quickly enough to never let you make out who they were. You hear a low chuckle come from them, as if amused by your struggle to follow after them. You wheeze as you climb stone steps up to a cave surrounded by a waterfall. Something felt off about this waterfall, though. It looked as if something, or someone, had pulled the water away as if they were curtains hiding away the cave behind it.

Once again, you just make out the stranger as they dive deeper into the cavern.

You take a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving and wiping away the sweat gathering at the back of your neck. You stare at the entrance, filled with a strange sense of familiarity. The stranger calls to you, their voice morphed, but you can tell they’re beckoning you to follow them into the cave. Something about… wanting to show you something?

Curiosity overtakes you and you step forward towards the cave—

CRACK—BOOM!

“Gah—!” You gasp, the sudden sound making you jump away from the entrance of the—

The elevator?

You blink, rub your eyes, and then stare at the elevator. You look around, the edge of your vision still vaguely resembling a forested mountain, slowly fading away to the construction site you were standing in.

Another resounding CRACK—BOOM makes you startle and look up, now seeing the dark clouds above lighting up with lightning and rumbling with thunder. Completely different compared to the clear blue skies you saw earlier.

…

Gods dammit, it happened again.

With a heavy sigh, you rub at your eyes again and blink away the remainder of the premonition that’s too stubborn to vanish. You hurry out of the construction site, looking around to make sure no one’s watching you.

Thankfully, it seemed no one saw, or paid mind to my running around like a moron…

You carefully move through the alleys, checking your surroundings one more time. Once you’re sure you’re not being followed, you enter the more populated streets. The rain begins with a light drizzle, but you know it’ll only get heavier soon. You quietly curse yourself for not bringing an umbrella, despite your uncle telling you it was going to rain today.

Ah, well… not much you can do right now.

You hurry to the closest bus stop, standing under the glass cover, and wait for the bus to arrive. While waiting, you pull your phone out to check your location, brows furrowing at just how far you had wandered from where you were previously. Looks like you had walked several blocks further than last time.

Ugh, not this garbage again…

Pocketing your phone, you rub your temple, trying to recall just what happened before the vision started. You remember you just started to walk home after finishing an errand for Uncle Zan when you blinked and the scene suddenly changed before your eyes. A feeling of curiosity and a deep desire to climb the mountain had filled you, and then you found the golden silhouetted stranger—coaxing you to follow them. And now here you are.

They’re getting more frequent. You hop onto the bus, pay your fee, and sit closest to the door, staring out the window as the bus goes down its path. What a nuisance…

You thumb your phone, pulling it out and opening it up to your texts.

You:
Hey, I’m gonna be late getting home.
A big one happened again.

Uncle:
(ʘᗩʘ’)
Again???
That’s the third time this week alone…

You:
Yeah, and it’s getting more out of control, too.
It took a nearby lightning strike to scare me out of it.

Uncle:
Are you okay, at least?

You:
Yeah, I’m safe. Almost went down an elevator in a construction site before I snapped out of it.
Taking the bus right now, so it’ll be a minute before I get home.

Uncle:
Listen, as long as you’re safe and okay, it’s fine if you’re late
We can talk more about the visions when you get home too, ‘kay?

You:
Okay. Could you get some tea ready?
The one Sandy gave to us the other day.

Uncle:
The one that can knock you out in under a second?

You:
No, the other one.
It has a picture of a flower and a bumblebee on it.

Uncle:
AH! I found it! b(￣▽￣*)
It’ll be ready by the time you get home, nibby

You:
Thanks, I appreciate it.

Pocketing your phone, you look out the window again, a soft frown playing on your lips. The bus continues for several blocks until it reaches the last stop before the loop restarts. You hop off the bus and hurry the rest of the way home to try and not get soaked to the bone from the increasing intensity of the rain.

Another few blocks and you’re close to the harbor. After two left turns and walking straight for five minutes, you're home. A small two-story house just for you and your uncle. A humble place, out of the way of the bustling inner-city, the way both you and Uncle Zan liked it.

You walk in just as a stranger steps out—most likely a client of Uncle’s—and nod politely to them as they leave. Shutting the door, you walk to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was the uncle you’ve spent the last two years living with, carefully steeping the tea. Even though he was the youngest of the siblings on your father’s side, he was still pretty up there in years. Crows feet framing his eyes, subtle wrinkles already forming. His silver hair was as long as ever, reaching just to his upper thighs, though he always had half tied up into a bun, the rest cascading down his back in a braid.

“Hey, kiddo!” He steps over to you, patting your cheeks. “Goodness, the rain wasn’t kind to you, was it? Go on and get changed before you catch something, and we’ll talk about the vision, okay?”

Your frown turns up into a small smile. “I will, Uncle. Can you put some extra honey in my tea?”

“Of course, anything for my favorite nibbling.” He ruffles your wet hair, causing droplets to scatter about.

Your smile grows stronger, laughing softly and slapping at his hand. “I’m your only nibbling, Uncle!” You call out as you hurry up the stairs.

“Still my favorite!” You hear him shout back.

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head and going to change. Though the living situation was awkward starting out, you were both trying, at least. Uncle Zan’s patience was certainly something that made this a lot easier for you to get used to.

It was certainly better than when—

standing at the door with just a backpack and torn clothes

looking tired so, so tired

a gentle hand on your back,

guiding you into a house of warmth and protection

maybe

maybe you can be safe here

—you first came here.

Pushing the thoughts away, you change into more comfortable, warm clothing. No time to linger on the past, at least not right now. You have some vision nonsense to discuss. Skipping down the stairs, you go back into the kitchen, taking the offered mug and sitting at the dining table with Uncle Zan.

“So—” he taps at his mug, nodding to you, “—what was it this time?”

“About the same as the other two from this week, almost?” You blow at the tea, taking a small sip. “They’ve been one of those ‘acid trip visions,’ ya know?”

“Ah, those are always fun,” Uncle’s tone drips with playful sarcasm. It makes you smile. “Can you describe it? The feelings, the scene, all of it.”

“Well…” You hum, “it was some kind of mountain path, I think? Forested, uneven ground, all that. I was following someone again. I couldn’t tell if it was a person or some kind of spirit or even an animal guide—they kept running out of my view—but I knew I had to follow them.” You take another sip of your tea, allowing the hot mug to warm your hands. “They wanted to show me something, take me somewhere. I knew that much, but didn’t know why. I ended up at the entrance of a cave that was surrounded by a waterfall this time.”

“Hmm…” Uncle Zan rubs his chin, looking over you, then off to the side. His eyes glimmer as he thinks aloud, “An obvious omen, but whether it’s a good or bad one remains to be seen.”

“I mean—I didn’t feel afraid of the person guiding me, so I guess a good one?” You sigh, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t know what they want to show me, though. I keep snapping out of it before I end up following them more. The first time, it was guiding me past some kind of hotlands with lava rivers…”

He nods along, saying, “And then through an abandoned, overgrown village… and now the waterfall cave.” He looks thoughtful, brow furrowing, before looking back at you. “It’s very possible this person is telling you to go somewhere, to meet them or someone else. For what reason, I’m not sure.”

You inwardly cringe. Based off your knowledge of your culture’s history and folklore, the signs from these visions point to only one person you can think of that either you or some other person is supposed to meet. And you’re not exactly willing to accept the former as the truth.

After all, why you, of all people?

Because it wasn’t you, obviously.

Circumstances are, you’re far too mediocre to be part of a future like that. You were clearly experiencing a vision that was destined for a person better fitting for the role. Perhaps you were even helping guide someone else to meet with… him.

Your stubborn mind set in its ways, you offer, “Is it… possible I was looking through someone else’s eyes?”

“It is! We’ll have to see, but until then…” Zan leans forward in his chair and gestures to you. “Those kinds of premonitions have been happening more often—we can’t always rely on loud noises or someone else to snap you out of them… do you have methods to get yourself out of those bigger ones? So you don’t end up wandering into somewhere dangerous again when alone.”

“Ah—not really. It happens so quickly, it’s difficult to snap myself out of it.” You rub at your neck, looking away from him and opting to stare at your tea instead. “The smaller ones are a bit easier, but the bigger ones… not so much.”

“Okay, how about this,” he reaches across the table and taps his finger against your hand for your attention. “A checklist for yourself to let you stay here, in the moment, rather than fade into the feeling of the vision.”

He gestures around, saying, “A thing I’ve noticed when experiencing stronger ones is the smell rarely changes and so does your touch, at least at the start. So when you feel the start of one of those visions—take in the surrounding area by touching something and focusing on it, or a particular smell around you. The mug, the table, the smell of your tea, for example.”

You nod quietly, making sure to bookmark it for future practice when it happens again. “The sounds… I think I remember them slowly but surely fading away, too…”

“Ah—yes! Almost forgot about the sound, as well. That’s usually the quickest to fade and hardest to latch onto when doing reality checks.” He sighs, his fingers tap-tap-tapping against the table. “It’s a tough thing to master… so while you’re putting it to practice, I think you should start carrying more things with you for safety.”

Uncle gets up and steps away for a minute, suddenly full of energy. “So! With Sandy’s help, I’ve been preparing a few things!” You hear him rummaging about and lean in your chair to try and see just what in the hell he was getting, before you see him come back with a box and place it on the table.

You blink, taking in the contents inside. “Uncle Zan… what is all this?”

“Protection!” He proudly presents what looks like a car alarm button? “This is connected to both Sandy’s phone and my phone. All you have to do is press it, and we’ll be alerted and can come running if your visions get out of control again! I also have a taser powerful enough to stun a few demons, smoke bombs, flash bombs, pepper spray, on the go wards…” He pulls out the items as he lists them off, going into intense detail on how they work and how to activate them, while you let him ramble on.

You can’t exactly blame him for his paranoia. Uncle Zan was a shut-in, had more control over his own visions, and that made him an even bigger target than you. A clairvoyant more in control of their visions would be more valuable than one who can barely control them.

You, on the other hand, went out regularly for your freelance work, helping out Zan, and to visit Sandy. You were also prone to those stronger premonitions occurring more often. And of course, that also made you susceptible to accidentally run into demons who want a taste of said premonitions. Back home especially.

I’m just lucky it hasn’t happened here as often… or the demons that I do run into don’t cause me any trouble.

…

“Hey, Uncle…”

“Hm?” He pauses in his organization of the self-defense items.

“Is this…” you gesture around you, “is this clairvoyant shit ever gonna get easier? It—it just feels like they’re getting worse, more out of control.” You rub at your arm, thumbing one of the older scars left behind from a particularly nasty demon. “I feel like I’m grasping at sand at this point. I keep trying to not let these visions control me, but it turns into me bashing my head against a wall.”

If only Dad was able to teach me something past the basics before he died…

Uncle Zan looks at you, brow furrowing. He sighs, scooting his chair to be next to you. He opens his arm in a quiet offering, and you scoot closer, leaning against his side whilst he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you into a side-hug with a squeeze. You close your eyes, slowly exhaling.

“It will. Slowly, but surely, it’ll get easier.” He takes your head and gently bumps his forehead with yours. “I didn’t have the words for all this when I was your age, nor did I have a teacher of my own. But with my experience, I can at least try to make things easier for you.”

He closes his eyes, sighing, “I know we have different lifestyles… so some of my tactics won’t work for you. And I know I won’t be anything like your dad in teaching you, but… I’ll do my best for you.”

Your brow knits downward. You huff, saying, “I know I’m not—exactly making this easier, being the trouble-seeker I am—”

“Such as actively making deals with demons for protection, despite your desire to avoid them?”

The jest makes you sputter a laugh. You unconsciously rub your arm as you say, “Yeah, yeah, like that. Look… I learned to be careful with my wording for those kinds of deals.”

You had to learn, otherwise you wouldn’t even be here right now.

“I only joke, nibby,” he chuckles, patting your shoulder. “I, too, have had to make deals with demons for protection. But never mind that, you were saying?”

You continue to say, “And with me being here, in a new setting, not back home—it’ll be easier. No demons know who or what I am right now, so it works out well enough.” You look at him, seeing a small hint of disappointment in his eyes. “I’m being careful, Uncle. As careful as I can be without turning into a shut-in. I know it worked for you, but… it’s not what I want.”

I tried that already, and it’s not for me.

“I know, nibby, I know…” He pets your hair, carefully combing out the tangles he finds. “I trust you to know what you’re doing. And I trust you to tell me or Sandy if anything happens—or if there’s something on your mind.”

You smile, your shoulders easing down from their hunched state. “And I trust you to teach me all you know about controlling these visions of mine.”

“Always for my favorite nibbling.” He ruffles your hair as he backs off and scoots the self-defense items towards you. “You don’t have to take them all, but at least take a few, to put both our minds at ease.”

You relent by taking some flash and smoke bombs, as well as the taser. “Alright, alright.” You grab the alarm for good measure as well. “I’ll take this too in case the visions get bad again.”

Uncle Zan nods in approval, putting the rest of the items back into the box. “I’ll check the wards to make sure they’re still good. Do you want to order out today?”

“Sure, I’ll buy.” You pull your phone out and start flipping through the restaurants that offer take-out while Uncle walks away. Though the thoughts of these bothersome premonitions linger, you’re able to ignore it enough to let you enjoy a nice night of watching bad American movies and eating takeout with your uncle.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come easy that night. You spent a good few hours trying to find a comfortable position to lay in to coax the sleep, only to fail. Memories of the visions playing in your mind keep coming back to you, almost beckoning you to go, find him. But you keep stubbornly pushing them away.

There’s no need for you to go find him. It’s not you in those visions. You’re wholly convinced it’s not.

You open your eyes and look at your clock. Five in the morning. Again. You groan, rubbing your face and getting up to go make some of that sleepy-time tea Sandy gave you. 

You’ve had enough of this premonition nonsense. You moved here to get away from it, not be bombarded by endless visions of whatever future meeting you’re determined to not let happen. There’s no reason why you’d have to find them. It’s not even you that needs to find them; shut up and go away, visions.

You let the tea steep, staring at the mug with a frown.

You don’t understand why you’re receiving premonitions that don’t involve you at this point. Going to meet the Great Sage? You’re no moron. You may be more stubborn than a bull, but you know your history, and you can read the signs in your visions moderately well. You just hated experiencing them.

Besides, why would you need to see a monkey who’s been gone for half a millennium? Who’s to say he’ll be coming back in this generation? Maybe it’ll be the next, or some other generation long after you. All in all, these visions seem so very… far-fetched.

You stare at the light reflecting off the tea, fingers trailing along the rim of the mug. Quietly cleaning up the kitchen to not wake Uncle Zan, you head back to your room to drink your tea. Once you’ve finished, you lay in bed, quietly staring at the ceiling. It only takes a minute or two until you’re lulled to sleep.

The first sight you’re met with in your dreams is the golden silhouetted stranger—the Great Sage, calling for you to follow him. All while you defiantly stand still and watch him disappear into the brush of the mountain path.

○ ○ ○

None of it really stopped there. Because why would it? That’d make things easy, and it feels like the Universe is hellbent on making you experience these visions that had nothing to do with you.

You spent these weeks going about your usual routine of helping your uncle with his business. Delivering herbs, teas, and other such remedies to different parts of town, or scheduling appointments for him. You had to purchase a new pair of reflective sunglasses—after your old ones broke during a particularly violent premonition—to hide your eyes. Can’t have people seeing it, because that means inevitably demons will see it too.

…

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t call your uncle such a paranoid mess, since you’re also going through lengths to make sure you stay hidden without becoming a shut-in. While the hiding part is easy, something you’ve had to learn through intense trial and error, it was the premonitions that were the hard part. You could never know when one would come or even what type it would be.

One moment you could have a small premonition of a meeting, or a feeling; and the next you’re sucked into a large premonition that causes you to wander to the other side of the damn city. Now, as time passes, all the visions are becoming harder to maintain, even the small ones. Like an unstoppable force trying to budge an immovable object, the visions just keep forcing you to experience them while you try to stubbornly refuse it.

You sigh, adjusting your sunglasses and walking down the street towards Sandy’s boat. Uncle wanted some fruits and vegetables delivered to him. Both so he could eat them, but also make them into tea. Spending time with Sandy always helped relax you, hence why you were more than willing to be the one to deliver the care package to him.

Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve seen Sandy, and you missed chatting with him. More like gossiping or… honestly complaining about this vision nonsense, but he always had a great listening ear.

You smile as you climb up the ramp onto his boathouse, several of his therapy cats rushing to greet you with happy meows and rubbing against your legs. You bend down momentarily to pet a few, before you start the workout of carefully stepping past and over the abundance of cats.

“Sandy!” You call out as you reach the entrance to his home. “I’m here!”

“Teacup!!” Sandy bursts through the door and lifts you up into a hug. Though the abrupt contact was a shock, you can’t help but laugh. Sandy, ever the gentle giant, made sure not to squish you too hard, and carefully set you down. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” you hold up the basket and grin. “Uncle wanted me to give these to you.”

He happily takes the basket, stepping aside and saying, “Oh, perfect! I was just about to start processing some blends! Care to join me?” He gestures deeper into his home in offering.

You smile, stepping into his threshold. “Of course, I’d love to.”

○ ○ ○

“Aaaand I think that’s everything,” you grumble, sipping your tea. Your time helping Sandy make his tea batches very quickly turned into you (ranting) talking about the visions that you’ve been having these past several weeks. He, meanwhile, did all the work while you did a menial amount of it and rambled on. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

With the batches being dried out now, it left you with more time to chat and finish your story, hence why you’re now residing in his living room and sipping on one of his many homemade tea blends.

“Wow,” Sandy says quietly. He takes one of his many cats off his lap to stand. “That’s a lot, teacup. Are you sure you don’t need some of my de-stressing tea to take home?”

“You have no idea,” you groan, laying back onto the sofa. “I promise I don’t need it. Or—well—at least not right now. If I need it in the future, I’ll let you know.” You wave for him to go and say, “I'm sure your first batch is done drying out. You can go check on it, I’ll be alright.”

“Of course, of course.” He stops by your side to pat your head. “I only offer because you look exhausted… If you don’t want any de-stress tea, why not wash your face and freshen yourself up while I go to check on the batches?”

You hum, looking at the cat that was not laying on your stomach. She did not look like she wanted to move, but freshening up felt nice, especially since you weren’t able to before leaving home today. “Alright. Get off, Patchy.”

Patchy meows in protest when you sit up, but she moves anyway. She doesn’t hesitate to get back onto the soda when you stand to take your spot, much more content to take your body heat from the sofa. While Sandy leaves for his tea-making room, you head to the bathroom.

You wash your face and sigh, staring at the sink as your hands grip either side.

Uncle said it’d get easier with time…

But it just feels like time is something I don’t have.

You lift your head, looking at your reflection and—

someone else was in the bathroom with you.

The silhouette of the last person you wanted to see was there. You couldn’t make out much of his appearance aside from the fur and tail, the vision was so distorted and wobbly it was difficult to make out anything else in the silhouette. Despite wanting to deny the truth of it, logically, you knew you couldn’t ignore that you were—once again —having a vision with Sun Wukong in it.

You blink, and he’s still standing there. You inhale, catching the smell of the ocean outside, feel the sink as you grip onto it. This wasn’t one of your stronger visions, from what you can see, the bathroom is still clearly here and not fading away into a different scene.

You whirl around, expecting him to go away once you do, but he’s still there, leaning close to you. Uncomfortably close.

“Ah—!”

He laughs, running out of the room. You hear their voice, much clearer now, calling out to you, “Keep up, firecracker!” The nickname felt familiar, despite you never hearing it until now. “I wanna show you something!”

You hurry after him, nearly falling down the stairs as you do. “Hey—hey, wait!” You see him pausing at the front door, turning to face you as you reach out to him. “What do you—?”

“Teacup!” Sandy’s booming voice snaps you out of the vision.

You blink, the silhouette of the Monkey King now gone with only a few remaining golden particles floating about, and turn to look at Sandy.

“What happened? I heard you talking to someone—” He looks you over to make sure you are alright, then looks you in the eye. “Again?”

“Yeah. A simple one this time, thankfully…” You rub your face, looking back at the door, then at Sandy. “It was a uh—golden silhouette of a person. Hard to make out because it kept—warping and moving, but it looked like they had messy hair, and had a kind of masculine voice.”

You choose to leave out the details of whom the person was, not wanting Sandy to make a big deal of it.

You scratch your head, closing your eyes and huffing. “Called me ‘firecracker,’ too. I’ve never heard the nickname before then, but at the same time—it felt familiar…” You look down, then back to Sandy. You didn’t like hiding information from him, but you also didn’t want this to become bigger than it actually was.

The more people that know this, the more likely it’ll be to come true… you knew that all too well.

Sandy brushes your hair from your face. “Maybe it’s talking about some future meeting?” He offers, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s possible. But, if I know one thing about these premonitions from Zan, it’s not a good idea to jump to conclusions just yet.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping. Not what you wanted to hear, even if it was logical and made sense. “Yeah,” you mumble, brushing another stray hair from your face.

Tilting his head, Sandy looks you over, his brows furrowed in clear worry for you. His bear twitches as he lets out a breath and pats your shoulder. “Hey, hey, no need to look so glum! You’ll get the hang of these visions, teacup, that I know. You know why I know that?”

You look at him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re being taught by the best clairvoyant out there!” He says proudly, planting his hands on his hips. “Who is also the best therapist out there!”

“He’s the only clairvoyant you know, and the only therapist you know, Sandy,” you deadpan, but your voice is too light for it to have any real bite to it.

He just laughs, his head thrown back and the sound echoing throughout his boathouse. “Even so! He’s great! And I know for a fact he won’t let you handle this all on your own.” He pats your back now, his eyes shining as he smiles at you. “And you know I’m here if you ever need any help or just some tea to get those nerves in check, alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh now, stepping closer and bumping your shoulder against Sandy’s arm. “Thanks… well, I should get going.” You stretch and heave a sigh. “Unless there’s any tea deliveries you need me to do for you? It’s the least I can do.”

“Hmm, actually…” He strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Actually—yeah! Yeah! Hold on a moment, teacup.” He steps away momentarily, returning not long after with a tin case. “If you don’t mind, could you actually deliver these to a friend of mine? I haven’t seen him in a few years due to… well, my anger issues kinda made it an unsafe environment for his son…”

He clears his throat and looks at you. “I need to get my own delivery done, so if you don’t mind, could you pass these onto him?”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” you say as you take the tin case. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Pigsy! Dear old friend of mine—runs a shop called Pigsy’s Noodles,” Sandy says. He writes down an address and hands it to you. “It’s in the restaurant district of the city, not too far from here.”

You nod, taking the paper now to look at the address. “Alright, I can do that and let you know it was delivered.” You look at him now. “How long is this delivery of yours gonna take? Uncle said he wanted to get some of that peach tea blend whenever it’s done.”

“Oh, this won’t take too long!” He walks you to the door as he says, “You can let him know, he and Auntie will be getting their tea the minute I get back from this delivery. It shouldn’t be any longer than a week or two.”

“Got it.” You step closer to give him a goodbye hug (as he loves to give before parting ways), then begin making your way down the ramp. “Stay safe, Sandy!”

“You too, teacup!” He calls to you as he waves you off.

You wait until he walks back onto his boat to heave a sigh and rub your face. Alright, just deliver a care package to someone else now, and you can go see if Uncle needs any help with his deliveries. Though he usually hires people to do that, you’d rather him not have to spend so much money on such a thing. Besides, as the one who doesn’t like staying cooped up inside all the time, you liked the exercise.

With a goal and a destination, you begin your trek to the restaurant known as Pigsy’s Noodles. Hopefully, a long bus ride and walk can help you calm your mind.

○ ○ ○

It was a twenty-minute bus ride and a quick walk to the restaurant from Sandy’s boat, and even that length of time wasn’t enough to calm your racing thoughts about these premonitions.

While Uncle Zan’s advice was helpful, it still wasn’t enough to stop them from coming. It also doesn’t help that you feel as though your curiosity is making more visions come to you. If you could call it curiosity, even. You’re more just wanting to understand why you’re having premonitions of you or—no, it’s not you, it’s someone else meeting the Great Sage.

You have no reason to meet him, so it’s definitely another person. Even so, you’re not sure why anyone else would. It’s been moderately peaceful for the past half-millennia or so, and you’re sure he’s probably still keeping an eye out to make sure nothing big happens, so why? Why watch through someone else’s eyes so often? Do you need to find the person who’s supposed to meet him?

Too many questions that make you curious. And your curiosity has only brought more trouble than it was worth—

You jump back as a giant cicada suddenly flies past you. It was huge —about the size of your entire hand. It stops, hovering in midair, and turns to you. The beauty of it was enchanting, from its white-gold body to its iridescent colored wings. It turns away from you and flies off.

Is that…?

You blink, shaking your head and trying to do your reality check and stop the vision. But as you’re about to, you feel something jump onto your shoulder and launch past you. The silhouette of a little monkey runs after the cicada, turning to you and waving happily at you, before it chases the bug.

Hold on—what?

You’re overcome with a desire—a need to follow them, and feel your feet moving before you know it. You hurry down the road, chasing after the little monkey and golden cicada. You come up to a restaurant, watching the bug and monkey going inside. 

You peek inside, catching sight of a young man—maybe a year or two older than you. Neatly combed hair and round, gold-rimmed glasses. He’s saying something to someone, but his words are garbled. You’re not really paying attention to it anyway, watching the cicada fly around the dining area, the monkey running past and into the back of the restaurant.

The cicada flutters around you and towards the young man, who is—

“Are… you alright?”

—now staring at you.

Chapter Text

You blink, shaking your head. The cicada from the vision was gone. The only thing left were the remnants of its aura, slowly, slowly fading away.

“Uh—yeah, s—sorry—” You feel your face burning up with embarrassment, quickly bowing in apology to him. “I… thought I saw a bug fly in—but it was probably just a trick of the eye. Sorry.”

You move to leave, but see the sign “Pigsy’s Noodles” and it makes you stop. Fuck. You’re supposed to be here anyway. It’s fine—you’ll just deliver the care package to Sandy’s friend and leave. Easy.

You hear the young man say, “Oh, it’s quite alright.” He waves a hand at you, also looking around to see if he can find whatever bug you mentioned. You notice the proprietor—whom you safely assume is Mr. Pigsy—also look around for it. Once they both find nothing, the young man gives a shrug, saying, “Guess it flew out, ah well.” He then turns to his noodles and slurps them up, while Mr. Pigsy glances at you and goes back to work.

You sit down on the stool and rub at your temples, trying to calm the flush taking over your face. Now you look like a complete fool just staring at some stranger. Thank the gods you had your sunglasses on, so he didn’t see your eyes.

That would’ve made a lot more trouble than it was worth.

You hear Mr. Pigsy say he’ll be with you in a moment as he works tirelessly at his cooking station. You look up, watching him to try to forget that horrifically embarrassing moment. The way he handles a wok is inspiring, to say the least, you can’t help but stare as he expertly tosses ingredients in.

You breathe, feeling your blush calm as you take out the tin case that was Sandy’s care package and wait patiently for Mr. Pigsy to finish making an order for a customer. It doesn’t take him long before he’s turned to you once again, giving you his full attention. He snorts, taking in your scent. He tilts his head curiously, as if he smelled something from you, before he shakes his head and nods to you in greeting.

He offers a smile and says, “Alright—welcome to Pigsy’s Noodles! What can I get for ya?”

“Ah—well, I’m not here to eat, actually.” You slide the tin case across the counter to him. “Sandy wanted to send his regards, but couldn’t bring it himself because of work. So I’m just delivering it for him.”

That makes Mr. Pigsy blink in surprise at you, “Huh! Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Never thought a guy like Sandy woulda’ made a friend like you. No offense, kid.” He takes the package from you and sets it off to the side. He takes the order of a customer sitting in the outside dining area before nodding to you, an indication he’s listening.

“None taken, sir. He’s a real sweetheart.” You smile softly. Though small talk wasn’t your strong suit, you offer some of it out of politeness. “He spoke very fondly of you. You two must have a lot of history.”

“Hold on, hold on— Sandy? A sweetheart?” Mr. Pigsy turns to look at you like you just told the weirdest joke he’s ever heard. “We sure we're talkin' about the same Sandy?”

“Tall blue man with orange hair, very muscular, prayer beads around his neck, owns a ship on the harbor?”

He hums, “Huh… yeah.”

You watch Mr. Pigsy knead the dough and bend it to his will. No matter how many times you see people pull noodles, you’ll never get over just how enchanting it looks, especially with how Mr. Pigsy handles his ingredients.

You tell him, “You’re probably remembering him before he went to therapy. My uncle has been helping him with his anger issues for the past couple years. I met him about… a year ago or so.”

When I almost took his boat for a joyride to who knows where in one of my premonitions. But you don’t say that.

Mr. Pigsy gives a small grunt in response. “Man, it’s really been a while since I talked to him.” The way he says that indicates it’s clearly been a long time since he last spoke to Sandy. Going off what Sandy had said, he hasn’t seen Mr. Pigsy in a while due to his anger issues.

He sounds so fond of Sandy, though. It gives the feeling of a good friendship that turned complicated, especially with a child in the fray.

“I’m sure he’d love you calling to check in with him.” You give him a small smile, looking down at your phone. You felt like you were starting to scrape at the bottom of the barrel for conversation topics now, so probably best to try to skedaddle while you have a chance. With this particular delivery finished, you could probably get a bit of shopping done while you’re in this part of the city and head home—

Mr. Pigsy’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “And what about you? You from around here? I don’t remember seein’ your face before.”

You try to ignore the man with the glasses side-eyeing you as you look up at Mr. Pigsy. “Huh? Oh, ah—kind of.” You fidget with your phone, setting it down to pay attention to him. No need to be rude. You clear your throat, trying not to sound awkward as you talk, “I live near the harbor with my uncle. He’s a, uh, a therapist. Helps people with their issues, and all that. Also taught me a lot. I don’t really—eat at restaurants a lot, mostly takeout, so that’s probably why you never saw me around.”

“Haha, makes sense. You probably met my boy, then, if you ordered delivery from here.” Mr. Pigsy throws his ingredients into the wok and tosses it, mixing them all together while keeping an eye on the broth. “Well, you’re always welcome here at Pigsy’s Noodles should you ever—”

“Ahem, oh Pigsy, my dear friend!” The conversation is interrupted as the man with the glasses pushes his empty bowl away. “Could I perhaps get a refill of your finest biangbiang noodles for your favorite customer, if you’d be so kind?”

“More like my most loathsome freeloader!” Mr. Pigsy huffs, his once friendly demeanor now sizzling away to displeasure towards the man. “You can get your noodles once you pay your tab, Tang.”

You blink, having to do a double take towards the young man. Tang??

Tang gasps, putting a hand to his chest in an over dramatic fashion. “You’re planning to starve your customers? Not a very good business practice, my friend.”

“I feed my customers who pay for their damn food. Unlike you, who keeps putting them on a tab that shouldn’t even exist!” Mr. Pigsy turns to you with a look of exhaustion, most likely tired of Tang’s antics. “Don’t mind him. You’re fine to leave unless there’s anything else you need.”

You take your phone and stand from the stool. “Ah, it’s okay, sir. I should get going—stuff to do and all that. Have a good day.” You quickly leave, feeling eyes bore into your back as you hurry out. Once you’re about a block away from the restaurant, you’re able to breathe, rubbing at your face.

Okay, so first your visions demand you to find the person to go meet the Great Sage, and now it leads you to a reincarnation of the Golden Cicada—Tang Sanzang specifically. The little monkey gave that away, but you’re not sure why it vanished deeper into the restaurant rather than linger around Tang.

Just what the actual fuck are your visions trying to drag you into?

You know what? No. You’re not being dragged into this, you just happened upon it. You’ll just—keep doing what you’re doing. There’s no need to get involved in whatever the fuck is going on with that. It has nothing to do with you, anyway. You’ll also keep that particular premonition to yourself for now, and tell Uncle Zan about it another day. Maybe.

Why bother anymore, anyway? It’s not your future, so it’s not your problem.

—————

Tang waits to make sure the stranger was out of earshot before he looks over at Pigsy. “You didn’t see a bug come in, did you?”

“It would’ve been dead the second it invaded the premises,” Pigsy says, a certain shine flashes across his eye as he grips his ladle. “But no, I didn’t.” He glances to the doorway where the stranger left, a small huff leaving him. “Bit of an oddball, that one. Doesn’t seem like a bad person, though.”

Tang hums, slurping up the broth. Something about the stranger felt… off. Not in a bad way, of course! It simply felt as though there was a reason behind their sudden burst into the restaurant. And then becoming clearly embarrassed by said burst—as if it was a completely unintended action by them.

While he isn’t an expert at reading people, he did notice how they act. Their movements are calculated, yet graceful. The way they talk is careful, polite. And it’s obvious they didn’t like attention on them; comparing how they spoke about that Sandy fellow and then about themselves. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad at their growing discomfort. Hence, why he decided to step in to try to pull attention away.

He taps a little rhythm against the side of his noodle bowl, staring out the door where the stranger hurried out.

A curious person, indeed. He wonders if he’ll be able to properly meet them?

—————

You were more than fine with accepting whatever is going to happen was not your problem. Now if only your fucking visions could accept it. Because they seem very keen on trying to make it your concern.

For the next week alone, you’re entranced into a scene of following the golden cicada and the little monkey all the way to Pigsy's Noodles. Each time at the end of if, you’re caught staring at Tang, having to bow in apology and quickly excuse yourself. And the week after that is more visions of the Great Sage talking to you, telling you things that you stubbornly block out. Then the third week is a bombardment of both the premonitions. The golden cicada and little monkey guiding you to Pigsy's Noodles, or the Great Sage talking to you.

It very quickly becomes too much for you to take, an endless barrage of visions that won’t leave you be and keep making you run around and look like a fucking fool. As if this was some joke the gods were pulling on you.

During that time… Uncle Zan was uncharacteristically quiet. Sure, he talked about his clients and told funny stories. But he stopped making any mention of the research on your premonitions, around the same time they started yanking you around everywhere. It wouldn’t make you so paranoid about it if he had confronted you, but he’s said nothing. You don’t know if that means he’s waiting for you to say something, or is quietly doing more research.

With that added onto said visions yanking you around everywhere, you were starting to get at the end of your rope of patience with all of this.

By the twelfth time you’re back at Pigsy's Noodles after being yanked around by your visions, you almost scream in frustration at it all, but manage to hold it back. Tears of anger and embarrassment burn in the corners of your eyes, and you’re forever thankful your sunglasses are hiding them. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms as you have to bow yet another apology to Tang for being caught staring at him, then turn to leave.

“Wait!” He calls to you, causing you to pause and look at him. “Please, I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’d indulge me?”

You want to say no and that you have things to do and try to never come back here. But the politeness beaten into you makes you walk over and sit in the booth he occupied, taking the opposite side. You don’t remove your sunglasses, still trying to get the angry tears to go away.

“I’ve just noticed you’ve been coming here an awful lot and don’t really—you know—come in to eat or chat!” He adjusts his glasses and takes his bowl of noodles. “And—well—forgive me if this is forward, but I also catch you staring at me every time you come here.” He holds up a hand before you can apologize and laughs, “It’s alright, by the way. It doesn’t really bother me, I’m just more curious why.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mr. Pigsy giving the both of you a look of anticipation, raising his chin as if to better hear or see what was going on.

You bite your lip. You can’t exactly say why. Reincarnation of the Golden Cicada or not, you don’t want information getting out about yourself. While you know it’ll happen eventually, you’re determined to keep you being a clairvoyant a secret as long as you can. Lest you want your security—and by extension your uncle—to be jeopardized.

What to do, what to do…

You notice the books and scrolls set about on the table. Might as well take a shot in the dark. “I—ah—pardon me, sir. It’s just—” you fidget with your bag, zipping and unzipping the front pocket. “It’s… well, I’ve heard a bit about you and have been wanting to meet you officially, but… kind of get cold feet at the end of it and chicken out.”

“Oh, you have??” He perks up, smiling at you and tapping fingers against his bowl. Mr. Pigsy’s mouth has now fallen agape.

You nod to the books and scrolls neatly seated beside him. “You’re a historian, aren’t you? Uh—not to assume, it just looked as though—”

“Hah, don’t worry, you’re quite right!” Tang beams at you, taking some books and laying them out to show off. “I’ve collected and studied many texts from both our recent and ancient history. You could say it’s a very beloved hobby of mine.”

You could tell by the look on his face he didn’t fully believe you, but didn’t want to say it outright to be polite. So he rolled with it and let you have an out. Which is… oddly kind of him to do for a stranger he knows nothing about.

Either way, I won’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Nonetheless, to repay his kindness, you lean forward and look over the books, before looking at him. “So—what specific part are you studying right now?”

As if you just gave him a cart full of gold bars, his eyes shine and smile grows stronger. “Well, I’ve actually found myself very drawn to the lore of the Monkey King, Sun Wukong.”

Ah. Tang. Interested in Sun Wukong. Yeah, you really should’ve seen that coming. That’s most likely why your visions have forced you to come here. You nod, giving him an encouraging smile. “The Great Sage? I don’t blame you, he’s pretty popular in our history.”

“Of course he is! He’s the reason that we were able to thrive as a society by defeating so many demons who wished to bring harm to us!” Tang’s movements are wide and full of excitement, but careful enough to knock over his books or anything onto said books. “Why, if it wasn’t for him, we would either end up as slaves to the demons or possibly not even exist!”

You would have ended up as the demon’s snack, if we’re gonna go that route… meanwhile, Uncle and I would’ve definitely been enslaved. Neither option is fun, really.

You subconsciously rub at your wrist, forcing a chuckle. Though his enthusiasm was endearing, the topic of demonic enslavement left a sour taste in your mouth. You choose not to make mention of it, instead saying, “It’s also admirable how much growth he’s gone through, as well. Immortal or not, you have to give him credit where it’s due.”

“Exactly! And of course, it wasn’t just because of some wake-up call he had. The Great Monk Tang Sanzang took him as a disciple, and that truly helped kick-start the growth.” Tang flips through one of the books, presenting it to you. “His dedication to teaching these demons how to repent for their misdeeds is what really made the Monkey King prosper.” He stops suddenly, looking at you. “Oh—but look at me, ranting on without even introducing myself properly! My name is Tang, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”

You politely bow your head and offer your own name to him. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Tang.” You look over the text presented to you, skimming only a few paragraphs before turning your attention back to Tang. “If I may—you’re clearly dedicated to your work and also deeply enjoy it. It’s admirable.”

“Well, what can I say?” He chuckles as he cleans his glasses with his scarf. His shoulders are hunched up, more so out of bashfulness than anything, whilst a small hint of pink dusts his cheeks. “A history major to the end, my mother likes to say. Now, if I may—would you allow me to treat you to a bowl? It’d be my pleasure to discuss more on the history of the Monkey King and his adventures.”

You chew the inside of your lip. While you wanted to say no and leave, it’s not like you had anything better to do. Besides, maybe if you can get some information about the Great Sage, maybe it’ll make it easier to find out who’s supposed to meet him. And then you can shove that person in his direction and get back to trying to reclaim some semblance of the life that was taken from you years ago.

“You don’t have to, Tang. If anything, I should treat you.” You adjust your sunglasses and wring your hands together. A nervous tick you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. “For the trouble of—constantly just coming here and staring at you like a weirdo.”

“Oh, that’s water under the bridge at this point.” Tang waves his hand to you, giving you a smile that’s full of genuine kindness. “Buuuut… I won’t deny a free meal being offered to me.”

The playfully sly tone makes you sputter a small laugh. “Okay, sure.” You reach into your bag and hand him some money. “I’m not picky, so you can surprise me with the dish.”

“Sure thing!” Tang takes the offered money and gets up to go speak with Mr. Pigsy, allowing you time to breathe and think. At least somewhat. You do overhear Mr. Pigsy talking to someone different—sounds like some teenager—as you reach into your bag and pull out your deck. You don’t really pay attention to their conversation, but you can make out something about the teen taking too long to deliver a few orders or something like that.

He really is just like his previous incarnation. Kindhearted and probably a bit naive.

Now, let’s see here…

You pull out a single card, taking a slow breath and tapping your finger on it. It’s been way too long since you’ve used these bad boys for a reading. Hopefully they can provide some insight on what you can do with this whole situation.

You glance up as you watch a boy walk out from the back. As suspected—he had to have been in his late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen. He wore a white-collared shirt with the “Pigsy's Noodles” logo on it. One of Mr. Pigsy’s delivery people, it looks like.

He looks… oddly familiar. You do remember ordering from here on some occasions when neither you nor Uncle felt like cooking. Perhaps it was the kid who had delivered them? Uncle was usually the one answering the door, so you only managed to get passing glances more than anything. You also remember seeing glimpses of him leaving the restaurant with orders, but was never able to actually get a good look at him until now.

Then again, something just felt… odd. Like there was more to him than met the eye. Oh well, it’s best not to linger on it when you already have a list of things to do rather than snoop on some delivery kid.

You turn away as the boy catches you fidgeting with your card as you’re finally able to think of a question. You take a breath, make sure Tang is busy with Mr. Pigsy for the moment, and look over your card, running your fingers along the surface.

You think of your question, What—

“Excuse me?” You jump at the voice next to you, glancing over to see the boy curiously eyeing your card. He jerks away, hands up in front of him. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you!” He rubs at his neck, letting out a nervous laugh. “I was—just curious about that card of yours. What is it? If… that’s okay to ask?”

“Oh, this? It’s—uh—it’s a tarot card.” You hand it over to him, letting him look it over. Seeing the curious look in his eye, you say, “Tarot is something that can… how to put it… it helps build your intuition or make choices, self-meditate, and a bunch of other things. I sometimes use them for my own meditation or self-reflection when I have difficulties with something.”

Which is why you know for a fact your cards will have more than a few choice words with you, since it’s been a good couple of months since you last touched them.

“Oooooh…” The boy looks over the card, careful not to drop it, and runs his fingers along the surface. “I’ve never seen a card like this before. But—it’s completely blank, and feels kind of weird. What’s it made out of? And how can you read it if it’s blank?”

“Well, to answer what it’s made from. It’s bones,” you say plainly.

The boy blinks, shaking his head and looking at you as if you just sprouted a second head. “Uh—bwuh—huh?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Mr. Pigsy steps in first, “MK, my boy, what did I tell ya about just randomly approaching strangers? You know not to bug them.”

MK shrinks back, holding his hands up again. “Ah—sorry, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. He’s not bothering me, Mr. Pigsy, I promise.” You wave a hand and offer the boy—MK, a gentle smile.

Mr. Pigsy called him ‘my boy,’ does that mean this is his son, or just someone he’s looking after?

With the reassurance, Mr. Pigsy backs off and goes back to quietly talking to Tang. He occasionally steals glances your way to make sure MK isn’t really bugging you. MK himself is currently taking a seat next to you in the booth. Otherwise, Mr. Pigsy leaves you both be.

You look back at MK, seeing Tang also peeking over at you two. You give a small nod to him, and he smiles, turning back to Mr. Pigsy and speaking to him in a hushed tone.

You take the card back and place it on the table, saying, “They’re oracle bones, specifically. Oracle bones come from the shoulder blades of oxen or plastrons of turtles. Fortune-tellers would carve or sometimes paint a message onto them, and then either apply a hot poker to it or place it in a fire until the bone or shell cracks.” You take out your pouch to show off the other cards to him, a soft smile on your face, and say, “From there, the fortune-teller doing this would be able to interpret the direction of the crack to predict the future.”

“Woah…” MK reaches out, running his fingertips along the card, gentle, as if afraid he’d break them if he applied any more pressure.

“Yeah, these cards were made from oracle bones. They’re pretty much a family heirloom—having been in my family for several generations.”

“Man, that’s really cool! So—you’re some kind of, like, fortune-teller? Or a psychic that can read the future with these cards?”

The question was innocent. It’s something any curious kid would ask. It doesn’t stop your grip from tightening on your deck. It doesn’t stop your shoulders from hunching up. His and Tang’s eyes on you suddenly feel like they’re burning into you for several reasons.

You inhale slowly, exhaling after your lungs are filled.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

He can’t know. There’s no way he could.

It’s just a question. Stop freaking out.

It’s fine.

You clear your throat, pretending you had swallowed an air bubble. You then hesitantly say, “Uh—I—I wouldn’t say that. I just use these to kind of—try to help self-meditate on some personal stuff.”

You quietly damn yourself for being so willing to teach. You should’ve expected such a question from the kid. Not much you can do about it besides try to deflect.

Thankfully, MK seems convinced. Something about the look on his face made you think he didn’t fully believe you. But, like Tang, he chose not to say anything about it, instead rolling with what you say. He nods and says, “Ah—okay! That’s still really amazing. So what exactly do the cards do, then? And… I dunno how you can even read them if they’re—you know—blank.”

You idly fiddle with your cards, putting them back into their pouch save for the single one. “Well… you have to be in tune with your deck, willing to open your whole self to it to allow the cards to guide you down the path to achieve the best ‘you’.”

MK tilts his head, eyes shining with curiosity and nothing short of intense interest. “So it helps you become a better person?”

You can’t help but smile softly at his enthusiasm, already feeling a bit of the tension in your shoulders relaxing. “In a way, yes. It helps you become the best you can be for yourself. Whether it’s healthier eating habits, becoming more emotionally mature, or the like.” You pick up the card and turn it over in your hand, saying, “This particular deck is special, though. Well… it won’t reveal the cards you pull unless you’re completely in tune with it. So, sorry to say, but you won’t be able to see the cards that are pulled.”

Not a complete lie, at least. In truth, you’d need to be a clairvoyant to see the card for this specific deck. Speaking of—you catch a design slowly forming onto the card and turn your attention towards it. Your sunglasses slide down your head, your hand subconsciously adjusting them to cover your eyes. You notice MK watching as well, but since he can’t exactly see what’s being burned in, is just staring at a blank card.

You, however…

Well…

You’d be lying if part of you quietly hoped to not get this card. Another part of you wasn’t surprised to see it. An upside down tower slowly formed on the card, lightning striking it and fire erupting from the windows, people falling out of them.

The Tower, Reversed:

You’ve become too comfortable in this bubble of yours. You are actively resisting the coming change, while the world moves without you, and it will lead you to fall far behind. You know this change is necessary, and you know it’s inevitable. You cannot and should not deny that something big is about to happen. Because if you do, it will only force its way into your life even more. So take action now, so you can prepare for whatever is to come. To stay unchanged will only bring pain within yourself.

Of course… just as you expected. Of all the damn cards to get, why did it have to be this one? Because your deck cares about you, obviously. Just like Uncle, the cards want you to be better, want you to achieve your Best Self.

You feel a finger tap your shoulder and glance at MK. He looks worried, asking, “Ah—are you okay? You kinda spaced out there.”

“Oh—yeah—sorry. I just… my card revealed itself to me. I was already going to ask a question before you came up, and it sure answered it.” You sigh, leaning back against the booth and staring at your card. The design of The Tower Reversed slowly fades away just as Tang walks over with two bowls of noodles.

“I had Pigsy make langman for you, they’re quite delicious!” He hands you your bowl and takes his spot in the opposite seat again. “Hello, MK.”

“Hi, Mr. Tang!” MK gives a big smile to Tang before turning back to you. “So—what did your card say?”

You don’t answer at first, opting to stare at your bowl of noodles and fiddle with your chopsticks. You’d rather not go into detail of it, especially not with complete strangers. No offense to either of them, but it doesn’t matter if Tang was the Golden Cicada or that MK was a good kid. You always kept people at arms length. Letting anyone in again will certainly be an endeavor in itself—if you even want such a thing.

You choose to say, “Well… it was just telling me that there are some big changes coming my way. And to… try to be prepared for it.”

“Oh, I see! Well, good luck with whatever changes that happen!” The way MK’s able to bounce around with so much energy is a mystery to you, but not unwelcome. His child-like glee was… actually kind of precious.

Such a sweet kid.

You slurp at your noodles, humming at just how delicious it was. No wonder Tang is here every time your visions lead you to him. You glance up at Tang, who shares a knowing smile with you, before digging into his own bowl. You slurp up your noodles, noticing MK curiously looking over your card. Probably for longer than intended. 

There’s a shine in his eyes. Curiosity, a hint of desire. Hmm… does he want to read? Doesn’t hurt to offer. You turn to him to better observe his expression. It looks like he wants to say something, but is holding back. It only solidifies your initial assumption, so you choose to ask, “Would you like a reading?”

“Wha—me???” MK looks genuinely shocked you even offered. When you nod, he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Yes, yes, please! If that’s okay?”

“Sure, we’ll do a simple one card reading. Here,” you slide the card to him, saying, “knock on the top of the card with a question in mind. I usually do this to spread my energy into the card—or cards, depending on what number spread I’m doing—so it knows what I want, and how to best answer it.”

“Okay…” MK reaches out and gently taps his knuckles against your card, asking in a soft voice, “Will I become what I dream to be?” Before pulling his hand away.

What he dreams to be? I wonder what that is.

He anxiously shifts in his seat as you take the card and set it closer to you, covering it with your own hand and quietly asking, “Will you answer this for him?” You go back to eating your noodles while keeping an eye on the card, in turn noticing Tang watching with piqued interest as well.

Slowly, a design is burned onto the surface of the card. You pause your eating, wipe your mouth with a napkin, and look it over. A young man is stepping forward at the edge of a cliff, carrying a bag over his shoulder and bearing a smile.

“Interesting…”

Pretty much what I expected, given his question.

“What, what is it??” His nervous air seems to triple at your reaction to the card. You pull out your phone to bring up a picture of what his card looks like, and show it to him.

“The Fool, upright.” You look at him. “The Fool is part of the Major Arcana—Major Arcana often represents setting a scene for a spread with more than one card, and life-changing events that will have long-term effects. They have very deep, complex meanings compared to Minor Arcana. The Major Suits are the cards that represent larger pieces of your life, while the Minor Arcana Suits are more for smaller events or moments.”

“Okay… so what does this one mean?”

You explain, “The Fool upright represents new beginnings, opportunity, and potential. You’re about to take the first step into the unknown. You’re ready to commit yourself and follow your heart—despite not knowing exactly where you’re going or how crazy the leap of faith could be.”

He sits up a bit more, listening intently as you keep talking, “This card is encouraging you to go on and take that leap. Even if you’re afraid, it encourages you to acknowledge the fear and do it anyway. And if you don’t know what’s coming, it’s okay. Like The Fool, just step into the unknown and trust you’ll have friends or family to catch you and help you if you need it.”

You smile softly, saying, “Basically, it’s telling you to have confidence in yourself, take that leap of faith, and to recognize your fear but don’t let it control you.”

MK’s smile grows stronger as you finish speaking. He picks up the card and looks at it, before handing it back to you. “Thanks a bunch for that… uh… oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I never even asked your name! I’m Qi Xiaotian, but I usually just go by MK!”

“It’s alright, no harm done.” You tell him your name and put your card away. “Major Arcana are a lot to unpack. I would recommend doing your own research on it as well, including the card you just pulled.”

“My, you have a lot of knowledge on the practice of tarot, don’t you?” Tang muses before taking a long slurp of his noodles.

You look at him and nod slowly. “I’ve spent a long time studying it. I’m a little rusty now after not touching it for a year or so, give or take. But I’ve been practicing on and off to get back into it.”

Tang nods along as you talk, adjusting his glasses and asking, “You do these readings for a living?”

You shrug, using the noodle bowl to cover most of your face. “Most of the time I help my uncle with his own business, but, uh… sometimes my freelance work involves a tarot reading or two, but not always.”

“Interesting!” He smiles at you, finishing off his bowl of noodles and holding a hand out to you. “I’ve heard of tarot readings, but never truly dove into studying the practice myself. It’s a fascinating practice that I’m sure is difficult to master.”

“It’s not too difficult to master, if you’re able to handle the harsh truth the cards bring to you at times. But it’s not for everyone, so it’s understandable if people find it difficult.” You cough and bury yourself into your food as you recall The Tower enforcing a reality check.

“If I may ask, what freelance work do you do?” Tang asks, tilting his head your way.

You really should’ve expected the attention to be divided evenly between you, Tang, and the newly added MK in the conversation. But you still quietly hoped it wouldn’t. Being in the spotlight wasn’t exactly your forte. You put your bowl down and hum softly, “Mm, I actually do transcribe work on the side when not helping my uncle. Nothing much, but it’s something I enjoy and pays well.”

Tang looks genuinely shocked by your statement. “Not much? That’s a tough field to be in for some!”

MK blinks, looking between you two. “What’s transcribing?”

Tang makes a vague gesture as he says, “It’s either taking audio from a recording and putting it into writing, or being present in a meeting to write down what’s being said.” He hums as he chews on his chopsticks, then points at MK and says, “Think of it like intense note-taking that you get paid for.”

“Oh, okay… wait, so you have to write down everything you hear?”

You nod. “Pretty much. Most of the time I take recordings and transcribe them rather than be physically present. It’s—easier to transcribe recordings.” Mainly because you don’t have to worry about having visions at home while listening to recordings, compared to in the middle of a meeting or court hearing. But rather than say that, you say, “Sometimes being in a room with so many people—ah—makes me anxious.”

Not a complete lie, as being around so many people in one room does make you more fidgety than usual.

“Ah, I see. Even just from that, I’m sure you get paid a fair amount for it.” Tang’s smile is once again gentle and kind. “You should give yourself more credit. Not many are able to handle such a job—from what I’ve seen, it looks quite stressful.”

Your cheeks warm at the praise, not very used to it, and scratch at your neck. “Ah—I—thanks. It’s not too bad, I’m pretty used to it after my own intense note-taking from my school days.” You look at him, desperately trying to find a way to push the topic away from you. It was already more attention than you wanted. “But, i—if anything, I feel the true compliments should go to you, Tang. I mean, dedicating so many years to our history? It’s very commendable.”

He laughs, using his scarf to hide his blushing face. “Oh—well—you know—it’s nothing, really.”

It’s there MK notices all the books on the table opened to pages pertaining to Sun Wukong and his adventures. As if he experienced the worst betrayal of all, he abruptly stands from the table and looks at Tang with a heartbroken expression. “You talked about Monkey King without me???”

“You were delivering for Pigsy!” Tang waved his chopsticks in MK’s direction. “Besides, it’s not as if what I told them is something you haven’t heard.”

You look at MK now, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re interested in the Great Sage as well?”

Not surprising if his nickname is “MK.”

“Of course! Who wouldn’t be?? He’s so cool! Born from stone, acquiring all those abilities during his journey, and becoming the hero we know today!” MK jumps around, striking a pose at the end of his own excitable statement. “Ugh, I’d love to meet him. I know it’s not possible, but just—just the thought of it is so exciting!” The excitement is emphasized by his hands flapping in front of him.

You simply nod along, allowing MK to go on his own rant about Sun Wukong. Soon enough, Tang joined in to bounce off him. Though you’ll admit you already knew bits and pieces of these stories, and you weren’t the most interested in it, you let them go off. It’s the least you can do as a quiet thanks for them sitting through your own lecture about tarot and yourself. You preferred the attention off of you anyway.

Being a clairvoyant notwithstanding, the life you led back in America didn’t give you time to hone your social skills. Attention to you never meant anything good for you there, and so breaking that habit here was going to be tough. Sandy and your uncle were the exceptions—having known them for a long enough period of time.

It also doesn’t help that your previous slip ups are still lingering in your mind. Your paranoia starts to poke at you, and you have to hush it to be able to focus on MK and Tang’s rant. Before you know it, the sun had set, and the moon began rising into the sky, indicating just how much time had passed.

“Ah—I should go before my uncle starts to worry. Thanks again for the food, Mr. Mr. Pigsy. And thank you, Tang and MK, for the impromptu history lesson on the Great Sage.” You give a small, polite bow of the head to them. “I enjoyed it.”

“It’s always nice to enlighten those who wish to learn about Monkey King.” Tang returns the bow and smiles. “Should you ever want another history lesson, you know where to find me! And I’d be interested in hearing more about your knowledge on tarot as well.”

You share his smile, though yours is a bit more forced. “It’d be my pleasure to tell you what I know.”

MK jumps in front of you, beaming with shining eyes. “And thank you for the tarot reading!” He takes your hand and eagerly shakes it. “I appreciate it, I really, really do. You should come by when my friend is here! She’s super fun and great at video games.”

Probably not gonna happen.

“I’d like to meet her,” you say to him instead. You pat him on the shoulder and move to leave. “Next time, then.”

“Next time!!” MK waves with newfound excitement as you board the bus and ride it towards home. You close your eyes, sighing and allowing your shoulders to relax.

MK was a nice kid; you feel like he’s in good hands under Mr. Pigsy’s wing and Tang’s guidance. And speaking of—Tang seemed very sweet and understanding. Already showing how alike he was to the previous incarnations of the Golden Cicada, whether he knows he’s the most recent reincarnation or not.

Despite Tang’s kind nature, though, you couldn’t help but still feel tense around him. Especially after all the awkward times you just stared at him when entranced by your visions. It felt like he was watching your every move, and your paranoia isn’t letting you discern if it’s either from curiosity or something else.

You close your eyes and breathe, trying to calm the more suspicious side of your mind running rampant. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. You didn’t get any bad feelings from either of them. They’re not bad people—especially considering Tang is the Golden Cicada. MK also doesn’t look like he has a single mean bone in his body.

You calm your paranoid thoughts and return to the main thought about the card that appeared during your reading. The Tower Reversed…

If it’s telling you to accept the visions as you being the one to meet the Great Sage, you weren’t really keen on doing so. The same question from several weeks ago re-enter your thoughts, why you? Why now? Why at all, even? There’s no reason it should be you.

Too mediocre. Too broken.

There’s always a reason, a different voice in your mind says, a voice that sounds a lot like Uncle Zan’s. You just have to find it, and accept it as the truth.

You look out the window of the bus, the corners of your mouth tugged down into a deep frown.

Accept it as the truth…

Yeah, easier said than done.

○ ○ ○

Several more days have passed since you met MK and Tang. You didn’t visit Pigsy's Noodles every day after, but you did come by once or twice to say hello to them. You’d linger, listening to Tang go on about his knowledge and passion on history—especially the history of the Great Sage. And sometimes MK would join in when he’s not busy doing deliveries. Before you’d know it, hours would have passed, and you’d have to head home for dinner with Uncle Zan.

Just the last few weeks, Uncle didn’t speak much, aside from idle commentary or talking about his clients. He never once made mention of your visions ever since the big one that took you to the construction district. With the tarot reading from a few days ago added on top of that, it’s leaving you on edge.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, leaning back in your office chair. You’d just finished up a few transcripts for a client and had the rest of the day off. Without much to do, you’ve opted to use the time to meditate in your room.

Accept that the visions are saying you're the one who’s supposed to meet the Great Sage…

What’s so important about meeting him that if you keep refusing it, it’ll cause trouble? Why is it so imperative that you meet him?

…

What’s about to happen that you’re supposed to be a part of?

There’s a small chuckle beside you, causing you to swivel in your chair to the source of the noise. Sun Wukong’s silhouette sits on your bed, more so lounging lazily. His silhouette was more clear compared to the last few times you’ve seen it. It used to move and warp as if struggling to keep itself together, but now it’s a clear image of his shape, with his eyes and mouth the only detail seen. You see his tail flicking up behind him.

His face vaguely forms into a smile, saying, “Man, you’re really tense. Can’t blame ya, after what you and the others saw.”

You breathe, closing your eyes and turning away. The movement was automatic, having been practiced for years. Just close your eyes and block it out. It’ll go away eventually.

Yet, even as you try to block it out, you can’t help but be naturally curious on what he means by ‘the others’.

You hear him say, “Don’t worry, though! Kid’s safe and unharmed, takin’ a little nap on the beach. Before we get to that, I heard you were lookin’ for little ol’ me! So, what’s up?”

Kid…?

You open your eyes and look over to where Monkey King sat—

—but he wasn’t there anymore. The vision ended as soon as it came.

You groan, rubbing your face and leaning forward against your desk. Two parts of you were at odds at this point. The part that spent years practicing keeping this piece of you hidden away and controlled, and the other that quietly knew you had to accept this as part of yourself. 

You hear the words of your father echoing in the back of your mind, Keeping it controlled will keep you safe. Block it out. Don’t listen to it. You’re the one who controls it, not the other way around.

Yet you hear the voice of your uncle arguing, Control isn’t just pushing it down and trying to lock it into a box. If you shove, it will shove back with more force. Learning control is to first learn to let go and accept it.

You run your fingers through your hair and groan. You knew Uncle Zan was right, but the teachings of your father were so deeply embedded into your head. Years of practicing blocking it out, shutting it in, trying to keep it quiet to keep yourself and your family safe…

After doing it for over half your life, undoing it all within just a couple of years won’t be easy.

You huff and stand up from your desk. You won’t get anywhere just sitting around and whining. Might as well take a walk to clear your head. While you’re out, you could also get some grocery shopping done.

With a goal in mind, you get ready to head to the market, writing down a list of things to get before you head out. Thankfully, Uncle Zan had a session with Sandy today, so you didn’t have to worry about his unwavering stare fueling your paranoia. Which… probably isn’t a good thing, now that you think of it.

He’s said before, you can talk to him if you need anything.

Why avoid it when you can just face the music and have him help you?

A sigh leaves you as you board the bus. He’s your uncle, your only remaining family. You shouldn’t avoid the subject—and in turn him—like this. He could help you with this, he promised to help you with it. Avoiding him with the truth of what’s going on with you will do more harm than good. You think it’s selfish, but a part of you wants him to ask you first, relieving you of the effort of confronting him instead.

But then, as if to argue against you, The Tower Reversed flashed in your mind, the memory of the message it told you.

Take action now, so you can prepare for whatever is to come.

Sound advice, but how the fuck are you supposed to undo the habit that you held for years?

You hop off the bus and begin your walk to the market, making sure to put on your sunglasses, just in case. Maybe you should talk to Zan when you get home from the market. He could know how to help you, being much more experienced in this than you and your father. He’s not having trouble with these visions, so there’s obviously something he’s doing that you’re not that makes it easier for him.

Maybe he is just waiting for you to go to him first… To ask him for help.

…

Maybe you should, after you get your shopping done…

Yeah, you might as well. It’s better than this horrific silence.

You look up from your list and blink. The street was slowly vanishing before your eyes, changing into the now-familiar terrain of the mountain path—you know this place. You don’t know how you do, but… you know it’s Flower Fruit Mountain. The smell of the cars linger, as well as the feeling of people around you. You carefully try to move to avoid bumping into the people you can no longer see, and hurry into an alleyway before all of it is gone. All you see now is the trees and brush of the mountain path.

You close your eyes and breathe slowly.

Go away, go away. Now’s not the damn time for this—

“Boo!”

“Ah!” You turn around and come face to face with Monkey King’s silhouette, the mouth formed into a mischievous grin.

He laughs, almost falling over but catches himself with his tail. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself. Hah! The look on your face!” He waves at you. “But hey, come with me! I wanna show ya somethin’!” He turns and hops off the boulder, vanishing deeper into the brush.

Out of pure habit, you stand still for a moment, trying to ignore the feeling inside you as it grows stronger. You reach into your bag to grab at the alarm to alert Zan and Sandy, but you don’t press the button.

You hear Monkey King call, “C’mon, slow poke! I know you can move faster than that!”

He wants to show me something?

What is it?

What could he want with me, of all people?

Curiosity gnawed—no, ate at you with each passing second.

…

…

…

You take a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

Step, step, step.

Your resistance to the vision was a distant thought now, your new sole desire to follow Monkey King. 

What does he want to show me?

Why me?

You chase after him, huffing as you climb up uneven ground and brow furrowing as he keeps hopping from tree to tree. Several times you almost lose sight of him, managing to catch him just in time before you can become completely lost in this forest.

You hurry after him as best you can, climbing over brush and rocks and weaving around trees. All while desperately trying not to trip and keeping sights on him at the same time.

You call out, “Great Sage, slow down!”

“Eh?” He turns to you, tilting his head, then laughs, “Keep up, ya slug! Never climbed a mountain before?”

“Oh, so sorry —I never grew up at—huff—the top of a mountain—huff—with a family of monkeys,” you say between your panting, “Maybe you could’ve—shown me where the stairs were?”

Monkey King hangs from the tree by his tail, looking at you and blinking owlishly, before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Man, you’re a real firecracker, ain’t ya? I like you.” He sobers up and scratches at his back, saying, “And uh yeah, you’re kind of standing on the stairs right now. Been in disrepair for a few hundred years, though.”

Can’t imagine why, is what you wanted to say, but were too busy trying to catch your breath. You look at Monkey King with an extremely dissatisfied expression, which only seems to amuse him more.

“C’mon, firecracker, it’s not much farther from here.” He swings off the branch and heads down the path, now moving slower for you. You follow after him, still hurrying to try to keep up and not waste time. You’re not sure why time can’t be wasted, you just know it’s important to hurry up. He takes you up the mountain to a lake with a large waterfall.

He turns to you and nods for you to follow. You hop across the stones, watching him part the waterfall as if it were just curtains to reveal the cave behind. You walk with him along an overgrown path to what looked like some kind of family portrait. He takes you down a different pathway that soon opens up into a larger cavern within the mountain. The sun shines from an opening in the ceiling, guiding your eye to a small house with a large peach tree growing next to it.

“Welcome, to my humble abode!” Monkey King smoothly steps in front of you, splaying his arms out to present the area. “Now, for what I wanted to show you—”

Your premonition is abruptly interrupted when you feel a harsh kick to your stomach, causing you to collapse to the ground. Your sunglasses clatter against the floor, landing far away from you. “Oomph!” You gasp, cough. You feel that same foot that kicked you harshly step onto your stomach and press down.

“You dare interrupt this momentous occasion and ignore me, you filthy peasant?!”

You blink rapidly, staring up at the individual who held you down. Your vision fades away, revealing a young man with fiery hair pulled in a high ponytail, and ears that resembled those of a bull, along with bullhorns jutting from his skull. The air about him radiated with demonic energy, and something else. Something you can’t fully make out because of how disoriented you were.

“Uh…wuh?”

The young man groans in frustration, shoving his weight into his foot to cause more discomfort to you. Getting kinda hard to breathe. “Answer me, peasant, or I’ll burn you from the inside out. For what reason do you intrude upon us?”

You feel that warmth coming from his foot and catch sight of flames licking along the edges of his hair. You glance around you, seeing robotic bipedal bulls standing at attention. You then take notice of a woman approaching, donned in elegant silks and dark hair braided and styled up in an intricate bun, adorned with ornate hairpins and decorated with precious gems.

Something felt… familiar about their appearance, but you can’t quite put your finger on it, still trying to shake off the dizzy spell.

That’s when you see it. A small hill with the sun beating down on a familiar looking staff, a single tree growing beside it.

Chapter Text

“Oh… fuck,” you mumble to yourself, “of course it happened at the worst time…” That’s just your luck, isn’t it?

“What was that?” The young man bends down, his ears flicking in your direction. “You will speak clearly and concisely in the presence of the Demon Bull family, do you understand?”

Finally, more coherent and no longer dazed, your eyes widen at the realization of just how fucked you were.

The Demon Bull family?? You vaguely recall their stories. The main one is how Demon Bull King himself was sealed under a mountain by Sun Wukong. That means this has to be… Demon Bull King’s wife and son—Princess Iron Fan and Red Son.

Oh boy… they can’t be happy about their husband and father respectively being sealed away for half a millennium. You need to leave, asap.

You grunt, reactively grabbing his foot to try to ease the pressure—to no avail. It was a stupid plan, but it was worth a try, at least. Your bag presses uncomfortably into your back, meaning you couldn’t get your flash bangs… but your taser was in your side pouch. You use one hand to try to reach for it, only to have another foot kick your hand away and step on it.

“Ack—!” Your hand flexes under the shock of the heel pressing down. You try to pull away, but it’s effectively pinned in place.

“Darling, I believe my son asked you a question.” Princess Iron Fan kneels, grabbing your face and making you look at her. “But we’re willing to overlook this slight if you answer me one question…” Her nostril's flair, as if taking in your scent, and her eyes sharpen as she regards you. Red Son gives him a look of confusion but says nothing.

You groan at the pain blooming in your hand, looking at her. She’s observing you intently, eyes scanning your face, seemingly searching for something. You notice Red Son doing the same, his nose twitching as he takes in your scent, his features contorting into disgust and curiosity.

Dammit, fine, no running from this. Not right now, at least. You knew you would end up running into demons sooner or later after moving here, but you weren't expecting to run into the fucking Demon Bull family, of all things. Even so, you might as well play along for now, no point in trying to lie your way out of it. And your chest and hand fucking hurt, so you’d like for them to get off.

“What… What's your question?” You ask, struggling to get the sentence out with the weight of Red Son’s boot still on your stomach.

Iron Fan smiles, still holding your face and making your head turn this way and that. “You have the scent of a celestial blessing on you, dear child. Indulge me… which particular blessing do you have, hmm?”

Red Son, catching onto what his mother is doing, bends down to join her in scrutinizing you. His eyes squint as he says, “Answer her truthfully, I'll be able to tell if you lie.”

You take a breath—as well as you could, at least. You’re not going to lie, you didn’t even know other celestial blessings existed. Should you take a gamble on what your blessing is? If Red Son can tell you’re lying, it’s most likely not the best idea.

But if they know what I am, it’s going to end horrifically.

It’ll only be worse if I lie, though…

Seeing little way around it without making the situation worse, you decide to answer truthfully, “I’m… a clairvoyant.”

Both of them pause, their faces falling into deep contemplation. They exchange glances in a silent discussion on what to do with you. Red Son ends up easing his foot from your chest, and she steps off your hand.

“Interesting…” She hums. “An oracle… am I to safely assume, dear oracle, that your premonition brought you here?”

“Y—Yes, ma’am,” you say slowly, not daring to move even as you’re no longer being stepped on.

Red Son looks at her now, leaning in and whispering something. They seem to be speaking in an entirely different language.

It sounds oddly familiar…

Is… is that Italian? They can speak Italian???

I guess, when you’re a few hundred or thousand years old, you pick up some other languages… still odd.

They glance at you, quietly gauging if you’re understanding what they’re saying. You very much weren’t. You took maybe… one class back in high school and only remember how to say a few words. Once they note you can’t understand a lick of their conversation, they go back to speaking, the minotaur bots watching you closely. The most you can garner from their secret conversation is “offer” and “keep.”

Several names were said, one you recognize as Sun Wukong’s, and then two other names—Lihua and Fengshe. You… have no clue who those two are. They were someone Iron Fan and Red Son knew—comrades, maybe?

“Dear child.” Iron fan now regards you, her gaze intense as she speaks, “You have a choice. You can stay and find refuge within our family, where your abilities will be valued, and your life is given a purpose aside from hiding within the shadows…”

She pauses to let you process the first part of this deal. You knew the “or” was coming, as it always did in situations like these involving demons and deals.

You move slow enough, so they can clock your movements as you sit up. You glance between her and Red Son, then lock eyes with her again. “Or…?”

“Or…” She says, now kneeling before you and taking your chin in her hand. The touch is deceivingly gentle, just like the look in her eyes. “You can choose to meet your end here.”

Your blood runs cold at her words, your lungs clenching. All too suddenly, it felt like it was all but impossible to breathe.

Are they just fine with killing me?

They have to know just how valuable clairvoyants are, especially now with how little of my kind there are.

Are they so willing and ready to… do that?

You’ve never run into such a situation before. It makes your mind completely blank on what to do or say, and all you can do is stare and stare.

Red Son’s gaze remains unwavering while he says, “You’re gazing upon something that should not be seen by others. We cannot permit you to leave here and reveal our presence here, in this spot, to anyone.” He crosses his arms, his stance firm. “Valuable asset or not, should you refuse our offer, you will not be leaving here alive to ensure we can maintain silence and secrecy.”

“It’s not all that bad, child,” says Iron Fan, her touch on your chin terrifyingly gentle. “If you decide to refuse, I will ensure your death is as quick and painless as possible.” She tilts her head, looking over your features that were mixed with shock and horror. “But if you choose to accept this offer, your extraordinary abilities will be valued, and your life will have a purpose aside from hiding in the shadows. And, most importantly, you will be safe from any dangers that dare threaten you.”

You swallow some spit to try to stop your throat from drying out. You were fully expecting them to attempt “convincing” you to work for them from here on out. What you were not expecting was for them to straight up say they’ll kill you if you refuse.

Was this what The Tower Reversed was trying to warn you about? Is this where your visions were trying to lead you? But why here specifically?

You manage to get a lungful of air, slowly exhaling as you say, “It’s… really a no-brainer then, isn’t it?” You purse your lips, gauging their expressions and thinking of what else to say. You settle with, “I’ve… been looking for a purpose in my life for… for so long… while I—wasn’t expecting to find it in this sense—how can I refuse such an offer?”

Iron Fan smiles, her hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek and giving it a small pinch. The gesture reminded you too much of your mother. “Good,” she says. If you were brave enough to assume, she almost sounded relieved herself, as if she didn’t want to kill you in the first place.

“You made the right choice, oracle,” she says as she stands. She makes a gesture to one of the minotaur bots. It comes over and helps you to your feet, then guides you to stand to the side. Iron Fan says, “A contract must be made, of course, to ensure we both maintain our end of such a tall bargain. However, I believe that would be best to be saved for my husband.”

You follow her gaze to the small hill that has Sun Wukong’s cudgel embedded into it. “Your… husband…” You blink, looking back at her. “Isn’t it—I—ah—not to—speak out of turn, my lady—” you clear your throat, glancing back to the cudgel “—but isn’t he… sealed away? By the Golden Cudgel? No one can lift that…”

No one was strong enough to move it aside from the Great Sage and Six-Eared Macaque when he was still alive. That’s why it hasn’t budged all these years. How could they possibly move it?

“Why not just watch, and find out?” Is all Iron Fan says, that smile is still on her face. She then faces Red Son to tell him, “My little torch, why don't we continue what we came here for? We will discuss things about the oracle once your father is free.”

Red Son huffs. “Of course, mother.” He turns away from you both and steps towards the cudgel.

All you can do is stare with heavy skepticism. You may not be too well versed in the history of your homeland, but you’d have to have lived under several layers of rock and Earth's crust to not know that no one could move the Golden Cudgel. What makes them think that they could? Did they discover some kind of magic or technology that allows them to lift it?

You squint, watching Red Son summon a strange-looking gauntlet and grab the staff. He heaves, the gauntlet letting out a loud gust of steam. You feel your muscles tensing subconsciously while you observe the scene, half expecting him to be launched away. But he remains, pulling at the staff and grunting as he struggles to pull it free.

What a strange gauntlet… did he make it himself?

Will he be able to move it?

Suddenly, you catch sight of a blue feather gliding into your view, ripping you from your thoughts.

What the—?

You look up out of curiosity. Thankfully, the noise from Red Son's gauntlet and his struggles masked your choked noise of surprise. A good fifteen to twenty feet above you hung MK from between two pipes. He’s barely balancing himself on said pipes, otherwise, he would’ve fallen onto one of those bull-bots by now.

Just what in the fuck is he doing here?!

You make eye contact with him, and he gives a shaky smile—as much as he can with a delivery bag of noodles in his mouth. Why does he have that with him? Was he making deliveries before coming here?

You lift your hand to wipe your mouth, subtly making a zipped lip motion to him and tapping your temple, stay quiet, I have an idea. His arms tremble, and you can see his chest heaving as he desperately tries to not fall. But he nods to you.

And that's when you catch the bird now staring at you. You squint at it. It squints back. You blink, noticing something… off about the bird. It was just close enough to notice, if only a little. It looked almost like the rays of the sun hitting against a mist that rolled off the bird’s feathers.

What is that—some kind of animal spirit? Is it MK’s?

Better yet… why is MK here in the first place?

He is a huge fan of Sun Wukong, you recall… Maybe he made his way down here to admire the cudgel. At the same time, however, Iron Fan and Red Son made it seem like this was some kind of secret spot, as if no one had found it for years. That felt kind of—well, impossible, really, especially considering how popular Sun Wukong was.

This place should’ve been made into a museum of some sort. When you glance around the area, the abandoned construction equipment makes you think it would have been. They may have just scared off the construction crew to keep this place under wraps for years, but all you can do is speculate and theorize—which you don’t have time for.

You glance back at Red Son, who had just lifted the staff with his gauntlet, a cry of victory leaving him. “Yes!!”

“Holy shit…” You whisper, eyes widening. “He actually did it…”

Iron Fan turns to you with a smile, her index finger pressed to her chin. “Of course he did, he is my son, after all,” she chuckles.

Red Son hops off the hill, backing away as the ground rumbles and shakes. You brace yourself, taking a glance at MK to ensure he won’t fall. He’s managed to get himself onto just one pipe, clinging for dear life, whilst the strange bird with him simply watches. It’s looked at you several times, making eye contact with you before focusing on the scene before it.

Its eyes hold such astute intelligence, even for an animal guide…

“My love…” You hear Iron Fan say softly, tearing your eyes from the bird.

The Demon Bull King, now released from his prison for over five hundred years, now stands before you. He’s hunched over, breathless, his chest heaving with each intake of air. He looks at his hand and clenches it. “I… am freed…” He pants, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. He lifts his head, his eyes scanning the area.

He takes in the sight of the bull bots first, then you. His eyes narrow slightly at you, his nostrils flaring as he takes in your scent. His scrutinizing and critical eye doesn’t stay on you for long when he catches sight of Iron Fan and Red Son, though. Eyes widening, he sucks in a breath, whispering, “Princess Iron Fan… Red Son…?”

He reaches for her but pauses, almost hesitant, as if touching her would make her vanish or crumble into dust. She meets him halfway, however, leaning into his touch. Her eyes close as she turns her head and kisses his palm, whispering, “Darling…” A small gust of wind lifts her to his face and her forehead rests against his.

Demon Bull King's other hand lifts Red Son to bring him closer to both his mother and father. He says, “My son… how you’ve grown so big while I was away. Look at you…”

“Father—I—” Red Son silences himself, shaking his head and leaning forward. His gauntleted hand shakes as it grips the cudgel, but not from the weight of it.

The family, apart for so many years, is now together. Still intact. No words are exchanged for a full minute. Their entire image, to others, would have been considered beautiful. But to you, it taunted you, mocked you even.

Because it reminded you of a life you could have had.

Unable to continue watching, you look away from them.

You hear Demon Bull King's voice rumble with a soft chuckle, saying, “I am happy to see that the years have been kind to you both.”

“If only they were kinder to you, dearest husband,” Iron Fan says, “But you're here, now. And we've made many plans while you were sealed away.” She moves away from him and gestures to you. “And we have our newest family member about to join us.”

The softness of her voice when regarding you makes your muscles seize up. It takes all your willpower not to scowl.

Don’t treat this as if I’m joining your family.

I’m just some pet to you.

Let’s not forget you threatened me to join you, either.

Bull King regards you now, staring down his snout at you with a narrowed gaze. He comes closer, bending down and taking in your scent before his lips pull upward into a snarl. “Touched by the heavens.”

“A clairvoyant specifically, father,” Red Son proudly states, twirling the staff and stabbing it into the ground. “Wandered right in before I freed you.”

“Wandered in?” Bull King huffs as he gives you an incredulous look. His gaze narrows as if he’s trying to recall where he’s seen your face before. Ultimately, he shakes it off and says, “One doesn't simply ‘wander’ into the prison of the Demon Bull King.”

You’re about to start saying something, but Iron Fan speaks up before you, “They say they had a vision that guided them here.” She looks at you now, her smile like that of a rose covered with thorns. “Why don’t you enlighten us on what that vision was, dear child?”

You purse your lips at the name. Just play along and hurry them out of here before MK is found out. You speak slowly, carefully choosing your words, “My vision was… hazy at best, my lady.” All eyes are on you now. You keep your hands where they can be seen, fidgeting with your fingers. Keep it vague, you don’t have to tell the full truth, but just enough to make them believe you.

You say, “All I felt was a desire to follow something—someone. I couldn’t fully make out who it was, but I remember an intense warmth coming from them.”

Bull King huffed. “A clairvoyant not in full control of their premonitions? Mmm… disappointing.” He looks you over again with intense judgment.

“Tut-tut, my love!” Iron Fan wags her finger at Bull King, scolding him as if he weren't several feet larger than her. “Surely your imprisonment hasn’t made you forget about the massacre of their people, no?” She sighs, her eyes on you now, looking you up and down. “The poor thing must have been in hiding for so long, just like the rest of their people, until their vision brought them to us.”

She looks back to her husband now, saying, “Besides, dear husband, you should know better than to be overly critical of a blessing like this one.”

Bull King sighs, “Of course, wife…” He leans down closer to you, his eyes narrowing. “So, oracle, will you willingly assist me and my family?”

“To the best of my abilities, my lord,” you say with a nod. “So—uh—where are we going now?”

Gotta get them out of here, fast.

“Not so fast, sweet thing,” Iron Fan pinches your cheek in a scolding manner. “Why in such a rush? Worried someone will find us?”

“It’s never safe to linger in one spot for too long…” You choose to say. It’s true, anyway. It’s never been safe for you to stay in one place. At least back in America. You’re lucky to have not been found out while here, or that the demons who helped you were clients of your uncle and swore to keep your secret.

Even so, while that’s true, it’s not exactly why you’re trying to rush them out of here. You don’t know how much longer MK will be able to hang onto the pipe. If he’s discovered… who knows what the Bull Family will do to him? It’s a thought you don’t want to entertain.

“You are under the protection of the Demon Bull Family, oracle,” Red Son rolls his eyes, putting his free hand on his hip. “No demon would dare to bring harm to you while we are present.”

“Indeed, so there’s nothing to worry about, oracle. Come now,” she gestures for you to come closer, so you do. You stand beside her, looking up at Bull King. You wring your hands in front of you, biting your lip.

“A contract must be made post-haste before we take our leave—to ensure that both sides maintain their end of the bargain. Our protection for your services,” she says, now making a gesture to Bull King. “It is only fitting that my husband is the one to seal this contract, don’t you?”

“Of course, my lady…” You say slowly, glancing between her and Bull King. He stands tall, crossing his arms and raising a brow expectantly to you. He wants you to start it, rather than him.

How do I get out of this situation without making a contract with them?

If I stall any longer, they’ll get suspicious, and that’ll only make it more likely for MK to get discovered…

What would Uncle do in a situation like this?

You clear your throat, your heart hammering against your chest. There’s no other way out of this that you can see, not right now at least. You just needed to roll with the punches and figure out how to get away later. “This contract… I offer my services—my visions—to you and your family to bring out the best outcome to whatever goals you wish to achieve.” You hold your hand out to him.

“And in return…” He follows in suit, reaching a large, clawed hand out to you. “I, and my family, will keep you safe, oracle. Never will you feel the need to glance over your shoulder in fear. Do you agree to the terms of this contract?”

“I…” You take a breath, trying to ease the tightness in your chest, your muscles. You so badly wanted to run, to hide, to get somewhere safe. You knew, though, that you wouldn’t be able to outrun these three. You feel the soft hummm of magic from the contract forming. “I agree—”

A loud squawk catches your attention, as well as everyone else’s. After the squawk, something falls from above—the bag of noodles MK was delivering, followed by a scream that comes from above. You look up, watching MK flail about as he falls right on top of Red Son, causing him to drop the Cudgel.

Oh, perfect. The contract wasn’t complete (which is good, since you never wanted it in the first place), but now MK's has been discovered.

This is not going to be easy now that they know he’s here.

Red Son flails, shoving MK off of him. “Get off me, you peon!” Flames erupt from his hands and travel along his arms, glaring down MK. Looking at him now, you notice something… off about his fire. It seemed darker than it should be. But you don’t have time to think about it as he steps towards MK. “How dare you! I ought to scorch your bones until you’re nothing but a burn stain on the ground!”

Bull King steps forward now, snorting, taking in MK’s scent. His lips pull back into a snarl. “Filthy eavesdropper… you reek of divine favor, boy.” He turns to you now. His eyes narrow, and he says, “You show recognition on your face, oracle. You know this boy?”

Think fast, think fast. Get MK out of this.

You look at MK now. He had scooted back at least a few feet, the Golden Cudgel right behind him. You say, “I, ah—”

MK yells, “H—Hey, leave them alone!” He stands on shaky legs. “I—I have no idea who they are! Yeah—definitely not! I just—happened across here! My noodle path told me to come here, okay?!” He wildly gestures to the bag of noodles, now just a sad puddle of ingredients on the ground.

Oh, MK… bless you, but you can’t lie for shit.

Iron Fan snickers, as if this was just some friendly gathering, and MK just told a hilarious joke. “What a precious lad, wanting to protect his oracle friend. An awful liar you are, sweet boy. Now tell us, what blessing do you carry? It’s quite a strong smell…”

“And a familiar one, at that.” Bull King snarls. He steps closer to MK, lowering himself to make proper eye contact with him. “Who. Are. You.”

“Uh—” MK looks between you and Bull King, then Red Son and Iron Fan, then back to Bull King. “Who am I? I—I’m just MK? I deliver noodles—wait—what do you mean by blessing??”

“You don’t even know what kind of blessing you have, noodle boy?” Red Son scoffs, dusting off his jacket. “What a disgrace. An unknown blessing is a useless blessing. We should be rid of him, post-haste. He’s seen too much—”

“W—Wait!” You didn’t even realize that it was you who interrupted him until he, and the others, looked at you now. You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your hands grip at one another to still your shaking.

Focus on getting MK out of this. Focus on him.

You inhale, then exhale. It felt as if your lungs were too small for you, making it difficult to breathe. “I, uh… forgive my abruptness, young lord,” you say, grabbing at whatever scraps of excuses you could think of. “But—think about it—even if his blessing is unknown, it can’t be too difficult to figure it out—and then he can hone it to be of use to your family.”

“The oracle has a point,” Iron Fan says, patting your head as if you were some dog who deserved a treat. You lean away from her touch, though she seems completely unbothered by it. She continues speaking, addressing MK now, “You will be faced with the same choice that your oracle friend was faced with.”

She steps forward, holding out an offering hand to him. He reactively steps back, his foot bumping against the cudgel. “You can either be under the protection of the Bull Family or meet your end here, my boy,” says Iron Fan. “We cannot allow anyone to discover my husband's release. Not yet. Not until we’ve finished what we’ve started.”

“Started… what?” MK asks, looking at you. His eyes shine with questions overflowing in his mind, most likely unsure if he can even ask them here and now. “What—What are you going to do with them?”

“That is none of your blasted business, noodle boy,” Red Son scowls at MK, crossing his arms. “You either join us, discover your blessing, and be protected and valued here with my family, or die here.”

MK’s brows furrow, looking at you, then the rest of the Bull Family. He shakes his head, blinking and running his fingers through his hair as if this is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “What—you—” he makes a gesture to Red Son now “—you’re just saying I either have to join you or die?! That’s not how deals are made, dude!”

“MK…” You say slowly, trying to get his attention.

Just roll with it, kid. Come on, don’t do what I think you’re gonna do…

He’s not catching the look on your face, though, already going off and saying, “You’re forcing innocent people into a deal where they literally have no other choice! You can’t just take someone’s freedom and think it’s a great offer because they’re getting protection! What if I never wanted the protection? What if I don’t wanna live in some—some gilded cage?!”

You try to get him to stop putting his foot in his mouth, “MK—”

But he doesn’t listen. He’s practically beyond listening at this point, his voice raising with his emotions becoming more unstable. “You’re doing just that with them, aren’t you?” He points a trembling finger at you. He stands taller suddenly, his body stiff with his hands clenching into fists. Whether his hands shook from anger or fear, you’re not sure. Maybe it’s both. “I—I won’t let you do that! I won’t let you just… take them from their home and think you’re doing the right thing! What you’re doing is—just—it’s slavery!”

Red Son erupts in a fury, dark flames erupting from his hands, “How dare you accuse my family of such things! You insult my mother and father!!” He advances towards MK, his lips pulled back into an angry snarl. “Let this be a lesson, noodle boy— this is what happens when you insult the Demon Bull family!”

“Wait, wait—” You try to step forward, but a bull bot grabs you just before the dark fire can hit you. Iron Fan ushers it away from the both of you with a wave of her hand, not looking like she was going to stop her son from, what you can only assume is, killing MK. You try to reach out to her, saying, “M—My lady, shouldn’t we stop him? MK—he spoke out of emotion—”

“Let him face the consequences of his actions,” is all she says. “He decided to lash out, and should face the repercussions.” She glances your way, adding, “My son won’t kill the boy, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

“But—”

Scrambling back, MK trips over the cudgel and whimpers. The anger on his face gives way immediately to fear. “Ah—I—uh—!”

Red Son hurtles towards MK at supernatural speed, his gauntlet set ablaze with the garnet flames. MK lets out a terrified scream, his hands frantically searching for something, anything, to shield himself from the incoming blow.

Then, a thunderous CLANG fills the air, echoing within the cavernous room.

Time itself seems to stand still for a second, a collective gasp escaping from you and Iron Fan. Bull King’s eyes slowly widen, eyes shining with shock and anger.

MK lifted the staff— Sun Wukong’s staff —and used it to block Red Son’s attack.

“What the—how?” Red Son stumbles back, in just as much disbelief as you. “How could you possibly lift the Golden Cudgel—let alone use it?!”

Bull King’s gaze remains glued on MK. Suddenly, his shock gives way to the rage, and he growls lowly. “That divine favor… I thought it smelt familiar… It smells of that filthy simian!” He steps forward, a roar of pure fury erupting from him. “Given power by a disgraceful, murderous demon such as him—no doubt to do his dirty work for him!”

Given power by Monkey King?

Hold on…

Your eyes widen as you start connecting the dots.

The little monkey in your visions when you’d see it with the Golden Cicada… always going to Pigsy's Noodles. The monkey always ran to the back, where you’d see MK coming out.

The vision earlier today of Great Sage telling you the “kid” was okay—

The Fool Upright represents new beginnings, opportunity, and potential. You’re about to take the first step into the unknown.

There’s no way…

Those visions you had…

Were those meant for MK all along—not you?

You weren’t sure what to think, staring at the scene before you, hearing Bull King’s words.

All you can think is, Why MK? He’s just a child.

“Uh—I— UH!” MK fumbles, pointing the staff at the Demon Bull family. “B—Back off! I—I don’t know how to use this thing! I’m armed and unpredictable!!”

Iron Fan sucks in a breath. She reaches for an ornament in her hair. With a flick of her wrist, the ornament enlarges itself, becoming her fabled palm-leaf fan. She advances towards him, saying, “Blessed by Wukong or not… that staff now belongs to the Bull Family. Return it, now.”

MK lets out a small whimper, looking at you now, worry etched on his features. He clears his throat and tries to keep his voice even as he says, “Okay—so—how about this? You let them go too, and we both can leave and pretend we never saw any of this! Win—win!” He laughs, though it's as forced as the smile on his face. He takes a step away, keeping the staff pointed at them.

“The clairvoyant remains with us, noodle boy.” Red Son grits his teeth, the fire on him reigniting and slowly growing with intensity. “No more negotiations will be made! Return the staff and live—or refuse us and die!”

MK stammers, “Bwah! N—No way! You’re gonna do bad stuff with it! And—and hurt my friend, too! Let them go, now!!” As if made of liquid, the staff wobbles in MK’s arms before jutting forward, elongating itself. Iron Fan ducks out of the way, and you flinch as the staff embeds itself into the head of the bull-bot that was holding onto you.

The grip on your arm slowly loosens, and you don’t hesitate at the presented chance. Ripping yourself free, you grab onto the staff and are yanked along as it quickly retracts to its original size. MK screams your name in surprise, stumbling back as you come at him much faster than intended.

You let go of the staff, tumbling to the ground and stopping just in front of MK, quickly pulling you to your feet. He asks, looking over your face, “Are you okay??”

Red Son stumbles back before his fire can erupt and burn you. He looks nothing short of shocked that you just pulled a stunt and exclaims, “Oracle, what are you doing?!”

You reach into your bag, grabbing at the flash bomb. “Close your eyes,” is the only warning you give to MK before throwing the bomb at the Demon Bull family and turning away. MK manages to cover his eyes quickly enough as the flash goes off, thankfully. The family wasn’t so lucky, being momentarily blinded.

With the opening presented to you, you grab MK’s arm and take off down the cavern towards the elevator. “Aaaand now we’re running!”

He staggers along with you, clambering into the elevator and pressing the button at least twenty times before the doors finally start closing. You see Red Son letting out a roar of rage and running towards you, screaming, “We had a deal, oracle! How dare you go back on your word!!” Fire erupts from his fists, a wave of flames coming your way.

“A deal we never shook on, and I never wanted!” You shout back, slamming the doors to the elevator shut.

“Aaaah! Close faster!!” MK mashes the button with more fervor, until the staff starts to shake again, stabbing through the floor of the elevator and anchoring itself on the roof of the elevator. The staff forces it to go up—a lot faster than it is supposed to.

He holds onto you, screaming in pure terror, “WE’RE GONNA DIIIIIIIE!”

The elevator crashes against the crane it was attached to. You have to quickly kick MK out, yourself scrambling behind him as fire bursts out of the hole you both just came out of. He runs for his scooter, but you grab his arm, yanking him down an alleyway.

“Where are we going?!” MK yells as he’s dragged by you.

“Shh!” You hiss, pressing a finger to your lips. “Stay quiet and keep to the alleys. If we took your scooter, we’d be in open space and easier to spot.”

Behind you, you hear a crash and a gust of wind—no doubt Red Son and Iron Fan preparing to come after you both.

You keep running. MK matches your pace quickly enough and follows you through darkened alleys and cracked fences. You both pant, sweat gathering at the back of your neck, tears in your eyes, but keep running. Your leg catches on a sharpened bit of a fence you slip through, and you feel the warmth flowing from the wound, but you still run. You use the adrenaline to push the pain away and pull MK along with you through the alleys.

Your mind chanted, Go, go, go. Don’t stop running.

You tug him into a darkened nook beside a dumpster, crouch down, and clamp a hand over his mouth. You try to keep your breathing even, slow inhales and exhales, and listen. Though it’s difficult to hear past the blood pounding in your ears, you still listen.

MK clutches the cudgel close to him, leaning against you. You feel him shivering, feel the tears flowing from his eyes and onto your hand. You pull him closer to you. The gesture, though silent, seems to bring him some form of comfort, as his shoulders relax if only a little.

You both wait and listen.

You wait for one minute.

Two…

Three…

Four…

When you hear nothing after five minutes, you slowly remove your hand from MK’s mouth. The tightness in your chest loosens, allowing you to breathe properly. You look at him, gently brushing a stray hair from his face and gauging his state. “Are you okay?”

He starts, staring at you with wide eyes. He was shaking but slowly nodded. “Yeah—yeah. I’m fine. I think. We didn’t die, right?”

You huff a weak laugh. “No, no, we didn’t.” You look him over. Nothing to note aside from slightly burnt clothes and some small scuffs he got during the run. Good, good. Time to get the hell out of here and to somewhere safer. Such as home with all of Uncle Zan’s protective wards. You’ll deal with the tongue-lashing from him if it meant MK was safe.

The poor kid didn’t deserve to witness all that shit.

You push yourself to your feet and then are violently reminded of the cut you received on your leg. You grunt, stumbling on your feet and needing to quickly lean against the wall for balance. “Augh—fuck!”

He’s at your side in an instant, one hand hovering by your arm in a silent offer to you. “Ah—your leg! When did this happen?” He gestures for you to sit on a nearby crate, kneel, and then carefully peel away the ripped fabric of your pants to inspect your calf.

“I think when we squeezed through that one fence—shit—” You hope they can’t use your blood to follow you. You glance to where you and MK came from, looking for any blood splatters on the ground. It’s difficult to tell with the naked eye… you can only hope their sense of smell isn’t that good.

You watch MK now, whose face fell from the fear-riddled expression to one more focused. He says, “It doesn’t look too deep—so you shouldn’t need stitches… But it’s hard to tell with all the blood.” He takes off his headband and uses it as a pseudo bandage for your leg. “Here, I know this isn’t exactly the most sanitary, but it’s the best we can do for now. We need to get back to Pigsy's Noodles, so we can properly clean it.” He stands up, looking at you with concern now. “I can carry you if you want. We should go back to get the scooter—”

“No, it’s too risky to go back there.” As you move to stretch your leg, the skin tugs the wound, causing you to hiss. “I’ll be a little slow, but I’ll be okay to walk.”

He frowns, not looking convinced in the slightest. “No… no way, it looks like it hurts, and you shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on the injury anyway. It’ll just open it up more.” His face scrunches up as he quickly tries to think of a solution. “Hmmm… oh, I know! My friend can pick us up!” He pulls out his phone and dials a number. Pressing the phone to his ear, he says, “Hey, sis! Listen—I need your help…”

You turn away as MK gives his friend directions to your location, keeping an eye out for any sign of Red Son or his family, or even the bull-bots. You don’t see any of them, but do make eye contact with a familiar-looking bird. It watches you and MK closely, tilting its head and blinking.

You look back to MK as he hangs up with his friend. “She’ll be here soon, don’t worry. She can get us to Pigsy's Noodles ASAP! And then we can take a look at your leg and get it all dressed up.” He beams his entire demeanor back to its usual carefree air about it. You do, however, catch the light tremble in his hands as he grips the cudgel a bit tighter than intended.

“It’ll be okay!” He laughs. Even that sounds forced. You feel like he’s saying that more to himself than you.

You nod slowly, saying, “Yeah… it’ll be okay. But—are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh—yeah—totally! Haha…” He clears his throat, not looking you in the eye. His fidgeting gets worse.

“MK, you’re a terrible liar.” You sigh and lean against the wall for support. You gesture for his attention, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Look… what you just experienced was terrifying. It’s okay to be afraid.”

“But… but…” He looks at you now, really looking at you. There’s a certain way his eyes observe you. “What about you? With… with them making that deal—they were gonna take you away, weren’t they? Wasn’t that scary??”

Your lips press into a thin line, averting your gaze.

It’s nothing I’m not used to…

He keeps going, “And—And even after that! You… you used that flash bang and—and helped us get out of there—you didn’t look scared at all… not one bit…”

“Just because I didn’t look scared doesn’t mean I wasn’t… I thought they were going to kill you, MK. I was scared for you.” He doesn't mention how you didn’t say you were scared for yourself. You run your fingers through your tangled hair, tugging your fingers free and huffing. “What the hell were you even doing there?”

“What was I doing there?? What about you?” He gestures to all of you. “And—and what did Princess Iron Fan and Red Son mean by—by that oracle stuff? Are… you an oracle?”

Digging your teeth into your cheek, you don’t answer at first. You open your mouth. Close it. Sigh. There’s no avoiding it… All you can do right now is get him to where he needs to go. How to get there, though…

It’d probably be best if we got help from Sandy, especially, since he’s the one with the boat, but… MK can’t just go on some adventure without telling his father.

After another second’s pause, you say, “There’s a lot we have to unpack… how about we get to Pigsy's Noodles first, yeah?” He didn’t seem satisfied at all by that, so you say, “I promise… I’ll tell you later when we’re safer. Okay?”

Slowly, MK nods and turns his gaze downward, eyeing the staff in his hands. “Okay… Well, I—I was just delivering noodles, doing my job and all that… and my GPS told me to go there…”

“Wait—it did?” At his confirming nod, your brows knit downward. His GPS told him to go there… so someone sent him there? Who? You scratch at your neck, eyes searching the alleyway. No sign of the bird anymore… It was with MK when you caught him hiding…

Might as well ask if he knows about it.

You look back at MK. “There was a bird with you, wasn’t there? I saw it up on the pipes…”

“Oh—oh yeah!” He straightens up as the memory comes back to him. “It was the reason I fell on Red Son! It pecked at my fingers—the little rat with wings.” He shakes at his fingers absentmindedly at the memory.

Okay, so it definitely made him fall on purpose. Was it possibly some form of animal guide for him? Does it know something that you and MK don’t?

It appeared to be far more intelligent than a regular animal guide. Remembering the strange aura that surrounded it, too…

Guides don’t have that aura… shapeshifters do.

You have a hunch on whom it could be—but as of now, there are more urgent things to focus on.

“MK!” You hear a feminine voice call out, causing you both to jump. Turning to the exit of the alley, you catch sight of a girl—around MK’s age—waving you both down. Her green highlighted hair was styled into messy buns, and she wore a biker’s outfit, a big smile on her face. Green, glittery makeup sparkled around her eyes.

“Mei, hey!” MK waves back, before looking at you. “Here—let me help you.”

You almost denied his offer to help out of the desire to not be a bother, but one step on your own was all it took to let him assist you. He helps you hobble over to Mei’s bike, saying, “Mei, this is my friend I told you about.” MK nods to you, then says, “This is my best friend, Mei. We’ve known each other for—like— ever.”

Mei offers a wave with a toothy grin. “Hey, hey!”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you offer a smile to her. “Sorry, we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”

“Woof! You can say that again, you look terrible. What happened?” She kneels to eye your leg before standing straight again. Being close to her now, you realize it wasn’t makeup, it was scales around her eyes and along her cheekbones.

A descendant of a draconic lineage… interesting.

MK says, “We’ll explain when we get back home. Can you get the sidecar ready for them?”

“Sure thing!” She presses a button that causes her bike to transform, a sidecar jutting out, adjusting itself, and now resting before you.

Damn, you think to yourself, that must be one expensive bike to do that.

He helps you into the sidecar before sitting in the passenger seat. Once Mei is sure you’re both secure, she puts her helmet on. One rev of the engine, and then she was off, the city nothing more than a blur as you rode in the sidecar through the streets.

You take this short moment to breathe, leaning back in the seat and closing your eyes. Everything went by so fast, and it still is, you try to use this moment to think about what the fuck happened.

Your vision led you straight to the Demon Bull King’s family. Not long after, MK arrives—claiming one of his delivery routes took him there. Now not only does MK know a piece of what you are, but the Demon Bull family knows now as well… Not to mention, they’re probably going to try to snatch you away, considering they lost their “prized pet.”

So much for living a peaceful life with your uncle… In truth, you’re surprised you were able to stay hidden as long as you did with the lifestyle you had. Nothing else can be done about it at this point besides doing what you do best, rolling with the punches.

You go down your mental checklist on what to do. Get MK back to Pigsy's Noodles, get your injury dressed up, then ask Sandy for his boat to get MK over to Flower Fruit Mountain so he can meet Sun Wukong.

That just begs the question, though, how in the world are you going to get there? The mountain—more so islands that make up the Great Sage’s homeland—is well hidden. Only the gods know just how many wards are put up around that place to ensure no one can get in without explicit permission from the Monkey King himself.

Maybe Uncle Zan would have an idea of what to do, but you’re not exactly keen on that. After weeks of silence, you’re sure he’s got plenty of choice words to say to you after the shenanigans you’ve been through with your visions. Even so, you have to face the music sooner or later… it’s best to just get it over with so you can help MK get to where he needs to go.

Yet even as you come up with a plan and quiet acceptance of getting a tongue-lashing from Uncle, one of the main question remains. Why MK? He’s just a child—it’s clear from his starry eyes, he doesn’t fully understand what Sun Wukong’s true life was like. Furthermore, his outburst against the Bull Family clearly showed he has a very black-and-white mentality of how the world works.

Yes, he was technically right that they were going to lock you in a cage to do their bidding in return for protection. However, rather than cause a scene, he could have just rolled with it.

Sigh.

Well, you have to remind yourself that he’s still a child. This is most likely the first time he’s ever had to deal with a situation like this, unlike you, who’s all too used to scenarios like these.

Either way, you don’t want the possibility of MK getting into anything he’s not ready to face. You certainly don’t want him using your tarot reading from the other day as an excuse to do something horrendously stupid. More stupid than the stunt he pulled earlier. It wouldn’t be the first time that a person’s done that.

With several new pieces of the puzzle given to you, and questions still lingering, you still need to find out what part you play in all of this—if you even do at all. If not, you’ll find out how to help MK prepare for what’s to come. He deserves better than to be thrown into this blind and expected to roll with it.

You don’t want him—

gone they’re gone they left me THEY LEFT ME

all alone all alone poor little oracle

—to go through what you did.

You open your eyes as the speed of the motorcycle slows down, Pigsy's Noodles now in sight. Mei parks her bike by the entrance while MK helps get you inside. Tang is in the middle of talking to Mr. Pigsy when they both take notice of the three of you entering. Their faces fall at the state you and MK are in, Tang hurrying to your side.

“Heavens above, are you two alright?!”

MK sits you in a booth before he hurries to the back and up some stairs, shouting, “I’ll be right back!”

You grunt, carefully removing the makeshift bandage and rolling up your pant leg to better examine your injury. “I’m fine, Tang. The blood makes it look worse than it is.”

“It looks pretty dang bad! What in the world happened?” He takes a stool to let you elevate your leg, while Mr. Pigsy hurries around the counter with water and a cloth. “You and MK look like you just crawled out of a fight with a fire salamander.”

He doesn’t know how close to the truth that is. The mental image of Red Son as a salamander almost makes you smile.

Mei sits on the opposite side of the booth. “MK said they’d explain when they got here, but—uh—yeah, gonna side with Mr. Tang here. Taking a second to give it a peeksy, it looks pretty bad.”

“It’s fine—really. It just needs to be cleaned and dressed. MK said so."

Both of them quiet down and nod, which makes you raise a brow. Looks like MK does know his medical stuff, given that they trusted his word that much.

Mr. Pigsy takes the cloth and starts carefully cleaning up the dried blood. “I was gettin’ worried somethin’ happened to MK when the app told me the delivery never made it… Dammit, I shoulda called him.”

MK scrambles back down the stairs with a first aid kit and is at your side in an instant. He places the staff on the table and scoots himself beside Mr. Pigsy, helping get the wound cleaned and disinfected. You suck in a breath through your teeth when the disinfectant touches your injury, but keep yourself still. You’ll never get used to the sting of it.

“Okay… so where to start,” you sigh, rubbing your face. “Uh—well… you know the story about the Demon Bull King, Tang?”

Tang looks at you, brow furrowing. “Of course I do, but what does that have to do with this?”

You say, “He’s back. We saw it ourselves. Bull King’s kid, Red Son, he—he pulled out the Golden Cudgel with this weird-looking gauntlet.”

MK carefully places ointment onto your wound, and puts a gauze pad on it, before wrapping it up in a bandage. You look over his face, seeing intense focus on his features. His movements were careful and practiced, as if he’d done this for years.

Curious…

Once finished, he turns to you. “It’s not as bad as we first assumed, and it won’t need stitches—thankfully. You can walk, you just gotta be careful, okay?”

When you nod, he looks at Tang, saying, “But—Demon Bull King—he’s going to be trying to take over the city, maybe even the world again!” He jumps to his feet and grabs at the staff, showing it to Tang. “And—we managed to get Monkey King’s staff before escaping, too. We have to get this back to him, so he can seal away Demon Bull King again!”

Tang looks between you two with a very skeptical expression. You say, “It’s true, Tang. Just examine the staff for yourself, it’s the real deal.”

At those words, he moves closer to MK to inspect the staff, running his fingers along it. “It does have this… certain air about it…” His eyes hone in on the engraving, reading aloud, “The Compliant Golden Cudgel…” MK places it on the table and Tang tries to lift it to inspect further, but to no avail.

“What—but you were waving it around as if it weighed nothing…” Tang hums again, attempting and failing to lift the cudgel.

“Here, here.” MK lifts the cudgel and says, “I can show you something else—”

Before he can finish his sentence, the Cudgel shakes and juts forward—

CRASH!

Into a pile of bowls, shattering them on impact. The broken pieces softly clatter to the floor as the Cudgel shrinks itself to normal size again.

Mr. Pigsy cries out, hands flying to his head in exasperation, “Son, what the hell?!”

“Uh—I didn’t mean to do that—I’m so, so sorry, Da—Pigsy!” MK clutches the staff tighter, as if that’ll stop it from moving on its own again.

Tang gasps, eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and wonder. “By the gods themselves, it is the Monkey King’s staff! But, wait, why are you able to carry it, MK? I couldn’t even budge it… no one but Monkey King and—previously—Six-Eared Macaque should be able to move it.”

MK wrings his hands around the staff, chewing at his lip. He says, “I—I don’t know, honest! I just can! Red Son was gonna blast me into space and I just picked it up and blocked the attack and—”

“Remember what Bull King said? He said you were blessed by the Great Sage.” All eyes are on you now. You don’t look at them, instead inspecting MK’s handiwork with the bandages. You frown and say, “I can’t say right now, because I’m not fully sure. I have theories, but nothing concrete. I don’t want to make assumptions. All I know right now is you’re supposed to meet the Great Sage at Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“Hold on, you’re serious?” Mei bends down to look at your face, trying to find any trace of a joke or lie. “Like—seriously serious?? He’s gotta go all the way there?” She sits properly, looking around at the other boys in the room. “But—how are we even gonna get there? And how do you know that?” She asks you now.

MK speaks up, his tone soft, quiet, “Is it… that stuff Princess Iron Fan and Red Son said?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, refusing to look at any of them. You didn’t want this to happen, but there’s no escaping it now.

Ugh… Uncle really won’t be happy about this, if he doesn’t already know.

Closing your eyes, you sigh and lift your head to read their expressions. Mei was curious and confused. Mr. Pigsy was skeptical, but listening. Tang was interested, but mostly worried; and MK equally so.

“Yeah, I, uh… it’s that…” You adjust your sitting position, moving to get up. “But—first—I think we should get moving—”

“Hold on a second, there.” Mr. Pigsy sits you back down. “First you drop all that on us and then expect us to just follow you blindly? Where are you even thinking of taking us?”

“To Sandy.” The statement makes him quiet down. You say, “He’s the only one who has a boat easily and quickly accessible to get us to the Flaming Mountains so we can get MK to Flower Fruit Mountain. And from there… I promise I’ll tell you on the boat.” You fidget in your seat. “I just—don’t want to risk anyone listening into the conversation while we’re here. I’d feel safer explaining on the boat.”

Truthfully, you don’t think getting to the Flower Fruit would be that easy, especially since there’s been no talk about anyone ever going there. If there are, then those people never came back. This is just something to get them to stop questioning so much. Time can’t afford to be wasted right now. You’ll figure out how to get to Flower Fruit later.

A moment of silence passes. Then Mr. Pigsy sighs, “Alright, alright. I’m trusting you with this.” You watch him step away to grab a set of car keys. He turns to you, saying, “Once we’re on Sandy’s boat, you do some explaining. Got it?”

“I will, sir, don’t worry.” You stand up again, Tang coming to your side to let you lean on him if needed. You get back into the sidecar of Mei’s motorcycle, while MK sits in the passenger seat. Tang and Mr. Pigsy take Mr. Pigsy’s car and lead Mei to the harbor where Sandy’s boathouse is.

MK kept stealing glances your way, brows furrowed in worry. You give him a small nod with a smile to reassure him you’re okay, but even so, he still looks worried. You don’t really blame him, all things considered. It’s been an emotional whiplash day today, it seems. But he doesn’t pry, not yet at least, instead just clutching the staff and bearing a thoughtful expression.

You arrive at Sandy's boathouse, parking Mei’s motorcycle and Mr. Pigsy’s truck off by one of the many shipping crates, and make your way up to the deck of the boat. Surprisingly, Sandy was already standing there, waiting.

“Teacup!” He scoops you up and gives you a once-over. “Took your time getting here, you did! Are you okay? Just the leg scratch? Okay, good.” He places you down carefully, giving you a pat on the head. He was acting strange… more jittery than usual. That could only mean one thing…

“He’s… here, isn’t he?” Your question makes his forced smile fall into a more nervous look. All too quickly, you feel your chest tightening up again when you see your uncle stepping onto the deck now.

For the first time in your memory, Uncle Zan wasn’t happy to see you.

Chapter Text

Uncle Zan’s expression is flat, but his brows are drawn down, and his mouth is pressed into a line. He glances at your bandaged leg and his frown deepens, inhaling slowly. He asks, his voice gentle, “Your leg—it’s alright?”

“I—uh—yes. It’s fine. Not too bad.”

“Good… good.” He exhales, then regards the rest of the group with a polite bow. I am Zhao Zan, their uncle. You may all call me Zan.” Then he turns to you. “You and I are speaking after this.”

Yup, you were in deep shit. For a clairvoyant, you really should’ve seen this coming. Then again, with how “exciting” today has been, it has completely slipped your mind until now.

Sandy nervously fiddles with his prayer beads before gesturing everyone deeper into his boathouse. “Come on! Let’s talk over a pot of tea, shall we?” He steps closer to you, his hands hovering. “Here, teacup, I can help you with the steps. You shouldn’t put too much pressure on your leg.”

“Thanks, Sandy,” you say gratefully. Following Sandy inside and being taken to his makeshift living was awkward, to say the least. The group kept stealing looks between you and your uncle. Mei is the first to sit on the plush sofa, one of Sandy’s many therapy cats instantly finding refuge on her lap.

Uncle gestures to the couch, says, “Sit.”

You do. Tang and MK follow suit, sitting on either side of you. Mr. Pigsy situates himself in the armchair.

Quiet envelopes the room aside from the sound of Sandy making tea and the occasional meows from the cats. Uncle Zan takes a seat in a lounging chair across the room and crosses a leg over the other. He looks at each person, putting their face to memory, before turning his attention back to you.

Your muscles remain tense, hands clasped in front of you, as you sit straight and wait for the scolding to come. But it doesn’t. Sandy serves the tea to everyone, and Uncle still hasn’t said a word.

Was he waiting for you to talk first, or…?

Finally, he speaks, “I saw it. You and your friend—MK, if I remember correctly?” He nods to MK, continuing to say, “I saw you two discovered by the Demon Bull family, I saw them discovering who you are, who MK is.”

“You… you saw it all?” MK blinks in astonishment, looking between you and Uncle Zan. “How?”

At first, Zan doesn't answer, eyes on you. He looks at the others within the room, eyeing each of them up. His eyes shine with an emotion you can’t name—somewhere between caution and apprehension. After a long, awkward silence, he finally says, “The information I’m about to give you must not be shared with anyone else—no matter how much you trust them. Do you understand?”

You’ve never seen his stare harden in such a way as his eyes move over everyone in the room. He spoke in a tone so stern you’re shocked it came from Uncle Zan of all people. There was no softness in his expression, no slouch in his posture. His eyes were like knives sharpened to a point, ready to cut into anyone he looked at.

I can’t tell if he’s just being careful, or if he’s that mad at me… maybe it’s both. It’s probably both.

MK and Mei nod silently.

“I understand, sir,” Tang sips his tea, brow furrowing with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

“You’re being a little too vague for my liking, Zan.” Mr. Pigsy squints. “Just what the hell have those two gotten themselves into? What’s with all this secrecy?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Mr. Pigsy,” says Uncle Zan, his sharp and cold stare now on Mr. Pigsy. He says, “I will give you this information, but I need you to confirm that you will not tell another soul outside this room when I tell you.” He breathes, and says, “Because if this information gets out, it, in turn, will jeopardize not only my security but my nibbling’s security as well. And finally, this will jeopardize all of you.”

Uncle held a more authoritative tone as his eyes locked with Mr. Pigsy’s. “You’ll have to forgive my vagueness, Mr. Mr. Pigsy. My words come from my experience with this secret, and what would happen should it be revealed to anyone untrustworthy. Trust when I say I will tell you— we will tell you,” he pauses momentarily to look at you, then says, “But we must ensure you will not tell a soul.”

A pregnant silence falls in the living room. The only sounds that pass between anyone are the silent sips of tea or the soft meows from the cats.

When Mr. Pigsy gives a curt nod in agreement, Uncle Zan closes his eyes and takes another breath. He brings his teacup to his lips, his eyes still closed. He takes a sip. Once he opens them, his gaze softens, if only slightly. He says, “Nibby and I are clairvoyants. To put it simply, we are individuals touched by the gods to see into the past, present, and future in various ways.”

He waits, eyeing everyone to see if they want to speak up. When no one says anything, he continues talking, “Clairvoyants have always been a target for unsavory individuals—mainly demons. They attempt to force us to have visions of their future, so they can know what to expect and plan accordingly to achieve the outcome they want. Some go as far as keeping clairvoyants as pets—practically slaves—to make them have visions on command.”

Everyone looks completely taken aback by Uncle’s words. They look to you to confirm all of this, and you give a quiet nod. MK scoots closer to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You squeeze back, the gesture meant to reassure him, but you’re much too tense to succeed at such a thing.

Mei turns her attention to Uncle Zan, asking, “All that trouble just for a few peeks into the future? That’s… so messed up.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, Miss Long.” Uncle sighs and rubs his face.

You notice Mei’s eyes widening in reaction.

How does he know her surname? Then again… this is Uncle we’re talking about.

Uncle Zan says, “Our premonitions—they vary in intensity. Some are the small peeks, as you say, little vague hints of what’s to come, or what once was. Others are larger, setting a scene before you that you are part of, or are spectating. Some last only a few minutes, while others can last hours, at the longest. Clairvoyants who can call upon their premonitions at will—rather than it coming to them at random—are the ones more sought after by demons.”

“I thought they sounded familiar… I remember reading about them…” Tang rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I thought they were just a story, or like the fortune-tellers we find today.”

You speak up this time, “Most clairvoyants don’t take on fortune-telling, as that’s the first place demons look. Before the Great Sage had sealed away the Demon Bull King, and even before the Age of Marrow, there was… something that happened.” You frown at your cup of tea, holding it to keep your hands full, but not drinking it. You say, “It was something akin to a massacre of our kind… We’re not sure what happened, exactly. It was never written down. By the time Bull King was sealed, there weren't many of us left. So we all went into hiding.”

Uncle Zan pours himself another cup. “The life we lead is dangerous. One small slip and we could lose our lives… not to death, but to slavery,” he says. He stares at the liquid, eyes glazing over as if remembering something from his past. But it left just as quickly as it came, his attention back on you and the rest of the crew.

“I don’t get why demons go through all that effort to, like, keep a few clairvoyants?” Mei leans forward, gesturing to you and Uncle Zan. “Like, sure, doin’ peeks into the future and all that, but to go as far as, like, enslaving a person…? That’s a little too fucked, if you ask me.”

Mr. Pigsy turns to Mei and says, “Think about it like this, Mei. Someone looks into your future and tells you to expect fifty customers at your restaurant within the next hour. And then in that hour, as predicted, those customers come.” 

Mei looks thoughtful as she nods along to the explanation. He makes a vague gesture with his hand, saying,  “And with that warning, you can prepare for the coming rush. That way, you’re not overwhelmed by all the people that come in. Some demons want that preparation, they want to be ready for anything that could get in their way of… whatever plans assholes like them have.”

“Huh… I think I get it. It’s still super fucked up, though.”

Uncle Zan huffs, the ghost of a smile on his face at Mei’s blunt statement. “Some demons offer protection for our services, allowing us to continue living our lives. While others simply want to put us in cages—gilded or rusted, it doesn’t matter.”

“As long as they can keep us under their thumb, that’s all they care about,” you mutter under your breath, your hand subconsciously touching your arm.

“That’s why the Bull Family was so adamant about keeping you…” MK’s gaze is nothing short of absolute concern for you. “And now that they know who you are…”

“It was—more than that, MK…” You rub your face, not looking at Uncle as you say, “It was more because of… a contract we were going to make.”

“Nibby,” Uncle breathes, his eyes widening in shock. Your chest tightens at the sheer panic and worry that flashes through his face. “You were going to make a contract with them?!”

“What else could I have done?!” You rub your face again, more forcefully as the stress overtakes your muscles, pulling them taut. “Uncle, they were fucking threatening me.”

I don’t wanna be here.

I wanna go home.

I hate this so much.

I want to leave.

I want to leave .

Too many people looking stop it stop looking at me stop looking at me

“M—Mr. Zan…?” MK fidgets, glancing between the two of you. “Please, sir, they… they didn’t have a choice. The Bull Family offered the same to me when they discovered that I—well, apparently also have a blessing.” His face falls to a mixture of somberness and fear at the memory. “It was either join them or die. Not really a—uh—good set of choices.”

Uncle takes a slow breath, nodding. Just as quickly as his panic came, it receded, and his expression was calm once again, with only the tiniest hint of a knitting in his brow. “I understand. I apologize for my outburst, I—my vision did not show me their ultimatum…”

“Contract?” Mei tilts your head the other way, another cat joining her lap. “Like a signing contract?”

“More of a magical contract, dear child,” Uncle Zan corrects, his voice gentler now. “But that explanation is for another day. With the Bull Family discovering your blessing, and you running away before the contract could be sealed, they may collect you to finish said contract.” He looks at MK now. “And you, lad, will be a new target for not just the Bull Family, but many other demons as well.”

MK stiffens, pointing at himself. “M—Me? But why?” He blinks, his brows knitting down as he recalls what the Bull Family said earlier. He meets Uncle’s gaze and asks, “Is it… because of what they said? How—I have Monkey King’s blessing?”

Uncle nods, saying, “A human boy blessed by the Great Sage to wield his staff, and possibly even his powers… you will also have a target on your back.”

Tang finally speaks up, fidgeting with his scarf as he asks, “But—Monkey King is more than capable of handling this by himself? Why drag MK into it?”

“Why indeed… that is a question for MK to ask Great Sage, however, is it not? Before anything else—were there questions any of you had regarding this?” Uncle Zan asks, looking at everyone in the room.

MK glances your way, his hand gripping yours again. “Is… there anything we can do? To keep you two safe?”

“Yes, please,” Tang turns to you now, adding, “Anything to help either of you—so you don’t have to suffer such a fate.”

They’re too sweet.

You shake your head. “We’ll be fine,” is all you say, glancing at Uncle with a look that says, help me out here.

Uncle Zan bows his head to everyone, smiling softly. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “The generosity is admirable and appreciated. We’ll keep it in mind, should the situation call for it. But as of right now, we’ll be safe where we are.”

“Are you sure?” Tang wrings his hands together. “Living that kind of life can’t be easy…”

“It isn’t, but we learned how to take precautions.” Uncle nods to you, his smile slightly stronger. “Our home is out of the way, I have wards set up, and a close family friend is helping keep an eye to ensure our home remains untouched. Should the situation call for a relocation, however, we’ll be sure to inform you.”

Another way of saying Uncle made a contract with Auntie to keep the house safe.

But they don’t need to know that he made a deal with a huli jing.

You say a second time, “We’ll be fine, guys. Really. And if shit hits the fan, you’ll be the first to know about it.” You squeeze MK’s hand and lightly bump your shoulder against Tang’s. It seems they’re satisfied with the reassurance of keeping the options open, since none protest to either you or Uncle Zan.

“All of my questions were already answered. Explains a lot, if I’m thinkin’ about it.” Mr. Pigsy massages the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Today’s turning around to be a weird combination of shitty and stressful.”

“So, another usual day at work?” You ask with a soft chuckle, a small attempt to lighten the mood from something so serious.

He snorts, the hint of a smirk on his face. “Sure—we’ll go with that. So, we goin’ to take MK to Monkey King and make him stop Demon Bull King?”

“Yeah, about that…” Tang clears his throat and makes a gesture around the room. “How exactly are we supposed to do that? I know you said Sandy’s boat could probably take us there, but…” He claps his hands and gestures for everyone’s attention. “After giving it some thought, it’s—well—Mount Huaguo is heavily protected, no doubt by those aforementioned wards to protect your own home—but also the Flaming Mountains? We’ll be burned to a crisp before we can even reach land.”

“The only way to safely reach the home of the Great Sage…” Uncle pinches his chin with his finger and thumb. “Is by doing one of three things. One; being heavily protected by the flames and finding a crack in the wall of wards around Flower Fruit—which would be no easy task. Two; blowing away the flames with Princess Iron Fan’s fan—which would not be a good idea to attempt stealing.”

That makes sense… meaning…

“And… the third way in?” Mr. Pigsy asks, gesturing for him to continue.

“Invitation,” you and Uncle say at the same time. Uncle waves for you to explain, so you do, “Well—it’s just a theory, but most wards can keep people out unless they’re invited in. Think… those European vampires, who can’t enter someone’s house without being permitted to.”

You idly pet one of Sandy’s cats, saying, “Given how no one’s seen Flower Fruit in all these years, it can be safely assumed Great Sage simply warded the place off and only those with invitation can get in. Either that or really powerful magic—probably god levels.”

There’s a twinkle in Uncle Zan’s eye, his smile easily falling on his lips, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. He reaches into his sleeve, pulls out a scroll, and says, “This had suddenly appeared on Sandy’s dashboard, addressed to you, MK.”

MK blinks, slowly leaning forward and taking the scroll. Uncle says, “It seems someone is expecting you, and predicted this would happen today.”

“Monkey King’s… expecting me?” MK looks over the scroll, slowly opening it and reading it over.

“What’s it say, what’s it say?” Mei leans over his shoulder, her chin resting there as she reads it.

“Honorable Qi Xiaotian,” he reads aloud, “On behalf of I, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Victorious-in-Strife Buddha; you are cordially invited to attend a special gathering. This meeting will take place at my residence on Mount Huaguo.

“I humbly request to you is that you bring the clairvoyant with you—the one who witnessed Demon Bull King’s return, as well. Their insights and experience will play a crucial role in this meeting.

“When you are ready, all you two need to do is place your hands on the scroll and say you accept the invitation. I look forward to engaging with you and discussing important matters together.

“Sincerely, Sun Wukong,” he finishes reading, closing up the scroll.

“Wow,” says Mei, “So fancy.”

“His brushwork is enchanting! Literally,” Tang comments, adjusting his glasses.

A very formal invitation, you think, with a hum. We’ll see if he’s actually like that in person, though.

MK looks up at everyone. “So—this means we can’t all go…?”

“What? Why not?!” Mei snatches the scroll from MK’s hands to reread it. You were about to scold her for such a thing, but remind yourself that MK did introduce her as his best friend. It’s possible that they’re used to doing that to each other, so you choose to say nothing.

Uncle Zan smiles and nods, “Unfortunately, no. The invitation only specifies nibby and MK go. Therefore, it’d be best if we remained a safe distance from Megapolis to avoid any unnecessary trouble.”

“Aw, man…” She huffs, crossing her arms with a pout.

“I’m sure it’ll be possible to meet him later, sis!” MK rubs her back reassuringly.

Uncle Zan, sensing the conversation is essentially finished, looks at you with an expression that says we must talk, now. He stands, gesturing for you to follow, and says to the others, “We’ll be a moment, but please, I would like a private conversation with them.”

MK doesn’t let go of your hand, his teeth digging into his lip. “They’re not in trouble, are they?”

A sweet kid, but he shouldn’t worry so much for a person he barely knows.

“Not for the reason you think, lad,” says Uncle. “But there are things we must address that are private matters, and I would like to keep it between the two of us.”

“It’s fine, MK,” you reassure with a light bump of your shoulder against his, and it convinces him to release your hand. Once free, you stand and walk out with Uncle, following him to the couch on the main deck. He lets you sit first, before sitting next to you.

You lean back, keeping your eyes glued to your feet.

You can feel the disappointment radiating from him, and you hate it. You close your eyes, pressing your lips into a line. The boat took off and was now sailing across the water, Megapolis slowly but surely disappearing over the horizon line. Still, he hasn’t said a word.

It’s not until Megapolis vanishes from view that he speaks up, “What’s on your mind?” His voice was gentle, and part of you feels like you don’t deserve it.

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes closed, and your head hung low. Then you say, “A lot of things…”

“Let’s start from the top, then. Such as your visions.” You feel him shifting beside you. He asks, “Nibby, what happens with them?”

You haven’t opened your eyes. Your brows furrow, a piece of you understanding but also not understanding. “What do you mean, Uncle?”

“What happens when these visions occur? What do you do?”

“I…” You close your mouth, open it, and say, “I just—try to control it. The usual, you know.”

He presses on, his tone still gentle, “And what do you do to try to control them, nibby?”

“I—” You stop, close your mouth, and clench your jaw. You don’t want to say it because you feel like it’ll just make him more upset with you. He’s told you countless times before that you can’t just shove it into a bottle, and it’s the exact thing you’ve been doing for months. For years, ever since Dad showed you how. You know you have to admit it, though.

He’s been waiting for you to say this, and you can’t avoid it anymore.

The Tower reading rings in your mind, reminding you, You’ve become too comfortable in this bubble of yours. To stay unchanged will only bring pain within yourself.

You take a deep breath and say, “I… I just—ignore it… Sometimes I just close my eyes and—wait for it to pass. Block out anything I hear.”

“Nibby…” The shock and disappointment in his voice make your chest tighten and tears sting in your eyes. “You’ve been resisting them?”

You let silence be your answer. But he doesn’t say anything, most likely wanting to hear you outwardly admit it. You open your eyes, keeping your gaze glued to your feet, not yet wanting to look at him just yet. You say, “I… I have…” You hate how your voice cracked. You swallow the growing lump in your throat.

He inhales, closes his eyes, and exhales. He sits up more straight, crossing one leg over the other, and gestures to you with the grace of a clairvoyant and the gentleness of a therapist. His eyes still held a hint of disappointment, but his expression was calm. He asks, his tone unwavering, “Why have you been resisting them?”

“Why?” At first, you couldn’t believe he’d ask such a question. The answer was simple enough, wasn’t it? When you don’t answer, though, he simply waits for you to. So you start talking, “Because—because they’re a hindrance?” Your lips tug into a deep frown. The corners of your vision blur with more tears.

You hated crying in front of others. You hated it.

Don’t see me as weak. Don’t. Don’t. Please.

You breathe, blinking away your tears until they were no longer threatening to fall, and say, “I’m trying to just—live my fucking life. I’m trying to get some form of control back after what happened when they started, especially… after Mom and Dad died.” More tears threaten to roll down your cheeks. You pause a moment to regain yourself and breathe before saying, “These visions—they just cause trouble. They’ve been causing trouble, Uncle Zan.”

With nothing else to hold you back from saying your deepest thoughts, you let them out, making wild gestures with your hands and saying, “For fuck’s sake—I just ran into the Demon Bull Family because of these visions that yank me around like I’m some puppet!”

Thoughts and feelings you’ve had for years, now finally flowing out of you, much like the tears rolling down your cheeks that you couldn’t resist any longer. “And now the Bull Family is on a blood hunt for me because of the stupid contract I almost made with them! And then they might find out where we live and—and—”

you might end up like Mom and Dad. You might end up caged and chained and tortured all over again because of me, you want to say but don’t, the words caught in your throat.

Zan’s expression remained neutral, with a hint of concern, a hint of sadness. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of tissues, handing one to you. You blow your nose and wipe your eyes with a shaky breath. No words were said for a few moments, the only sound was the lapping of the waves against the boat, and your sniffling.

Hate this I hate this I hate this

He asks, gently, gently, “Do you want to hear what I have to say?”

A minute passes. Two. Three. You sigh, “Alright, fine… hit me.”

He nods, slow, before speaking in a calm, almost cautious tone, “You… are someone who’s experienced so much in these past few years. I don’t know the full extent of what happened to you when—” he swallows, takes a breath, and says “—when Ming and Chun died… I don’t know what you’ve experienced in the years you lived in America before moving here, nor do I expect you to tell me unless you wish to. But I knew—when you finally came to live here—just from looking in your eyes. I knew you’ve trudged through more darkness than many people twice your age ever had, or will.”

You feel your muscles subconsciously tensing—

chains and cages and whips

demons laughing taunting

little oracle little pet

—at the memories.

You shut your eyes tight and breathe.

Calm down.

You’re not there anymore.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

You’re with Uncle, now.

It’s safer here.

Safer with him.

Uncle Zan offers his hand to you, which you take. His grip is firm and warm, helping ground you in the now, rather than memories of the past. He says, “Now I know that through those years, you’ve resisted those visions unless you needed to—if you struck a deal with a demon, or otherwise.”

He squeezes your hand, prompting you to finally look at him. “Nibby… these won’t stop, no matter how much you want them to.” He tugs your hand, a quiet offer. You scoot closer, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders. Rather than a wave of uncomfortable static shooting through you, you feel his warmth radiating from him. It envelops you, reassuring you that you’re fine.

So warm…

He says, “These visions—your sight—it’s part of you. They don’t happen so often, so forcefully, unless you’re heavily resistant towards them. And continuing to reject them will continue to make it worse—for yourself and those around you.” He’s right. You know he’s right. It doesn’t make it any easier to admit it outwardly. To admit that all these habits you were practically raised on will only do more harm… it’s hard.

It’s all I’ve ever known. All that I’ve ever been.

How can I possibly change that…?

You close your eyes, slowly exhaling through your nose, then look up at him. You ask, your voice quiet, cracking slightly, “How did you know? That I was doing all of this?”

“I didn’t at first… I just thought you were about to be part of something important, and your visions wanted you to be ready.” He rubs your shoulder, staring out into the open ocean. “I saw the signs when I noticed you stopped talking to me about them—when you looked more tired, antsy, as if someone were following you around every corner.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “I should’ve seen them sooner, having gone through it myself, but by that point, it was too late. I wanted you to come to me first about it, but—as you can see—we both waited too long, and here we are.”

Surprise makes you lean back to look at his face, asking, “Wait… you—you went through it, too? Resisting the visions?”

You never thought he would’ve gone through what you have. He’s so welcoming of his visions, so open with them, you just… assumed he was always like that.

In reality, he was just like you.

He frowns. At first, he says nothing but soon speaks, “Of course I did. When I lived back in the City of Lights, I pushed them down as much as I could. At the time, I felt like the visions would only bring me trouble, much like how you felt. I knew how sought-after clairvoyants were by demons. So… like many of our kind, I hid away.”

He sighs and shakes his head, most likely at his past self. “Believe it or not, it’s a common practice for the younger clairvoyants to resist the visions. To be born with a gift, but to realize the gift is also a punishment because demons put these visions in high demand. Our life is dangerous because of it—and it’s not even our choice.”

His thumb rubs your shoulder, giving you a small squeeze. He says, “I learned the hard way that it’s something you cannot and should not resist. I learned that the only time it brings you trouble is if you keep fighting back and not accepting them.”

You look at him fully now, seeing the truth in his eyes and the darkness in them. The darkness of someone who had to learn through intense and terrifying trial and error. While you’ve only seen a few of the physical scars he’s carried, you’ve never seen them all. But looking at his eyes, for a split second you can see the emotional scarring he bears. You knew he spoke from true experience.

I can’t believe all this time he was just like me…

Uncle Zan turns back to look out at the ocean. “The premonitions will only yank you around like that if you try to pull away. They’ve been telling you something—something important. They kept happening because they were trying to tell you that this thing going on right now is what you were going to be part of.”

Again, The Tower’s message returns to you. It’s right—you keeping this up will just cause you to fall behind. To stagnate like a blocked river, unable to flow forward and cleanse yourself of the past. It’s already been proven that refusing to change is going to hurt you.

“I just—” you rub your face, “—it’s just—it was the first thing Dad taught me… he said it started earlier than he expected, and it was the only thing he could do.” More tears sting your vision, rolling down your cheeks. “And—and he promised he’d start teaching me after I graduated… So all I knew how to do was to—to resist the visions and try to live some form of a normal life. Wait for graduation, and then finally learn proper control. And then he and Mom just fucking died after all that waiting and wondering when I’ll stop being dragged around on a leash.”

Your throat closes up at the memory.

A knock on a door that was once home

A stranger—an officer—staring, staring, shocked, his eyes holding pain

Pain for you, or pain for having to deliver the news?

“Are you… the only one here, kiddo…?”

You close your eyes and—

alone alone all alone left behind

—push the memory away.

You say, “It’s all I knew how to do then… All I know how to do now. And I know it’s not good. I know I shouldn’t do this, I know it’s just going to hurt me and the people I care about, but—” Once again your words catch in your throat, and you swallow, wiping your eyes.

“You don’t know how to rid yourself of a habit you’ve had for years,” Uncle finishes for you. You nod, using more tissues to wipe your eyes. He asks, “When did you start having premonitions, nibby?”

While you don’t remember the premonition itself, you remember when it happened. You blow your nose, take a breath, and say, “It was I think… fourth or fifth grade—or, you’d know it as late primary school. I was on the playground with the other kids, and suddenly I was being pulled out of my trance by a teacher because I almost wandered off into the nearby forest.”

“It was that early?” His sigh is more of a huff. He rubs his temple, his brows knitted in either annoyance or exasperation, you’re not sure, and he says, “For most clairvoyants, it doesn’t start until late secondary school, which is essentially late high school in America. You were so young—” He rubs his face now, taking another breath. “I thought Chun already helped you through it—no wonder his first lesson was so easy for a child to misinterpret. What a mess…”

You fidget with the tissues, staring at your hands. You quietly admit, “I… I was planning to talk to you about it all today. But then… well, you already know what happened.” You gesture around you and lean against him. “My cards—they told me that I needed to stop resisting what was going on. And… it’s been difficult to come to terms with. Everything I did with the premonitions was so automatic… but I was thinking of mentioning it to you. I just—didn’t know when, and I… was kind of getting paranoid at your silence.”

Uncle Zan frowns, and he admits, “I was waiting for you to take the initiative and start it. But, I should’ve taken that initiative sooner when I knew you weren’t going to. I suppose the time limit I gave was too long…” His gaze travels across the deck as he watches Sandy’s cats play about. He says, his voice firmer than before—but not to scold, not to be mean, he says it to be grounding and reassuring, “If you want to talk about something, you need to speak up, nibby. I will not force you into a discussion you don’t feel ready for, but I will give a time limit if I see you continuing to hurt yourself, be it physically or mentally.”

There’s a beat of silence, both of you taking a moment to let it all settle in. The stubborn part of you wants to still try to fight it. To try to take back what little control of your life you had before everything turned to complete shit. But then the logical side of your brain tells you, stubborn defiance will only make it worse.

It’s part of you. You can’t just drop it on the side of the road and act like it was never part of your life. It is your life.

You take a slow, deep breath. The knot in your chest loosens slightly. You say, “Okay.” You hesitate, then quietly ask, “This whole thing with Demon Bull King… MK… the Great Sage… there’s nothing I can do to get out of it, is there?”

Uncle says, his tone holding no room for argument, “No, there isn't. All of your visions point you to meeting the Great Sage. Not to mention, he personally invited you to meet him with MK.”

You can’t help but still try to argue, the stubborn habit unable to be broken within the span of just one talk and a few minutes, “But—that’s MK’s future, isn’t it? He has the cudgel, he has the Great Sage’s blessing. It can’t be my future too. My visions—”

“It’s both of your futures.” He looks at you, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You’re both meant to meet him, nibby. For whatever reason, there is. You need to accept it as truth, rather than trying to deny it. Your visions have been telling you this for weeks, and you’ve been ignoring it for too long, so they had to pull you around the way they did.”

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the tissue. “I… I just don’t know why I have to meet him, though. What purpose is there for someone like me going to see the Great Sage?”

He taps his fingers against his knee thoughtfully, saying, “On his journey with the Great Monk, they’ve met plenty of clairvoyants. It’s possible he has ancient texts to pass to you. Maybe even knowledge. And maybe—just maybe—you’re meant to help that MK lad with this change in his own life as well.”

Zan rubs your shoulder, his face softening to the familiar expression he always held when regarding you. Warm, gentle. His tone was soft as he added on, “You’re a smart one, nibby. You pay attention to more than you realize, and you can provide certain insight that some don’t even consider.” He reaches up, abruptly ruffling your hair. “You just have to speak up about it, rather than watching from the sidelines and thinking to yourself.”

The gesture makes you laugh, pushing at his hand. “Augh—come on… I get it, I get it.” You sober up, wiping your eyes one last time and sighing. One of Sandy’s cats comes up to you, rubbing against your legs, before hopping onto your lap. You pet the calico, feeling it purr against your hand. “It’s… going to be a difficult change… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Being self-aware is the first step to breaking a bad habit and starting a better one. Become conscious of your fears, thoughts, and behaviors that cause the automatic reaction. And figure out a way to stop yourself from doing said reaction.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “It will be extremely difficult. But you know I will help you with this however I can. Who knows—perhaps those new friends of yours, or even the Great Sage himself, can help you too.”

He ruffles your hair again, gentler this time. “I will always be ready and able to help you, nibby.” He takes your face with his free hand, saying, “So long as you promise to be more honest with me about this. Never, will I ever judge you.”

It felt like a weight that had been resting on your chest for years was finally lifted. You feel your shoulders relaxing at his words, your chest loosening and tightening with a different feeling this time. More tears form in the corners of your eyes, but instead of anger or sorrow, it’s a relief.

“I—” your throat closes for a second, and you swallow, “—thank you, Uncle Zan. I know I’m more stubborn than a bull, but—I’m grateful you’ll still help me.” You close your eyes, reeling in the warmth that radiates from him. “I promise I’ll be more honest with you. And I promise to come to you if anything happens.”

“You can take your time, just don’t take too long, okay?” He lightly pinches your chin and you nod. “Good, now get some rest. No doubt it’s been a very exciting few hours, and you look in need of a nap.” He stands up and moves out of your way to let you lie down on the couch. The calico readjusts itself to lay on your stomach, getting comfy.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” you laugh weakly, setting your pack down by the couch.

“I’ll let the others know to take this time to let you rest. Once you’re ready, we can send you and MK off.”

“Thanks.” You watch him walk away, no doubt to talk to the others about a plan or reassure them you’re fine or what have you. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath after such a heavy conversation. The calico still purrs on your stomach as you ruminate on everything.

Well… that’s what you get for keeping this shit inside. Bound to explode eventually.

You sigh, rubbing your face and staring up at the sky. Your gut reaction is to want to shove any feelings of the visions away. But you don’t. Instead, you try to meditate on it while making out shapes in the clouds.

You have to make the change, and that change is to start accepting the visions instead of fighting them. You need to start being self-aware. But how to go about it… It’s been a habit for so long, breaking it will be the hardest part. You reach into your bag and pull out your tarot cards, three of them this time, and look them over, running a finger along the surface and gently knocking on them three times, knock—knock—knock .

You whisper, “What makes it so difficult to move forward? What can I do to change it?”

You wait patiently for the designs to slowly begin burning themselves onto the surface of the cards. The first card showed an upside-down image of an armored skeleton riding on a horse.

Death, Reversed:

You carry harmful viewpoints and thoughts from your past that interfere with this opportunity to grow and change for the better. Because of this, your life has stagnated, and you feel stuck in limbo. These viewpoints from your past make you reactively resist any change that happens and is hurting your growth. To release the past, you must surrender to the present. These viewpoints no longer serve you, and it’s time to create new viewpoints that can.

The second card showed another upside-down image, this one of a hand holding a single cup as water flows out of it.

Ace of Cups, Reversed:

You have repressed emotions from these events that you’ve never fully expressed, to anyone or even yourself. It could be because of fear of being hurt, or embarrassment for not feeling mature. But whatever reasons you have, in the end, you were the one who hurt yourself the most. You must let these emotions out, so you can properly let go. You can do so privately if you don’t feel ready to share these emotions yet, but you’ve put the cork on the bottle for too long. It’s time to let the emotions out when you feel comfortable doing so.

The final card showed a kneeling, naked woman pouring water from two pitchers. Her knee is on land, while her foot is in a pond. Seven small stars twinkle behind her, with the large one shining above her.

The Star, Upright:

You’ve endured many challenges and will face more. But through your meditation, you’ll learn who you are at your core essence—beneath all the layers. You are making significant changes in your life, transforming yourself from the old you to the new you, and in doing so, will give yourself fresh perspectives on how to handle future events. You will eventually find peace and love in your life, filled with a calm energy and deep understanding of yourself and the surrounding others. In time, you’ll find and hold a new sense of self, and a new appreciation for the core of your Being. As long as you keep going, you will be okay.

You stare at the cards, taking several minutes to fully take in the meaning of each one. The designs long vanished from the cards and are now blank. You put the cards away, looking back up at the clouds, idly petting the calico still on your stomach. If you want to live up to what The Star promised, you’ll have to follow what the other two cards offer. You close your eyes and exhale.

You’ll end up having numerous talks throughout this time. Mostly with Uncle Zan, maybe a few Sandy, or even Tang or MK. Who knows? Perhaps even Monkey King will have his own two cents on it all.

It won’t be easy, but you’ll give it a shot. You’ll do better. Not just for Uncle Zan, but for MK, and the others. And most importantly, for yourself.

Slowly but surely, sleep takes over, and it’s one of the most peaceful periods of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

——————

Back within the city of Megapolis, where street vendors hollered and children screeched with laughter as they played, a lone monkey sits atop the highest building. Harsh winds tussle and tug at black and white fur, at old clothes that have experienced one too many repairs.

A single sunset colored eye stares off towards the ocean, the other eye a clouded white. He stares, stares to the open expanse of the sea, where a ship sails away carrying precious cargo inside.

“After all these years…”

Six ears swivel and perk up, listening intently to the words traded between the two clairvoyants, the cub, and the rest of the unimportant mortals.

“Some clairvoyants finally reveal themselves.”

Lips pull back to reveal sharp teeth, tugging up into a sinister smile.

“Heh, the cub really does have the best luck,” he muses aloud. “To think, all I had to do was just wait and let him find them for me.”

Standing up, the lone monkey known as the Six-Eared Macaque stretches and groans. He’ll have to wait a bit longer for the right opportunity to snatch one of the clairvoyants, though. It’ll probably be the less stable one, since the older one seems less likely to be intimidated into submission.

Then again, he’s already waited this long to finally find a clairvoyant. What’s just a few more weeks?

——————

Much farther from Megapolis, amidst arid deserts and vast grasslands, a kingdom rests. A kingdom of demons, of humans, of celestials, and of everything in-between. A kingdom of mothers, of fathers, of loners. A kingdom of workers, of warriors, of refugees.

No matter who lives within this land, all are welcome, and all are safe. Protected by mountains, by warriors, and by magic alike, the people of Camel Ridge go about their daily lives just like any other day. Vendors sell their wares and make deals with fellow traveling merchants. Guards stand alert for any sign of danger. Children run about the square to play.

“So, did he actually succeed?”

Further up, near the top of the mountain, in the heart of the kingdom, two friends sit at a table. Tea was poured long ago, snacks presented, and words of nostalgia are shared. Now, though, the topic takes a different turn.

Sun Lihua sits up, her chestnut colored fur shifting with the breeze. She lifts her gaze from her teacup, amber eyes twinkling with her smile. “What do you think?” She asks, her tone playful, but knowing. Her tail flicks upward as she patiently waits for his response.

Across the table, donned in fine silks to signify the end of a long day of work, Azure Lion sits. He leans back in his chair and matches her smile, a single brow quirking up. “If I were to guess from the sheer force of the tremor we both felt but a moment ago…” He takes the last sesame ball on the plate to offer her, only eating it when she waves for him to.

A moment to eat the delicious pastry, before he says, “Then I am to say yes, he did succeed.”

“Oh?” Lihua tilts her head, her smile strengthening. “And what, my dear friend, makes you say that?”

“If I can safely assume…” He chuckles, taking his teacup and bringing it to his lips. “That tremor wasn’t too unlike the one from when my dearest Brother Monkey sealed away my equally dearest and most stubborn Brother Ox. To which, I can safely assume my nephew’s invention has worked.”

“A very safe assumption,” Lihua says, delicately placing her cup down. She stands, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. “That also means that we can safely assume Lord Ox will still be in quite the rage when released.”

“Ah, so you are leaving, then?” Azure stands now, stepping around the table to walk with her down the stone stairs towards the gardens.

She shakes her head. “Not yet. The Bull Family deserve some privacy for a reunion and to recuperate. I’ll give them… perhaps a day or two, if the stars allow it. You and I both know the Heavenly Court won’t be happy to hear he’s free.” She sighs, glancing over her nails. “I can only hope he doesn’t cause too much collateral damage before I return to check on them.”

“I would love to accompany you when you go…” Says Azure, still walking alongside Lihua as they approach the center of the garden. Surrounded by a small moat of water adorned with blossoming lilies, a huge tree rests, donning large peaches, ripe and ready for feasting. Placing a paw on her shoulder, Azure says, tired and weary, “But I must maintain vigilance on the stragglers of the Kingdom of Marrow. More keep appearing every year, and it worries me—”

“Rest, Lord Azure,” she says back to him, her tone gentle, but her eyes sharp and leaving no room for argument of any sort. She puts her hand atop his, the size a stark contrast to his large paw. “Rest knowing that the other warriors can keep watch of the borders, and rest knowing that if anything happens, Blue will tell us.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he laughs, his body slumping forward a tad. He pats her shoulder, stepping away from her. “Well, then, shall we check on your youngest son and see how his performance is going?”

Her smile twinkles in her eyes. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The next day and a half that passed was a blur.

After waking from your nap, you took refuge in the wheelhouse with Sandy for most of that time, wanting to meditate in a (mostly) quiet setting. After everything that happened, you felt so drained and haven’t had a proper moment alone to recuperate and let everything settle in.

Thankfully, Sandy was understanding of your need for silence, only speaking up to ask if you were hungry or cold. Otherwise, the only sounds in the room were Sandy manning the boat, the ocean outside, and his many cats playing about.

During those days, Uncle Zan ensured space was given to you, keeping Mei and MK entertained with stories of “crazy clients” in his time as a therapist.

Mr. Pigsy seemed to be in deep thought too, his face scrunched up as he possibly turned over options in his mind on what to do or say to Sun Wukong when he meets him. During your moments of stepping out to get fresh air, you’ve caught him watching you and MK like a hawk, but never saying much.

When Uncle is busy with other matters, Mei and MK entertained each other by messing around and making up one-liners, or Mei helping MK prepare himself to meet Monkey King. More than once you’ve heard their loud laughter on the deck of the boat. Plenty of other times, you’ve caught MK striking a pose with the cudgel whilst Mei took pictures—right before being scolded by Tang for waving the cudgel around like it’s a toy.

Tang, meanwhile, seemed to be catching up on his homework on Monkey King (when he’s not impromptu watching over Mei and MK). You remember catching him re-reading one of his many novels he had on the Monkey King, muttering to himself. Seems he wants to make sure both he and MK are caught up in their “Monkey King lore” as you like to call it.

Finally, you were settling in with the fact you needed to accept whatever fate you had in store. You weren’t sure what was to come, or even why you had to be part of it. Your cards didn’t tell you much either, saying close to the same thing they said last reading in telling you to feel out your emotions, let them flow out. And then to release the past, so you can accept the present.

Which was something you weren’t sure where to even start doing.

Your past was that of heavy shackles chained to your arms and legs and neck, keeping you weighed down in an endless ocean of muck that you trudged through on the daily. Your emotions—the negative ones, specifically—were something you’ve become so used to repressing. Bottling it all up because there was never time, or people, to let them flow out naturally.

Which, of course, ended up with it exploding in your face—and in the face of anyone else who was too close.

Now, because of it all, you were akin to a window that had a rock thrown into it. The shattered pieces lay all around. Sometimes stepped on. Sometimes painfully rubbed together to create more shards. You were left with trying to figure out how to repair it, how to make the pieces not hurt anymore.

That was the hard part, though, wasn’t it?

It felt like too much to do with too little time to do it.

…

But…

At least you weren’t going at this alone anymore. Knowing that Uncle Zan was there, always ready and willing to support you, certainly helps. Sandy’s presence also brought a sense of comfort, his calm and happy demeanor always a nice sight to see.

Though you’re not the most enthusiastic to have the others there, you’re sure you’ll grow accustomed to their presence. It’s no offense meant to them. You were, unfortunately, just slow to trust strangers. You haven’t known any of them long enough to trust they can help you with these issues, these hurts you haven’t been able to let go.

Not to mention, MK and Mei were just kids. They don’t need that on their plates, especially not MK. You certainly want to make sure he has a reliable support system as well. While gaining the Monkey King’s power on the outside seems like it’ll be fun, you know such power will also carry a heavy burden. A burden that you’re not sure MK’s ready to carry.

Even if the circumstances weren’t what you expected, or really wanted, it gave a small form of comfort, knowing you wouldn’t be alone in all of this—not like last time. You’ll figure it out as you go. Slow progress is still progress.

Well… hmm… you could try to make a list of things to research on yourself, your past hurts, how to move forward. Ways to just talk it out with others, ways to meditate on your feelings that weren't just pushing it down and rarely ever showing it.

It’s small, but it’s something.

○ ○ ○

Finally, after two full days, you break out of your isolated meditation and go out to check on the others.

You see Mr. Pigsy sleeping on the sofa with Tang still buried in his book, trading words with Uncle Zan who sat next to him. Mei was on her phone while MK was playing with the cudgel like it was a child’s toy. He twirled it around, striking poses, muttering one-liners with a big grin on his face.

Probably thinking it’s fine to play around with it while Mr. Mr. Pigsy’s sleeping…

You call out, “Hey, be careful with the cudgel, MK. Don’t wanna poke a hole through the ship, yeah?”

MK stops suddenly, clutching the staff close to him and turning to you. “Ah—r—right! I will be the epitome of careful!” He nods sagely, and it makes you smile.

Heh… what an adorable kid.

He then looks at you, tilting his head as he asks, “So—uh—how are you feeling? Better, right? You were wanting to be alone for a while…”

“Mm? Ah…” You rub at your neck, glancing off to the side. You sigh and say, “It’s complicated, but I’m doing better. A little. Better than before, at least, heh…”

“Okay, that’s good! I’m glad. I was—kinda worrying, to be honest.” He scratches at his cheek, eyes darting around and not fully looking at you.

He really is too sweet for his own good.

You can’t help but smile, reaching out to lightly tussle his hair. “It’s okay, MK. In all honesty, it’s going to be a bit slow, but I’ll be fine.” He looks more satisfied with that, before his smile falls again and he still avoids your gaze. It looks like he wanted to ask something else. You tap his shoulder, ask, “Is something else on your mind?”

He shrugs, shoulders hunching up some. A couple of the cats rub against your legs. You bend down to scratch at a gray tabby as MK says, “Well, you said you’d explain something…” He fidgets now, idly twirling the staff with both hands. “About… me meeting Monkey King, and all that. Did you—have a premonition of it? Of me meeting him?”

You stop yourself from petting the tabby, much to the cat’s disappointment, turning your gaze to him. You frown, looking away. “I’m—not really sure, anymore. I had visions of someone going to meet him, but…”

You recall your previous vision, right before meeting the Demon Bull family. The nickname Sun Wukong called you… firecracker. It felt oddly familiar, despite having never heard it before. You say, “It’s possible it was visions of both of us meeting him under different circumstances.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Uncle Zan’s smile and nod of approval.

Looking at MK, you notice how his demeanor changed. His shoulders more hunched and eyes downcast, a look of uncertainty. You walk over to him, reaching out, and gently poke his forehead. “Hey. You were chosen by him, MK. For what reason, I don’t really know. But that just means we’ll have to find out, yeah?”

He looks at you and nods, a small smile forming on his face. “I—uh… not gonna lie, kind of nervous, hah.”

Mei finally pipes into the conversation, asking, “I mean, who wouldn’t be?” She hops to her feet and grabs MK’s face, shaking him back and forth. “You’re going to meet your idol! The monkey man you looked up to for yeeeeears! If you don’t wanna break out into a stream of sweat, then you gotta shake it all out—do it!” She shakes her hands, then her arms, and then her entire body. Soon enough, MK follows in suit.

You quickly back off to not get smacked by any flailing appendages or items. Mei seems to have… a lot of energy inside of her. Almost as much or even more than MK. You walk over to the couch that Tang, Uncle, and Mr. Pigsy were sitting on and lean over to Tang, whispering to him, “Is this common with her?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book as he says, “Very.”

“There ya go! How do ya feel?” She steps back and puts her hands on her hips, chin up with pride.

MK blinks rapidly, shaking his head and rubbing his cheek. “Kinda dizzy now. But… less nervous? A little?”

“See, it worked!” She poses beside him and beams at you all. “He’s ready to meet the monkey man!”

Tang looks up from his book to inspect MK’s posture, before saying, “I suspect he’ll last at least two minutes before fainting.” He side-eyes you with a sly smile before returning to his book.

You cover your mouth to stifle the snicker and shake your head. “It’ll be alright, MK. I’m sure the Great Sage will be understanding if you freak out a little.”

“You’re coming too, aren’t you?” MK faces you now. “I mean—you said the visions… involved both of us, right? And… Monkey King’s invitation said to bring you with, so… so that means you’re coming with me, right?”

You suck in a breath, slowly exhaling through your nose. Your initial reaction was to say no and stay on the boat. But you know you had to go with him to meet Monkey King, whatever reason there is. You glance over at Uncle Zan, who gives you a nod of encouragement, and you turn back to MK.

Accept this as your fate. It’ll be fine.

You are meant to meet the Monkey King. Even so, you’ll be there as moral support for MK as well. That thought makes it easier to accept. You ruffle his hair and say, “I will, don’t worry. We’ll be meeting him together.”

Hearing that makes his hunched shoulders relax. “Okay.”

“So…” You hear Uncle Zan asking from behind you. You feel him place a hand on your shoulder, notice his other hand is on MK’s shoulder. “How are you two feeling about meeting the Great Sage?”

You look over at MK, who fell silent, staring out into the expansive ocean. A piece of you think he’s looking out to the direction of Megapolis, but another piece of you—

flowers blooming everywhere, trees abundant with ripe fruits

stone lanterns long unused gathering moss

a monkey perched on one, a smile easily pulling his lips upward as he regards you

—felt like he was looking in a different direction.

There was a certain glimmer in his eyes, a brief flash of gold, then back to its original golden brown color.

“MK?” You lightly elbow him. “How are you feeling, kiddo?”

It seems to snap MK out of whatever trance he was in, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. He says, “Still a bit nervous, admittedly.” He fidgets with the cudgel. “I don’t even know what to say to him when we see him…” He looks at you. “And… you?”

“I’m fine,” is your reactive response, but you pause, think, then say, “A—bit of the same. I have an idea of what to say to Great Sage. But nothing concrete.”

Mr. Pigsy, who had long woken up from his nap, steps over to give MK’s shoulder a pat. “You’ll be fine, son. Both of you will be fine,” he says, regarding you with a nod. “Whatever you both wanna say or ask, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Haha… yeah…” MK closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Okay, I’m ready. So—how exactly do we use the invitation to get to Flower Fruit?”

“It can vary, depending…” Uncle hums, tapping his chin. “May I see the scroll, lad?”

“Oh? Uh, sure.” MK hands the invitation over, to which Uncle scans it, his eyes flickering side to side as he reads each line. There’s a short moment of silence to let Uncle read through the words again, before he hands the invitation back to MK.

He says, “It says here you must accept the invitation for it to take you to Flower Fruit. So, place your hands on the scroll.”

Despite your shared confusion with MK, you both place your hands upon the scroll. Uncle then says, “Now, repeat after me: Honorable Monkey King, I, Qi Xiaotian, accept this invitation.”

“Uh… okay…” MK’s shoulders hunch up, meekly saying, “H—Honorable Monkey King, I, Qi Xiaotian, accept this… invitation…?”

Nothing happens.

“Maybe try saying it with more confidence, MK,” you tell him with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You sounded very unsure there.”

“Ah, sorry, still a bit nervous… and kinda confused… ok.” MK closes his eyes and breathes. In, then out. “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine,” he mumbles to himself. He shakes his head, then holds his chin higher, and speaks in a stronger tone, “Honorable Monkey King, I, Qi Xiaotian, accept this invitation.”

“Honorable Monkey King, I, too, accept this invitation,” you say after him.

At first, nothing happens.

Then, the scroll begins to emit a soft glow, growing with intensity after each second. Moving on its own, it flies away from you, hovering in the air just a few feet away. The scroll stretches and stretches, growing taller and wider. The words along the page peel off and morph into a mote of light. That very mote forms into what could only be described as a tear in reality, overtaking the scroll.

The light fades away, revealing an image. At first, it looked like a moving painting, but it didn't take long to realize that it was actually a doorway. On the other side, you can see buildings made of stone covered in vines and moss—long abandoned and reclaimed by nature. Monkeys of various sizes and colored fur run about, chirping with curiosity. They come closer to the doorway, poking at it and looking at you both, but there seems to be a force field of some sort that stops them from going through.

“Woooah…” Mei steps closer, poking at it as well. “That’s so cool!” She pushes against the force field with a grunt. “Ugh—it’s not working! Is it broken or something?”

“The invitation was for just MK and nibby, dear child, remember?” Uncle gently reminds her. He steps over, putting a hand on her shoulder. “No doubt Great Sage ensured only those on the invitation are allowed to step through. Would either of you like to try it?” He looks at you and MK now, gesturing to the doorway.

MK is the first to come closer, reaching out. His hand phases through the field of light, appearing on the other side. The monkeys watching jump in shock at the sudden hand on their side, scattering in different directions. Only the older monkeys stay to ogle in wonder, some even reaching for MK’s hand to touch it.

“Wow…” MK whispers, pulling his hand away and looking it over. He turns to you now. “So… I guess it’s time to go?”

You nod. “No time to waste. Who knows what the Bull Family is planning.”

“Good luck meeting the monkey man!” Mei throws her arms around MK’s shoulders and gives him a tight squeeze.

Mr. Pigsy gives a good pat to MK’s back. “If he causes you any trouble, you tell me, you got it?”

“But don’t forget your manners! He is the Great Sage, after all,” Tang gently reminds you both.

“Thanks, sis! I’ll make sure, Pigsy. And I won’t forget, Mr. Tang!” MK says with a laugh.

At the same time that happens, Uncle places a kiss on your head, whispering to you, “You’ll be fine, nibby. You need not worry.”

Sandy steps over to pull you into a hug. “I may not know much about the Monkey King, but your uncle’s right, teacup. He doesn’t give me the vibe of a guy who would hurt you.”

You snort, patting his giant arm until he lets you go. “I know he won’t, Sandy, but the words are appreciated.” You nod to Uncle as well, saying a quiet, “Thanks.”

MK turns to you, fidgeting nervously with the cudgel, before he holds his hand out to you. “Let’s go.”

You take his hand. “Let’s.” You step through the portal first, MK following close behind. The feeling could only be described best as stepping out of a hot shower into a cold bathroom. A strange wave of something warm flowing through you and lingering for but a moment before it vanishes.

Even if you still had your reservations on meeting the Monkey King, you won’t deny that seeing Flower Fruit Mountain in person is making it (slightly) more worth it.

You and MK stand there, staring in awe at the mountain chains that form together, reaching up, up, up into the clouds. Even from your point of view, you could make out small waterfalls strewn about, even bridges connecting certain mountains to others. If you squint, you swear you can make out houses along them. Some look perched precariously on ledges, while others burrow directly into the mountainside, turning the towering peaks into both a fortress and a haven.

Even where you stand, you catch sight of the very village from your visions. Looking at it now, it appears to be some kind of port village. Houses made from stone walls and wooden roofs that seem to stand stubbornly against the passage of time. Vines and moss crawl along the structures, flowers blooming from the surface. A mossy stone pathway leads into the forest, vanishing behind leaves and brush.

“Wow…” MK whispers, looking around. “It’s beautiful…”

“You can say that again.” You step forward, pulling your hand free from his to look around.

He quickly catches up to you, matching your pace as he also glances about. He asks, “Do you think anyone still lives here?”

“I highly doubt it, considering the state of these homes,” you gesture to said overgrown houses for emphasis. “I’m assuming most of his people left.”

“Huh,” MK hums, peeking into a house to look around. “Wonder why. I mean—he was a great king! And this place looks like a paradise! So why would they wanna leave?”

You glance towards a home, a small frown playing on your lips. You couldn’t help but wonder such a thing too, but—

fire and smoke and death consuming all in its path

faceless bodies littering the ground

—it felt more complicated than what you and MK are assuming.

“It’s—probably a complicated subject,” you choose to say. “One that I don’t think is good to bring up with the Great Sage. I think it’s safe to assume it’s a sore spot for him.”

“Ah—okay…” MK turns his head this way and that, doing a full 360 to take in the scenery. “So—uh—where do we go from here? I kinda figured Monkey King would meet us here, but—I mean—he’s not here.”

“Mmm.” You look behind you, noting how the portal back to Sandy’s ship is now gone. You’re sure that Sun Wukong will have a way to get you both back home once the situation with Demon Bull King is dealt with. However, you’re still not happy to see the quick access back to your uncle is gone.

“The only thing I can think of is to move forward and see if we can find Shuilian Cave,” you decide.

You take out your phone, your eyebrows shooting up when you notice you still have bars.

I have service here?? Magic or not—that makes not a lick of sense.

“Oh, look! It’s the bird from the other day!” MK lightly shakes your shoulder, pointing over to a bird with extravagantly colored feathers that shimmer in the sunlight. When you step closer, you notice the golden mist rolling off their feathers, confirming it was indeed the bird—more so, the shapeshifter you had seen the day before.

“Shapeshifter,” you say, holding a hand out. “Do you work for the Great Sage? Could you take us to him?”

The shapeshifter preens their feathers momentarily, tilting their head at you. You notice their eyes were akin to a sunrise, bright and unnaturally golden. They spread their wings, and with a screech, they fly towards you and MK, circling around the two of you. Their feathers brush along your arms as they fly past you, soaring towards a building. Their form glows brightly and begins to morph and change shape.

They circle behind the building, a flash of golden light emitting behind it, before they come out completely different on the other side.

Your eyes widen in shock, sucking in a breath as you watch the shapeshifter—no, the Monkey King, Sun Wukong, smoothly land on a stone lantern by the house and perches himself there. He plucks a feather out of his fur and flicks it off to the side, giving you both a sly grin.

His eyes twinkle with playful mischief as he says, “Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t ya?”

Silence rings between the three of you, only broken by the rustling of leaves from the monkey inhabitants or the gentle breeze.

Monkey King was a lot more lithe than you expected him to be. Everyone interpreted him to be so buff and covered in muscles, you couldn’t help but imagine it to be that way too. But no, his limbs were slender. Then again, it was difficult to tell with how loose his outfit appeared, so it’s entirely possible he does have some muscle hiding under there. Your eyes scan his form, from the pink, heart-shaped marking on his face, to the orange fur, to his golden eyes.

“So—you take it all in, yet?” Monkey King chuckles, his body hunching forward more to rest his arms on his knees. Despite his enlightened nature and heightened intelligence, he still exhibited monkey-like behaviors. The tilt of his head, his tail flicking side to side in curiosity, his bare feet gripping at the stone lantern.

Even as he makes a playful jest at you, you can tell he’s observing your appearance just as much as you were to him.

Quickly shaking yourself out of your stupor, your body moves on automatic. Years of being taught respect to superiors kick into gear, your fist clapping into your hand as you bow lowly before Monkey King. “Apologies for staring, Great Sage. It’s an honor to officially meet you in person.”

“M—muh—muh!” MK, very obviously freaking out, scrambles to bow as well. He drops the cudgel in his fumbling, unsure of whether to grab it or follow your salute. He ends up doing the latter, stammering, “M—Monkey King! Sir! It’s an honor—a privilege to meet you, sir!”

He’s clearly taken aback by the sudden gesture from you two, brows raised and a look of shock on his features. He quickly shakes it off, bursting into laughter. “Hahaha! Haven’t seen a bow like that in a while!” He hops off the stone lantern, landing in front of you, and crouches down to look at your face. “I forget you clairvoyants are real formal types, huh?”

He stands straight, making a gesture with his index finger and saying, “C’mon, you two, stand up straight—up, up, up!”

You right yourself first, looking over his face. Now that he’s standing closer, you notice the splatter of sun-kissed freckles across his cheeks. You also take notice of how his sclera is a deep red rather than white—no doubt from when he was trapped in Laozi’s furnace for so long.

He says with a toothy grin, “No need to grovel over little ol’ me. But I won’t say no if you wanna do it some more.” He waggles his eyebrows, leaning closer to you.

Ah, I almost completely forgot that he’s got a huge ego.

Immediately, your expression falls to that of discontent, your voice flat as you say, “No.”

“Pfft—hah!” Monkey King throws his head back and laughs. “What a change! You’re a funny one, ain’t ya? Was just kidding, promise.” He circles around you curiously, stopping beside MK now. “Heya kiddo, no need to keep doing that posture! Up ya go!” He lightly taps MK on the head with his knuckles, coaxing him to stand straight.

He grabs the cudgel with his foot, tossing it into the air. Catching it with a grand twirl and planting it beside him, he puts his hand to his hip and grins. “Successor or no, you don’t gotta be so formal with me, bud.”

Did he just… call MK his successor??

Seemingly not noticing, MK nods, his eyes wide. “Y—Yes, sir! Sorry, I—haha—I’m just—wow, this is so cool!” His hands flap in front of him, giggling in excitement. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you in person! Wow, wow, wow, I have so many questions!”

“I bet you do, cub! I’m sure you both do,” Monkey King laughs, ruffling MK’s hair. He reaches to do the same to you, but you slap his hand away before he could even touch you. He blinks, raising a brow, but his smile easily falls back into place as if it never happened. “So, ask away!”

“Oh man, oh man, where do I start? Well, uh—I—”

You put your hand on MK’s shoulder, causing him to stop and look at you. Your eyes haven’t left Monkey King as you ask, “Did you just call MK your successor?”

MK blinks, just now registering the words before standing up more straight. “Wait—what? I’m—me? You? A successor to you??”

Monkey King’s grin grows wider, showing off more of his sharp teeth. His tail grabs the cudgel, using it as leverage, whilst he leans back and folds his hands behind his head. “That’s right, cub! I’m retired now, so it’ll be up to you—” he pokes MK’s nose “—to take care of things from here on out in my stead.”

“Retired?” You and MK say at the same time. “Is that even possible to retire as Monkey King…?” MK asks, more to himself than to Monkey King.

You could not believe what you were hearing. It's not that he's retiring is what bothered you. It's the fact that he's deciding to push everything onto a child like MK and thinking he can just be lackadaisical about it.

You ask Monkey King, “What do you mean retired?”

“I mean r-e-t-i-r-e-d. Ya know, not solving problems for people anymore?” He scratches at his back with the cudgel. He jumps, simultaneously summoning his nimbus to land on it. He begins to lounge and says with a wave of his hand, “My time has passed! The world doesn't need some old monkey like me anymore. It's time for a new chapter, a new protagonist to take place!”

He makes an open armed gesture to MK with a wide grin. “You, little cub, are perfect! Good heart, head on straight—”

“So… I’m supposed to face Demon Bull King on my own?” MK fidgets with his jacket, looking between you and Monkey King. “How can I even do that? I—I know some of your powers, sure, but—I don't know how they—”

Monkey King blows a raspberry, waving his hand. “You'll be fine, bud! All you gotta do is believe in yourself, and you can take on anything! Even a smidge makes all the difference.” He snaps his fingers and points at MK. “Once you deal with old Bull King, we can—”

“Believe in himself? What kind of backhanded advice is that?” You step in front of MK, your arm pushing him further behind you. A protective fire for him ignited deep in your chest, making you speak and act before you could think, “He’s a child! He’s not ready to face the Demon Bull family on his own—and you’re expecting him to just take care of it with the copout advice of ‘believing in himself’?!”

MK holds up a finger. “Hey, I—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Monkey King brings his hands up in a placating gesture, sitting up on his cloud. “It’s not like I’m gonna let him do it all alone! I’ll be his teacher!” He points his thumb to himself with a smile. He adds on with a theatrical wave of his hands, “Once he finishes up with Bull Boy, we can start training!”

This guy can't be serious.

He's so lax about sending a literal child to his own death!

“Wait—so I really am gonna do that part alone?” MK peeks around from behind you, asking in a weak voice, “You… you’re not gonna help?”

“Nope. Like I said, I’m retired.” Monkey King uses the cudgel to itch at the spot he couldn’t reach prior.

MK’s fidgeting seems to worsen at that, looking at you now as your face contorts from annoyance to pure anger. As if not noticing the very obvious problem, Monkey King continues on, “Listen, bud, I'm done solving people's problems for them. I'll train ya, but I ain’t gonna be taking credit for anything from here on out.”

He waves a dismissive hand at you both, saying, “You can handle Bull King just fine! Consider it a trial—”

You grit your teeth, advancing towards him. “Do you not see the glaring issue right in front of you?!” You reach out and grab his ear. “Even if he had a small modicum of training, he's not ready to face Bull King and his family alone!”

“Ow—hey, hey!” He flails, tail wrapping around your wrist as you give his ear a tug.

MK reaches for you. “Ah—wait—”

“You will go to Megapolis right fucking now, with MK, and help him defeat the Demon Bull family. And you will not leave this for just him to do on his own!” You release Monkey King’s ear and try to pull your hand free from his tail, to no avail. Instead, he shocks you with how strong his tail is as it lifts you into the air.

“Can I say something—”

“Jeez, you tug hard…” MK’s words go unheard as Monkey King rubs his ear and gives you a miffed look.

He really has the nerve to be annoyed at you for what's going on right now!

He says, “Listen, he can take Bull King on just fine. You’re overestimating the situation. All he needs is some confidence, and it’ll be no sweat for him!” He drops you back onto the ground, his tail flicking in your face.

You huff, your face burning with righteous rage. You can’t help but blink and see a younger version of yourself in MK; alone with no experience, no training, no teacher to help him learn, nothing. The fact that Monkey King thought it was fine to let this untrained kid go fight someone with more combat experience than him only made your protective fire for MK burn hotter and hotter.

You make a gesture to MK, your voice raising with your growing anger, “And you’re underestimating just how inexperienced he is! Blessing or not, he can’t do this alone.”

“He’s no different from how I started!” He gives a half-hearted shrug to you. His tail whips about, his smile appearing more strained and showing more teeth than it normally should. “I was born from stone and just started training and got better!”

“You still had teachers to guide you and teach you those techniques before you went off to fight!” You point at him. “And you had Six-Eared Macaque for the first few—oh, I don't know—centuries before you were on your own?”

The mention of the other monkey definitely incited a reaction from Monkey King. Eyes on you now, twitching. He opens his mouth, closes it, then huffs and shakes his head. As if it never happened, he just says, “It’s like you said—I had teachers, and I said I was gonna teach him, soooo I don’t see what the issue is here.”

MK steps closer to you. “Guys—”

You scowl at Monkey King, saying, “I don’t need clairvoyance to know that you’re gonna be a shit teacher with the attitude you’re carrying right now.”

“Hah! Oh, yeah? And what gives you the right to assume such things about me?” He leans closer to you, his nose nearly brushing yours as his smile is all teeth and eyes burning with a challenge.

“Look at how lackadaisical you're being right now to an inexperienced boy who’s probably not fought a day in his life!” You wave your hands about as you speak, “That's like asking someone fresh out of middle school to cook a complicated five-star dish!”

“Middle school?” Monkey King scratches his cheek in confusion. “What’s a middle school?”

“Can you pay attention?” You gesture to MK again as you say, “MK doesn’t just need confidence, he needs proper training and discipline to control his newfound powers—”

Monkey King lets out a sound that's a mixture between a laugh and a scoff. “Phah! Maybe you should start taking some of your own advice first before giving me any, little mx ‘resisted their powers for almost their entire life’,” He says with a proud smile that says he won the argument.

What?

You stare at him, eyes wide as his words settle. The jab he made wasn’t what got to you, it was the fact he knew.

He knew when the only one who should know was Uncle.

MK looks between you two, his voice shaky as he asks, “Uhm—what—?”

“How the fuck do you know that.”

The stare you give Monkey King makes him shut his mouth and realize the mistake he made. He coughs and laughs nervously, his elongated ears twitching. “Uh… oops.”

You ask, your voice trembling with barely contained rage, “Did—did you eavesdrop on that conversation?”

He scratches at his neck, his smile more strained from nervousness than anger now, refusing to look you in the eye. It only further proved his guilt. “Listen, can’t blame a monkey for being curious—”

“Are you kidding me?!” You step forward and jab your finger against his chest. “That conversation was none of your fucking business!”

It was supposed to just be me and Uncle. No one else.

He pushes you back, now off his cloud and standing at his full height. His lips pull back to reveal his sharpened teeth, tail slapping against the dirt and grass with his own building anger. “It involved me, how is it not my business?!”

“Because they’re my visions—not yours! We didn’t even mention that until the end of it all! It was private—it was personal!”

He scoffs again and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in an overly nonchalant gesture. “Not my fault that you decided to talk about that shit first.”

Not trustworthy, he’s not trustworthy.

MK grabs your arm. “Guys, stop, seriously—”

You advance on Monkey King again, ripping your arm free, feeling tears of anger and hurt burning in your eyes. “And you don’t even care?! That's great—it’s great! Good to know you’re as arrogant and selfish as the legends say you are. Is that what you’re going to teach MK? To not give a flying fuck about anyone else but himself?”

Monkey King’s eyes snap to your face, his own expression morphing into prideful rage, trying to breathe and calm, but he can’t and neither can you. He laughs, showing more teeth than one should when doing so. “Oh yeah? You really think that? Now that’s rich coming from a—”

You’re both interrupted when you hear MK shout, “WILL YOU TWO QUIT IT ALREADY?!”

He stands between you two, pushing you both further away from each other, holding his hands up and saying, “Please, just stop! We’re not gonna get anywhere with you two arguing!”

He looks at Monkey King. “I know and understand you were curious, but that conversation with their uncle probably involved things they don’t want to tell anyone else until they’re ready. It was a serious invasion of privacy to eavesdrop on it.”

Then he turns to you. “And I know you’re upset, I know you care about me and my safety, but you can’t take your anger out on Monkey King like that! And—and you can’t just go around making decisions for me. Neither of you can.”

He keeps his hands up to both of you, turning to give each of you a look, then says, “You both took it too far and need to take a step back. Things are getting way too heated, and you’re both going to say something you’ll regret in the long run.”

Then he rubs at his arm, eyes downcast. Both you and Monkey King watch him as he talks, “Look—I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to beat Bull King on my own. But they’re right, Monkey King… I don’t have any experience in fighting aside from just—watching movies and playing games, and copying what I see.” He looks at you and keeps talking, “But—I trust him to help me. I don’t think he’d leave me to do all of this on my own.”

“Just because you trust him to train you don't mean he’s a trustworthy teacher. Nor does it mean he’ll be a good one at that.” You turn your stare to Monkey King, whose eyebrow twitches at your words, his lips pulling back into a scowl.

MK reaches out and touches your shoulder, coaxing you to look at him. He says, his voice gentle but firm, “Please, stop instigating him.”

“Hah—!”

“Don’t instigate them out of revenge, Monkey King!” MK turns to Monkey King, stopping him before he could put his other foot in his mouth. MK says, “I get it. You both want to help me, but have different approaches on how to do it. But in the end, isn’t this my choice as the student here?”

You lock eyes with Monkey King, brows furrowed. MK says, facing you fully, “I want to learn from Monkey King. I want to learn how to use these powers to help people who can’t help themselves.”

With a breath, you close your eyes and rub your face. “MK—kid—” you shake your head and look at him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “I understand that. Just—answer this honestly. Are you saying you want to help people because you genuinely do? Or are you saying it to make him happy?”

Frowning, he looks away and rubs his arm. He says, his voice quiet, a bit unsure, “Honestly? A bit of both—I guess. I—I really do wanna help others. I like helping people. If this means I can be better at helping them, then—yes, I want to learn from him.”

You pinch at the bridge of your brow. “Ugh—your heart is way too big…” You brush his hair from his face and pat his head. “Look—you're right in this being your decision. If you want to go through with this, I'll respect it—despite my own reservations with it.”

You look him in the eye and say, “But you need to know when to use your head. You won't win every fight by just hitting the ‘bad guy’ really hard. Nor should you ignore your own needs just to help others. Do you understand?”

He smiles softly and nods. “Yeah, I understand…” He turns towards Monkey King, who silently watches the entire thing, and holds a hand out to him. “Monkey King, sir, I… I want them to help teach me. Didn’t you say in your invitation their insight and experience could be super helpful? I—I think they’d be able to provide nice opinions and perspectives that—well—might not come to us.”

Monkey King sighs, rubbing his neck and looking away. His eyes still burn with barely contained anger, his tail whipping side to side and slapping at the ground.

MK says now, his tone a mixture of gentle and firm, “You had multiple teachers in your journey… Why can't I have more than one, too?”

With a groan, Monkey King shakes his head. “It’s not that, bud.” He crosses his arms, his eyes now on you. “Those opinions that you value could very possibly be clouded by bias.”

“Ah, so you’re completely free of bias?” You ask with a raised brow, lifting your chin in a challenging gesture.

“I never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth.” He says back, making a finalist gesture with one hand. He closes his eyes and breathes. His fur smooths out slightly, his tail still whipping side to side. He now says, “What I’m saying is your training methods could very well be clouded by that bias and end up stunting his growth.”

You copy his gesture of crossing your arms, your hips akimbo as you speak, “The very same could be said about you, you know that right?” You won’t deny he had a point, but you’re also not willing to let him forget such a statement can be seen the other way. You know, however, that time can’t afford to be wasted arguing with this stubborn monkey while Bull King is out and about.

You pinch the bridge of your brow, your eyes squeezing shut. You let out an annoyed grunt before you say, “Look—we’re wasting time just going back and forth like this and butting heads. Bull King and his family could be planning something this very second, and who knows what kind of damage could be done to the city if he decides to go on a rampage?”

MK glances between you both. “Monkey King… they’re right. We should probably deal with that first, before some kind of even ground can be found…” He steps aside to face you both properly. “Just—I wanna say something first, really quickly!” He takes a breath and stands up more straight, shoulders rolled back. “I want both of you to teach me, but I don’t want you two always at each other’s throats. Either you get along and help guide me, or—or I learn everything on my own! Or even find a different teacher!”

Then he claps his fist into his hand and bows before Monkey King. “So please, Monkey King, be my teacher. Help me understand and harness this new power you’ve blessed me with. And prove to everyone that you can help me become better at this and that you’re trustworthy.” Once standing straight, MK faces you. “And you teach me too. All about thinking fast, using my head. Like how you do. Please.”

Monkey King looks thoughtful, a bit annoyed, his tail rapidly flicking side to side and twitching. He closes his eyes and breathes. You do the same, calming the raging storm that was your anger.

“Fine…” Monkey King says, “A deal, then. I’ll keep an eye on him during the fight with Bull King. If I think for a second he’ll be in trouble, I’ll step in.” He looks at you, eyes roaming your face. “And after that, I start training for him, sounds fair?”

You don’t answer at first, so he adds with an aggravated groan, “Before his training can officially start, we need to make sure Bull King won’t cause trouble in Megapolis. The kid won’t be able to defeat the family—not like this, but he’ll at least be able to beat them up a fair bit to make 'em go hide and lick their wounds. That will give us time to train him. “ He glances at MK, then looks back at you. He says, his voice softer, “He’ll be okay, and I’ll be watching him to make sure of it.”

You look at MK now as he takes your hand in his, squeezing it. He says, “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

You rub your face with your free hand, your shoulder slumping. He did have a point. If Bull King and his family aren't dealt with now, you’re sure MK’s training sessions will get a nasty interruption.

“Okay. Fine.” You turn to Monkey King, saying, “After that’s dealt with, you and I have a private talk.” You step closer to him, once again jabbing your finger into his chest with your free hand. You still held onto MK, staring Monkey King dead in the eyes as you say, “And so help me, Sun Wukong, if anything happens to MK, or his friends, or my uncle until Bull King is dealt with… I will make you regret ever meeting me.”

“Hoo, now that’s a scary threat for someone not so scary,” He laughs, as if you weren’t anything to be afraid of. “Deal.” He takes your free hand and shakes it, then turns his attention to MK. “So, feelin’ ready to face Bull King now?”

“R—Right now?”

“Yeah! If we get goin’ immediately, we can set up a place for you to go against him outside the city. Avoid damages and unnecessary injuries to innocents and all that.” He summons his cloud and jumps onto it. “Hop on, kiddo. I’ll drop ya off.”

MK looks at you and nods to the cloud. You take a step forward, but Monkey King waves a hand at you, saying, “Ah, ah! I said ‘kiddo.’ You’re not a kid, are you?”

“Are you?” You raise a brow. “Because you certainly act like one.”

“Hah! Sure, why not. It’s the kiddo only cloud.” Monkey King lays back to lounge on it, giving you an unbothered smile.

“Ah, I see. A kiddo only cloud, huh? Makes sense, since I’m the only adult on this island.” You give a triumphant smirk, your chin tilting up in pride.

A mixture between a pout and a scowl contorting his features, but his smile still held strong. “Gonna be like that, huh?”

Before he could say anything further, MK takes your hand and says, “C’mon, guys… stop. Seriously.”

You and Monkey King grumble, looking away from one another. You turn to MK and ruffle his hair. “Sorry, MK… it’s fine. I’ll hitch a ride back once Great Sage and I are done talking later, okay?”

He nods and pulls you into a hug. “Okay… I’ll see you back at Pigsy’s Noodles as soon as possible, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” You give him a squeeze, a kiss on the head, and watch him get on the cloud with Monkey King.

Monkey King looks at you with a raised brow. Once MK was comfortable and secure on the cloud, Monkey King sticks his tongue out at you, before turning away and taking off into the sky with MK.

…

Childish monkey.

Once their forms disappear over the horizon line, you take a walk around for a short while. You make it to the beach, deciding to sit in the sand and stare out into the Flaming Mountains. You look out towards the shallows, the reef, the islands not far that are home to smaller communities, probably for fishing. Leftover feelings of anger and embarrassment burn inside you. Anger at Monkey King, at yourself, and embarrassment for how the entire situation was handled. MK shouldn’t have had to jump in like that—it wasn’t fair to him to act as the voice of reason between you two.

You take a nearby rock and throw it into the water.

You knew better than to let your anger get the better of you like that, no matter how protective you can get. You shouldn’t have let it get to you as bad as it did, you should’ve just calmly offered advice, or put your foot down firmly but not too harsh unless necessary, like Uncle Zan usually did.

But you weren’t Zan. You were just… you. Little, broken you, with too many scars and too many bad experiences to think straight in such a situation.

You frown, your eyes downcast, taking in the detail of your soot-covered shoes. You brush the sand off your hands and hug your legs, resting your chin on your arms.

Uncle Zan’s words ring in your mind, Take a breath, nibby. Focus on something else around you that isn’t what angered you so you can calm down.

You close your eyes and take a breath.

You focus on the feel of the breeze, the sand beneath you, the sun shining on you. You focus on the waves rolling in gently, the rustling of the trees and brush behind you. You focus on the smell of sea salt in the air, maybe a hint of burnt hair—probably yours.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your clouded mind started to clear.

As your mind cleared, you knew that, in truth, your overprotective nature for MK’s sudden thrust into this new life didn’t help the situation at all. Monkey King’s overly lax attitude only gave you red flags on how he’d be as a teacher—especially with how quick and willing he was to just shove all responsibility onto MK. It just added fuel to the fire.

No different from how you were left on your own to deal with your powers before meeting Zan. Even then, the damage was long done.

You couldn’t help but see so much of your younger self in MK, making you want to ensure he didn’t experience what you did. But that wasn’t fair on his end, was it? It’s like he said, you couldn’t just make decisions for him like that. In the end, it was his choice to accept this or not.

You should’ve used your experiences to help prepare him, not dictate his life.

Looking up at the sky, you sigh. You should swallow your pride and apologize to Monkey King when he returns. While neither of you acted as you should have, especially in front of MK, you’re willing to accept how you were in the wrong for part of it.

Now all you can really do is just wait for him to come back…

You blow a raspberry, “Well—first impressions could’ve gone better…” With nothing but time on your side, you opt to return to the abandoned village.

Finding the river that leads out to the ocean, you take the chance to splash some water onto your face and clean the sweat off of you as best you can. You pause to look at your reflection, seeing the dark circles under your eyes and deep-set frown. You looked and felt like you needed a good year-long nap.

Then again, that’s kinda been your look for these last few days. Ah, well…

With nothing much else to do, you decide to explore. Usually, you’d be more cautious with blindly walking around a wooded area. With this place being fabled to be a safe haven, you feel like you’ll be fine here. At least, you’ll put a small piece of trust into Monkey King that he wouldn’t just leave you alone to fend for yourself on a dangerous island.

As you walk, you take notice some monkeys on the island watching you closely. You don’t look at them, however, and instead secure your bag to your back and start exploring. You’re not sure how long you have until Monkey King returns. You don’t know how magical transportation works, nor how long it’ll take for the fight to be done and over with.

You’re sure you have quite a bit of time on your hands, though.

So, you choose to explore. You wander the abandoned village for a good hour, looking into houses and eyeing up stalls, feeling the soft moss that’s overtaken the stone walls. Sometimes you blink and see visions of the ghosts of villagers wandering about their daily lives. Other times you hear remnants of a song sung by a man and woman within the brush. They’re gone as soon as they came.

You end up finding the dilapidated staircase heading up the mountain. You tilt your head, eyeing it up and remembering this was the path Monkey King took you up to get to the Water Curtain Cave. A few of the monkeys you saw earlier watch you from a distance, and you still pay them no mind. Best not to get too involved with the wildlife here. Safe haven or not, it’s highly possible the monkeys could get violent if you aggravate them on accident.

The climb up the stairs was just as exhausting as it was in your visions, and you’re panting and sweating before you can even reach the halfway point. You keep going, though. Might as well reach the top ahead of time. Sometimes you blink and a reminiscent scene of Monkey King’s silhouette guiding you is there, but is gone as quickly as it came. You rub your eyes, a soft groan coming from you, but you keep climbing.

A few monkeys swing on trees, following after you and eyeing you with curiosity, though still cautiously keeping their distance. The only difference between climbing the stairs in your visions and climbing them in real life was how long it actually took getting to the top. Taking breaks between climbing stairs, it was nearly an hour or two before sunset by the time you finally reached the entrance to the Water Curtain Cave.

You find a nearby rock to sit on and catch your breath, panting heavily. “Fucking— huff —broken ass— wheeze —stairs…” Training or no, you were not ready to climb such a hefty set of stairs.

You wipe the sweat away from the back of your neck and look out at the waterfall. Your visions really gave this place no credit, it was beautiful. The sun was only an hour or maybe two away from setting, causing a deep orange hue to color the area. It really added to the peaceful feeling that radiated off this place.

Rather than try to go into the cave behind the waterfall, you stay where you are. A bitter side of you wanted to be petty and invade Monkey King's own privacy like how he did with yours. But you brush the feeling away, not wanting to stoop to that level. Even if Monkey King possibly didn’t feel regret for invading your privacy, he doesn’t deserve it to happen to him too.

Besides, you had no idea how to get past the wards keeping the caves sealed off.

You sigh, rubbing your face, and look out to the little lake the waterfall poured into. You get off the rock and walk over to a nearby tree, laying down underneath it, laying your bag on your stomach, and closing your eyes.

While you rest from the climb, you meditate more on the argument from earlier, this time with a much clearer mind.

You’re willing to admit that what you did was wrong and stupid. You let your emotions get to you when it wasn’t your place to decide something for someone else. You’ll need to make sure to apologize to MK for it as well when you see him next time. As angry as Monkey King made you, he deserves an apology, too.

What you’re not willing to do is say he was right to shove so much responsibility onto MK with little to no preparation. Great Sage or not, if he was planning to choose MK as his successor from the start, he should’ve prepared the kid ahead of time. This wasn’t something that can just be improvised. Especially if he was going to just make MK fight a foe he clearly wasn’t ready to fight.

MK deserves better than what you had to experience—just learning through trial and error, finding out what works and what doesn’t. But, as stated prior, you shouldn’t have used that righteous anger to control you the way it did. That being said, a good amount of respect you held for Monkey King dropped because of it. You’ll work with him, and you’ll (mostly) respect his decisions for training MK.

As of this moment, though, you won’t just let him fuck around and find out when it comes to teaching, and you won’t be afraid to speak your mind.

You hear the monkeys above you in the tree branches, some of them on the ground inching closer to you, interrupting your meditation. Not wanting to frighten them by accident, you just remain where you were, eyes closed, and listen to the sounds of the waterfall and monkeys around you. In a way, it was actually kind of peaceful, and you can certainly see why Monkey King enjoyed this place so much.

Some are closer now, to the point you feel one poking at your head, moving your hair apart in search of bugs to snack on. One tries to take your bag from you, but you keep a solid grip on it. You say, keeping your eyes closed, “Don’t even think about it.”

You hear a few skitter away, then slowly walk back to you, sniffing you, poking and inspecting. Some even gently pat your face. You don’t fight against it, simply letting them sate their curiosity. A little hand slaps your face a bit harder this time, and you sputter, blinking your eyes open to see a much smaller monkey looking at you.

You slowly sit up, noticing a few of the other monkeys back off, including the little one, but it moves closer to you again. It holds out a leaf, chirping softly at you, and reaches for your hand. You let it take your hand and put the leaf in it, closing your fingers and patting them.

You crush the leaf, opening your hand and watching the monkey adjust the leaf and close your fingers over it again. You’re not exactly sure what’s going on with it, but you simply let it happen. The little monkey ran off for a second, coming back with an armful of leaves and laying them in front of you. You adjust your sitting position, keeping your other hand securely on your bag, and let the little monkey “teach” you how to crush leaves.

A few minutes later, you feel hands in your hair again, combing it out and parting it. Then you notice a different, slightly bigger monkey, on your other side, holding your arm and massaging it.

You don’t know much about the behavior of primates, but… you feel like this is a good sign? You know it’s not a good idea to grin and show your teeth—you have to keep a neutral expression. You also know not to maintain eye-contact. These monkeys are clearly more intelligent than the usual wild ones, but better safe than sorry.

As time went on, a couple more monkeys came closer to you, inspecting you, some even massaging your back. If you could call it a massage, really, but the gesture was adorable nonetheless. The little monkey kept finding things to show off to you on how to do, such as crushing a leaf with a rock, or tearing it up and tossing it.

Before you know it, the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon and painting the sky with pinks, oranges, and reds.

Soon after that, you hear a familiar voice calling out, “There you are!”

Chapter Text

Later on, when the sun is nothing more than a half-sunken ball in the horizon and the sky is all the colors that remind Sun Wukong of himself and another someone no longer here, he’ll say his apologies to the clairvoyant.

Later, he’ll bring them into his home and try to start on a better foot. Share some peach chips, a bowl of lychee.

Later, he’ll watch them pour over a scroll he’ll never be able to read, and they won’t be able to either. Not yet. They will be able, one day, when they become more accepting of their gift.

But alas, all of that is for later.

Right now, the sun still sat high in the sky while Wukong rested on his nimbus and MK held onto him. Wukong’s probably making the nimbus go a bit faster than he should. But he can’t really bring himself to care, the prideful rage still burning inside of him, festering, building.

He’s caught in the middle of a hurricane that was his anger, and the winds were too strong to let him get to the eye of it.

All because of the damn clairvoyant butting in the way they did. Saying he’d be a shit teacher… he’d be a great teacher! A damn good one! Clairvoyant acting all high and mighty when they clearly have their own personal vendetta in all of this, whatever it is.

What do they know anyway? Jack shit, that’s what. Talking like they know everything, like they even understand any of it. And that’s just it, they don’t understand. If they did, they wouldn’t have even mentioned Macaque, knowing full well what he became later down the line.

Stupid.

Think they know better than me?

Yeah, right.

What’s a broken little clairvoyant know anything about me?

He hears Mama chiding him gently, but firmly, just like she always did, in the back of his mind, Little pebble, you know better than to say such things. Don’t let your anger speak for you, or you’ll grow to regret what blooms from your rage.

He hears Master whispering softly to him, Control, Wukong, you must control your emotions. You’re too powerful to allow them loose in such a way.

He knows bad things come from when he acts out of anger. He knows he shouldn’t lose himself to his rage. But what can he do with it? There’s no one to talk to anymore, no one to spar with to let it loose, no time to meditate.

Master’s not here.

My brothers are either dead or gone or hate me.

And Mama… it’s best for her that I stay away.

The memory of Master speaks to him, Remember your breathing, Wukong. In, then out. Come now, with me.

Right, right, he needed to breathe. MK was with him, he can’t let the poor kid have to see his idol like this. More than he already has.

Wukong breathes in, then out. In, then out.

In… then out…

He rubs his face, pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head. The anger calmed enough for him to become more aware of his surroundings, and he’s finally able to register MK's tight grip. He can feel MK shaking like a leaf.

The wind’s probably too harsh for him. How long have they been flying at such speeds again? Whatever, it’s a detail Wukong’ll toss aside for now. He slows his nimbus to a more reasonable speed, still fast, but not the anger-induced speeding he was doing but a moment ago.

Silence rings between them, the only sound the wind blowing by and the flapping of Wukong’s cape.

It was so damn awkward. What was he supposed to say after such a thing happened? What can he say? This wasn’t the kid’s problem, so—

“It’d… be stupid to ask if you were okay… so—what do you need?” MK asks, causing Wukong to jolt upright. He feels MK’s grip falter but tightens again. Wukong’s tail secures itself around MK’s waist. For safety.

“Huh? Hey, c’mon.” Wukong reaches around to ruffle his hair. “I’m fine, bud, don’t worry.”

This isn’t your problem, kid.

There’s no need to get him more in the middle of it than he already was.

Of course, like the bleeding heart MK was, he pushed the subject. “Are… are you sure?” His words sound careful, a little unsure. He’s fidgeting with the sash around Wukong’s waist. “It was an intense argument. I just—I feel like—you still might have some pent-up aggression?”

In the back of Wukong’s mind, he hears his mama talking so, so softly, It’ll be alright, my pebble. Breathe in… then out. Yes, just like that. Once more. Good. Now, tell me, what got you so angry, little love?

But it wasn’t Mama that’s asking him to talk about it. Nor was it Macaque; nor his sworn brothers, nor Master, nor Sha Wujing, nor Zhu Bajie.

I miss them.

All of them gone, gone, gone.

I hate this.

Instead, it was just him and his little brother a boy with eyes too sharp and a heart too big.

I wish things were different.

If Wukong were to be honest with himself, though, he should’ve expected it sooner or later. Especially from a kid like MK. So instead of trying to brush it off, Wukong just shrugs. “I’ll get over it, bud. You know me—known for my angry outbursts and all that. Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

MK doesn’t seem too satisfied with it. So Wukong adds on, “I swear, kiddo. I’m not trying to avoid it, but you can’t think straight when you’re all pissed off, yeah?”

“Yeah—I didn’t expect you to feel better after just a few hours.” Wow. Hours have passed already?

Time sure flies when you’re pissed, Wukong muses with a hum.

MK’s still fidgeting with Wukong’s sash, but he doesn’t mind any. In the time he’s watched the kid, he knows MK is a fidgeter—especially when he’s thinking about what to say. The silence doesn’t last long as MK speaks up again, “But—I’d be happy to listen to whatever thoughts you have on your mind, Monkey King. It’s better than letting it fester, you know?”

Getting too stuck in your head again, peaches. It’s making you brood, Macaque’s ghost teases Wukong, C’mon, that’s my job. You’re supposed to be the talkative one. What’s got you all broody?

Wukong closes his eyes and rubs at his temples, pushing the thoughts of that Macaque away. 

He chides himself, Stop that, stop it.

That Macaque’s gone.

Replaced with the cruel husk he became before he died.

Remember how he hurt you.

Remember how he hurt others.

That isn’t him anymore.

It doesn’t matter if I miss him so much, and it hurts every time I think about him. It doesn't matter, it doesn't.

It does matter, little pebble, Mama says to him, gently, sadly, Denial helps no one, you know this.

Wukong inhales, ignoring the chiding whispers of his mother, and says, “Heh, yeah, you’re right, bud.” He heaves a sigh and sits in a more comfortable position on his nimbus. Might as well change the subject for a second so it’s not about him for a brief reprieve.

“Look—I’m gonna come clean. I’ve been watching you for a little while now.” He combs his fur, saying, “I’ve been on the hunt for a successor for a couple of years… and none really matched what I was looking for until I found you.”

MK’s brows scrunch in confusion, prompting Wukong to go on, “I won’t lie… I thought about it for a while, and I’m just—so damn tired of the same thing—”

There you go again, complaining about nothing, Macaque’s ghost—the true one, not the husk of the past—scoffs, What are you even whining about? You asked for this life. You did this to yourself.

No I didn’t. I did this for you. For our sworn brothers. For everyone. Not like you would ever understand. Not like you tried to.

Wukong ignores it, continuing on, “—and it was time for my chapter to close and find someone to help start a new one. And, after a few years, I found you.”

“What—what made you want to choose me? I mean… I dunno…” MK rubs at his neck. “I just, I feel like—”

“Nope, not lettin’ ya finish that.” Wukong flicks his head, saying, “I chose you because you’re what this world needs. Your heart is big, and your eyes are sharp. You’re still learning, and yeah, you’re still a bit on the naive side, but you have a good idea on what people can need.”

He shifts his sitting position to better face MK and shrugs. “Sure, there are some kinks to work out, but I chose you because I know you can bring new, better perspectives compared to an old monkey like me.”

I’m so tired, I don’t want to deal with this anymore.

But I won’t let the Celestials do to you what they did to me.

I won’t let you fall into the same traps I fell into.

I swear it.

MK fidgets and pulls and plays with his sleeve, cheeks flushed. Most likely from both the cold wind, and the fact that his idol praised him in such a way. There was the hint of a shy smile and he nodded. It was kind of adorable.

The feeling was short-lived, though, and Wukong is sighing and making vague gestures with his hand as he says, “I chose you, watched you for a couple of months while settling on my decision… and then this all happened. I have my plan, I have a training regimen and everything!”

His gestures got a bit more abrupt as his anger came back in small waves. “And then they just—act like they know better! Acting like they know how this is all immediately gonna go, or that they could do better.” He scoffs. “As if they understand anything about having to bear such a role in this. Like I’d just—leave you to die or some shit—which I would never do, by the way, thank you very much.”

“It’s okay, I never doubted you in that.” MK fidgets some, scratching at his hand. “I trust you’d make sure I wouldn’t die… I just—I guess it was a bit worrying when you kept mentioning being retired… and was just gonna leave me to fight Demon Bull King alone.”

Wukong stops, looking over MK’s posture, brows furrowed. MK was hunching up, eyes not looking at him, expression etched with worry and uncertainty. Wukong reaches out, putting a hand to his shoulder, saying, “Look… I’m—ugh—I’m sorry, cub.” He rubs his face. “Guess I jumped the gun on wanting to finally relax and not worry about any more demon bullshit, and it ended with making it look like I was shoving it all onto you.”

“It’s… well… I dunno if it’s okay, but I understand what you’re saying.” MK gives him a small smile, rubbing at his arm. “But… if you knew it wasn’t okay to do that… What happened back there? When you two fought?”

Wukong shrugs, a look of minor discomfort as he glances away. “Listen—it’s been a pretty long time since I talked to people after sealing Bull King. Spent most of my time back home on Flower Fruit or dicking around here and there in various cities in disguise. That leaves a monkey… well—to put it bluntly, real shit at social interactions. Let alone first impressions.”

Mama would have a field day with the manners I’ve gained over the years.

“Yeah, I could kind of tell.” MK sputters suddenly, “N—Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s totally understandable! It’s just—”

Wukong laughs a true laugh. “C’mon, you don’t have to worry so much. I know you’re not doing it to be mean.” He scratches the back of his head, picking out a bug and eating it. “I guess with your clairvoyant friend, it’s something personal with them with how I was going about it all. And obviously they didn’t like it, so they decided to voice it. Angrily.”

MK nods for him to continue, so he does, “And well… stupid pride blinded both of us.” It’s something he’s had to learn and relearn several times over to not let it get to him. Yet here he is. “What pissed me off so bad was just—I know what I’m doing. Mostly. Kind of. I’ve mentored plenty of monkey soldiers before! How hard can it be mentoring one kid?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’d be a damn great teacher. But obviously they think otherwise.”

“I mean…” MK fidgets more, trying so, so hard to find the right words to say. It’s like he’s worried he’ll say the wrong thing, but Wukong has a feeling it’s also because he doesn’t want to insult his idol. He settles with, “There were some fair points they made, I won’t deny that. Like—think about it… they don’t know your thought process or your plans. They just think you’re going in blind, improvising and hoping something sticks.”

He looks up at a cloud that’s close by, reaching out to touch it, only to shiver and quickly pull his hand away. “Ooh… colder than I thought…” His brows furrow, shaking his head. “Uh—wait—where was I? Oh—right! Ah—the other thing—you did kinda just have this ‘not a care in the world’ attitude? I don’t really think that helped, either.”

Wukong scratches at his neck as he looks over MK’s face. “Augh… yeah, makes a lot of sense, now that you say it out loud.”

“I meant what I said, though. I trust you to teach me, and to show everyone you’re trustworthy.” MK looks at him now, meeting his gaze. “Maybe you could tell them what your plans are? It might help ease their worries or belief in thinking you’re just flying by the seat of your pants in all of this.”

Well, MK’s only half right in that sense. Wukong didn’t have a fully laid out training regiment, just a few ideas on what to do, but not the full picture yet. Training a kid with the same powers as himself and Macaque is going to be very different from training his old soldiers. Then again, it can’t be that hard, can it?

…

Well—okay, the cub does have a point, now that Wukong thinks about it. If he wanted the clairvoyant to work with him (and also get off his back), the best action to take was to be open with them. Such as admitting he barely had a training regimen together.

He reaches out and ruffles MK’s hair some and gives him a toothy grin. “Not a bad idea, bud. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m chattin’ with them later.”

MK smiles one of those smiles when he’s reassuring someone. “I know first impressions weren’t the best, but… they’re really kind. They’re a good listener, too. I feel like… you two could get along. If you gave each other a chance, you know?”

“Sure, sure, if they don’t shove their head up their ass like that again.” Wukong waves a hand, picking at his teeth. He tries and fails not to pay attention to how MK’s smile instantly turned into a frown.

MK says, almost as gently as how Mama talks, “Monkey King… I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but—you did kind of put your foot in your mouth.”

“Eh… yeah. Yeah, I did,” Sighing, he picks some dirt out from under his nails. He’s sure Mama would’ve scolded him good if she heard how he spoke and acted, especially to a clairvoyant.

“I’ve been wondering, actually… Why? Why did you eavesdrop on them?” Ah, there it was. The question to the thing that started it all. MK fidgets, then reassures Wukong, “I promise—I won’t judge. I just wanna know why, I want to understand.”

Ah, let the heavens bless the heart of this cub. He’s long wormed his way into Wukong’s heart, and he knows that’s dangerous. He knows it would be bad to have anything more than just a teacher/student relationship with the kid—rather than anything familial, but he can’t help himself! Given what MK’s made from, Wukong can’t help but see the cub for what he is—his sweet baby brother.

Mama will love him, too. So will Fengshe.

Even so, Wukong has to try to keep it professional, at least when he’s “Wukong”. If word got out that Monkey King grew soft for some kid, it’d end horribly. Not just for MK, but for his friends and family. Wukong doesn’t want that, not when the cub’s already been through enough.

Ah, he should focus on the conversation at hand, rather than let his mind wander again.

Rubbing at his neck, Wukong groans, “Look, bud—it’s a dumb excuse, and I know it is, but I was just genuinely curious.” He looks out into the open ocean, looking at the waves, the dolphins that jump for a brief moment of air before diving back down to catch some food. He watches the clouds above race by, memories of—

the arched door covered in vines and flowers, behind it a familiar face, friend to all, but especially to him

—simpler times flooding is mind. But he pushes them away.

He says, “I haven’t seen a clairvoyant since I sealed away Demon Bull King. When I found out your friend is one, I just—had to know what they were up to. Where they’ve been, what they were doing. I didn’t expect—”

The spirit of Macaque taunts him, Always disregarding everyone because they’re lesser than you, huh, Wukong?

The clairvoyant’s jab chimes in soon after, their voice bitter and hurt and so angry, Is that what you’re going to teach MK? To not give a flying fuck about anyone else but himself?

He sighs, shaking his head. “I—dammit, MK—I didn’t expect the conversation to be something so personal to them. And—to be honest, I stayed because I wanted to know.”

“Wanted to know what?” MK presses on, his attention fully on Wukong, his fidgeting calmed from the nervous tugging and pulling of his sleeves prior. His expression was curious, but calm, the epitome of patience. Something Wukong knows is that MK always practiced for his friends, his family.

“About them, I suppose.” He combs out his fur as best he can against the harsh winds. “Like I said—haven’t seen one in so long. Your friend wasn’t kidding. Something akin to a massacre did happen to the clairvoyants. So, not many of them are left.”

“Do you… do you know what happened?”

Wukong doesn’t answer at first. He stares out at the ocean instead, trying to think of happier times, happier moments, but—

too late too too late he was too late pulp they were pulp in his hands

—no such luck. His memories are full of red on his hands, his fur, everywhere.

“I do,” is all he says. A moment, then, “But now’s not the best time for a talk like that, bud.”

“Right… right…” MK plays with the sleeve of his hoodie he long ago put back on during the flight.

Wukong keeps talking, knowing MK would want him to, “You already heard it kid, they’ve been resisting their visions for years. For a clairvoyant—for anyone with magic—to just put a cork on it and leave it be, to actively resist it for years and years, it’s going to explode eventually.”

“So… so they’ve been hurting themselves, doing that?”

“Essentially, yeah.”

“I see…” Wukong can’t see it with his back facing MK, but he knows the cub has a deep frown set on his features. He can hear the thoughtful tone in MK’s voice as the kid says, “I understand why you would do it. You were worried about them, in a way. Considering how clairvoyants are—from what I'm safely assuming—pretty much just the equivalent of an endangered species, I get it.”

“I’m hearin’ a ‘but’ coming, soon.” Wukong chuckles softly. Already he feels knots in his chest loosening and the hurricane that was his anger calming.

The kid really does have a special way of helping others relax in his presence.

MK laughs, “Heh, yeah… I get it, I do, but—what you did, and what you said—it wasn’t okay. You disregarded their privacy and kept listening in on it. You pretty much just—took away their ability to choose who they want to share that information with” Wukong feels MK resting his head on Wukong’s back, continuing to say, “Your reaction to it also wasn’t the best thing to do. If anything, it just added gasoline to an already raging fire.”

There’s a small pause, as if MK is letting Wukong sit and think about it. And Wukong was thinking about it. The kid was right, of course he was. Wukong knew he shouldn’t have done it all. He knew his own anger got the better of him. His desire to be right—his pride, was always his biggest flaw.

He breathes.

Silence stretches between them like the vast expanse of the ocean. Soon, Megapolis came into view, just the size of a pea but steadily growing larger. Wukong can’t see it, but he can sense it—the presence of his ex-brother. He’s not really trying to hide, is he? Well, might as well pick a spot—

Sun Wukong, he hears a voice ringing in his mind.

He snaps to attention, accidentally jostling MK, and scans the surrounding area. Not far off, he can make out a familiar figure donned in bright celestial armor, his iridescent white cape billowing in the wind. He sits upon his own cloud, his pup sitting beside him.

…

Of course they’d send him.

I already know what this is about, Wukong thinks back to Erlang Shen. And you can go tell the Court I’m handling it.

I trust that you are, says Erlang into Wukong’s mind. However, the Court is also making assumptions, claiming your involvement in Demon Bull King’s escape.

Ugh. Great. Just great. Wukong knew this was going to happen, he just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. He has to get that handled first before the Court decides to take action not only against him, but also Bull King.

“Monkey King?” MK gently tugs at Wukong’s sleeve. “Is everything okay? You’re, uh, kinda stiff all of a sudden.”

Wonderful—how, so very wonderful. Thankfully, Erlang is a far distance from him and MK, so the kid won’t be able to see Erlang.

Meaning, he’s keeping his end of the bargain in staying away from the cub. Good.

“Nothing, bud,” Wukong ruffles MK’s hair. “I’ll drop you off in the karst forest and keep watch from the skies. Don’t worry, old Bull King will show up. I’ll make sure he does.”

“Okay…” MK breathes and slaps his cheeks. He takes the cudgel as Wukong offers it to him. His fingers gently trace along the intricate carvings that dance along the surface of the cudgel, his expression thoughtful. He says quietly, “Before we do this… just—can I say one more thing?”

“Of course, kid! Go ahead.”

Sun Wukong, Erlang presses in his head. Your presence is required to end these assumptions. Whatever you are doing, end it quickly and come with me.

The Court can fucking wait, he thinks back, shifting his focus to MK.

MK says, “Look, it wasn’t okay for you to do that stuff… But it also wasn't okay for them to add their own fuel. They also went too far in what they said, what they did. They shouldn't have let their anger and protectiveness of me get to them.” He pulls and tugs at his sleeves, scratching the top of his hand. A nervous tick, Wukong remembers seeing it a lot during his time watching the kid.

Wukong puts a hand on MK's to stop the scratching. Says, “I get ya, bud. I still have some of my own thinking to do, but I plan to take care of my mistakes.” Again, he ruffles MK's hair. “Don’t worry about lil’ ol’ me, kiddo. By the time I get back to Flower Fruit, I’ll be fine to chat with your friend, and—hopefully—we’ll be on better terms after.”

“Okay… okay, good.” MK nods slowly, giving him a smile that’s small, but strong. “Thank you, both for choosing me, and for understanding.”

“Hah! Don’t gotta thank me, bud.” Wukong scratches at his cheek, looking away. Megapolis was closer now. He veers off to the west, heading for the karst forest. Best not to let innocents get hurt in the midst of this fight… “Get ready for a fight, kiddo. I’ll be keeping watch.”

“Right!”

He leaves MK atop one of the many karsts within the area, soaring towards the nimbus Erlang Shen sat upon. He pauses once he reaches Erlang’s side, plucking out two pieces of fur and making one into a clone of himself, whilst the other becomes a formal invitation for a duel.

Brother Ox could never resist a good ol’ fashioned duel invitation.

“Deliver this to Bull King, and then keep a close eye on the cub,” Wukong says to his clone. “The minute it looks like he’s in trouble, you get him out of it, and give Bull King a piece of our mind.”

“Roger that, me!” The clone salutes and takes the invitation, his form shifting into a bird before he flies towards Megapolis.

Wukong closes his eyes and breathes a heavy sigh. Erlang’s pup, Xiaotian Quan, nudges at his hand with her snout and licks at his fingers. Out of habit, he pets her head. He may not like Erlang, but his pup worked her way into Wukong’s heart.

Just like a lot of things, it seems.

He doesn’t look at Erlang as he asks, “How pissed are they?”

Erlang’s response is as simple as he is, “Very.” A small pause, before he adds on, “Many are wishing to seal you within Five Elements Mountain again. Others advocate for worse. Currently, the Lotus Prince and Lady Guanyin are stalling so you can come defend yourself.”

And they decide to send you to come get me? Wukong almost asks, but stops himself. He’s put his foot in his mouth enough for one day, best to save any annoyance or frustration for the other gods that are trying to advocate for any new imprisonment or punishment. As if he hadn’t already paid his dues centuries ago.

Then again, Wukong is also biased towards Erlang Shen. He’d never admit it aloud, but he does kinda avoid Erlang’s presence for—

burning whips and irons and lightning and

—several reasons. Wukong shoves the memories away before they cloud his mind. Other times, when he has no choice but to talk to Erlang, Wukong ends up purposefully pushing buttons just to annoy him. 

He won’t deny his biased dislike for Erlang Shen. Wukong had numerous reasons not to like the warrior god.

But…

“Are you ready to go?” Erlang asks Wukong, looking at him.

He seems… different, now that Wukong’s taking a moment to think about it. Usually Erlang’s shoulders would be more squared, his gaze harsher and more piercing. His tone as well, always sharp in a way that commanded respect and attention, seemed… softer?

Sun Wukong didn’t think it was possible for Erlang Shen’s voice to have a tone that wasn’t one that was like the crack of thunder.

He’s certainly got some things going on, and it’s certainly making Wukong more curious. But he doesn’t have time to snoop on that right now. Maybe another day, when he remembers to care enough to do so.

Right now, he has a Heavenly Court of morons to prove wrong.

“Yeah,” he says, scratching under Xiaotian Quan’s chin. “Lead the way, Erlie.”

Erlang closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sigh. When he doesn’t respond with harshness to the dumb nickname Wukong gave him, Wukong knows something is up.

Usually he demands I call him by his proper title. Huh.

He thought of that nickname for the specific purpose of annoying Erlang. How strange he doesn’t react the way Wukong expected him to…

Rather than linger on the thought, he pushes it aside for another day, and follows Erlang towards the Celestial Realm’s gates.

Good luck, kiddo. I’ll check up on you after this.

○ ○ ○

Wukong hated trials like these. It’s always the same thing over and over again. Hundreds of faces he knew but didn’t bother remembering the names of. Voices shouting over one another about what actually happened, when Wukong’s told them the truth at least four times now. He stood in the center of it all, of course, at the lowest section of everyone. So they could all look down on him.

Always the same with these trials. Wonder what it’s like to be on the other side for a change.

Erlang Shen sat with his pup next to old Jade Emperor—who was in the highest throne of everyone. Near to him was Nezha, and across from him was Guanyin. Both stole glances in his direction to gauge his expression and reaction to all the accusations thrown his way.

“It’s history repeating itself all over again!”

“No doubt he removed the staff on purpose just to save his precious ‘Sworn Brother’.”

“Who else could have moved it, fool? Obviously it was him!”

“I say we seal him back under the mountain!”

“That’s too kind a punishment for him—he barely learned a thing when Tang Sanzang freed him. What makes you think he’ll learn anything if we do so a second time?”

“They’re right! We should just seal him within the center of the earth, never to be freed.”

“What about dismembering him and hiding the pieces all over China?”

“That sounds like a better idea!”

His expression remained blank, impassive, even as the anger boiled inside him like no other. He doesn’t have time to hear these morons bicker over how to punish him for something he didn’t do. His clone is keeping him updated on the kid’s progress in the fight (he’s doing lackluster at best) , sure, but he still has to talk to the clairvoyant. Time wasted here can be several days wasted in the mortal world.

I’d rather not leave a random stranger lost and wandering on my island. So, can we hurry this up?

Guanyin, sensing Wukong’s growing irritation, holds up a hand, silencing the arguing gods. Her movements were as graceful as they always were, making a gesture to Wukong and saying, “Little Monkey—” she’s really the only one allowed to call him that “—you have heard the charges pressed against you. What say you?”

“I say they’re all hurting their legs jumping to conclusions,” is his blunt answer. He crosses his arms, his tail whipping behind him.

Careful, brother, says the look Nezha gives Wukong, but he doesn’t care. He’s so done with these celestial politics. He’s ready to kick back and finally relax after all these years of—

“Insolent monkey!”

“This is the so-called ‘Victorious-in-Strife Buddha’?”

“He’s learned nothing!”

— this.

“Is he going to make another havoc in heaven?” His sharp ears hear a younger celestial whisper to the one next to them.

Ugh…

Wukong rolls his eyes before closing them. He slowly inhales, then exhales. “I never touched the Cudgel. Not once. The minute I sealed Bull King, I finished my business with Lady Bone Demon—you’re welcome, by the way, never got a thank you for that one, either—and went home,” he says, his voice even and calm, even as a storm roiled inside him, waiting to be unleashed.

“What about that so-called successor?” One god suddenly chimes in, causing the rest to jump in once more.

“The boy!”

“It must have been him who lifted it!”

“That settles it, then. He’s not only done what Sun Wukong did in the past, but worse!”

“Bring him here, now! Put the fillet on him!”

Wukong’s rage always felt like a relentless flurry of fire and wind in his chest. Sometimes, it grows in size. Other times, it’d stay small and calm. At certain moments, it’d turn into a raging inferno.

The moment the fillet is mentioned, however, especially in the same sentence as MK, that rage burns as hot as the sun. His lips curl back into a snarl, his fur standing on end, his tail slamming against the floor and his eyes darting to the god who dared to mention forcing the fillet onto MK.

He opens his mouth, his teeth sharper than before as smoke and sparks billowed out—

“That is enough!” Erlang shouts, his voice like a lightning strike. He slams the end of his spear into the ground. The sound resonates through the Court like a crack of thunder after lightning, a sharp ringing hurting Wukong’s ears. It quiets even the loudest of the gods. “I told you all prior to this meeting—the boy was present during Demon Bull King’s release, but it was not him who had lifted the staff.”

The action from Erlang causes Wukong’s rage to simmer down, his eyes widening in shock. Not once in all these years has Erlang ever sided with Wukong in anything. He fully expected the guy to agree in forcing the fillet onto MK.

Weird…

His teeth return to normal, his fur smoothing out. He breathes, in, then out. Something really is off about Erlang. Given how many decades (centuries?) it’s been since Wukong has properly interacted with him, it would’ve been possible. If it weren’t for the case that Erlang was one of the most stubborn and stuck in his ways gods that Wukong’s ever known.

He doesn’t have time to think about that, though, as Erlang continues to speak, “I will have no more baseless accusations within this court. The next person to make one will face severe punishment. Do I make myself clear?” The silence that lays thick within the Court is enough of an answer for him.

Nezha is the next to speak up, his voice sharp like thorns, “Need I remind all of you again that he never knew he had Wukong’s powers until now? Even so, his magic has been sealed away for years until Wukong unlocked it.”

“Then who could have possibly moved it?” A tiny celestial asks, their voice but a whistle in the wind.

“My sources say that it was none other than Red Son who had managed to successfully lift it,” says Erlang, one hand remaining on his spear whilst the other pets his pup. She’s half laying in his lap by now, her head resting against him. He breathes, the rumbling within the Court quieting down as he quells his own emotions.

Still has that temper. The only thing we had in common.

He says, “The method he used was a gauntlet he made himself. That is what moved the staff.”

“A gauntlet?”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t buy it. There’s no way a little glove could match Monkey King’s strength!”

“But what if it did? The kid’s practically a young genius for a half-breed his age!”

“What does it even matter? Demon Bull King was to remain imprisoned!”

“She’s right! That boy and his mother should be punished!”

Jade Emperor slowly raises a hand. Once more, a silence falls in the Court. He strokes his beard, opening his eyes and gazing at each individual within the room. “That question…” He says slowly (like always), one hand still stroking his beard, while the other gestures about the room. “How is it possible… that Red Son could succeed in making a gauntlet that matches Sun Wukong’s strength?”

Guanyin nods, her expression unreadable, though Wukong could see in her eyes that she had already put the puzzle pieces together. Wukong certainly did, too, and it’s taking a lot of breathing exercises to make sure his anger doesn’t flare up again. He closes his eyes, lowering his head slightly.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.

“There is…” Nezha pauses, glancing at his elder brother. His expression remained composed as it always did when he’s within the Court, but just like Guanyin, his eyes gave it away. He didn’t even want to say it, but Wukong could tell that if no one said anything, they’d be going in circles for hours. Hours in the Celestial Realm could very well mean days or weeks in the Mortal Realm, and that’s not exactly time that Wukong is willing to waste.

(Especially not when he still has the clairvoyant at his home.)

“There are only two people within this entire world who would know Sun Wukong’s strength well,” Nezha says, folding his arms behind him and standing straight. “One of them being the Six-Eared Macaque—whom we all know is dead. And the other…”

Don’t say it.

“The other?” A young god presses.

Don’t.

“The one who had lived with Wukong his whole life,” says Guanyin, her expression turning somber. Perhaps for Wukong, or what’s to come, or maybe even both. “His mother, Sun Lihua.”

Fuck.

Wukong breathes. It comes out broken. He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he clenched them into fists. Fear and rage churned in him like a volatile potion being mixed into a bomb. The rage was more protective for his mama, the fear for what she’ll no doubt be forced to face.

I should’ve just taken the blame.

Shit.

He could barely breathe, even as he opened his mouth and sucked in.

Mama doesn’t deserve to go through this.

The others were talking, but it all just sounded like a horrific ringing in his ears.

Stupid monkey.

You put your own mother in danger by not just taking blame.

It’s what you’re used to at this point.

If they hurt Mama…

Images of the punishments Wukong endured flash through his mind, but instead of himself, it’s Mama. The rage in him builds, threatening to spill out if he didn’t control himself.

A hand touches his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughts before he could further spiral. His head snaps up, turning to the stranger and finding a familiar pair of brown eyes and lotus themed armor.

“Brother,” Nezha whispers to him. “They are requesting me to go fetch her… I suggest you go stand by Lady Guanyin.”

“Right,” he says, his throat closing up. “Sure.” When Nezha pulls away, Wukong grabs his wrist. His hand can’t stop shaking, his eyes blown wide. Each breath of air felt like razor sharp blades ripping against his throat.

His teeth, sharpened to a knife’s point again, grit against one another. “If they do anything to her…”

It’s the only thing he has to say for Nezha to understand the meaning. He says, “Calm yourself, brother. Remember; if Lady Lihua is strong enough to raise you of all people, she can handle a few stubborn celestials.”

Wukong sucks in some air, the sound coming out when he exhales is almost a laugh. Almost. Nezha’s right, though. Mama’s strong. One of the strongest monkey’s Wukong knows— especially because of the fact she raised him.

It’ll be fine.

Mama will be fine.

○ ○ ○

Wukong always wondered what it would feel like standing with the other celestials looking down upon the accused. He knew he’d probably never like the feeling, but being the one having all the eyes on him for years whenever he was in this room, he was a curious monkey.

He wasn’t so curious anymore as his eyes laid on Mama whilst she stood there. Her arms are crossed, her tail more still than a statue. Wukong knows that means she’s very unhappy to be put in such a position. Her amber eyes flickered across the stands where the other celestials sat, all whispering to themselves and eyeing her up.

Wukong shrinks when her stare meets him, her gaze lingering momentarily. He can see her gaze softening, if only slightly, before she hones in on Erlang. That is when Mama’s eyes burn like a roaring fire, controlled but ready to consume.

If looks could kill, Erlie would cease to exist.

“Sun Lihua,” Erlang says, his voice reverberating within the room, radiating authority, “you are brought before the Heavenly Court, accused of aiding Red Son and Princess Iron Fan in the escape of the Demon Bull King during his imprisonment. How do you plead to these charges laid against you?”

Mama crosses her arms again, her demeanor the epitome of calm, while her face and eyes showed a mixture between irritation and concealed anger. She raises a brow, and begins to speak, “Erlang Shen.” Her voice sounded like she was about to either rip someone’s head off, or scold a child. Given Mama’s feelings towards Erlang, Wukong wouldn’t be surprised if it was both. “You say ‘during his imprisonment’ as if Lord Ox was given a sentencing for his crimes. Was he?”

The question causes a small chorus of whispers to erupt, everyone asking each other the same thing.

“Was the Demon Bull King given a sentence??”

“You expect me to remember?”

“What does it even matter? That demon has already done enough!”

Mama claps her hands twice, the sound loud and echoing. Just as Wukong expected, everyone hushes, some looking at Erlang—as they expected him to have made such boisterous noise. Others notice that it was Mama who had called for their eyes, and wait for her to speak. She crosses her arms once more, scanning the Court.

“If I am correct in my assumptions, Lord Ox was never given a proper sentence,” she states, plain and clear as day. Before any celestial could argue with her or start another eruption of gossiping whispers, she speaks again, “I was not present when the order was given to my son to take care of Lord Ox. However, if none of you—not even you, Erlang Shen—” her stare hardens when she locks eyes with Erlang “—can answer me that question, then it answers itself. Lord Ox was never given a formal sentencing for his crimes.”

She makes a gesture with her hand, her eyes honing on Wukong now. “You all agreed a five hundred year sentencing within the Five Elements Mountain was fair for my son to endure. It’s been five hundred and eighteen years since Lord Ox was sealed. I believe he’s well served his time. Unless you have the proper paperwork to prove me wrong?”

“Has it really been that long?” A young celestial whispers.

“Maybe,” one murmurs back. “I don’t know, I wasn’t created during that time.”

Once more, Mama’s stare sharpens like a deadly thorn when regarding Erlang. Wukong can tell that Erlang has long noticed Mama’s expression changing when she gives her attention back to him. The look can only be described as when she finds pests in her garden. A pest that needs to be squashed.

Sure, Wukong would give Erlang a look like he’s being annoying, but Wukong’s never regarded him as if he’s lesser than Wukong. Mama on the other hand…

She really is one of the few people who’s brave enough to do that.

“Do you have paperwork?” She asks again, making a gesture to Erlang that says hurry up.

He doesn’t move, however, simply glancing to a celestial hurriedly transcribing the trial. “Was the proper paperwork made for Demon Bull King’s sentencing?”

The celestial jumps, nearly dropping their clipboard, and catches it. They fumble over their words, “Ah—uh—well—” they nervously tug at their sleeves, eyes darting to the left and right, then helplessly shrug, “No?”

If it was possible for a god to age, Wukong can tell just from the look Erlang has, he would’ve aged at least a few hundred years. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, his hand coming up and rubbing his face, massaging his temples.

Nezha looks just about as done with this situation as him, lowering his head and pinching at the bridge of his brow. “If no proper paperwork was created for Demon Bull King’s sentencing,” he says, sounding as if he had just woken from a thousand-year nap and was rudely woken up. “Then the mistake must be rectified, and a formal apology given to the Bull Family.”

“What? Why give them an apology?!” A god cries out, standing abruptly.

Nezha’s head snaps towards them, his eyes narrowing. “Because it was our job to state Demon Bull King’s crimes, and what his sentencing will be. To my memory, Sun Wukong was only tasked with enacting his sentence—there was no proper announcing of his sentence like there was with Sun Wukong’s. Now. Sit. Down.”

Mama stares at the god who disrupted the court, a single brow raising. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes hold an entire litany of what she’d love to say right now. Unlike Wukong, though, she’s choosing to hold her tongue for now. Much better than what Wukong would’ve done.

The god in question sits, red in the face both from humiliation and anger, but says nothing further.

“Compensation will be given to the family for this mistake,” Erlang says, already writing something down. “However, there are still several questions that need to be answered, Sun Lihua.”

“Ask them then, boy,” Mama says back, waving her hand dismissively at him. The action causes a small series of gasps to ring in the Court.

“She’s really talking to him like that?!”

“Like mother, like son, it seems.”

“No sense of respect for someone higher than her.”

Mama’s eyebrow twitches, a sign that her patience was wearing thin. “Respect is earned, not freely given to pompous palace brats,” she says with a small scoff, crossing her arms and lifting her chin in a silent challenge.

“Come now,” Guanyin speaks up, raising a hand and waving it. “Time is precious, and time flows differently in the mortal world. Remember that, young ones.” She stands in position again, nodding to Erlang and saying, “Let us be mindful of the boy who waits for his mentor in the Mortal Realm, Lord Erlang. Shall I continue?”

“Of course, Lady Guanyin, if we can have no more interruptions?” Erlang’s authoritative tone returns, scanning the room. When there are no objections made, he sighs and waves for Guanyin to go ahead. “If you would please, My Lady.”

“Lady Lihua,” Guanyin begins, her gaze a river of compassion as it meets Mama’s. Mama, in turn, softens under that gaze, a silent invitation for her to continue. “You are correct that Demon Bull King has long served his time, and deserves to be released. The question that remains, however, is why you assisted his wife and son in this release effort, rather than reporting to us?”

Mama rolls her shoulders back, standing tall and placing her hands on her hips. Her expression fell into a blend of defiance and deep sorrow, her tail curling behind her. It’s not often Wukong can see Mama’s emotions be openly presented, especially in front of the Celestial Court.

“Lady Guanyin, in all my years on this world, I have never been given a reason to even remotely trust the Celestial Realm to do their job,” Mama says, her voice carrying heavy disappointment. “All the Celestial Realm has proven to me is that they can’t be trusted, especially not with the lives of those who aren’t celestials.”

Her face, once hardened like stone, softens into an expression tinged with sadness. “You all will never know the pain of having your family ripped away from you before your very eyes.” Her gaze turns to Erlang, now a fierce glare that bears the weight of a mother’s grief. “You all will never know the feeling of watching your children be captured and taken away. Of having your loved ones killed right in front of you. Of having your home torched and destroyed.”

Erlang doesn’t react, his face like a boulder in a roaring river. Yet, Wukong can notice a tinge of something in his eyes. Whatever the emotion is, Wukong can’t put a finger on it right now.

Mama continues, “I helped Lady Iron because I knew her pain all too well as a mother who was left alone to raise her son who hasn’t even had his hundredth day celebration yet.” Her voice becomes a river of sorrow and anger, “I helped Red Son study and test his gauntlet to move the staff because I watched my own youngest son grow up without a father, and know the pain of being a mother unable to fill that void.

“I helped the Demon Bull Family come back together because you lot have only proven to me that all you’re good at is tearing apart families, not bringing them together.”

Unspoken truths and grief hang heavy within the Court, Mama allowing the scars on her heart to be on full display. No one dares speak a word. Maybe they don’t know how to respond, maybe some even dare to feel ashamed—which would be a first for some of them, Wukong thinks.

A long, long silence resonates within the Court. Nezha closes his eyes and lowers his head respectfully. Guanyin nods as she lets Mama’s words settle on everyone. Jade Emperor, who’s been silent this entire time, only stares at her.

After a moment, Jade Emperor is the first to speak up, “Sun Lihua. Can you say with confidence that Demon Bull King will not repeat the past? Can you say with confidence that he will not go on a rampage, murdering innocents in his path?”

“Can you say with confidence that your people, your nephew, will not go on a rampage of murdering innocents in his path?” She counters with crossed arms. “I do not excuse what Lord Ox has done. He had crimes to pay for, and he paid for them. Has your nephew paid for them?”

Jade Emperor’s eyes narrow, and Wukong knows that look means he’s not happy with her retort. Wukong chews his lip, wanting so badly to step in and protect Mama from this. He knows, though, that if he does, the celestials will just claim he’s blindly siding with her.

He trusts Mama. He does. He just can’t bear the thought of her being hurt.

She and Fengshe are all I have left. Don’t you dare do what I think you’re going to do.

Before Jade Emperor could speak, Erlang stands. He slowly inhales, and then exhales. “If I may interject… we are, once again, getting off-topic. As Lady Guanyin stated, we cannot afford to waste time when Sun Wukong’s protégé is waiting for him within the Mortal Realm.” He looks at Mama and says, his voice softer than before, “Since you vehemently believe that the Celestial Realm is unable to perform their duties, then a task for you, if you will take it.”

She waves for him to continue, so he does, “Watch the Bull Family. Ensure that history will not repeat itself. If Demon Bull King brings harm to innocent lives a second time—be it out of uncontrolled emotions, or he simply felt like it—you will be held accountable for it and receive just punishment for failing your duties. Does that sound fair?”

“It does,” Mama agrees with a curt nod.

“Is the Court satisfied with these terms?” Erlang now asks everyone. A series of murmurs echo in the large chamber, but no objections are heard in the ocean of words. Wukong closes his eyes and breathes a small sigh of relief. Man, he did not need to worry about this right now, not when he still has to chat with the clairvoyant about their “mishap” earlier today.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up at Guanyin, who smiles at him. “Your mother is safe, Little Monkey. Fret not for her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, clearing his throat and scratching at his neck. She’s not far off from his worry for Mama (which he’ll always fret over, okay? That’s his mama!), but it certainly wasn’t just for her.

“Good,” says Erlang after he hears no objections. “Then please, Sun Lihua, sign this contract stating that you agree to these terms and will bear full responsibility if Demon Bull King shows no promise of change from his previous destructive demeanor.” He lifts a sheet of paper, and it slowly floats over to Mama. A brush appears before her, and she takes it, signing her name in the designated spot.

As the parchment floats back to Erlang, he takes it and rolls it up, stuffing it into his tunic. “With no further issues at hand, the court is adjourned.”

Fucking finally.

Wukong slips away, hurrying down from the stands and towards the exit. He spares no glances or words with anyone—not even Nezha as he walks past. Wukong needed to check on the cub first before he could head back to Flower Fruit and talk to the clairvoyant, so he needs to be fast, no time for—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mama’s voice calls to him.

He freezes in place, groaning softly. He was really hoping to avoid this conversation. He knew Mama was going to want to talk to him after all of this. He slowly turns, looking at her. “Hey, Mama…”

“After all these years, that’s all you have to say to your mother?” She asks with her hands on her hips. Her harsh stare is now on him, making him shrink with his shoulders hunched up. She counts on her fingers as she says, “You never answered my letters or invitations to Fengshe’s performances, for tea and snacks, you never even came to his hundredth day celebration…”

“Mamaaaaa,” he whines, hunching over in shame. “I’ve—been busy, you know?”

“Busy doing what, exactly?” She asks now, raising a brow and crossing her arms. “Whatever it is, clearly you were much too busy to speak to me, hmm?”

“Uuuuuugh,” he groans louder.

Several celestials who pass by give them a look, some even whispering, “I’ve never seen Monkey King shrivel up like that before!”

“Have you seen the look she gave Lord Erlang?? What makes you think she wouldn’t give that to him?”

“Must be that ‘mother’s stare’ we keep hearing about.”

He laughs, rubbing his neck. “Can we—take this talk somewhere else? Less in the open, you know?”

Mama closes her eyes, shaking her head with a hefty sigh. It sounds more like a laugh, though. “What? Ashamed that your mother is scolding you, hmm?” She looks at him again, her gaze more playful than reprimanding. “Come here, little pebble, let me look at you.”

Wukong hesitates for a moment, always caught between the immortal warrior—the King of Flower Fruit—that he was, and the little pebble his mother sees. Taking one look at her, though, he really can’t deny such a simple request. He steps closer, leaning down so she could reach up and take his face in her hands. Her thumbs gently run over his cheeks, her eyes roaming over his features and taking it all in. Despite centuries passing, Mama still searches for changes, as if time might have left a mark, despite the fact it never will.

“You look tired, pebble,” she points out, her voice gentle as a summer’s breeze.

“Well, I am tired, Mama,” he whispers, a weary laugh following suit.

She tugs, gently, gently pulling him into a hug. His face buries into her neck, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Her fingers comb his fur, her breath stuttering. “Oh, my son,” she murmurs, her voice both joyous and somber. “How I’ve missed you.”

He finally wraps his arms around her, holding her closer.

“I missed you too, Mama.” Fuck, he didn’t mean for his voice to crack like that. It’s so hard, though, when the weight of time and separation finally takes its toll. Mama’s fur, always soft, opens the dam holding back a flood of memories. The scent of sweet osmanthus flowers that she always carried envelops him, easing his tense muscles to relax.

For a moment, he’s a little cub again, freshly born from his stone egg, found by Mama due to his boisterous cries as she put them. For a moment, he's that little cub being cradled by his mama while she sings to him. For a moment, everything is okay.

“There is much we must catch up on,” she says now, picking a twig out of his fur. When did that get there? Oh, well.

“Yeah…”

“Are you going to be staying at home? Or will you be closer to the cub—your successor?”

“I’ll probably, ah, be close by. Still tryna pick a good spot so we don’t have to keep flying to and from Flower Fruit.”

“You’ve been eating proper meals, right?”

“Mamaaaaa…”

“You aren’t eating just snacks again, are you?” Her voice turns back to reprimanding. She pulls back from the hug to look over his face, searching for any kind of lie from him.

He shrinks under her stare, forcing a laugh. “Mama, come on, I don’t just snack—”

“So you are cooking proper meals?”

“Mamaaaaa, cut me some slack! You’re the one who taught me how to cook! Of course I’m cooking meals for myself.” He’s definitely not gonna mention how he ate four whole bags of peach chips in one sitting last week. Absolutely not. His ear will be red for the next century from the pinching it’ll get from Mama.

“Good,” she says, smiling. “I wish this could last longer, but I know the cub waits for you, and Fengshe waits for me.”

“How is he, by the way?” He asks, his tail anxiously whipping behind him before he makes it curl around his ankle. He knows she caught the movement, but thankfully didn’t point it out. “I heard he’s making quite a name for himself in the performance department.”

“He’s been in quite a few plays and operas, both in and out of China,” says Mama, her smile gentle once more. She tucks some stray fur away from his face. “You should watch his performances, they’re quite the sight to see.”

“I bet they are…” He nods along, hoping she doesn’t catch that his smile is forced. He knows that she will, because nothing gets past Mama, but he can still hope

Even if he’s only seen Fengshe once—when the guy was just a freshly born cub—he still cherishes Fengshe dearly. It’s more just… Wukong’s not sure if he can really bear to watch another performance. He’s not sure if they’ll bring up memories of when he and Macaque would perform in operas, when Macaque would take the stage on his own and enchant the audience and Wukong.

Maybe not right now, but… maybe later.

Mama pulls him closer again, her forehead brushing against his. “My little pebble,” she says quietly, lovingly, “I know you must go soon, as do I, but listen to my words, alright?”

“Alright… hit me.”

She leans back now, looking over his face. Gazing into her eyes brings Wukong back to when he was a young and rebellious cub, jumping through the waterfall leading into what became his palace—his home. It brings him back to when she scolded him for a solid two hours for doing such a thing, because he could’ve been killed, how could he put himself in such danger just because he was told he couldn’t do it?

“I know the wounds are still fresh…” She says, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “I know it aches to think about, but you should consider speaking to Lord Ox and Lord Lion. They are your brothers, no matter what.” She pulls her hands away, reaching down to take his. “And even if you and Lord Ox are reaching this bump in the road, deep down, I know that stubborn bull still cares for you.”

She reaches up now to pinch his cheek and tug. “He is just very much like his Brother Monkey, no?”

“Augh—Mama—stop—” he groans, but doesn’t fight back. “Look—old Bull Boy, he’s not gonna wanna talk to me…”

“Maybe not now, because his emotions are still in control. His anger, his grief,” she responds, finally releasing his cheek and letting him nurse the aching spot.

She always pinches so hard.

“But that does not mean he’ll never want to speak to you again. He just needs time to feel his emotions and to properly let them out, rather than taking them out on innocents.” She crosses her arms and raises a brow at him, her smile still present, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “As I said, he’s not too unlike you. Anger is an emotion that can easily take you both, but just because those raw emotions are something you feel now, does not mean you’ll always feel them.”

“Regret usually follows close behind anger,” he says, his smile falling into something a bit bleaker.

“Mmm…” She coaxes him to lean down again and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. “We’ll talk more another time, my son. Go to your successor.” She brushes more stray fur from his face and smiles, her hand cupping his cheek. “Remember…” Her fingers grab at his ear and pinch, causing him to let out a choked noise in surprise and flail.

“Ow, ow, Mama—!”

“If you do not write to me to let me know how you’re doing, you will regret it,” she says with a sickly sweet smile, but Wukong knows all too well what that smile means. “I also would love to meet your successor one day.” She lets his ear go, gently massaging it before pulling away.

Wukong makes a very mature and kingly face that’s absolutely not a pout at all. Kings don’t pout, and that’s not what he’s doing! Shut up. He nurses his ear as he says, “I’m sure he’d love to meet you, Mama. You’ll love him, though. He’s a sweet kid. Big heart and everything.”

“Just like my boy, hmm?” Mama chuckles and shakes her head. She smiles fondly at him, making Wukong think that they were both just going back home to Flower Fruit together to play around and wrestle. “I’ll see you again soon, my pebble. I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Mama.” He pulls her into one final hug, not wanting to let go, and he knows she doesn’t want to either. They know, though, that work needed to be done on both sides. Mama had to talk to old Bull King, and Wukong had to talk to the clairvoyant.

(He won’t mention anything about that with Mama just yet. His other ear will get a harsh pinching if he does.)

So, both pull away, and Wukong nuzzles his cheek against hers with a final farewell, and calls his nimbus to hurry back to Megapolis.

First, he’ll check on the kid. Then, he’ll talk to the clairvoyant.

○ ○ ○

Man, looking at the state of the karst forest, Wukong can already tell the fight between MK and Bull King was one hell of a battle. He reconvenes with his clone, getting the rundown of what happened.

Going off what his clone says, MK wasn’t kidding when he said a majority of what he knew was from games and movies—apparently he copied moves even from games based around Wukong himself. After hearing that, he can definitely see where the clairvoyant’s coming from now, especially if—in his clone’s words—the kid is flailing around like a fish outa water. Sure, having improv skills are nice to have in a fight, but it’s not something one can always rely on.

Thankfully, his friend Mei had a… moderately decent grasp on her dragon form to help in the fight, and Sandy acting as a defensive shield for them all was the true trump card that helped MK win the fight. If anything, Wukong is surprised that his clone didn’t have to step in. For a second, his clone swore poor MK was gonna be beaten into unconsciousness and was ready to jump in.

No doubt a lot of his powers are kick-starting after all those years of laying dormant… we’re gonna have to get them under control before they get out of control.

With his clone dismissed and Wukong now taking a look at the crew as they made their way back to Megapolis, he can tell the cub might need a few days to rest up first. Invincibility or not, he’s still sporting some bad bruises and cuts. Maybe a broken arm. Nope, definitely a broken arm, Wukong is positive an arm isn’t supposed to bend that way. Fast healing or not, it’s better safe than sorry to make sure all his injuries are taken care of.

Other than that, it was fine! Kid was fine. It worked out alright. Moderately. Okay, it worked out well enough, there. Wukong was able to see where MK could improve and what techniques he needed to learn. He watches as the gang slowly gathers into Pigsy’s truck, catching MK’s eye and giving a nod of approval. Despite the exhaustion, MK smiles a smile that’s so bright he may as well change his name to Sun. The star, that is.

Mama really will love him…

With a soft laugh, Wukong sits comfortably on his nimbus. After one last glance at the group, he turns and sets off back to Flower Fruit.

Chapter Text

Sunsets always reminded him of simpler times. Times before he was known as Sun Wukong, before he was a sworn brother, before he became the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, or Victorious-in-Strife Buddha. Sunsets remind him of times when he was just known as ‘big brother’ or ‘little pebble’ or ‘peaches’ or, haha, even ‘grandpa sun’; and it was just him, Macaque, and his family. Where they’d play and wrestle and eat until passing out and do it all again on the next day.

Those times are still here, but different. So, so different.

Sometimes, when Wukong closes his eyes, he remembers the simpler days. Days when Mama would sing to him while she groomed his fur. Days when he’d play with his younger siblings, when he’d teach the littler kids how to hunt for bugs hidden in trees. Days when Mama would scold him for being so reckless and how worried he made her. Days when Mama would teach him how to use his magic to listen to what the plants had to say.

Sometimes, Wukong remembers the day he first met Macaque. Sometimes, he remembers the days when he’d sit with Macaque after what happened with the tiger demon. Sometimes, oh sometimes, he’d remember the days when he and Macaque would wrestle and play until one or the other won the fight. Then would just lay on each other, panting and smiling at each other. 

After they catch their breath, they’d press their faces together and kiss and lick each other and laugh and roll around and around in the leaves, clinging to one another, never intending to let go.

Sometimes, he thinks about his sworn brothers. The dinners they’d have, the stories they’d share, the laughter that overtook the table…

Peng boasting over how they have the best eyes of all of them, and when all the brothers felt just a little mischievous, Peng would use their sharp eyes to spy on Mama flirting with Papa Liu. Yellowtusk’s wise and calm voice, always settling differences between not only the brothers, but others on the island. Bull King’s strong arms and stronger laugh, roaring through the mountains as he carried screeching children, claiming that no cub would succeed in bringing him down. Azure Lion’s kind heart, tending to the gardens and being the ear to everyone and anyone.

Never was there a dull moment when the five of them were together.

Sometimes, Wukong thinks about a friend, gone, long gone. It always hurts to think about them. He tried, but it couldn’t be helped, the memory of—

pulp in his hands they were pulp in his hands

—Zhihao still hurts like a fresh wound that would never heal right. Right next to the wound left behind by memories of Macaque.

Their smile, their laugh, the way they’d poke and tease at Wukong to try to get a reaction out of him. Never once did Zhihao do it with malicious intent. In fact, Wukong loved it, someone who didn’t just worship the ground he walked on or feared his demonic presence. Simpler, happier times…

Sometimes, when Wukong feels reminiscent—stupidly hopeful, more like—he thinks about how different things would’ve been if Macaque and the others and even Wukong himself didn’t let their pride get to their heads. If they had just accepted that, while not everything remained the same, Wukong would’ve still cared for him. If Wukong paid more attention to the signs of Macaque’s descent to possessiveness and anger and tried to do something about it.

Maybe, if things were different, Macaque would be here, with him, teasing like he always did. Never to be cruel, never to hurt, always to have fun. They would have traveled the realms together after Wukong helped Master. They could’ve been together, like always, wrestling and playing and never letting each other go.

If things were different… Zhihao would still be here.

Mama would be home. Fengshe would perform for the monkeys on their grand stage. Papa Liu would get to see his youngest son…

If things were different… they’d all still be here.

It wasn’t like that anymore, though.

Now, it was just Wukong all by his lonesome.

I miss them so much.

But it’s better this way.

No matter, he shouldn’t think about such a thing, not right now at least. Flower Fruit Mountain—home, is in sight, and Wukong has a talk with a clairvoyant. Need a crisp, clear mind for that beast to face. He slaps his cheeks and takes a deep breath, preparing for what could possibly be another fight (he hopes not), and starts to search for them.

He checks out the port first, expecting them to wait for him to guide them up the mountain. When he doesn’t see them there, he scents the air, listens closely, using his magic to coax the wind’s aid to help him hear them. He catches their scent heading up the mountain path, and—

“Hey, stop that,” he hears them saying, most likely chiding one of his little brothers.

Huh, close to Water Curtain Cave, it sounds like. Wasn’t expecting that, but saves a long trip up the mountain. Wukong flies up there, eyeing up the entrance to Water Curtain with his golden eyes. He squints, searches, and then grins when he finds them. Sure enough, his little brothers and sisters were surrounding them, playing around, massaging, grooming, what have you.

Trying to make them feel welcome, how cute.

“There you are!” Wukong calls out, flying down and landing a few paces away. Several of his family members rush to his side, climbing onto him, clinging to his arms or resting on his shoulders. He laughs, trying not to make it sound forced but fails, “Thought you were gonna still be at the bottom of the mountain, not the top! Hah! I see you had fun with the family while I was gone.”

The clairvoyant doesn’t speak at first, just staring at him as they stand. Their eyes look over his face, his body. Much like when he first officially met them, it feels like they’re intensely judging him with just their eyes alone. He takes that chance to look them over as well.

They looked tired and filthy but still alert, their feet positioned in a way Wukong wasn’t expecting. Even if they had their negative opinions for Wukong after their… spat (it’s the nicest word he can use), he knows their stance would be more firm, aggressive even. Instead, they looked about ready to run, if needed.

Someone doesn’t hold a position like that unless it’s learned…

What happened to you to have you so guarded and ready for the worst?

“You look tired,” they point out, slinging their bag over their shoulder. Their voice was much more even, Wukong notes. It makes his eyebrows shoot up as one of his brothers climbs into his arms. Either they were very good at hiding their anger, or they already moved past the whole issue.

He clears his throat, laughs, and says, “Eh, had some loose ends to tight up.” When they raise a brow, he decides to elaborate a little, “Celestial politics. They weren’t the happiest to hear Bull King was freed. But it’s all handled. Besides, I don’t look as tired as you.”

“Mmm,” they hum, not reacting to his poke. They don’t push further on the topic either, which Wukong is grateful for. If anything, he wishes they did react to his quip, but there’s nothing.

Surprisingly stoic for someone who had so many emotions exploding from them earlier.

Buuuut I also barely know them.

“And MK? Is he okay?” They ask now.

“The kid’s fine! Took care of Bull King pretty well. Well enough, at least. He, ah, got a little banged up—which was to be expected! But it’s nothing serious.” He notices how their eyes sharpen at the statement of MK getting injured, but say nothing. The look in their eyes remind him too much of how Mama looks ready to give a good finger wagging. He’s thankful that they’re much quieter about it, so he continues to talk, “For safety, he’ll be getting some rest for a little while, and then we can start his training. Maybe a week or two from now?”

That’s how long it takes for mortal bones to heal, right? He can never remember. With Wukong’s blessing, and the fact that MK also had Xiang and Shen’s magic in him, his injuries will definitely heal faster, it’s best to give it a bit more time. Just in case.

The clairvoyant doesn’t speak at first, eyes still reading him. Maybe trying to find any hidden meaning in his words? Sure, Wukong didn’t go into full detail about MK’s injuries—and they sure didn’t look happy hearing it—but it’s fine. Really. Kid just needs to rest. Finally, the clairvoyant nods and says, “Good.”

Good. That’s it. Just… good.

It was so different compared to how they were earlier, full of anger and protectiveness for MK. Going from having so much to say to so little felt odd to see. After all that, they were just the epitome of a calm ocean after a harsh storm. Did they already get over what happened just earlier today? Wukong is… both impressed and admittedly kind of awestruck at it. He knew clairvoyants were always a more calm sort, but he’s never seen a mortal come back so quickly from such a bad fight, clairvoyant or no. He doesn’t really know what to think or how to feel about it.

It was silent for a moment, the only sounds were that of the waterfall and the family playing around. Wukong takes a slow, quiet breath. Might as well start it off. He inhales, opens his mouth—

But the clairvoyant speaks up first, “I’m sorry… for earlier.” He blinks, looking them over as they turn away from him. They cross their arms and fidget with their sleeve, mouth working, most likely thinking of how to word it all. “A lot of these feelings I have are—still pretty raw. So much has happened in such a short time… I’m still working to process and plan accordingly.”

He remembers a lesson from Mama, telling him, People cannot be rushed with their emotions. Just like you can’t be rushed. It’s like a garden, pebble. Flowers blossom under rain and patience, not thunder and cutting corners.

Don’t rush them. Let them take their time.

So Wukong doesn’t speak. He can tell they’re struggling just from their posture alone. Closed off with crossed arms and not looking at him at first, but their eyes soon meet his. They looked tired before, but just from that sentence alone, they look ready to pass out.

A gentle breeze blew, tussling his fur. He nods for the clairvoyant to continue, which gives them the encouragement they needed, “I—I’ve grown to care for MK in the time I’ve known him. He’s a good kid, and I don’t want his kindness and empathy to be taken advantage of by manipulative demons like—”

They don’t finish the sentence, instead biting their lip and casting their eyes down at his feet. Wukong feels like they speak from personal experience of manipulation from demons. His brows furrow, but he stays silent. He has a lot to say too, but… it’s obvious that being this vulnerable to a stranger was uncomfortable. He can get that, he was and kinda still is the same way.

Best to let them take their time, lest this already delicate situation shatter to an irreparable state.

Patience, Wukong, patience. Use rain, not thunder. Give them the time they require, and they’ll give it in turn.

Can’t forget that Brother Ox and his family practically forced them into agreeing to make a contract. That’ll definitely fuck someone up, good… at least it was never sealed.

“I know, I know, I’m projecting my own worries onto him.” It's good that they admit that, very good in fact. Wukong wasn’t expecting them to do such a thing already, but they’re just chock-full of surprises, aren’t they?

They continue, “And I know it’s no excuse to take whatever anger or frustration I have for the situation out on you…” They take a slow, deep breath, their shoulders hunching up, and look Wukong in the eyes again. It struck something in him. Their eyes reminded him of humans whose homes and families were destroyed by demons… tired and sad and full of broken things.

“MK’s right. This is his choice, and I will respect it. And I will put my trust in you to take care of him.” Their eyes hardened. Like broken shards of metal ready to stab into anything they choose. Their voice held the same harshness and authority of a celestial commander as they say, “But you need to take responsibility where it’s due rather than try to shove it all on MK. I will not let you take advantage of that boy’s over-willingness to live up to your—and everyone’s—expectations.

“It was not right of me to take my frustrations out on you, but it wasn’t right of you to shove someone as inexperienced as MK into a situation he wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t ready to take on Bull King alone, nor is he ready to take on any demon on his own. He needs your guidance so he can figure out how his newfound powers work, and learn proper fighting techniques,” they say, their shoulders tense and hands clenched at their sides.

“Your display was not only unprofessional as a teacher, but also completely irresponsible, and I expect you to do better in the future.” Another beat of silence. They close their eyes, breathe, their shoulders slowly relaxing. Then, they bow. “Despite it all, I am genuinely sorry, Great Sage, for acting on pure, raw emotion. It doesn’t matter the reasoning behind it, you didn’t deserve to be treated like a punching bag—and MK didn’t deserve to see it.”

Wukong just stood there, dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting such a display from the clairvoyant. Then again, he really should’ve, considering his previous experiences with clairvoyants in the past. Several hours alone can really make someone do some deep meditation, can it?

Maybe he should get some pointers from that Uncle Zan of theirs, he seems to be excellent at it, if the way he handles tense situations shows anything.

Not only that, but he… really wasn’t expecting someone to take responsibility for treating him as if he was a punching bag. It’s something he’s grown so used to, he thought they would just brush it off. Hell, he kind of already accepted it that way.

They really are different.

But—right, he should start talking too. He clears his throat to call their attention and nods for them to follow. He puts his siblings down and hops across the stones to Water Cave. With a wave of his hand, two hooked staves float in front of him, dipping into the water and pulling it aside, as if one were curtains being pulled away and not water.

He steps inside. The clairvoyant follows after him, following behind by a pace or two.

Wukong waits for the waterfall to close back up to speak, “Look—I’m sorry too, okay?” He scratches at his head, eyeing some flora growing along the cavern walls. The two come up to a pass where a bridge used to be but not anymore, and he helps them hop across, knowing they wouldn’t be able to make such a jump alone.

He says, “The kid—he had some extra words to say on the way back to Megapolis.” He sighs, rubbing at his neck and looking away from their scrutinizing gaze. “It had me do some thinking… I know I can be a bit nosy—”

“A bit?”

“Okay, okay, very nosy.” Wukong blows a raspberry, folding his arms behind his head. He catches the hint of a smirk on their face out of the corner of his eye. A smart ass, huh? Heh, at least they’re not as tense as before.

He gestures to his feet, saying, “The bridge ahead is in bad shape, so follow my footsteps.” And crosses the second bridge—this one still intact, if only barely—hearing them follow close behind him.

He waits for them to cross the bridge to start speaking again, “But… there were things that were said between you and your uncle I shouldn’t have heard.”

They stroll through stone halls that were once decorated with various tapestries and paintings, all depicting the stories of Flower Fruit. At the very end of the hall, right in the center, was the throne room. He takes them off towards the right, refusing to look at the mural that was of him and his family. The paint was chipping away, having not been cared for in years, but he knows that if he were to look at it, he could still make out himself, Mama, Papa Liu, and Macaque.

It hurts too much to look at it, though. It hurts too much to see the ghosts of the past, of what he once had. It crossed his mind several times to rid himself of the mural, because the memories mattered more to him. He didn’t have the heart to do it, however.

If my plan works out, then I won’t ever have to see it again.

“You’re not the only one who lets their emotions get to them, by the way,” he groans, scratching at his cheek. “I mean—I dunno if you heard any—but I’m pretty famous for that.” He avoids the pointed stare they give him. Knowing from their expression alone, they had a few choice words, but were giving him the same graces of patience and silence. “Hey now—don’t give me that look, I’m definitely better than I was—well, hmm—ah, anyway! C’mon, this way.”

He guides them down the secondary path that’ll take them to his home. His new home. Usually he flies in from the opening in the ceiling, but he’s not sure if the clairvoyant was the biggest fan of flying. Besides, the time used to walk there gave him time to think of what he wanted to say, rather than sit in silence and think.

He stops at the stairs leading up the hill to his home and turns to them. He meets their gaze, saying, “Listen… I’m not the best at this stuff. Never have been—”

Azure and Yellowtusk and Mama were so, so much better at this than me…

“—but—I’m trying. And I mean it.” Swallowing his pride down, knowing it’d be for the best, he bows low before them. “I’m sorry for saying those things to you. It was a low blow to bring that up, especially since it’s such a deep-rooted issue for you, and when you already said you’d work on it.” He straightens himself up again, looking over their face. Their expression was troubled, brows knitted down.

He adds on, his voice softer, almost a whisper, “And… I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. It never gets easier.”

I can’t look at paintings of my family anymore.

I can’t sleep in my old nest because it still smells like him even after all this time.

I can’t look at keepsakes from my brothers.

It never gets easier… it never will.

That got a reaction out of them, slowly inhaling and exhaling through their nostrils. They close their eyes and turn away, opening to stare at the ground. He notices the glossiness of barely held back tears. They breathe, clear their throat, wipe their eyes, and finally look at him. “It’s—it’s not okay. Just like how it wasn’t okay for me to take my anger out on you.”

Yeah, he expected that. Before he can say anything, they hold up their hand to silence him and keep talking, “But I don’t hate you for it.” The hand held up now holds itself in front of him in offering. “I want to help MK as much as you do. And he deserves better than what either of us experienced of just—being thrown into the fray with little experience and expected to roll with it until we found a proper teacher.”

Ain’t that the truth. Wukong looks at their hand, then their face, and huffs with a smile. “He does, and that’s what we’ll be here for.” He takes their hand and shakes it. “How about an official introduction, yeah? Start off on a new leaf and a better foot.” When they nod, he lets their hand go and points a thumb to himself. “Well—you already know me. Sun Wukong, Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, et cetera, et cetera! I look forward to working with ya to help out the kid in his training.”

They nod and formally bow to him, telling him their name. They say, “I’ll do what I can to offer some insight and advice, Great Sage.”

Wukong nods slowly, tilting his head. They definitely act very differently compared to how they do around MK. They were polite, holding the grace that all clairvoyants naturally have in their movements. Even then, they still act with intense caution, almost like a feral stray cat. Like they were expecting him to suddenly turn on them, strike them, or say something horrible.

Considering what happened just earlier today… he can’t really blame them.

He shakes his head and coughs, saying, “Alright, so—with that out of the way…” He gestures for them to follow and guides them into his home. “About MK—believe it or not, I didn’t pick him on a whim.” He waits for them to take their shoes off once inside, then he walks over to his kitchenette.

They should probably eat something—especially since he’s the host. Hosts feed guests, and he’s gonna be a damn good host, he is! Hopefully they’re not too hungry, since he kind of only has fruits or dried bugs to eat, nothing really meaty. He hasn’t stocked up on anything in a minute, so he doesn’t have much to cook with…

Hmm… he’ll just start off with a bag of chips. That should be enough, right? For now, at least.

His ear already aches from the thought of Mama pinching it if she were to find out he was snacking without having a proper dinner. Just this once, Mama, promise.

Turning to face the clairvoyant, Wukong catches them looking around his home with a critical eye. He lightly bumps their arm with his tail as he brushes past them, tossing the bag of peach chips to them. He hops onto the couch, saying, “I’ve been wanting to find a successor for a while now. Ever since my fight with Demon Bull King when I sealed him away, I realized just how tired I was of fighting demons. So many all the damn time.”

I’m still tired.

But I got work to do before I can finally relax.

They kick his feet off the sofa, and he adjusts himself to let them sit with him. “If you had to go through all I did in the past few thousand years—you would be tired of it too, wouldn’t you?” He’s not sure why he asks, but maybe he’s just hoping they would understand. No one has before, and sometimes he just thinks that he’s finally given up. Yet here he is, feebly hoping they will.

He notices them struggling with the bag of chips and tries to not laugh. They huff, pausing in their struggle to say, “Honestly? Yeah, I would be tired of it. Especially if it’s been for thousands of years.”

Wukong blinks, needing to do a double take to make sure he heard it right. The only person who’s ever understood him was Mama or Zhihao. Even Master had difficulty understanding Wukong’s feelings sometimes. He can’t help but feel a little elated that someone else gets it.

Shaking it off, he eats a couple chips with a hum. He says, “Successor’s can bring a fresh perspective compared to the perspective of a couple of thousand years old immortal like myself.”

“It makes sense…” They look at the bag, then at him. “But why MK?”

“Mmm…” He takes a handful of chips and stuffs it into his mouth. “Well—”

Their nose scrunches up, and they reprimand him, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Cheeky!

“Pssh! Fine, fine, mom.” Taking a second to eat and swallow his chips, Wukong keeps going, “You know it as well as I do, he wears that bleeding heart on his sleeve. Sure, he needs some help in the logical thinking department, but… I’ve been watching him for a little while after I saw him.”

Watching him for a little while as in I was there to help Xiang and Shen raise him… but they don’t need to know that.

He leans back, staring up at the ceiling. Even if he didn’t prepare a lie ahead of time, it’s easy enough to think of one on the spot. After all, lies always hold a piece of the truth. “At first, he just seemed like the typical Monkey King fanboy. But then I noticed something. He has this—almost uncanny ability to just know how people are feeling—and what they need.”

“Like… an empath?” They stop struggling with their bag of chips—he hears their stomach growling quietly, most likely very hungry after several hours of not eating—to look at him. His tail sways in thought, his only response was a short hum.

He hears the crinkle crinkle of the bag again. Tired of hearing the struggles, he snatches the bag from their hands, opening it easily, and handing it back to them, all without looking at them. He can feel their stare, but just smiles.

He says a truth and a lie at the same time, “Almost, but not exactly. I checked, and there wasn’t a hint of magic in him before I blessed him with my power. He’s just good at reading people—not so great at expressing his thoughts and easily succumbs to the peer pressure of his friends, especially the dragon girl, but still… I thought he’d be a good pick.”

Making a vague gesture with his hand, Wukong downs the rest of his bag of chips and pauses to chew it, saying once he’s swallowed, “Someone who could maybe even worm his way into a few demons’ hearts. Make them stop being so damn obnoxious and trying to always take over the world.” Finally, he looks at them fully. “You noticed it too, right?”

They try one of the peach chips as they think. He notices them chewing thoughtfully, eyebrows raising. Heh, no one can resist a good bag of peach chips. Crunchy, lots of texture, not too overwhelming. Yup, the perfect snack. It won’t be enough to sate their hunger, he knows, but it’ll do for now. He’ll get them some more food later.

The clairvoyant hums, “Now that you mention it… yeah, actually. Even in the short time knowing him, I’ve noticed how he acts differently towards me than he does towards Mei. He’s almost like—this social chameleon, knowing how to change his attitude to match the group he’s in, or the person he’s talking to.”

“Yes! Exactly that!” Wukong sits up abruptly and points at them with a grin. The gesture makes them jump and look him over with wide, confused eyes. They politely scoot away from him, and he scratches at his neck.

Right, right, they’re much more introverted. Gotta remember that.

He coughs, smoothing out his fur as he says, “After coming to that conclusion, I thought—hey, why not give it a shot? He’ll definitely be a good pick. I’ll train him, he’ll get better, and then he can start the new chapter.”

They look him over with a very scrutinizing gaze, before turning away and looking over their bag of chips. “He’ll only get better if he doesn’t try so hard to make everyone proud. And if he also doesn’t treat this like it’s some fantasy he’s able to live in.” They take a bite of their chips, staring at the ground. A soft frown pulls at their lips, their brows furrowing. “He has as many weaknesses as he does strengths. And it’s highly possible that he’s gonna get his head stuck up his ass a few times.”

“Kinda like how you had your head stuck up your ass?” Wukong chuckles at the pointed glare they give him. He leans a bit closer, poking their foot with his, saying, “Sorry, sorry. Just trying to keep the mood light. Seriously, though, he’ll be fine. Sometimes failure is the best way to learn something.”

“While that’s true, it’s still good to have a safety net ready for when he does fail,” the clairvoyant says, “I trust you won’t baby him—and I certainly won’t either. We’ll let him learn, but let's use our experiences to make sure he’s properly prepared, and doesn’t have to go through what we did without a safety net.”

They turn away from him, kicking his foot out of their personal space. Ah, yeah, they’re keeping it strictly professional. This only made it more awkward for Wukong, since he’s used to more close and casual relationships with—well—anyone, really. Even the professional relationship he had with Master was still a close one in the end.

Not all individuals are open for such quick relationships, Wukong, Master told him a long, long time ago. Be patient, and they’ll open up to you eventually. Sometimes, those who prefer to slowly build relationships are the most loyal of all.

Right… they might be the type to warm up slowly. If he’s remembering during his time watching MK, the kid had to have known them for a few weeks before they eventually warmed up to him. It’ll probably take longer for them to feel comfortable around Wukong, considering the rough start between them, his high status, and their habit to respect people of high status.

Even then, they’re quite the firecracker, he’s observed.

Hmm… he likes that nickname. It fits them, he feels. Firecracker it is.

Wukong nods slowly at their words, his eyes roaming their face, their posture. Even in a relaxed setting, they looked ready to jump up and hop right out the window if it was necessary. He remembers their uncle mentioning how they lived in America before moving all the way here in China.

Did they move here right after their parents died?

Or did they live in America before their uncle brought them here?

What happened to them?

Wukong looks at their face again, and he can really see what that Zan fellow meant by them trudging through more darkness than anyone twice their age ever had, or will. Because he can see it. All the broken things filled in their eyes. All the darkness lingering behind them. All the hurt and pain they’re keeping in them.

His curiosity can’t help but wonder, can’t help but want to ask. He knows better, though, to ask such a thing. He knows better than to poke and prod at a healing injury, especially if he’s not trusted by the one who’s hurt. Maybe one day, they’ll open up. He’d like that, to be trusted with such delicate things again.

Ah, but he’s getting ahead of himself… and lost in his head, again. It’s not his place to mention such things. Noticing their nervous fidgeting from his stare, he turns away, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll make sure he’s prepared.”

It’ls definitely gonna be easier with them… Macaque was better with training the kids how to fight rather than me.

Firecracker finishes off their bag of chips, crumpling up the bag, and tosses it into the nearby bin they find. An awkward beat of silence stretches between them, until they speak up, “In my vision… you were talking about wanting to show me something… may I ask what that is?”

“Hmm…” Wukong strokes his chin. “What I would wanna show you…” He thinks, his eyes squinting at a spot on the wall where he had squashed a bug and never cleaned up after it. It left a stain, and he should probably try to get it out, but who has time for that?

What would I wanna show a clairvoyant…

…

…

“Oh!” He hops to his feet, a wide grin donning his features. “I think I know—follow me!” Forgetting for a second their need for personal space, he wraps his tail around their waist and lifts them to their feet. Removing his tail from their waist, Wukong takes them to his small library.

Well, what used to be his library, being in such disrepair and extremely disorganized. Cobwebs now decorate several surfaces, corners, and books, with a thick layer of dust laying on every surface. Wukong knew it needed a good tidying up, but it’s not like he was ever going to use any of these things, so why bother? He blows dust off of several tomes, scrolls, and stone tablets, searching for that one scroll that was given to him so long ago.

Firecracker stays at the entrance, watching and intensely judging the state of the library, but politely saying nothing. Even if they did say anything, Wukong wouldn’t really care. He hops from one shelf to the other, hunched over and humming as he searches.

It was here somewhere… but where?

He pushes some books aside, perking up at the sight of a familiar scroll. “Ah-hah! There you are!” He grabs it and jumps back to Firecracker with a grin. There are some cobwebs stuck in his fur, but he’s not really bothered, he can clean it out later. “Here—take a look,” he says, handing it over to them.

Firecracker slowly takes the scroll from his hands, eyes not leaving his, before they open it up and look it over. Their brows furrow, mouth scrunching up, and Wukong’s smile turns a bit sadder. Yeah… he kind of figured they wouldn’t be able to read it yet. But hey, at least they know this exists. It’ll be a great help for them in the future.

“Great Sage,” they start, gesturing to the scroll, “what—what is this?”

Wukong brushes some cobwebs off his fur. “A clairvoyant’s scroll. I got it some hundred years or so back, told to safeguard it or something.” He smiles at them, making small gestures as he speaks, “It’s got all the information you need about how your abilities work and how to control it and even make ‘em stronger. At least—that’s what I was told on what it does. I can’t read it, even with my golden sight.”

To make his point, he leans over their shoulder to try to read the words, knowing full well it won’t work. The words continue to warp and move, making him unable to read it, and only makes him go cross-eyed. He shakes his head, laughing, “Yup, nope, still can’t read it.”

The wards Zhihao put on them are still going strong. They really were one of the best of the best.

“I can kind of read it, but not all of it… why?” They read over the scroll again, brows furrowing in clear frustration.

“Duh, because you haven’t fully accepted your sight as part of you.” He pokes their forehead with his tail. “The scroll will only reveal its secrets to a clairvoyant who’s wanting and willing to learn about their powers.” Picking at his teeth with his pinky, he looks behind him at the sorry state of the library. “There are a few other things in here somewhere about your kind, buuuut as you can see, it’s not in the best of shapes right now.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” they scoff. It was a soft mutter, anyone with normal nearing wouldn’t have heard it. But Wukong’s hearing is good—not as good as Macaque’s used to be—but good enough to catch it, and it makes him snort a laugh. He guides them back to his living space while they squint over the scroll, most likely reading through the sections they can read.

It’s not much longer until they close up the scroll and lean back against the sofa with a huff.

“Didn’t find what you wanted?” He asks, lazing back on the sofa. Man, he was tired after how eventful today was. He’d love a nap, but he has a guest right now, and he’s a damn good host, he is!

Firecracker waves their hand and shakes their head. “It’s not like I can, anyway. It’ll be able to help me when I’m able to… actually put in… more, uh…”

They blink, their eyes starting to change. They blink again, their original eye color now completely replaced with a seafoam color, emitting a soft glow.

They’re having a premonition…

Almost immediately, their entire demeanor changed. Their shoulders hunch, eyes squeezing shut, hands grabbing at the cushion of the sofa. They breathe, their voice shaking as they mutter to themselves, “Not now, dammit.”

Oh no, no, no. None of that, now.

Wukong scoots closer, placing his hand on their shoulder. He remembers how tender Mama’s voice would be and tries to copy it, speaking gently, gently, “Hey, hey, remember. Don’t resist it. Start accepting them, and it won’t be so forceful.” He squeezes their shoulder, saying, “It’s telling you something—you wanna find out? Look at it. You’re safe, it’s okay.”

He likes to think Mama would be proud of him for this. He likes to think that Master would be proud too, praising him, You did good, Wukong. You did so good. I’m proud of you.

A pause. Firecracker purses their lips, then nods.

Slowly, they open their eyes.

Wukong watches them look around, taking in whatever setting their premonition was putting them in. He removes his hand from their shoulder and gives them some space. Best not to mess with them while they’re in the middle of their vision.

They don’t speak, their posture slowly relaxing as they let the premonition take them into the scene. They look calm, observant, and then suddenly look annoyed. “Mei,” they say sharply, their voice like the crack of a whip, “don’t interrupt Mr. Pigsy. He was trying to say something.”

Interesting… what was Pigsy trying to say?

Firecracker doesn’t talk for another second, then they sigh and stand up, walking forward and talking to something—someone. They say, “Listen to your father, MK. You can’t always rely on invincibility when fighting demons. Do you even have any other powers mastered besides that?”

Immediately, Wukong slaps his forehead and holds back a groan. Of course, the kid was gonna let that invincibility shit get to his head. If it wasn’t just him, it was definitely his friend Mei instigating it, too. That’s gonna have to be a harsh lesson MK learns, looks like.

Firecracker’s silent for another second before he notices their posture changing, and then looking around them. He catches their eyes no longer giving off the glow, safely assuming their vision was over.

They turn to look him over, and he scratches at his neck, groaning, “Man, I should’ve seen that coming… I didn’t see what you saw, obviously, but heard what you said.”

“Yeah.” They sit next to him again, crossing their arms. He hears their stomach growl. “You really thought it was a good idea to give him invincibility first?”

“I don’t got control over what’s given to him first.” Wukong hops to his feet. “When I gave him my blessing, it gave him all of my powers. Some are awakening faster than others, and it looks like invincibility was one of the powers unlocked.”

Which is a good thing, considering if it wasn’t the first to awaken, he’d undoubtedly be dead after his fight with Bull King.

He walks over to his kitchenette, searching around. “But now that he’s gonna know he’s invincible, it’s definitely gonna get to his head.” It’ll absolutely get to his head with Mei around, too, wanting to test just “how invincible” he really is.

Ah, there was the bowl of lychee he saved! He pulls it out, opening up the miniature fridge as Firecracker says, “From what I saw, it already did. Talking about how he can take on any demon now that he’s invincible.”

“Ooooof course he’d say that!” He pulls out two bottles of plum juice. “Catch—” he tosses one bottle to them, them catching it and looking it over, “—jeez, that’s why he needs help in the logical thinking department.” He walks back over to the sofa, his tail sliding the bowl of lychee into their lap and flops down beside them.

At their confused stare, he says, “Your stomach isn’t quiet.”

Their face flushes in embarrassment. Hah, how cute! “Ah—sorry—uh—”

“Meh, don’t worry about it.” He waves a hand. “I’m the host here—kinda bad on my end to starve you.”

“For fairness, when was the last time you had a guest?” Nonetheless, they take a lychee and start peeling it, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.” It makes Wukong smile.

He plucks a hair, changing it into a bowl for the lychee skin and pits, and takes one for himself. “Anyway—that invincibility shit is something he’s gonna have to learn that hard way. I’m sure you agree”

“Yeah.” They take a sip of the plum juice. “It’s like you said, failure is the best way to learn. And with this, he needs to fail to understand invincibility isn’t all there is to being a ‘superhero’ as he wants to put it.” They eat a lychee, taking the pit and skin and placing it in the bowl between the two of them.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Wukong takes another lychee, peels, and eats it. He’ll need to make sure to get that ‘superhero’ mentality nonsense squashed as soon as possible. He can’t have MK having that black and white mentality, not when shit can get complicated.

For now, he pushes that thought aside for a later date. He looks at Firecracker now, saying, “But—hey—you did good.” His tail gently pokes their arm and he smiles. “Letting the vision happen. I know it’s not easy for you, but it was a good start.”

They blink, looking at him. “Oh—uhm… thank you, Great Sage.” They turn away, peeling another lychee and taking a bite of it. They seemed thoughtful, eyes darting around, brows furrowing. They swallow, asking, “About the scroll… and the other ones, too… is it—?”

He doesn’t let them finish, waving a hand. “Oh, you can read those whenever you want. But—you can’t take any home. Kinda supposed to protect them, ya know? So, you’re free to come here whenever you wanna read ‘em, or come over with the kid when he’s training.”

“Yeah… about that, Great Sage… is there no closer place to do that?” They raise a brow at him, saying, “I don’t have a commute that can go across the ocean and through fire mountains, and I’d rather not make you write invitation after invitation just to ensure I can actually practice reading the scrolls.”

Wukong snickers, sipping at his own bottle of plum juice while he thinks. There are not many other places that he’s made home that are closer…

Well… except for that place… ugh.

“Weeeeell… I do, technically.” His smile falls, and he looks away, scratching at his ear and grumbling. “It’s still a bit of a commute, but not across the ocean at least. It’s up a mountain, just outside the city.” His expression falls to a less than pleased stare at the ground, crossing his arms.

“There’s an old village some miles out there, about a… three-hour drive by car? Maybe? It’s where some of my old… eugh—” he shivers, “—worshipers lived and built a temple in my name. Shame temple, more like.” He turns to Firecracker, saying, “But it’s closer than here, and more easily accessible for someone who can’t fly. That’s you.” He pokes their forehead.

“You’re also right, I’d rather not write any more invitations to Flower Fruit than necessary.” Too much work.

It’s also a good spot for Mama to visit, since I know she’s not gonna let me hide anymore now that we’ve seen one another.

“It’d be easier for both me and MK to go there instead of coming here. Would you be able to move the scrolls and tomes, too? Is that okay?” They quickly slap his hand away, leaning farther from him.

Right, right, they don’t wanna be touched without consent. Gotta remember.

So selfishly disregarding other people’s boundaries, Wukong, Macaque taunts. Typical.

And you’re no different, now piss off, Wukong bitterly thinks back to the ghost.

He notices Firecracker’s eyes roaming his face, brows furrowed, a hint of concern shining in their eyes. Realizing he took too long to say something, he clears his throat and says, “It should be fine to move them.” He quickly takes a lychee and peels it to pop it into his mouth. “I’d need to ward up the place again—since it’s been a while since I’ve been there… but yeah. Oh! It’d actually be perfect practice for the both of you to learn how to put up protective wards!”

They raise a brow at him, sipping at their plum juice. Their expression went from concerned to suspicious, as if knowing what he was trying to do. But instead of prying, they say, “I already know how to, my uncle taught me.”

Ah—shit—right. Well then! “Alright then, firecracker. I’ll show ya how to amplify those wards, how about that?” Wukong shimmies his shoulders to emphasize his playful sassy tone and looks at them with his own raised brow. Hopefully it takes their mind off his silence from a second ago.

“I… actually didn’t know they could be amplified. I’d appreciate that greatly.” They bow their head in thanks, the reaction he should’ve expected, but was still shocked by their polite response. He coughs, his chest puffing up with pride, and offers a grin. They return it with a small smile, jumping from a noise coming from their bag, and fumbles to take their phone out.

They look at the screen, smile falling into a frown and click their tongue, softly muttering, “Ah, fuck.” They say a bit louder, “I completely forgot how much time passed… I need to get back home before my uncle starts to worry.”

Thank the stars. I feel like I could sleep for a month after everything that’s happened.

They put the bowl of lychee down and stand up. Wukong stands with them, asking, “Need a ride back?”

It was a stupid question, because he knows they would need his help to get home. But it was the small bit of politeness both Mama and Master taught him that he remembered.

They stare at him, raise a brow, saying in a flat tone, “No, I just thought I’d walk across the ocean. Maybe ask an ocean demon to give me a lift, instead.”

“Pfff—hah!” He was not expecting such a response from them, especially after the polite air they kept about them. He wipes a tear from his eye after his guffaw and says, “Man, you know how to keep a monkey on his toes. So polite one second and then so sassy the next.” It vaguely reminded him of Macaque and Zhihao, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

He lightly elbows them as he walks to the door. “C’mon, firecracker.”

Firecracker follows him outside after putting their shoes back on and stops once they hit the bottom of the stairs. He puts his fingers to his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle, the sound echoing against the walls of the cavern. From the hole in the ceiling, his nimbus flies down, stopping just in front of him, and he hops on. Turning to Firecracker, he holds out a hand, “Hop on.”

They, unlike him, hesitate; staring at the cloud with furrowed brows and a deep-set frown. They fidget with their sleeve, saying, “I, uh… I don’t know about this, Great Sage.”

Reassure them. They don’t feel safe, make sure they know it’s okay.

Wukong says, his tone gentle, “It’s okay. I promise, ol’ nimbus here is safe to ride on.” They look at his eyes, seemingly searching for a lie, and when they find nothing, they take a step forward. Taking his hand, they let him pull them onto the cloud. He lets them take their time to get comfy, feel the sturdiness of the cloud, before scooting closer to him and wrapping their arms around his waist.

To help them feel more secure, he wraps his tail around their waist. He hears them take a deep breath behind him, feeling their muscles tense against him.

Have they never flown before? Nothing to worry about! He’ll show them a good time in the sky. He turns to grin at them. “First top: Megapolis!” And then right after the wind whips around them both as they fly up, up, up out of the hole in the ceiling towards the clouds at breakneck speed.

Wukong takes them away from Flower Fruit, away from the archipelago of the Flaming Mountains, away from his home. He takes them to the skies. And soon enough, Flower Fruit is just a tiny spec below them both, the size of a walnut surrounded by the steam of the Flaming Mountains.

Firecracker’s teeth chatter, and they gasp for breath against Wukong’s shoulder, all while he laughs. Clouds froth around them, and Wukong feels their face burying into his shoulder, taking deep breaths.

“Relax, firecracker!” He shouts over the wind. “Never flown before?”

“S—So sorry, Mr. Great Sage!” They huff, shivering against him from the cold wind blowing around them. He feels them trying to loosen their grip, but no dice, they remain locked in place. “I’m used t—to a plane! Ya know, s—seat belts, safety precautions, all th—that jazz? I’ve never flown on the equivalent of a f—fucking air mattress.”

Wukong laughs so hard, it almost feels like he’s going to be sick. “Ah, seatbelt, shmeatbelt, you’re perfectly safe on here!” Despite that, he still tightens the grip of his tail on them a fraction, making his nimbus a little bigger. Even if his nimbus was safe, and he would catch them the second they fall off, it’s best to ensure they feel safe.

He feels them once again bury their face into his shoulder, against his cloak. Most likely waiting for it all to end. Too bad for them, it’s not gonna end any time soon.

Time passes, and they’re still flying, Firecracker still clinging to Wukong, Wukong feeling and hearing the rapid beating of their heart. Feeling a little bad for starting the flight off in such a way, he slows down a tad, still going fast, but at a much calmer speed than before.

He wants them to enjoy the flight, not loathe every second of it.

The sun had long set, the moon now in the sky with a sea of stars above, and the reflection of them below. Wukong says, “We’re gonna be flying for a little bit, so feel free to make yourself comfortable.” He adjusts his sitting position, keeping his tail around them.

Slowly, he feels their grip loosen on him, if only a little. They shiver from the gold air. MK had a jacket at least, Firecracker here only had their collared long sleeve, and it wasn’t really doing much to keep them warm. He focuses some of his energy to make his own body heat warmer in hopes to help with that.

They breathe, bumping their forehead against his shoulder. “I—I need a minute.”

“Take your time, firecracker.” He knows everyone’s first flight on his nimbus is a fifty-fifty of either being amazing, or terrifying. Never an in between.

Minutes pass, and Wukong finally feels them peel their fingers away, releasing their vice-grip on his waist. Several more minutes, and they find themselves able to lift their head, looking at the surrounding area.

The two still flew over the ocean, no land in sight, but Wukong could feel they were much calmer compared to the first few hours flying. Wanting to try to keep the mood light, he gives them a sly grin. “Finally don’t feel like you’re gonna lose your lunch?”

“All due respect, Great Sage, but I’m willing to bet you weren’t so graceful on your first time flying either,” they deadpan.

“Whaaaat? You doubt my greatness?” He scoffs, feigning being hurt, but refuses to look into their eyes. “I was amazing when I first started, I’ll have you know!”

They raise a brow. “You were? So you didn’t fall and eat shit your first time flying one of these?”

“Nope! Definitely not.”

Liar, Macaque’s ghost laughs at him.

Firecracker also looked like they didn’t believe him for a second. “Uh-huh, sure.”

The hours that came were some form of peaceful. Wukong could tell Firecracker wasn’t much of a conversationalist, so he didn’t push them to talk—he didn’t want to disturb the peace, either. So he decided to stare up at the stars while the two soared across the water.

If anything, he was getting kinda tired talking, too.

He took this time to quietly plan in his head what to do. MK would be okay with protecting himself, especially after some training; and while he’s sure Firecracker knows a bit of fighting, it won’t be enough against certain demons. He’d need to prepare a failsafe in case things got too hairy for them… he thinks he knows just the thing, too.

Mama will also be in the picture a lot more, too, now that the connection has been reestablished. As much as he wanted to stay away for her safety, he knows Mama too well. He knows she wouldn’t let him run away, not after what happened in the Court. He’ll make sure the temple is safe for whenever she visits, or if Fengshe decides to visit, too.

Bet he still has Papa Liu’s hat, too.

Wukong rubs his thumb against the amulet around his neck.

The old fart didn’t have many keepsakes… but at least we get these.

At some point, he notices that Firecracker feels brave enough to try to reach up to touch a nearby cloud. The movement pulls him from his thoughts, and he feels them shiver against him.

“Colder than you thought, huh?” Wukong chuckles, keeping his gaze forward.

“Yeah…”

He lightly nudges them, pointing ahead. “Look! We’re almost there.”

They peek over his shoulder and follow his gaze. Like a beacon in the dark, the city slowly came into view, with the surrounding mountains dotting the landscape. Rather than head straight for the city, he flies towards the mountains.

Firecracker hums softly, musing, “That was… fast… just how far is Flower Fruit from Megapolis?”

“Farther than you think, Firecracker. Magic travel is like that—the stronger it is, the faster you can travel.” He points to a particular mountain. “That mountain over there is where the village—and my temple—is.” They follow where he points, squinting. Their eyes scan the area, searching for the path that leads from the village to the city.

“I can kinda see it… so, when MK starts his training, we should head there?”

“Yup!” Wukong grins. “Now—where’s your house?”

“By the harbor, but, ah—don’t—”

“Don’t worry, firecracker, I won’t personally drop you off at your house. Just close by.” He swoops down the mountain towards the main city. “If demons find out I’m helping you out or offering protection—it’s gonna put a bigger target on your back.”

He feels them nod behind him. They say, “Thank you… I’m just—more worried about my uncle. He doesn’t deserve to be yanked into this more than he already has been.”

Neither do you.

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he says, “He won’t be, I promise.” And he meant it. A small pause as he thinks. He thinks he remembers catching some news reporters during the fight earlier, now that he thinks about it. He says, “Still advised you be careful around the kid, though. It’s possible he got caught on camera during his fight with Demon Bull King, and that means word will spread of him pretty quickly.”

“Meaning demons will find out about him for sure,” they sigh, “and in turn, possibly find out about me, since I’m connected to him.”

“Exactly. But not to worry! I prepared a failsafe for ya.” He soars to the harbor, keeping the two of them masked by the clouds. He then dives at inhuman speeds, slipping into an alley and stopping short of hitting the ground.

Slowly, Firecracker lets go of him and steps off the cloud. Their legs looked like a jellyfish that’s been beached and poked at, going wubble-wubble. Their face was red from the wind, hair thrown all about. He lets them take a moment to get their land legs back while he throws up a glamour disguise for extra safety. Just something simple to make him appear like a human.

They look at him when they’re able to stand up straight, blinking as they stare. He chuckles, “Every time, I forget about your guys’ true sight.” He leans closer to say in a quieter voice, “Must be nice not having to sit in a furnace to get eyes of truth, eh?”

Firecracker blinks, shakes their head. They scoff and say, “Sure, sure… just throw all the clairvoyants into a furnace so they can get their eyes of truth so you won’t feel lonely.”

Wukong snickers, bumps his elbow against them and nods for them to follow. “I’ll always have a disguise ready if I have to show up in public to talk to you or MK. As far as I know, there are no demons that have true sight, so no need to fret about that detail.” Thankfully.

He walks with them to the exit of the alley, checking around for any eavesdroppers. When he hears and sees no one, he turns to Firecracker and reaches into his tunic, pulling out his whistle. “Aaaaand here you go.”

It was nothing special in appearance—just a wooden whistle in the shape of a monkey, made to look vaguely like Wukong himself. They blink, taking the item and inspecting the craftsmanship. “Uh—this is…?”

He can’t help but tease. “A whistle, duh.” And his smile only grows stronger at their unamused stare.

“No shit, but why a whistle? What does it do?”

“It’s specially designed,” he pokes it, saying, “While my hearing is pretty damn good, it’s not the strongest in the realm.”

That’s reserved for Macaque, he wants to say, but doesn’t. Instead, he says, “But all you gotta do is blow this, and no matter how far I am, I’ll hear it and know at least the general direction of where you were and when you blew it.”

They meet his gaze, holding up the whistle with a slight flabbergasted look. “So—this is the failsafe?”

“Yup.” He smiles, folding his hands behind his head. “Listen—I can tell just by looking at you, you know how to handle yourself, so I’m trusting you on that front. That there is in case shit really hits the fan, and you need me, okay?”

They nod, look at the whistle, and pocket it. “Okay.” They look at him again, eyes roaming his face.

Again, he feels like he’s being deeply read by those eyes of theirs. He can almost hear the wheels turning in their head, and despite him wanting so badly to know, to poke and tease, he doesn’t. The bond they have is delicate, and he knows if he pushes any more than he already was right now, it’d shatter.

Not to mention, random acts of kindness were foreign to them. There was always a catch, a deal to be made. No one ever did anything for Firecracker out of the goodness of their heart. He can’t blame their skepticism.

After a minute of silence between them, Firecracker finally speaks up, “Thank you, really. And—I’m sorry again—for the rotten first impression.”

“Meh, water off a duck’s butt at this point.” Wukong waves his hand and gives them a smile, one that he’s seen Master do all the time. One that’s gentle and warm and welcoming and true. “I’m sorry too, firecracker. First impressions aren’t my strong suit either. Heh, you should’ve seen the first impression I left on ol’ Jade Emperor. Written text isn’t anything compared to the real thing.”

They try and fail to hold a snicker, quickly covering their mouth to hide their growing smile. Yes! Progress!

They say, their voice soft, “I’m sure it’s quite the story.”

“Sure is!” His own grin is stronger now, then he turns away, eyes scanning the area again. “But in all seriousness, you’re putting trust in me to take care of the kid, and I appreciate that. I’ll put my own trust in you to work on your own personal stuff, and to help him out where he needs it.”

They nod, stepping forward. “Thanks. We’ll knock some sense into him together, yeah?”

“Hah! Yeah.” Wukong turns to walk back into the alley. “We can talk about strategy and planning for his training regiment in a few days, sounds good?”

They definitely looked pleased from hearing that, even giving a small smile. “Yeah, sounds good. Until next time, Great Sage.”

“See ya.”

He rounds the corner, walking a few paces, before he sighs and rubs his face. What a day! Few days, really. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting an encounter like that, but at least it all worked out in the end.

Wukong jumps up to the rooftop of a building, closing eyes and feeling the wind blow by. It sure was a nice breeze tonight… it would be a waste to let the opportunity pass by. Sure, he has a bunch of plans right now. But he’ll save it all for later, when training starts. For now, he is in desperate need of a nap.

So, he steps off the roof, allowing his form to take that of a bird’s, and takes off back towards home.

Chapter Text

When you returned home, Uncle Zan was awake and waiting for you. He didn’t ask what happened or for any other details. He just made sure you were okay, that you ate something, double-checked you for injuries, and let you go to bed once you ate your fill.

The moment you laid down on your bed, you had effectively slept for seventeen hours straight. Which seemed to make MK fret even more, bless the kid’s heart. When you’d gone to eat something after your impromptu deep sleep, you’d found MK in your living room with Uncle, talking over tea.

MK’s headband was replaced with bandages. There were some around his left arm, too, while the right was in a cast—a cast! Several band-aids sported his cheeks, chin, fingers—gods above, he really got beaten down in his fight with Demon Bull King, didn’t he? No wonder Monkey King didn’t want to go into detail about it.

And here I thought he just didn’t want to admit he had to step in to help, you had thought.

When finally noticing your presence, MK ran to you, pulling you into a tight hug as much as he could with only one arm and asking a hundred different ways how you were, if you were okay, and how the talk with Monkey King went. Upon feeling him wincing at his injuries, you made him sit back down at the table. You didn’t join them, more focusing on making yourself something to eat whilst MK asked a slew of questions.

You answered each question honestly, having no reason to lie. That included telling him where Monkey King wanted you two to meet him from now on for MK’s training. The only things you left out were the details of the apology between you and Monkey King, and MK’s overreliance on his invincibility.

From there, it was just a small sleepover with you watching movies with MK while he went on to talk about his fight with Demon Bull King. He went on and on, making gestures and occasionally posing heroically, until he had passed out on your sofa and Uncle went to sleep in his own room. Thus, leaving you to your own devices.

Unfortunately, you weren’t tired at all, and so you decided to utilize the time you were awake to do a few small chores. Double-check the wards to make sure they don’t need updating, cleaning whatever dishes were left over, sweeping the floors… You did pretty much anything to use up the second wind you gained all of a sudden.

During this impromptu cleaning session, many thoughts surrounded what to do with Monkey King and MK during the training sessions. Because while you’ll respect Monkey King in whatever teaching style he’ll want to take, you also want to make sure he doesn’t go too overboard or try to push MK into things he clearly wasn’t ready for. You also won’t allow MK to try to pressure his newly anointed teacher into agreeing to such things.

Great Sage or not, you have no idea how the guy would act around a kid like MK. It’s clear from your talk with him that he cared a lot about MK and put a lot of thought into choosing MK as his successor. But even then, there’s also the high chance of MK worming his way into Monkey King’s heart. The kid has a knack for such things, it seems, and it can be a recipe for disaster in the training sense. Such as Mister Great Sage letting his pupil attempt certain techniques his body would not be ready to handle.

Sigh. It’s a lot of planning and preparing, and it’s going to take a lot of talking with both of the boys to make sure this works out, too. Hopefully the first few months of training will go smoothly, but you’ll have to be ready in case anything goes awry. Which definitely meant practice on your end to work on your issue with your visions, a much bigger obstacle to face than dealing with two over-excited and overpowered boys.

At least, in your eyes.

When the sun’s rays peeked its way into your home’s windows, you had already set up everything to make breakfast and had at least several plans in your head for how to tackle the training sessions. When Uncle Zan woke, you helped him make breakfast for three, with MK now sitting at the table excitedly chatting away, wondering what training Monkey King would have in store for him.

His enthusiasm was cute, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would last until he was lying on the ground begging for a break. Nonetheless, he knew he had to wait until the worst of his injuries were healed, and wait he did. As patiently as a kid as excitable as MK could.

Which was to say, not patiently at all.

He kept trying to convince you to get going early so he could start his training, and each time would land a small scolding from you, or Mr. Pigsy, or even Uncle Zan if he were present.

You’ll be forever thankful that Mei was able to keep him moderately distracted during the time he needed to heal up. As much as you liked MK, there were moments his energy was a bit too much for someone like you, who could stand only so much noise and excitement. With him and Mei in the same room? You would be sure to be a few blocks away to not get a headache. No offense to the two kids, but their energies together are way too much for you.

Even so, you’re thankful Mei was able to keep his attention on other things, such as video games or shows, while you would help him get a training regiment planned out—diet and everything.

Before you or anyone else knew it what should have been a few weeks of healing a broken bone was only a few days. Something you quietly suspected was from Monkey King’s blessing. If you recall correctly, he did have a natural ability where his wounds healed faster than others. You couldn’t help but idly wonder if he knew MK’s healing was going to be quickened because of the blessing. A question you can ask him later.

With MK’s worse injuries finally healed, though, he didn’t wait another second to get you and headed straight for the mountain to Monkey King’s temple. Or rather “shame temple” as he liked to call it. The entire time, MK didn’t stop talking about his excitement for what the first segment of training could be.

A smile played your features as you listened to him ramble on, content with simply letting him talk and talk until you arrived in the village. You’re glad he didn’t seem to mind your silence.

The village itself was a marvel, and you wondered why no one even lived here anymore. Wind chimes hung from the village houses, moss covered monkey statues littering the area, and some familiar looking monkeys jumping about and curiously watching you two as you drove up the mountain. It had a perfect view of Megapolis, too, away from the noises and bright lights.

In truth, you wouldn’t mind living here with Uncle Zan. Peaceful, quiet, not too far from the city. If Uncle ever wanted a second home, maybe he could talk to Monkey King about getting a house here.

Back on topic, though, no time to think of such things. You and MK reached the top of the mountain and caught sight of the temple and training grounds, with Monkey King waiting for you both. Thus began the first day of training with him.

“Welcome, my pupil, and assistant!” Monkey King laughs, giving you both a toothy grin. MK parks his scooter off to the side and rushes up while you calmly walk over. “You ready for some training today, kiddo?”

“Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes!” MK was practically vibrating in place, his grin big and bright. His hands flapped around in front of him, a fit of giggles erupting as he says, “Ugh, you have no idea how boring it was while I was recovering—I just wanted to get started as soon as possible, but I know it was important to rest up and heal up.”

“Haha! Right you are, bud.” Monkey King leans forward to ruffle MK’s hair. “Now, before we get started—you’re really all rested up? No other injuries that need a bit more time?” As he asks, he circles around MK, tugging at his sleeves, checking his face—doing a thorough check over of his person.

“Uhm…” MK takes a second to look at himself, then shakes his head. “I don’t think so, I feel fine—great, even!”

“Awesome—so today, our special training session won’t include any fighting—” a brow rose as Monkey King watches MK deflate “—ah, ah, ah! Don’t you go sulking on me, this is just as important as the fighting stuff!”

He pulls out some paper, before glancing your way. Already knowing what he was going to ask, you move to stand beside him and pull out your pocket knife. “Today, we’re going to teach you how to make wards!” He proudly proclaimed.

MK tilted his head, eyeing up the paper and knife. “Wards…?”

You gesture for his attention, saying, “Wards—well, protective wards specifically—are magical barriers that can be used to hide or protect a person, an object, or an entire area. It requires strips of paper and a warding script either written or drawn on them. You could use specialized ink, but blood is most effective.”

You’re not sure if it’s sympathy pain, or being squeamish around blood or sharp objects, but MK definitely didn’t seem very happy to hear that.

His happy flaps are replaced with nervous fidgeting. “Ah—are you sure?”

Monkey King sighs with a shake of his head, and says, “It’s a necessary thing, bud. This can help you learn how to protect people.”

You say after him, “Uncle Zan and I do this all the time. It’s okay, MK, it doesn’t require a lot of blood—just a bit. Usually you can do a little nick on the thumb and use the blood from that for the wards.”

“Like firecracker said, specialized ink can be used for it—and it is effective, but the use of blood is best for it.” Monkey King gestures for him to come closer.

“Why is that?” MK tilts his head, eyeing both of you after taking one last glance at the knife.

Monkey King hums, tapping his chin. “Well—when you’re using ink, there’s already a set amount of magic and power put into it, so you can’t amplify it. Buuuut, when someone is using their blood for it—especially someone who has magic… they can amplify the power of the ward.”

“There are people who don’t have magic?” MK asks with a clink.

“Technically non-heaven blessed or unlearned magic users, you see—” Monkey King stops when you clear your throat, and quickly says, “But, but, buuuut! That’s a lesson for another day! Why don’t you take it away for a second, firecracker?”

Smart.

You look at MK and say, “When it comes to making wards—be it with blood or ink—you need to have a clear thought in your mind on what you want the ward to do. It’s not just drawing the script onto the paper and letting it do its thing.” You take out an example of the wards you and Uncle use, showing it to MK.

He gingerly takes it from you to look it over as you keep talking, “It can be anything; words, a picture of what you want, even just a feeling. But you have to make sure it’s clear, concise, and the only thought in your mind at that moment.”

“Exactly what they say, cub!” Monkey King claps a hand on your shoulder and gives it a small shake.

Too close.

He says, “Anyone can make wards, magic or no magic. But, like I said before, people with magic can amplify them, make them stronger. And since you’re my successor, you have a lot in you.”

Stop touching me.

You push off Monkey King’s hand, dust off your shoulder, and then gesture to MK and ask, “Why not show him how it’s done, Great Sage?”

Whether or not he noticed or was even bothered by your obvious dislike for his touch, he doesn’t make a show of it. If anything, he just grins and says, “Right, right—c’mon, bud!” He hops over to a marking on the ground and lets both of you watch as he takes the paper, and then the knife, from you. He then proceeds to nick his thumb and draw the script onto the paper. It remains for a moment, before the paper slowly burns away and all that’s left behind is a faint golden glow.

Monkey King stands up and gestures to where the ward used to be, saying, “Only people with true sight will be able to see the wards—that’s you, me, and firecracker over there. Well, them and any other clairvoyants who happen around here.”

MK blinks, turning to you with a look of pure amazement. His hands were already flapping in excitement in front of him again. “Wait—you have true sight? Like Monkey King’s golden eyes??”

You scratch your neck, not ready for the attention to suddenly be on you. Monkey King rubs at his nose, giving you a look that says, sorry.

You heave a sigh. With MK being so uninformed of the world of magic, though, it’s only natural for him to want to learn. So you can’t really blame the kid for being curious. You shake your head at Monkey King, bearing a look that says, don’t worry about it.

You clear your throat and say, “Yeah, kind of—it’s hard to put into words, but…” It made you wish Uncle Zan was here to explain, he’d do better at this. You still try your best to explain, “You already know true sight lets you see past illusions made by magic or demons. The difference between the Great Sage and clairvoyants is we didn’t get our true sight by getting thrown into Laozi’s furnace.”

You play with the papers in your hands as you search for the right wording, deciding to settle with, “Uncle said we were given our eyes to see past the demon’s guise to better protect ourselves. When it comes to shapeshifting, though—that’s where it’s different.”

Both MK and Monkey King's attention were full on you now. It didn’t exactly help with the nerves, but if it’s just the two of them and not a huge crowd of people—it’s manageable. Besides, you knew they were both trustworthy with this information. Even if Monkey King made an ass of himself towards you, you knew he wouldn’t bring harm to you or MK. It’s not like he could do much with this information, anyway.

Your gaze lowers, looking over the papers, and you say, “I’ve only seen a few other shape-shifters in my time back in America—but the best way to describe it is… it’s almost like this mist rolling off their animal form.” You look back at the two boys, gesturing to Monkey King. “His aura is almost like golden fire, bright and hard to miss. Yours is most likely going to be about the same, but more gentle, MK.”

“Wow… that’s amazing!” MK’s eyes shined, filled with wonder and nothing short of pure respect and awe for you.

You wouldn’t have been able to stop the blush from forming, even if you tried. You laugh, a little awkwardly, scratching at your neck. “Ah—thanks… let’s get back to the wards, though, shall we?”

Whether Monkey King sensed your discomfort with the increasing attention on you, or wanted things back on track, he never showed. He throws an arm around MK’s shoulders, saying, “Yeah kiddo, we only got so much daylight left—let’s get these wards done!”

“Ah—right, right.” MK pauses, fidgeting with his sleeve. “So, the wards… it’s not gonna hurt anyone, is it?”

Ever the bleeding heart, this kid was. “Not unless they have malicious intent,” you say as you reach out and pat his shoulder. “Think of it like an electric fence for animals. If someone—demon or otherwise—tries to come here with the desire to hurt any of us, the wards will make them back off.”

“Exactly! Nothing to worry about. Most people don’t come around these parts any more anyway, but it’s better safe than sorry.” Monkey King shoves some papers into MK’s hands. “C’mon, you give it a try now.”

The hours that came to pass after were you and Wukong teaching MK how to properly make wards. The first few times, MK poured too much into the wards and ended with the ward blowing up in his face.

You tell him after he nearly burned his eyebrows off for the fourth time, “Imagine you’re pouring water into a measuring cup. You gotta pour just enough in there so it doesn’t overflow and spill all over the place.”

MK frowns, frustration clear on his face. “But—how will I know when it’s enough?”

Monkey King ruffles his hair and says, “Trust me, you’ll know!”

“But… how? What if I don’t?”

Monkey King crunches his face up, as if he didn’t know how to answer the question. You decide to say for him, “It’s almost like… a feeling you get in the back of your head. It’s okay if you pour just a tiny bit extra in there or a little under, it’s as long as you understand, and we can work out the kinks later. Go on, try again.”

MK nods along. “Okay… imagine it pouring like a cup… how will I know how big the cup is?”

Monkey King steps in to say, “That is going to take trial and error, cub.” He gives you a thankful look and an appreciative nod. You nod back, before turning towards MK once more to help him with the wards.

Another hour passes, and by the end of it, MK managed to get it right without it blowing up in his face. The hour after that, you and Monkey King help him ward up the rest of the area, with Monkey King reaching places neither you nor MK could.

During that hour, you notice a look on MK’s face. Nothing like he was discontent with the lesson. He simply seemed more thoughtful, unsure. As if he wanted to say something, but was unsure of how to say it. Or maybe he was afraid of being met with bad reception if he spoke his thoughts. No sir, you won’t be letting his thoughts fester in such a way. You’ll have to see if you can gently poke him into confiding in you and Monkey King about what was on his mind.

Taking a quick glance at Monkey King, it seems he’s taken notice of it too. He glances your way, nodding his head to MK with a look that says, what’s up with him?

You shrug and tap your wrist, the sign telling him, we’ll ask later.

Once the warding work was finished, Monkey King gave you both a big smile. “Awesome job, you two! Now that the place is finally warded, we’ll be able to start tomorrow.”

MK’s expression fell to a frown. “What—aw, not today?”

“It’s already too late in the day to start actual training. Nighttime fighting practice won’t be until way later. Hmm… buuuuut we can do a few small things for now.” Monkey King taps his chin thoughtfully, making a (not very) subtle glance your way to poke at MK about what’s on his mind.

Why doesn’t he just start it himself? Ugh—whatever.

You glance towards MK. He’s still looking thoughtful, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket with a soft frown. Looks like whatever thought he had was still there, as you suspected. You step over, lightly elbowing him. Better now than never. You ask, your voice gentle, “Hey, what’s up?”

He jumps, looking at you. “Huh—wuh?”

“You look like you have something on your mind.” You make a small gesture to encourage him. “You can say something if you want, no judgment from us. Right?”

When your eyes meet with Monkey King’s, he gives a small nod and turns to MK, a smile easily falling into place. He says, “If you have an opinion on this, bud, you’re free to speak up.” He comes closer to give MK a pat on the head. “You got a voice in this too, ya know?” His tone held the same gentleness when he helped you accept your vision back in his house.

MK hums, looking away and playing with his sleeve again. “I—well—I don’t wanna sound rude… it’s just… I dunno—why learn about warding and stuff? What’s the purpose? Or the point?” He refuses to look at either of you now, eyes darting around the area, scratching at his hand with his increasing anxiety.

Monkey King reaches out, placing a hand on MK’s and pulling it away. The movement was surprisingly tender. He asks, “You want to protect your friends and family, right?” He almost sounded like Uncle Zan with the tone he had. Soft yet firm.

The question had MK shooting up in surprise and giving him a look that was nothing short of appalled. “What—of course I do! Why even ask such a thing?”

You stand aside, watching the interaction as Monkey King flicks MK’s forehead. “Then this stuff is just as important to learn as the fighting stuff. Wards can cover a lot of ground by making a barrier, or even mask someone’s aura.”

He sighs, ruffling MK’s hair. “Look, cub—I’ll never teach you something you don’t need to know. This will help you learn how to protect those you care about without just needing to rely on brute strength to beat up bad guys. Do you understand?”

MK grumbles, looking off to the side. Fixing up his hair, he nods and looks back at you and Monkey King. “I… understand.”

You take a moment to look over his face, observing him. He looks… somewhat disappointed, like what Monkey King said was something he didn’t want to hear, despite it being the truth. Maybe it’s because he was expecting it to be like all the movies and games of Monkey King just beating up all the bad guys. Poor kid is practically getting his expectations shut down, but it’s better he learns sooner rather than later. It's not all just brute strength.

Taking a glance at Monkey King, his expression told you he most likely felt the same way. He sighs, shaking his head. His tail switches and twitches, a possible sign of his growing annoyance. “Hey, c’mon—this stuff will help you both fight off assholes and protect your loved ones. This isn’t some hero story where you beat up bad guys and have some grub at the end of the day, you know. This is real life, kid.”

Monkey King says, his tone falling more serious, “I’m not joking when I say that you’re going to gain enemies. Enemies that will want to learn information about you so they can hit you where it hurts—your heart and your home.” He rubs at his neck, looking away. You had a feeling he was talking from experience, especially after seeing the look on his face. It seems he’s trying to help teach MK what Monkey King had to learn the very hard way.

“But—but that’s what fighting them is for, right?” MK looks between you and Monkey King, his brows knitted down with worry. “If I just—beat em, they won’t think twice to mess with me!”

Monkey King makes a soft sputtering sound before pinching the bridge of his brow. “Ugh—cub—MK, you can’t just—” His tail twitches and thumps against the ground, a clear sign of his growing agitation. He looks at you now, his eyes clearly desperate or some kind of help.

You sigh, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you, then back at MK as you speak up, “MK, there are demons and people out there that won’t just stop because you beat the shit out of them. They’re going to want revenge, to get back at you for whatever reason they have.”

You move closer to MK and meet his eyes. “Trust us when we say that you can’t just rely on brute strength to solve all your problems or to get rid of demons. Precautions have to be made; be it with wards, fully destroying the demon, or ensuring friends and family can protect themselves and won’t be used as a form of ransom or some kind of hostage situation against you.”

“I—but—why would they do that?” MK looks between you and Wukong again, then back at you. “They have beef with me, they shouldn’t have to do that. That’s not right.”

“Sometimes, demons want to use something close to you to get back at you, kiddo,” Monkey King says, exhaling and refusing to meet either of your eyes. “Some demons still have a sense of honor and respect, but a lot of them—especially nowadays—will fight dirty and try to get under your skin in whatever way possible.”

Speaking from experience? You want to ask, but don’t. His expression already said it. You turn to MK and give his shoulder a reassuring rub. “We’re not trying to hound you, we just want to make sure you understand—it’s not how it is in the games or movies. It’s a lot more complicated than it looks. But—if you need a minute to process, it’s okay.”

“I… I understand. I do.” He rubs his arm, looking away, then back at you. “I just—I don’t—I don’t like the thought of people hurting you or Mei or anyone I care about just to get to me.”

This boy… It was your turn to pinch at your brow, needing to breathe to not let your annoyance lash out at him.

“I’m sorry,” MK whispers, his head lower now. He steps back, the rubbing on his arm worse. “I’m sorry I’m annoying you. It’s just—it’s what I think.”

“No, MK, I’m not annoyed about that,” you quickly say, reaching out to him. You feel Monkey King’s eyes on you, almost burning into your back, which prompts you to turn to him.

Once your eyes meet his, you hear a voice—his voice, ringing in the back of your mind, We tried beating around the bush with him, and it didn’t work. The only way he’ll understand is if we give him the cold, hard truth of what this life is going to lead to.

Huh, for once he makes sense… You think, giving a nod. You blink and tilt your head at his small grin.

I heard that, firecracker, his voice says in your mind, a laugh following in suit. Telepathy is a two-way street, you realize that, right?

Ah—I know it is. I thought it was just gonna be a one-way thing for this moment, you huff through your nose, then think to him, I don’t rescind what I thought, though.

Ouch.

“Uh—what are you two doing?” MK calls out to you both. “You’re staring… very deeply at one another.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You turn back to face MK, thinking on how you could word the next few things. “MK, we’re not annoyed at you, okay? This is a very complicated subject that can’t have simple solutions to them.” You meet his gaze, brushing his hair from his face. “This isn’t to insult you when I say this—but your simple thought of ‘they won’t mess with me or my family because I beat them up good’ is like trying to solve a multiplication problem with addition. Does that make sense?”

“I was never good at math,” MK admits quietly, causing Monkey King to sputter and stifle his laugh. Your lips press into a line to bite back your own smile. He says after a second, “I… I think I get it, though… kinda…”

Then you ask him, “MK… I’m gonna tell you something important, and I need you to listen to every word, okay?”

He pauses, his eyes meeting yours before he nods. “Okay.”

“When I lived in America, I had a friend—her name was Lottie—who was loyal,” you start to say, your eyes lowering to the ground. Even if it was years ago, the memories still hurt like it was freshly cut just a second ago. “And when I say loyal, I mean stupidly loyal. She didn’t leave my side for a second—even when she found out about my power… Even when we were both captured by demons who wanted it for themselves.”

“I—I see… and… what happened?”

“Well…” You trail off, your eyes remaining glued to your shoes. “She was going to be killed, once it was found out she wasn’t a clairvoyant like me… I tried to get them to spare her, but they saw right through what I was trying to do.” You cross your arms tightly against your chest and breathe.

Like a cracked dam, the memories—

“Please—just let her go. I’ll do whatever you want! Just let her leave!”

claws and chains and a knife at her throat

“And have her tell everyone we have you? You think we’re that stupid, pet?”

no no no no

“Stop—please—Lottie!!”

the blade digging into her skin

her eyes on you, tears staining her cheeks

“No—!”

all it took was one slice

for you to watch the life leave her eyes

—flooded back to you, nearly drowning you.

You say, your voice quiet, “They killed her anyway.” You close your eyes, take another breath, and say, “There will be demons who don’t care—like how those demons in America didn’t care. Demons that will kill people you care about just to get at you.”

The rise in distress was clear in his body language alone. Shoulders raised to his ears, fingernails anxiously scratching at his hand and arm, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you or Monkey King. 

Don’t hold back, just lay the truth down.

You say, “There are demons out there that don’t care about what we want or don’t want. Those demons knew that Lottie was precious to me, and decided to kill her as an example.” You pause again, breathe, and then say, “An example… of making sure I stayed compliant and obeyed their orders—or else anyone who was close to me would also be killed.”

“I—I…”

“Demons will try to break you in whatever way possible. All they want is to get under our skin and make sure we’re nothing more than a husk of our former selves —”

“I get it!” MK breathes, grabbing at his shirt and tugging it. Tears slowly roll down his cheeks, and he wipes them away—but more replace them. “I get it—I get it, I’m sorry, I—”

Fuck, you hated seeing him in such a state. Taking a small glance at Monkey King, it’s obvious he didn’t like it either. He slowly steps forward, reaching out, then decides against it and instead rubs at his neck—looking at you again. You didn’t need telepathy to know he needed help, but you’re not exactly sure why he would. So you reach out to MK and place a hand on his shoulder—making him flinch.

“MK, can you look at us?” You ask, your voice soft. It takes him a moment, but slowly, his tear filled eyes meet yours. “This is something very important for you to learn now, please understand that. Great Sage and I… we’ve already experienced these things—more than either of us can count.” Another pause, the tension in the air thick. You ask, voice still gentle, “Do you need a minute?”

“I—I’m okay… I’m okay…” He wipes his eyes again, though tears were still forming and threatening to fall. “I just—it’s—I don’t know. After you—you said that—it’s just—my head is making me think of everyone else—of Mei, or Mr. Tang, or—or Dad—I—I mean Pigsy, and—” he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I don’t want to lose any of them,” he whispers, “I—I can’t do it again…”

Again…?

You look over his face, brows slowly furrowing down. It took a moment to realize his small slip, where he almost referred to Mr. Pigsy as “Dad.” You already knew Mr. Pigsy was a father figure to MK, and you—like many others most likely—just figured MK was adopted by Mr. Pigsy through an orphanage or something.

Hearing that sentence, though… your thoughts run rampant on what he witnessed when losing his birth parents.

Though, you’re quick to shake the thoughts away and ask, “Do you need to sit down?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you like something?” You ask now, giving a different offering, “A hug, perhaps?”

He nods. You tug his coat, gentle enough to where he could pull away if he didn’t want it, but he’s quick to react and tightly wrap his arms around you. His face buries into your shoulder, desperately holding onto you like a lifeline.

Taking a deep breath, you return the hug. Sure, physical touch wasn’t exactly something you liked, at least unless given permission, but you were willing to make certain exceptions. You rub his back with one hand and pat his head with the other.

You feel another hand on your back, warm and hesitant. Monkey King stands in your peripheral, his eyes meeting yours.

His voice rings in your mind, gentle, consoling I’m sorry about what happened to her.

You close your eyes, slowly exhaling. The dam of memories is sealed back up once more, and you think back to him, It was a long time ago. It’s fine.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

But it still hurts, is his retort.

It did still hurt. You’re not sure when it’ll ever stop hurting, but your focus is on MK, not yourself. The hug didn’t last too long, maybe half a minute at most. He pulls away, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

Monkey King asks, his voice equally tender, “Will you be okay if we continue, bud?”

MK gives a small nod after a moment’s silence. He wipes his eyes one final time, looking at you two. “Sorry—sorry, I—uh…”

“Listen, it’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for, cub.” Monkey King waves a hand. He reaches for MK, lightly brushing some stray hairs from his face. Monkey King rests his hand on MK’s shoulder and says, “It’s a lot to take in, okay?”

You step in, saying softly, “We can’t promise you it won’t ever happen to you, but… we can promise to make sure you’re prepared.”

Monkey King stands closer to you two, his grip on MK’s shoulder becoming more firm.“You’re a good kid with a big heart,” he says, his cautious, as if choosing his words for the next sentence carefully, “But you’re also young, and won’t fully understand how people—demons or humans or even celestials—like that work. Not yet, at least.”

He says, “This isn’t to say every single person you run into will be out to get you and go to these lengths. We can’t say it won’t ever happen to you, either. It’s just—it’s best to be cautious, to be ready. Just in case.” His hand gives MK’s shoulder a small shake. “We don’t want you having to experience what we did. It’s a shitty feeling for both you and any loved ones that get roped into it.”

“But… making sure we’re prepared for those scenarios will make it less likely to happen. Do you understand?” You look over MK’s face.

He doesn’t answer at first, eyes looking between you two, then at his shoes. You and Monkey King give him time to process it all, until MK finally says, “I—I understand. You guys… just wanna make sure I’m prepared, yeah?” His shoulders slump as he sighs. “I still don’t like it, I’d rather they just focus on me instead of you guys. Even if you can defend yourself, I still just—you don’t deserve to get involved in it.”

Then he steels himself and stands up straighter. “But I know there’s not much that can be done besides being prepared, right? So I’ll do my best to be ready, and make sure everyone else is, too.”

“Hah—that’s the spirit!” Monkey King ruffles his hair, a bit rougher, and it makes him laugh.

You huff through your nose and look at MK. “You gonna be alright?”

MK nods, his smile brighter, reading his eyes. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Monkey King gives a nod of approval, a bright smile given to MK. “You did good, bud. This is a tough first lesson to learn, but an important one nonetheless—I’m proud of you.” He pats MK’s head, fixing up the mess it had become from all the ruffling.

The praise causes MK’s cheeks to flush a bright red and he chuckles. “Ah—I—uh—thank you, Monkey King.” He turns to you. “And… thank you, too. I—ah—I know there’s gonna be a lot more lessons I’ll have to learn. I’m really grateful to have you both.”

You nod, offering a small smile of your own. “Happy to be here, MK.”

I’ll do what I can for you, I promise.

Monkey King talks a bit louder now, planting his hands on his hips. “Alright you two, enough serious, sappy talk—why don’t we do some stretches and basic stances since there’s still a bit of light out? Give ya a nice head start on the next few days to come.”

MK tilts his head, blinking owlishly at Monkey King. “Stretches?”

His smile fell as quickly as it appeared. “You’ve never done stretches before…?”

MK’s fidgeting amplifies. “Uh—no?”

Before Monkey King could put his foot in his mouth, as you’re predicting he’s about to do, you decide to take your place at his side to tell MK, “Stretches are important to do before a workout because it reduces the risk of you hurting yourself. It can also reduce soreness after the workout, and even slightly increases muscle strength.”

MK nods along as you continue, “While you won’t be able to do your stretches for every fight, it’s still a good habit to have before training.”

“Okay—I can do that!”

Clapping his hands, Monkey King says, “Perfect! Alright bud, let’s get started. You can join in too, firecracker.”

The rest of that day was stretching exercises and showing the different types of stances one can take during a fight and what they’re meant for, which was more you and Monkey King doing them while MK copied you both. You caught him closely watching the two of you more than once, which only further confirmed that the kid was definitely going to need a lot of guidance.

Afterward, you and MK bid farewell to Monkey King with the promise of returning tomorrow, and MK dropped you off at home.

Then after a day or two of practicing stretches and stances, it was time for him to start proper combat training. Suffice to say, it’s going about as well as you initially expected.

“Your stance is all wrong, bud. Remember, your feet need to be farther apart, and you need to be closer to the ground.”

“Like this?”

“No, no, put your foot here… aaaaand there ya go, now that’s more like it! Alright, now try to hit me.”

Today was no different.

You sat on a bench outside of Monkey King’s temple, a safe distance from the sparring practice MK and Monkey King were having. You glance up from your notebook, quietly observing them as some younger monkeys inspect you and your stuff. The smallest monkey with ivory fur and gray patches snuggle itself into your side and clings to your shirt, but otherwise, they leave you be.

You eye up MK’s stance as he tries to land a hit on Monkey King, who was easily dodging and deflecting each attack. 

Still relying too much on video games and movies. Ah, he’ll learn in time, you muse, looking back down at your notebook.

You knew there wasn’t much you could do during this time, since you wanted to respectfully leave Monkey King to the fighting portion of MK’s training. So you sat by, doing your own work, but still paid attention just in case you needed to step in and offer your own two cents on anything. Sometimes you’d catch Monkey King glancing your way during the fight, as if to check on you, but would look away after you gave a small nod.

While MK had his homework to do, you turn back to your own.

Just yesterday, Uncle Zan had told you to make a list of the bad habits you’ve noticed when resisting your visions and to write them down, while also writing a reason behind the habit and a possible solution. The exercise in itself is a simple one, but actually doing it… Well, that was the hard part.

You read through the first question Uncle Zan tasked you with answering, What feelings come up when the visions start and why?

Tapping your pen against the paper, you exhale through your nose. You’d feel a sense of fear. Because… you didn’t know what type of vision they would be. If they’d be big or small, and if they’d drag you around to a dangerous place or to dangerous people.

To put it simply, you’ve just never felt safe when these visions would happen. 

You look over the second question, What can you do to change these feelings? Of course, that’s where you were stuck. You didn’t know how to change it. You didn’t know how to feel safe enough to have a vision and know that you’d be okay by the end of it.

You look up as you hear Monkey King say, “Hah, hell yeah! That was way better! Nice job, kid, you’re a pretty fast learner.”

MK scratches at his head, sporting a few extra bruises compared to just a moment ago. “Ah—heh—thanks…”

“Alright, let’s keep going. Remember, always keep your eyes on your opponent, but pay attention to the surrounding area, too. Don’t want you tripping over your feet again, yeah?” Monkey King jumps back a few paces and enters his stance with a grin, holding a hand up to MK.

MK tilts his head, brows furrowing. “But—how do I pay attention to both my opponent and my environment? What if I have multiple opponents? What if my environment has hazards? What if—”

“Woah, woah, bud. One thing at a time.” Monkey King drops the stance and rubs at the back of his head. “Look, to pay attention to both your opponent and environment, you gotta be able to focus on what’s necessary right now.”

“Okay… how can I do that?”

“What you gotta do is take in everything, and then choose what you wanna focus on!” He comes closer to MK, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gesturing about him. “Right now, I’m noting the monkeys on the roof, the feel of the light breeze, the sounds of the city—a car crash just happened—firecracker pouring over their notebook, the fact that I’m pretty hungry and lunch is soon, and that bug over there!”

He pokes MK’s forehead with his tail and grins. “But I’m paying attention to you, bud. It takes some practice, but you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly with me as your teacher.”

You share a look with MK, and he scratches at his neck. “I… feel like I’m even more confused now.”

You sigh and shake your head, finally speaking up, “Great Sage, all due respect, that just sounds like you’re constantly distracted by everything around you, even your own thoughts.”

Monkey King turns to you and raises a brow. He scoffs and crosses his arms, a playful challenge shining in his eyes. “Oh yeah? And what do you know about focus, firecracker?”

You gently peel the small monkey off of you, much to its displeasure, and stand up. “It may not matter to you, Great Sage who grew up on a mountain and never had to worry about human schools—” you walk over to him and MK “—but I was the top student in my classes, able to get all my school work, homework, and chores done at a decent time all in one day.”

“I know what human schools are!” His chest puffs out, and he crosses his arms with an indignant huff. “I’m not that much of a hermit, you know.”

Ignoring Monkey King’s pouty stare, you turn to MK and say, “In order to focus, you need to eliminate all distractions. While Great Sage was mostly right about focusing on what you want to do, his way to go about it… was questionable.”

“Questionable?!” Monkey King gasps, putting his hand to his chest. It was every bit dramatic one would expect from him. “My method of focusing is perfect, thank you very much!”

“Then how come MK didn’t understand?” You raise a brow at him. He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, then huffs again, continuing to pout.

Guy really does act like a child sometimes.

Triumphant, you lift your chin at him, and then turn to MK. “Something that can help you focus is to not multitask. The best way to do that is to rid yourself of all outside distractions, as I said before. Distractions such as your phone, or games. And I don’t mean just turn it off, I mean keep it completely out of sight.” You stop to look at MK, tilting your head. “Do you understand so far?”

“I… I think so…” MK scratches at his chin, looking thoughtful. “It’s just—there’s always so many thoughts going on about what I need to do…”

You hum, nodding. “You’re able to get your deliveries done, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

You gesture for him to elaborate, asking, “Okay, how are you able to get them done, despite all the distractions you see around you when you’re driving?”

Monkey King watches you as you both talk. There’s a strange expression on his face, but you choose not to say anything about it, not right now at least. MK says, “Mmm… I usually listen to music. My headphones cancel out all other noises unless there’s a car honking at me.”

“Then there you go. Why not for the next few training sessions, you practice with some ear plugs to help block out any outside noises, and we can go from there?” You offer, lightly patting at his arm with a small smile.

“Okay… okay! I can try that!” MK grins, his hands shaking about, already reinvigorated. He turns to Monkey King. “We can try that, right?”

“Yeah, sure! How about we give it a shot after lunch? I’m hungry.” He stretches and grunts, scratching at his back. “Could go for some noodles, how about you two?”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone and hum softly. “Well—I could put in a delivery order…”

“Oh—oh, let me go get it!” MK huffs, his eyes shining with determination as he looks at you both. “Let it be practice! Try to get there and back quickly without losing focus!”

“That’s going to be a near five-hour drive going to a shop and coming back here, MK. I don’t know—”

Monkey King throws an arm around your shoulders and waves his hand. “Ah, let the kid go. He can borrow my nimbus, it’ll be faster than his scooter.”

“Wha—really??” MK looked ready to faint from sheer excitement, hands clenched into tight fists and shaking in front of him. “It’s okay? Really, truly okay???”

“Yeah! It reacts to your thoughts, so all you gotta do is think about where you wanna go and how quickly you wanna get there, and it’ll be there.” Monkey King looks at you with a sly smile, making you raise a brow. He nudges you, arm still around your shoulders, and nods his head to MK. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

Stop touching me.

You already knew what he was getting at. Pushing his arm off of you, you look over at MK and nod. “I think it’d be a good true test on focusing, at least a small one. Use the nimbus to get there and back as fast as you can, with no distractions. If you manage to do it, I’ll treat you to some crystal cakes on the way home later.”

That seemed to add the extra motivation MK needed to agree to those terms. Before you knew it, Monkey King called his nimbus for MK to use, and the kid was flying off towards Megapolis.

“I give him an hour tops. Maybe two,” Monkey King chuckles, watching MK struggle with getting the nimbus to work for him.

“That seems to be a fair assumption,” you say back.

Monkey King lightly elbows you and offers a smile. “Nice job, though. Didn’t think a simple concept such as focusing was gonna be such a difficult thing for him to get.”

You face him, raising a brow and placing a hand on your hip. “It may be a simple concept for you, but it’s not that way for everyone.” You walk over to the bench and sit back down, grabbing your notebook. The minute you sat back down, the baby monkey was clinging to you again, chirping happily.

He blinks, hopping over and landing on a stone lantern, perching there. You say, “It’s obvious from these few days of watching him that he's a visual learner. It’s like he said, all the fighting moves he knows he got from games and movies—he won’t fully understand what you’re telling him unless you give a proper explanation, or if you show him, depending on what the subject is.”

Monkey King tilts his head, watching you as his tail flicks off to the side before resting behind him, lightly sweeping at the ground. You sigh and tell him, “Sure, he can and will learn via trial by fire, but it’s not the best option for someone like him. Show him what it means to focus on one thing despite all outside distractions. And like you saw earlier, give him options to help too, don’t just tell him what to do, otherwise all it’s going to do is confuse him.”

He hums, watching you look over several pages of your notes. “Man, if that’s the case—this is gonna be harder than I thought.” He scratches at his head, picking out a bug and looks it over, then eats it.

“Being a teacher isn’t as simple as it sounds. It’s a lot of work.” You look down at your notebook. “Imagine one person teaching a room full of twenty to thirty kids that were just like Mei or MK, some of them a quiet kid, or otherwise.”

The thought makes him shudder. “Eugh—never. One is more than enough for me, thanks.”

You can't help but scoff and smile. “Exactly. At least for you, you only have one student, and an assistant to help you for situations such as these. So you’re not alone in it, at least.” You look back at your notebook and start writing. You don’t catch the pause in his movements to look at you with a strange shine in his eye, a small grin playing his features.

He scratches his nose and chuckles, “Heh… yeah. Looks like I lucked out gettin’ you as an assistant, huh?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Great Sage.” He sputtered a laugh at that, and you couldn’t hold back your own light huff, almost a laugh. You say, “Just remember, whatever you learned from your teachers probably won’t work for MK. So you need to think of different approaches to take if your initial one didn’t work out.”

“I know, I know. I’m not completely inexperienced with teaching, you know,” Monkey King rolls his eyes, his tail flicking again. “How else did the warriors back in the day at Flower Fruit get trained, huh?”

“Didn’t you have generals and marshals for that?” You retort with a raised brow. The baby monkey chirps, very unhappy you’re not paying attention to it, and you gently pet its head.

“Hah! First, that’s Sun Guo, he loves back rubs more than anything,” he laughs, pointing to the baby monkey.

Sun Guo? Great Sage gave this little one his surname, too?

Not too surprising, I suppose, since he’s like family to Great Sage.

“Second,” Monkey King says, “Yes, I had marshals and generals, but it wasn’t solely up to them to train my warriors. I was the one who helped train them!”

“Okay, then why is it so different training MK?” You ask now, lifting your gaze to meet his.

That’s where he hesitates, scratching at his neck. His face scrunches up, and he admits, “Weeeeeell… I trained the adults, not the cubs. That was more… up to, ah…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, not meeting your gaze anymore. It gave you the small feeling that he was talking about Six-Eared Macaque, which honestly surprised you. You expected him to be the one who trained the kids best, rather than Six-Eared Macaque. Then again, you don’t know much about either monkey aside from how history has written them; and history has a habit of never giving proper details.

Deciding it best to not let the silence linger, you say, “So you’re more used to enhancing training the adults already had, not when it’s pretty much teens like MK or younger, who have little to no experience.”

“Yeah,” he coughs after admitting it. “Soooo… I meant it when I said I lucked out having you as my assistant. Heh, I’m sure I’d be struggling a lot more if I didn’t have your help.” You look up, but he’s still not looking at you, more out towards Megapolis. His ears twitch, the wind tussling his fur, but you notice a soft, genuine smile plays his lips.

“Mmm…” You hum. “Well… to be honest, I have my own limits,” you say, equally soft. Your gaze lowers back to your notebook, gently rubbing Sun Guo’s back. “Such as when MK gets too energetic and excited during lessons, I don’t—really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Monkey King says suddenly with a loud laugh. He hops from the stone lantern and sits beside you. “I handle his energy, and you handle… well—making sure we don’t get too off track,” he laughs again, this time a bit more nervously, and scratches his cheek.

“Mhm… I’m seeing why you weren’t the one to train the kids,” you deadpan. “Easily distracted?”

“No way!” He scoffs, his tail flicking at your nose. “More—the kids get easily distracted—and—well—sometimes they, ah, have this look in their eyes, and…”

“And?” You press, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, he changes the subject completely by saying, “Ya know? I just realized something! You’re actually pretty talkative!”

“Mmm,” you hum with a roll of your eyes. You make sure to take the mental note to make sure he and MK don’t distract each other during training sessions, and look back to your notebook. You were still stuck on the question Uncle Zan had you write down on how you can change the feelings you initially get from your visions. You’re not exactly sure how to feel safer when having a vision aside from having someone’s presence there…

Some monkeys gather around you two whilst Monkey King continues to talk, making idle hand gestures as he does. “These last few days with you gave me the impression of someone who wasn’t much of a talker, always quiet and observing. Never really saying too much. But here you are, talking up a storm to the kid.”

His tail pokes your arm. A very obvious invitation to the conversation. You shrug, saying, “I only really speak if I feel it’s necessary to say something. Otherwise, I just prefer to watch from the sidelines. MK is a different case.”

“Oh yeah? Different how?” He raises a brow in question whilst one monkey climbs onto his shoulder.

Closing your notebook—you felt him peeking over your shoulder to read it—and look at him with a pointed stare. “Invasion of privacy, for starters. Remember that.”

“Ah—shit—sorry,” he mumbles, his tone holding sincerity to it.

You inhale and slowly exhale, telling him, “It’s fine… Anyway, secondly, he’s different because he needs to learn.” You smile at the image of MK’s excitement when he figures out new tricks. “And he wants to as well—you saw how attentive he was. It’s possible he was homeschooled, or wasn’t paid attention too much at school. It shows he likes lessons that are more personal, that ensure he’s going to be listened to.”

You turn to him now, saying, “I may not be a talkative type, but… I like to teach. I also like to learn.”

“Ah—so you’re a nerd.” Monkey King laughs at your harsh glare and waves his hand. “Kidding, firecracker, kidding!”

You roll your eyes, telling him, “Fine, if I’m a nerd, then you’re a brainless jock.”

“I don’t even know what a jock is, but I have a brain!”

“It's a shame you don’t use it.” You turn away as Monkey King makes a noise that reminds you of a dying seagull. You couldn’t bite back the smirk if you tried. You huff a laugh through your nose, looking up—

—your vision shaking and waving like water—

—and you catch sight of Monkey King perching on a trashcan, eyeing you with a look of concern. You breathe, feeling your chest unconsciously clench, but try not to resist it. Push the fear away, Monkey King—the real Monkey King—was with you, you were safe.

You hear his voice whisper to you, “It’s fine. You’re in a safe spot. Just let the vision go through—I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It’s okay. You’re okay.

Taking a breath, you observe the vision of Monkey King in front of you. Something felt… off about his aura, though. You swear you saw little flecks of purple mixed with the golden light that surrounded him. His voice pulls you out of your observation as he asks, “Are you good, firecracker? You look like you saw a ghost.”

You blink, rapidly, shaking your head and rubbing at your temples, the vision gone as quickly as a ripple in a pond. You hear Monkey King beside you, “All good?”

“Yeah—it’s over.” You frown, brows furrowed. “The… vision was of you, actually. Saying I looked like I saw a ghost… I’m not really sure what to make with a short vision like that.”

“Huh—well that’s incredibly unhelpful.” He leans back, folding his arms behind his head, tail swishing around both your feet.

“Welcome to my life,” you mutter bitterly, running your fingers through your hair. “It was… odd, though.” You reach into your bag, pull out a new notebook and open it up. This one was something Uncle gifted you to write down your visions in to document them, a way for you to try to make connections to what they mean. You say, “Something was off about your aura in it.”

“Eh?” He leans closer, paying more attention.

“I don’t know if it’s the same with all clairvoyants, but—in my visions, if they have another person in it or multiple people, they all are kind of just… this silhouette or an outline of their appearance with a glowing aura.” You tap your pen against the page, making a face. “Yours has this orange-gold color about it, but what was off was I also saw these bits of purple mixed into it.”

“Huh—now that’s concerning…” Monkey King rubs his chin, moving to peek at your notes but remembers himself and looks away. Good, at least he’s learning. He says, “It’s possible it’s a shadow demon of some sort—purple auras are their thing. And they’re more known for having glamour magic to disguise themselves; second to actual illusion mages or demons—but their auras are a different color entirely.”

“A shadow demon…” You say thoughtfully, scanning over the notes you wrote concerning the vision. “I wonder why.”

“It’s possible they want information from you about the cub, visions about their own stuff,” Monkey King says with a shrug. “It’s been a few centuries since I’ve even seen a shadow demon, though, so your guess is as good as mine. From what I remember, those guys are massive recluses—more than you clairvoyants.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, turning to him.

He scratches at his chin, before one of the monkeys in his lap chirps indignantly at him. He starts to part their fur, gently grooming them as he says, “Shadow magic is powerful. It’s one of the more versatile types of magic out there. Conjure minions, teleportation, spying, you name it—I’m pretty sure they can do it. It’s one of the most difficult magics to learn if you’re not born with the ability—second to healing magic and clairvoyance.”

He looks at you now, saying, “So it falls to either other demons wanting to take that power for themselves, or learn the magic from shadow magicians.”

“Mmm, at least we have something in common,” you mumble. “Except… I didn’t think my powers could even be taught to others.”

“Eeeehhh… yes and no?” He shrugs again, eating a bug he finds in the monkey’s fur, and says, “Like I said, healing and clairvoyance are the most difficult types to learn. I think it’s mainly because for you oracles, you can read the future in hundreds of different ways. The stars, oracle bones, palm reading, tarot cards…” He counts on his fingers, turning to you to confirm.

“Mmm, so it’s difficult because it’s a pretty finicky magic to learn?” You ask him.

He nods, saying, “Pretty much, hence why most people and demons—at least the ones here as far as I know—don’t bother trying to learn and just… you know… do the whole enslavement thing.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Even more now that most of your kind are gone. There are some oracles out there that got their abilities from being a pupil to a genuine clairvoyant, but their readings are almost never reliable.”

“I see…” You write down the details of the vision, including what the fake Monkey King said to you. You look over the details of the short vision, brows furrowing as you read the quote at least three more times.

Something else about this felt weird… but you’re not sure what or why.

“Try scowling more, firecracker. Maybe that’ll help ya hit a revelation.”

Hilariously enough, his words are what made you realize what you were looking for.

Lightly kicking his feet out of your personal space, you look at him. “The nickname, firecracker… MK should be the only one to have heard you call me that. So either it’s a shadow demon spying on us right now, or will be in the future. I’m not sure how soon or how later, though.”

Monkey King hums, all essence of his teasing attitude gone. His eyes flashed gold, searching. He sets the monkey in his lap aside and slowly stands, holding up a finger to his lips as he keeps looking around. You stay as quiet as you can, feeling your muscles clenching subconsciously. Sensing the tension, Sun Guo nuzzles you, chirping softly and patting at your side in reassurance.

Monkey King jumps from the bench onto the stone lantern, looking, searching, listening. He jumps from the lantern to the mountain wall, finding purchase on some rocks. He goes from the mountain wall to the wall of his temple, out looking at the village below and the pathway leading to Megapolis.

Eventually, he jumps back over to where you sat, his eyes no longer glowing the bright gold color. He scratches at his neck, saying, “I didn’t see or hear anything or anyone aside from the kid struggling with nimbus.”

You frown, twirling your pen in your hand, thinking. “Should we fix the wards to stave off shadow magic? For safety?”

“Probably for the best, yeah.” Monkey King groans and lazes on the other stone bench nearby. “Man, and here I was hoping for some noodles and a break.”

“Technically, it was already a break while we wait for MK. So this can be something to look forward to when he eventually returns with the noodles. It’ll also build up more of an appetite.” You close your notebook and stand up. Once more, peeling the baby monkey off of you—to his great displeasure a second time—you place him down next to the older monkeys and say, “You were going to show us how to amplify wards anyway and never did.”

“Oh, shit, right.” He huffs, tail whipping up before he gets back up and blows a raspberry. “Fine, fine, let’s go firecracker. We’ll start at the bottom and go from there.” Without another word, he walks towards the exit, you following close behind him.

It’s certainly been interesting watching Monkey King be a teacher to MK. His style could use some work, but… you could tell his heart was in the right place. It’s clear from the proud smile on his face when MK does something right, he really does care for the kid and wants what’s best for him. He’s not going to let MK go in blind anymore.

You hum softly, musing to yourself as you follow him past the gates and down the steps.

Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

As expected, MK didn’t return for another hour or two, but came back with several large servings of noodles and dumplings, enough for ten people practically. By that point, you and Monkey King had finished fixing up the wards to negate any shadow magic, meaning both of you certainly worked up an appetite. You were not surprised in the slightest that both MK and Monkey King were able to finish off all of it after making sure you were satisfied with your portions.

Before you knew it, several weeks passed, and you’ve learned new things about yourself. More specifically, a… somewhat easier way to deal with your visions.

In this time, you’ve slowly but surely made some steps in the right direction with them. It didn’t take long for you to come to the conclusion that at least one of the ways for you to feel comfortable with your visions was ensuring you felt safe. Any time you would have them, you were almost always alone—and more often than not it led you into danger or strange stares that left you beyond embarrassed. Having another presence there to make sure you didn’t get into trouble or to snap you out of danger would help.

Thus came the suggestion from Uncle Zan to make some edits to the alarm given to you the other week. The edits were to connect the alarm to MK and Tang’s phone as well, alerting them to your visions if they were starting to get more out of control. That way at least one person can be with you if you experience a bigger premonition.

While you would’ve liked to have Mr. Pigsy added onto it, you didn’t want to interrupt his business, something he cared dearly about. He may offer his support to you and MK, but neither of you want to inconvenience Mr. Pigsy every time something happens.

As for Mei…

Well…

You’re glad she’s a good friend and support system for MK, from what little you’ve seen. While it’s no offense to her, you can’t see her as a friend at the moment. Let alone one you can trust well enough to watch after you while you were knee-deep in a vision. So Mr. Pigsy and Mei had to be left out of it. Since Monkey King doesn’t even have a phone, he’s left out too.

How can someone have a television and a laptop at his house, but not have a phone? Whatever.

With one thing out of the way, the next thing you had to do was the harder part. Letting the visions happen and trusting it would be okay once it was over. You’ve been lucky these last few times, but what if you weren’t lucky next time? Memories of the past would flood you every time you thought about it, but you had to silence their paranoid whispers. You had to reassure yourself, it’d be okay. This time it’s different. It’ll be different.

It wasn’t much, but it helped calm your raving paranoia, even just a little.

Though the progress was slightly slow, you were just… happy there was any progress in general. “Baby steps are better than no steps,” Uncle Zan said at one point. So, all you could do was continue to make those baby steps to becoming more accepting of your power, and keep low expectations rather than impossibly high ones. Old habits that have lasted for years will die very hard, but now having a more proper support system certainly helps.

All while you learned ways to try to make all of that work for yourself, you’ve in turn learned more and more about the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong.

You already knew bits and pieces of him from reading the novels and texts about him, and from the impromptu lectures from Tang. You knew of his tendencies to prove to everyone he was the greatest there’s ever been. You knew of his stealing of the Cudgel, him harassing the celestial realm with Six-Eared Macaque. You knew of Monkey King and Six-Eared Macaque’s thievery, trickery, and how both gained a good majority of their abilities together.

You knew of Monkey King’s eventual sealing beneath Five Elements Mountain. You knew of the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang, taking him on as the monk’s disciple, allowing his release. You knew all about his journey with Tang Sanzang, and soon enough Sha Wujing, Zhu Baije, and Bai Long Ma.

You knew of the fight between Monkey King and Six-Eared Macaque, leading to the latter’s death. Later, you learned that it was a memory that Monkey King doesn’t like to think about, especially when the name is mentioned.

Yet despite all the texts and research, there were things about him you—truthfully—never expected to be a trait in someone like him.

○ ○ ○

For starters, you learned he really loved to dance. Nothing like those ballroom dances or other high-energy dances back in America, but the traditional dancing from here. It was much more fast-paced, and he put a lot of foot (and sometimes tail) work into it, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by his skill. More than once he’s convinced MK to join him, saying it’d help MK be more flexible on the battlefield.

Each time he’d try to get you to join, and you turned them down every time, even when they both tried to give you the puppy eyes. You weren’t much of a dancer, having no time to learn properly back in America. The excuse didn’t really flow with Monkey King, as he had dragged you onto the training grounds with him.

“No one starts an expert, firecracker! Just follow my movements—c’mon, you’ll have fun!” He laughs.

“No, thanks,” you groan, massaging your brow. “I have work to do—”

“You always have work to do, though!” MK whines, now on your other side. “Just a small break with us? Please? Just this once??”

You make a face, shaking your head. “I—ugh…” You may not crumble to the puppy eyes immediately, but with MK asking with that tone combined with the eyes? Yeah, it was hard to resist. “Fine. Just this once, though.”

“Yes!” Monkey King and MK cheer. Monkey King laughs, linking his arm with yours. “Alright, follow my feet, and you’ll get the hang of it in no time!”

You didn’t get the hang of it, which you expected. Your feet also were not forgiving after joining them in their little impromptu dance lesson for you. Monkey King also never stopped teasing you, either, calling you “jelly feet” for a solid two days afterward.

Even so, it was… surprisingly fun, and felt nice to get some excess energy you had out of you.

○ ○ ○

Another thing you learned is he loves pulling pranks. It was no surprise to you, honesty; but what did seem surprising was that his pranks mellowed out in the last few thousand years. They’re so much more harmless than what you’ve heard in your lessons. It’s not like you were complaining, you’re glad you didn't have to deal with his extreme pranks back in the day.

Most of the time, he’d just take your things and put them in places you couldn’t reach without help. Other times he’d tell awful jokes, and more often than anything, he’d poke and prod at you to see what kind of reaction he’d get.

You quickly learned he did this to just have fun, and never meant anything malicious with it.

He meanwhile learned very quickly to stop messing with your things after you hid his favorite headpiece. It took him a solid two hours to find it.

○ ○ ○

“Hey firecracker, what are the strongest days of the week?”

“Great Sage, I’m trying to—”

“Saturday and Sunday! All the others are weekdays.”

“Awful.”

“Hey, that was a great one!”

○ ○ ○

“What did the ocean say to the beach?”

“Fine, I’ll humor you this time. What did it say?”

“Nothing, it just waved!”

“I don’t know why I bothered.”

“Hahahaha!”

○ ○ ○

“Hey, firecracker—”

“Great Sage, we need to focus on MK’s training regimen today.”

“Just one joke! That’s it, Monkey King’s honor!”

“Ugh… fine. Just one.”

“Hehe. How do you write ‘I am so handsome’ in traditional Chinese characters?”

“Uh… what? Shouldn’t you know traditional Chinese characters, considering your age?”

“C’mooon, it’s part of the joke! Just ask why!”

“Fine, fine. Why?”

”Because I am not simply handsome! Hahaha!”

“I dunno, you’re pretty simple.”

“Hey!”

He’s yet to stop the bad jokes, though.

○ ○ ○

The next thing you learn is he was a very touchy individual. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pressing his cheek against yours, grabbing you with his tail… Personal space didn’t exist to him. Which, considering his family were monkeys—a very social and touchy family—and he hasn’t been around people in half a millennium, you were understanding of it.

Somewhat, at least.

You had a limit, and he more often than not met it on the daily and had to learn the hard way a few times to stop touching you without prompt or permission. More recently he’s begun to pause before touching—his quiet way of asking permission, and should you shy away, he wouldn’t push it. Other times, he’d simply verbally ask if it was okay. Even if you accepted, he wouldn’t linger for too long. You’re thankful he’s respecting your space, even if he had to learn it the hard way.

○ ○ ○

“Man, firecracker, when did you last get your hair looked at?”

“Excuse me?”

“You got some shit stuck in it!”

“Probably because of all the walking through forests and brush you make me do with you and MK.”

“Hey now, it’s a perfect way to build up some cardio!”

“My cardio is just fine, thanks.”

“Sure, suuuuure.”

…

“Soooo… is, ah… touching okay?”

Sigh.

“Sure, just not for too long.”

“No problem! Just gonna do… a quick grooming…”

“What?? Woah—what are you doing with my hair?”

“Grooming! It’s a monkey thing, a human like you wouldn’t get it.”

“I know what grooming is, you ass of a monkey. I was more expecting you to want some kind of weird side hug or something.”

“Nah, nah, nah, just hold still. This’ll feel great!”

“Fine, fine.”

…

…

It did feel kind of nice, but you’ll never admit it out loud to him.

○ ○ ○

You learned he can be harsh when necessary. The premonition you had of MK growing too comfortable with his invincibility was one of those times.

Apparently there was a storm demon that was attempting to siphon power from the weather station, and MK got a little too cocky from the last time he had defeated the Bull Family. With his newfound invincibility added on top of that, it only added to the cockiness. You were fortunate enough to be away from there, helping plan out next week’s training with Monkey King, but unfortunate to have to witness him actually get angry at MK.

You recall the stern look on Monkey King’s face and the tone he held reminded you of some sergeant talking to new recruits, with less yelling but the same amount of harshness.

“Is invincibility going to stop demons from hurting your family? Or your friends? Are they just gonna decide to lie down and let you beat them up when finding out you can’t get hurt? No. They’ll find other ways to hurt you,” he had said, “They couldn’t give a single fuck about that invincibility, kid. You’re my pupil, but you aren’t me! You can’t let this power get to your head and start acting like you’re tough shit, because the minute you do is the minute you lose everything. What did we just talk about two weeks ago, MK?!”

You already knew he spoke from experience from that final statement. Though it seemed he was a little too harsh, as MK was clearly distressed by upsetting his idol, causing you to step in.

“Great Sage—” you put a hand on Monkey King’s shoulder, causing him to tense and snap his head at you. You cleared your throat, “I think he gets it.”

Monkey King took one look at MK again to realize he had gone too far in his reprimanding. He scratched his head with both hands, groaned and looked away. “Look—kid—I’m—”

“It’s—It’s fine. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have gotten too cocky, ya know? Haha—it’s okay, I messed up,” MK took a breath, tugged and pulled at his jacket and wiped at his eyes though the tears kept falling, all while he spoke softly, but you two could still hear him, “I failed you. I need to get better. I need to do better. I should’ve listened—I—” his breath hitched. He wiped his eyes. More tears spilled and drip-drip-dripped from his chin. “It’s my fault.”

You remember your heart clenching at his words, remembering how many times you’ve thought that yourself when you were his age. You stepped forward, saying, “MK—”

Except Monkey King had stopped you, grabbing at your arm. He didn’t meet your eyes, more focused on MK. “Don’t,” he said, his tone low and firm, yet also somber. He looked at you then. “This is my mistake I gotta fix. Let me take care of him, okay?”

He let go of your arm when you nodded, and he took a step towards MK. He paused to look back at you. “Go on back home, we can continue the regiment talk another day. Oh, and don’t worry about that storm demon, that’ll get handled.”

You wrung your hands together. Glanced between him and MK. Asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, firecracker. Monkey King’s honor.”

You didn’t argue with him, believing and hoping he knew what he was doing. Your protectiveness of MK made you worried that Monkey King would just make it worse, but then you saw the serious look in his eyes. Your thoughts flash backed to his handling of your own altercation with him when you first met, as if reminding you that he was a lot more mature than he showed. So all you could do was give him your trust and leave it at that, and so you did. You left, letting Monkey King guide MK out of the increasingly crowded streets.

Later, you learned on the news that the storm demon was taken care of by Mei and the gang, having seen her dragon form on television as the newscasters recorded it. At first, you thought it was some other dragon not fully in control of their form yet—scales were practically falling off of it by the second—but then you caught sight of Sandy protecting someone, probably Tang, from a lightning strike and knew it had to be her.

Even later after that, while you were walking home after getting groceries, you caught sight of MK sitting on a pier with Monkey King in disguise. Though your true sight’s range was mediocre at best, you could tell just from the features alone that Monkey King was simply making himself look more human to avoid grabbing attention. You weren’t close enough to hear their conversation, but judging from the looks on their faces that MK was already going back to his old self—always smiling and laughing.

While it seemed MK didn’t notice you, Monkey King sure did, shooting a smile and a wink your way before going right back to conversing with MK.

You left them be, feeling a weight of worry removed knowing that the situation was handled.

○ ○ ○

Once everything was said and done with the weather station incident, and things went back to a relatively normal schedule, you continued to learn more and more about Monkey King.

Such as—

“Come oooooon, just one round!”

—the great pleasure he took in play wrestling.

It was just you and him for a couple of days while MK was supporting Mei in her preparation for the Great Wall Race, and you were talking with him about a new vision you had the other day. One where Mr. Pigsy and Tang were taken hostage by a spider demon, and were planning how to prepare MK for it—what with his arachnophobia. In the middle of the discussion, Monkey King just asked if you wanted to wrestle. No magic, no nothing, and he’d hold back a lot on his strength so he doesn’t end up breaking you by accident.

“No.” You pinch the bridge of your brow. “Great Sage—ugh—we need to set up a plan for this, so MK is prepared to face his arachnophobia. We might as well utilize this time he’s busy helping prep Mei for the race to get ready to prep him to face his fears.”

He claps his hands and holds them out, palms facing you. He shrugs with a big grin, eyebrows raising. “Aaaand we can do just that after a round! I promise I won’t use my powers, and I’ll dumb down my strength so you don’t get seriously hurt!”

“Time can’t afford to be wasted when we need to make sure MK’s ready for—”

“And he will be ready!” He jumps forward, landing on the stone lantern just a few feet away from you. “Take it easy, firecracker. Rushing to get him ready for anything and everything won’t help! Remember, time may not wait for him to be ready, but that doesn’t mean we should just push him to his limits now. Breaks between bursts of training are important, or he’ll just burn himself out.”

He leans forward, reaching out to poke your knee and says, “The same goes for you, you know. You’re working yourself harder than an ox climbing up a mountain.”

You close your eyes and sigh, rubbing your face. “Look—you’re right, and—I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on, and MK’s so young—”

Monkey King steps off the lantern, moving closer to you and crouching in front of you. You close your eyes and breathe. “And… I’m still projecting my worries,” you finally admit, shaking your head. “I can’t help but fret over him and what he’ll face in the future.”

“It’s fine to worry, but you’re kiiiiinda lettin’ that get to you,” he laughs. “I’ll come clean, I’m offering this because you look like you could get some of that frustration out of you, rather than letting it sit in you.”

You raise a skeptical brow at him. “And you’re not doing it because you want a new wrestling partner?”

“Psssh, whaaaat? No!” He coughs, looking away to scratch at his nose. “I’d never have such ulterior motives! Put a bit more faith in me, firecracker.”

“Mhm,” you deadpan. You knew he was getting bored not having MK around while the kid helps Mei prepare for the race. Most of the breaks spent between them were play-fights and wrestling, or dancing.

Sometimes, you ponder inwardly, he treats MK more like a little brother than a student… odd.

Being an only child, you didn’t fully understand the fun of doing such things, but you’re sure he’s only asking because of the fact MK isn’t around. Or maybe he wants a new partner aside from MK or one of his monkey siblings.

Even if Monkey King had ulterior motives behind it, you also get the feeling of genuineness from it. He really was trying to help you let loose and stop being so tightly wound. You truly felt like a spring in a machine, stressed and about to pop out of its socket.

That actually makes a lot more sense as to why the monkeys were hanging around me more… probably sensing how stressed I’ve been feeling.

Maybe one wrestling match couldn’t hurt…

You groan, rolling your eyes and setting your notes aside. Sun Guo—who has become quite attached to you—is peeled off your shirt. You stand, planting your hands on your hips. “Fine. One round, and that’s it.”

“Yes!” He jumps up, punching his fist in the air in victory. With a laugh, he jumps back a few paces and gestures for you to follow. You step into the training grounds with him, doing small stretches as to not strain yourself during this.

“First one to get pinned by the other loses,” Monkey King says with a grin. He pulls off the various pieces of armor that were on him until he was down to his trousers and tunic. “Come at me!”

Beneath the warm glow of the sun, you began this play wrestling back with him. Given the fact that you were not very versed in fighting, let alone wrestling, Monkey King got the upper hand quite a bit. He, however, didn’t want the session to end so early, never fully pinned you and let you get more chances.

“C’mon, you can totally do better than that, firecracker!” He taunts.

You circle each other, Monkey King grinning brightly, while you couldn’t stop yourself from sporting a small smile of your own. You rush him, aiming to grapple the overly cocky monkey and make him eat his own words. As expected, though, he decides to utilize that moment to show off his agile moves via ducking and weaving around you, completely avoiding your attempts.

His eyes twinkle with mischievous intent, causing you to pause—which was your first mistake.

“What is that look for— aaah!!” You scream suddenly when he lunges at you, his fingers wriggling and dancing over your sides. His tail grabs your ankles, causing you to trip over yourself and land back on the ground.

His tail joins the assault, tickling at your sides and underarms while you squirm and howl with uncontrollable laughter. You desperately attempt to escape, frantically flailing and slapping at his hands, but his tickle assault wasn’t exactly making that easy.

With a triumphant grin, Monkey King grabs at your wrists and pins you under him. He sticks his tongue out at you. “Looks like I win!”

“After you—fucking cheated!” You say between pants and tiny fits of giggles. “You smarmy piece of—”

“Hah! All’s fair in love and monkey shenanigans!” He laughs. He gets off you, crossing his arms and letting you push yourself up into a proper sitting position. “What can I say? I’m a master of the ancient art of monkey-style wrestling!” He even goes as far as posing dramatically.

“I’d say more the ancient art of monkey-style trickery,” you snort, rubbing the sweat from your neck. You both share a laugh, taking a moment to catch your collective breaths.

Monkey King hops to his feet, holding a hand out to help you stand. You take his offer, letting him pull you to your feet. You dust yourself off, making the quiet promise to never let him convince you to wrestle with him again. Asshole fights dirty.

“Woah…” He reaches out, his fingers brushing along your arm. “What’s that from?”

Huh?

You look down, your shoulders suddenly tensing. Ah… your sleeves must’ve gotten mussed up in the wrestling match, causing them to show off your arms. You clear your throat, quickly pulling them down to hide the scars.

“It’s nothing.” You lower your gaze to his feet, your teeth worrying your lip. “Just—some old run ins with, ah… less than savory demons.”

Monkey King tilts his head, his eyes roaming your face, your body, taking in how your hands fidget in front of you. You can’t see his face, much too busy avoiding his gaze. Therefore, you can’t see how his eyes burn with a controlled anger.

You hear him inhale, then exhale. You close your eyes.

Don’t say anything else about it. Please, don’t.

We were having fun a second ago, just drop it.

“I see,” he says. “Typical assholes, am I right?” He elbows your side, proudly proclaiming, “Well, I can certainly say my scars are way cooler! Haha! Here, check this one out!” He opens up his tunic to reveal a gnarly scar running from his side across his stomach. “That was when Sha Wujing and I first met! He was one hell of a fighter, and now I got this souvenir!”

Even as he grins, you can detect the smallest hint of regret in his tone, a pinch of longing. He must really miss Sha Wujing.

Even so, he’s purposefully turning it away from me…

“Great Sage—” you stop yourself from telling him that it’s fine. You look at him now, rubbing your thumb along your arm. “…I’m… sure it was one hell of a fight, huh?”

“Heh, yeah, it was.” His smile strengthens. It somehow felt both forced, yet genuine. “So! What’s the plan for MK’s little arachnophobia therapy?”

“Oh, uh, right…” You walk back towards your notebook. You look at him again, saying, “Thanks, by the way. I do feel a bit better after that.”

The smile feels less forced after you say that. He bumps his shoulder against yours. “Anytime, firecracker. Ever wanna have another wrestling match, you know where to find me!”

“Not after you cheated. Have fun with only wrestling MK.”

“Whaaaaaat? No, c’mon!”

○ ○ ○

You didn’t think you’d learn even more about Monkey King so quickly and early, especially not when it comes to this.

You had just arrived at the temple after a very long bus ride and trekking up the trail. Several of his younger monkey siblings (as he loved to call them) joined you via clinging to your back or perching on your shoulders.

Upon walking towards the temple, you hear his voice inside saying, “The training’s going great so far. He’s kinda busy right now, helping his friend with that Great Wall Race that’s happening. You know about that, right?”

Then another voice unfamiliar to you speaks up. Feminine, gentle, motherly. “I know of the Great Wall Race, silly pebble. Fengshe raced in it one time.”

“No way! Did he win?”

“He got second place, but he had fun.”

Curiosity getting the better of you, and not wanting to spend the entire time eavesdropping, you step towards the doorway and knock on the frame. “Great Sage?”

“Oh shit!” Monkey King jumps to his feet, rushing in front of you. “Heeeeeey! I totally didn’t forget you were coming today and definitely didn’t forget to cancel or anything—”

“You totally did,” you deadpan.

Movement out of the corner of your eye makes you look over. There stands another monkey. Chestnut colored fur shimmering in the sunlight that peeks through the window, Her fur much longer than Monkey King’s, styled in braids with a jeweled flower pin resting above her ear. The marking on her face could best be described as butterfly wings, an elegant forest green and making her amber eyes truly pop out.

“Uh…” you look at her, then Monkey King. “I’m not… interrupting anything, am I?”

“Of course not, little one.” The monkey in question stands, donned in silk robes that screamed elegance and royalty. She steps over to you both, looking you over with a curious eye. She says, “Lovely to meet you. Who might you be?”

“Aaaahaha, funny story about that…” Monkey King coughs and tugs at the collar of his tunic. “Remember when I said I had an assistant who’s—ah—helping me with training the kid? Well, uh…”

“This is them?” She finishes with a coy smile, her index finger resting by the corner of her mouth. “Why so embarrassed, my pebble? Do you think I’ll humiliate you in front of them?”

“Whaaaat? Of course not!” He sputters, waving a dismissive hand and crossing his arms. You notice his tail twitching and swaying with increased speeds, quickly wrapping around his ankle. “I just—well—wasn’t expecting… haha… you to meet so soon…”

He is acting… weird.

You’ve never seen him act like this in the short time you’ve known him. “Uh, I don’t mean any disrespect… ma’am?” You ask, looking at the stranger. She nods, so you continue, “I don’t mean disrespect, ma’am, but, uh… who are you?”

“Ah, so my son hasn’t told you about me, I see,” she raises a brow at Monkey King, who stiffens up and helplessly shrugs. Her sharp stare reminds you of thorns on a bush, but they turn to petals when she looks at you now. “I am Sun Lihua. I’m Wukong’s mother.”

…

…

…

His mother?

That is… surely the most shocking thing you’ve learned about him so far.

I didn’t know he even had a mother.

You bow before her, introducing yourself and saying, “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Lihua.”

“Come now, little fish,” she reaches out, coaxing you to stand straight and meet her gaze. Her touch is gentle and warm. It… reminded you of your own mother. “You may simply call me Lihua, no need for formalities.”

“Heh, that’s gonna be a hard one to beat outta them, Mama,” Monkey King snorts. “They still call me Great Sage despite being so mean to me.”

“You practically ask for it,” you say to him now, your tone flattening with displeasure towards him.

Miss Lihua laughs. “I’m glad you’re here to help keep my pebble on his toes and help him train the cub.” She brushes some stray hair from your face, her smile gentle and welcoming. “Your insight and visions will no doubt provide a support that no one else can. For that, you have my thanks.”

Wait a second…

“How did… you know…” You look at Monkey King now, your stare becoming as sharp as knives. “You told her?!”

“She’s my mother!” He argues, making a gesture to Miss Lihua. “She’s trustworthy—ah, ow, ow—Mama!”

Whatever argument he was going to say is killed by Miss Lihua grabbing his ear and giving it a good pinch. Even her soft expression had shriveled into a bush of thorns. “Even if you trust me with secrets, that does not mean you can simply give someone else’s secrets to me, my son.” She lets his ear go, turning to you now. “Forgive me, child, I thought Wukong had asked permission to tell me ahead of time.”

“He didn’t,” you say, unable to stop yourself from sounding harsh. You make a face at Monkey King, who’s nursing his reddening ear. “I didn’t even know you existed until now.”

“I assure you, dear child,” she says, her fingers grazing your chin and guiding you to look at her again. “Your secret is safe with me, and I will ensure you aren’t discovered and hunted.” Her smile is gentle and reassuring—even a little sad—as she continues to say, “I know too well what it’s like to be uprooted from my home because of other's selfishness, I would never wish for it to happen to anyone else.”

Your eyes scan over her face, subconsciously searching for any kind of sign of a lie or trick. When you don’t find it, you slowly nod. “I’m sorry—it won’t exactly be easy to trust you, but… Your reassurance is appreciated, ma’am… I hope you understand.”

“Of course, dear,” she tucks a hair behind your ear and gives you space. “Wukong and I were simply playing catch up, but if you and him have business to attend to, I can leave you two to it.”

“No, it’s okay, I don’t want to intrude on your time with him,” you shake your head. “I can go—”

“Why not both of you just stay?” Monkey King groans. “You’re both way too polite for my sanity.”

“Being considerate isn’t being too polite, silly boy,” Miss Lihua pinches at his nose, chuckling when he wiggles it in response.

He acts so different around her… truly like a child around his mother. You wonder what their story is, but you’re not exactly keen on prying right now. There’s too much work to do, and you’re sure they wouldn’t trust you with so much information on themselves, either. For now, you’ll push your curiosity away and focus on what you came here for.

“Well, we were just going to plan out what MK’s training will be for the next few days.”

○ ○ ○

Miss Lihua turned out to be a very kind and patient woman to spend time with. If anything, she reminded you a lot of Uncle Zan, always gentle and caring unless the harsher side is deserved. She also provided a lot of insight on MK’s training regimen, especially siding with you on telling Monkey King that MK isn’t ready for certain techniques just yet.

Though she didn’t stay long, her calming presence was welcome compared to Monkey King’s energy. She kissed Monkey King on the forehead and gave you a smile that made your chest swell, and left the temple. Wherever she was going, she certainly looked like she was on a mission.

The rest of the time spent was discussing whether to move onto basic combos or ensure he knows his offensive and defensive techniques. Well, it was supposed to be that, halfway through Monkey King got bored and started showing off his favorite soap opera to you.

Another thing to learn, the fabled Great Sage loves watching soap operas.

○ ○ ○

Above all, the last, and most annoying thing you learned, was—

“Boo!”

“Gah!”

You whip around, knife in hand, aiming to stab the intruder behind you. Your wrist is quickly caught, and you make eye contact with a shocked Monkey King.

The most annoying thing you learned was his lack of using the fucking front door.

Monkey King lets out a sharp whistle, laughing, “Jeez, firecracker! You got some reflexes!” He lets you go and scoots over to your side, looking around the kitchen.

You point the knife in his direction in a vague threat. “I’ve told you before not to sneak up on me. How did you even get in?”

He huffs a laugh through his nose, pushing the knife away with his index finger with his head tilted. “You left the window open.” To emphasize, he points his tail towards the window in the kitchen—the one you left open because it was a nice day outside. “Was just a simple little ladybug, fluttering in.”

With a roll of your eyes, you place the knife down, saying, “You’re lucky Uncle’s having a session with Sandy on his boat right now, otherwise he would’ve warded you.”

“Hah! He can certainly try.”

You take a second to look him over, noting his attire wasn’t his usual Monkey King garb. This one seemed to be a red tunic with yellow-gold trimming along the collar and sleeves, and beautiful green embroidery flaring out from the shoulders down the sleeves. His black bottom pants were tightly wrapped and tied with a red cloth belt at the calves, and a green sash tied around his waist.

It seemed so casual compared to the fancy, armored garb he usually wore.

“You done takin’ it all in? Heh, choose a casual outfit one time, and suddenly you’re all eyes.”

Your nose scrunches up at his sly grin, and you turn away from him, facing the ingredients laid out before you and beginning to mince the scallions. “I was going to say it looked nice on you, but since you decided to make an ass of yourself twice, I’m going to rescind the statement.”

“What? Aw—c’mon! It was just a joke, firecracker.” Monkey King tried tilting his body to look you in the eye, but you refused to acknowledge him, instead focusing on your ingredients.

“Maybe if you started using the front door like a civilized Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, I’d be willing to consider changing my mind.” You wave your free hand at him. “Did your mother teach you to enter someone’s house through their window and sneak up on them?”

Monkey King sputters, nearly stumbling over his own feet. “Bringing my mama in on this? Low blow, firecracker! I learned all that on my own, thank you!” He puffs his chest out proudly. “Sheeee tried to get me to stop. It didn’t work.”

You snort, shaking your head. “That’s obvious, Great Sage.”

“So… if I knock properly, I’ll get my compliment…” He mumbles to himself, certainly looking like he was seriously considering doing just that. His eyes shine with mischief and joy, before he pushes himself off the counter. He walks to the front door while you watched, dumbfounded and jaw dropping.

“Great Sage—”

He’s already stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

He seriously isn’t…

Knock—knock.

He is. By the gods, he is.

You walk to the front door and open it, staring at him. He had a glamour disguise on, but still bore that proud, stupid grin. “Weeeeell?”

“Seriously?”

“Have I ever done anything not serious?”

“Oh I can think of plenty. Do you want a list or an essay?” You cross your arms, raising your chin at him.

His smile doesn’t falter one bit, eyes still shining with that joyous mischief. “An essay with a hundred words or less!”

“I’ve written college essays longer than that. I’ll do six hundred words and have it done by next week, then.” Even if you tried, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face and the small chuckle. “Okay, okay, fine. I give you props for committing.” You gesture for him to come back inside, saying, “Didn’t know you’d go to such lengths for a compliment.”

“I just wanted to see the look on your face. Hah! It was hilarious, you looked so shocked that I actually went through with it!” He laughs, leaning back against the counter.

You roll your eyes and get back to mincing. “Mhm. Well, I’m a human of my word, so… the outfit looks good on you, Great Sage. The craftsmanship is beautiful.”

You hear his tail go thump, thump, thump against the cabinets before he catches himself. Another thing to learn, his tail certainly shows his true emotions. Initially, when first meeting Miss Lihua, you figured his active tail was just from nerves. Looks like even when he’s excited, his tail will show it off.

Monkey King clears his throat and says with a laugh, “Yes—well! Heh, thanks. Haven’t worn it in a while and was kinda getting tired of the same old fancy stuff.” He leans over, eyeing up the ingredients. “Sooooo… watcha doin’?”

“Making lion’s head meatballs.” You finish mincing the scallions and place them into a mixing bowl on the side, saying, “Mei won the Great Wall Race yesterday. MK wanted to celebrate, and he wants me there. So Uncle and I are gonna be getting together at Pigsy’s Noodles and making a big banquet for her as congratulations tomorrow night.”

“You don’t seem all too happy about being invited,” Monkey King notes with a chuckle.

Your face scrunches up, a quiet, annoyed groan leaving you. “Social gatherings are not my strong suit, especially when it comes to parties,” you quietly admit. You start mincing the ginger, saying, “But it’s mostly for MK since he asked.”

“And not for Mei, the big winner of the Great Wall Race?” He crosses his arms, tail swiping an apple from the fruit basket. “So cold, firecracker.”

“Mei’s a good kid, but—” you pause, hum, then settle with, “—but I can’t really see her as a friend at the moment. I don’t know her well, and she’s… a little too energetic for someone like me.”

“Oh?” He takes a bite from the apple, asking, “And MK isn’t too energetic for ya?”

You shrug, setting the minced ginger aside and—once the blade was cleaned—begin to use the hand-chopping method Uncle Zan showed you to grind the meat. “It’s like we discussed a couple of weeks back, remember? He just has this way of knowing how people are feeling without being a complete empath. He can calm it down for people like me—who like a quiet setting. Besides, MK’s only energetic because of Mei.”

Monkey King watches you set the knife aside and grab the mixing bowl, beginning to put in all the ingredients. You say, “I’m willing to deal with a somewhat draining social experience if it means helping MK support his friend. Even if I’m not the closest with Mei, she put a lot of hard work and training into this race, and I am proud of her for winning. So the least I can do is give her a congratulation.”

“Heh, you’re such a softie.” He lightly elbows you, taking another bite from the apple.

You scoff and roll your eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, you elbow him back and say, “Says the monkey who falls for MK’s puppy eyes.”

The retort had him sputtering and coughing on the apple, punching at his chest. He gives you a look of pure incredulousness and even a hint of playful betrayal. “H—Hey! I don’t fall for his puppy eyes—you do!”

You look at him with a small smirk and a raised brow. “Mhm? Last I remember, you caved pretty hard when MK was on his knees and staring at you with those big old eyes, asking to learn a more advanced technique he clearly wasn’t ready for.”

“Uh—yeah—well—that’s because…”

“Oh, what’s wrong, Great Sage? Are you actually at a loss for words? That’s a first.”

“The lesson was—to show him that he’s—uh—clearly not ready for that technique! Yeah, that’s it.” He nods with a proud smile. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said a few months back that he learns through visuals and by doing, rather than being told?”

“A good retort, if it weren’t for the fact that I was there and saw the look on your face.” You start whipping all the ingredients, saying, “You looked oh so pained because you probably imagined the sad look on his face, didn’t you?”

“Ugh— okay, okay, fine! You wiiiiin. Heavens, you’re so stubborn.” Finishing off the apple, he tosses the core into the trash bin and watches you. “Soooo…”

“Are you gonna do that every time you want to start a conversation with me?” A sigh escapes you, turning to look at him. “You don’t do it to MK, so why me?”

“I don’t know if you want a conversation or not!” Monkey King shrugs sheepishly, scratching at his head. “Sometimes you’re fine to chat and other times you’re ready to rip my head off if I breathe in your general direction,” he laughs at the look on your face. “You always have this blank look on your face and hardly ever emote. Soooo, I just figured I’d start like that.”

“You can always just ask me, you know; like how you ask if I’m fine with being touched.” You turn away again to focus on whipping the ingredients. “I know I don’t emote very much, but I try to make it clear whether I’m up for a conversation or not.”

“Hah, coulda fooled me, mx quiet and working on notes all the time.”

You roll your eyes at his grin and nod to a can of water chestnuts. “How about, instead of making excuses, you be useful and grab that for me, will you?” As he does, you wash your hands and get the can open, taking a few water chestnuts out and beginning to mash them with the flat side of your knife.

You say, “Okay, look, I didn’t—” you pause, then sigh “—being a clairvoyant with uncontrollable visions, I didn’t exactly grow up with a lot of friends. Most kids would just deem me the weird one and avoid me. And the friends I did have were…” Another pause, but longer this time. Your eyes lower to the knife in your hand—

at her throat

a river of red running down her neck

demands made or others get hurt

yet they get hurt anyway just to be an example

with you left to take the blame

—unpleasant memories resurfacing. You close your eyes and breathe. In, then out. You say, “They were… used as bargaining chips. Those that—survived such things drifted apart.” You feel Monkey King’s eyes on you, but with you refusing to look at him, you don’t see the sadness in his eyes.

You keep talking, “It was for the best. It wasn’t safe for them, and they shouldn’t throw their life away just to be loyal to me… Suffice to say, I got used to doing a lot of things on my own.”

At first, he doesn’t say anything, most likely taking it all in. “Sounds lonely,” he finally hums, eyeing up the butcher block and taking out a knife to inspect it.

“It was, at first, I can’t lie about that,” you admit quietly. Then you shrug and say, “But I kinda just got used to it, over time. I had little access to the internet while I lived in America, so I had little online friends—and those I did, we kinda just naturally drifted apart due to my… ‘active lifestyle’.”

“Heh, I get that.” He scoots beside you, eyeing up the chestnuts and reaching over to grab one before you slap his hand. “Ah—hey, c’mon! I can’t help?”

Turning to him, you now notice the knife he held—and made a very obvious gesture towards. You huff, saying, “Maybe make that known first? I thought you were just gonna take one to eat.”

He sticks his tongue out in disgust, “Eugh, no way. Not raw like this, at least.” He snatches one and starts smashing and mincing it, just like how you were doing. You note the way he holds the knife isn’t just casual or beginner, but a lot like those professional cooking videos you’ve seen.

Interesting, he probably knows how to cook, or is excellent at copying my movements.

He says, “But, hey. Life may have been lonely before, but you got people now.” He lightly elbows your arm. “Your uncle, MK, Mr. Pigsy… they’re good people.”

“I know I have people, it’s… a lot to process and accept after all these years, but I’m learning.” You exhale quietly through your nostrils. “It’ll be a little while before I’m… convinced that the people close to me will be safe.”

“They will be. That I can promise you.” Monkey King lightly elbows you again, his voice as soft as the smile he held. “Whether you protect them or MK does, or even if they protect themselves—they’ll be safe.”

You don’t answer at first, focusing more on mincing as your mind wanders momentarily. 

Logically, you trusted everyone in your social group to be capable of protecting themselves. Yet the other side, the more emotional side riddled with trauma of watching people you cared for have various weapons pointed at them or killed in front of you makes you hesitate. You don’t care if people call you paranoid—because you are, but not as much as Uncle Zan—because it was that paranoia that’s kept you alive and safe, and other people alive and safe.

Monkey King was right, it has been lonely these last few years. Just because you got used to it, doesn’t mean you liked it. This life wasn’t something you wanted or asked for. But it was something…

…

You glance at him, feeling his eyes on you. He asks, “Soooomethin’ on your mind, firecracker?”

The tone he held and the look in his eyes was like a door cracked open. You were allowed to walk through if you wanted to, but of course you hesitated. Talking to people about yourself deeper than surface level meant getting close. Getting close to people meant they would be used as bargaining chips.

This wasn’t the first and won’t be the last time someone has done this for you. Plenty of others in America tried to stubbornly stay by your side, but ultimately failed. Yet… the look in his eyes was secure, grounding. Almost like he was reassuring you like how Uncle Zan did, like how your tarot cards did.

This time will be different. It’ll be okay.

He’s not perfect, but he’s working on it.

Don’t keep it all to yourself.

…

It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Mm…” you turn away, keeping your eyes cast down to your task. “It’s—complicated. Your words don’t fall on deaf ears, believe me. I understand I have people, I understand they can care for themselves, but…”

“But?”

You purse your lips, close your eyes and sigh, “There’s a difference between understanding and actually taking it in, you know? I’ve spent a large majority of my young adult and adult life just—learning to keep people at arm’s length.”

You and him finished mincing the water chestnuts long ago. Now you’re staring at the cutting board while he stares at you. It felt a mixture of uncomfortable, yet also comforting. “It’s difficult to accept that it’s going to be different this time, when all I have in my memories are those promises being proven wrong.”

You turn to face him now. He’s still staring at you, through you, reading every last inch of your language. You unconsciously shifted on your feet, averting your gaze for a moment before locking eyes with him again. Is this how other people felt when you read them? Jeez.

You hold up a finger as you notice Monkey King about to say something, “Just because I have these experiences from the past, doesn’t mean I’m going to let them completely control me.” You cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “It’s going to be a slippery slope for all of us, but… I’m already seeing the differences. The precautions being made, the wards being put up, MK taking certain ‘less exciting’ training more seriously. Also knowing that the Bull Family doesn’t know where me or Uncle are. It—helps quiet my paranoia.”

Monkey King nods slowly. He reaches out, fingers grazing your elbow, coaxing you to look at him again. He says, “Actions speak louder than words, firecracker. And I’m a monkey of action. I’ll tell you and show you that things this time around will be different.” His fist lightly connects with your shoulder, offering a lopsided grin. “You’ve already been through enough, you deserve to have a good time, ya know?”

You huff, not a laugh but not completely a scoff. After a brief hesitation, you punch at his arm. “You sound like Uncle and my tarot cards.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem to believe me!” He lets out a hearty laugh. “Seriously, though. I’m a monkey of my word. I’ll do what I can to help out. I’m not just here for MK, ya know?”

You let out a soft hum. “I know. Like I said, it’s gonna take some time to really take it all in, but… the words are appreciated, nonetheless.” You pause, a question forming in your mind as you look over his features. You ask, “What about you?”

Monkey King tilts his head, brows furrowing. “What about me?”

You turn away to add the water chestnuts into the mixture. “Mr. Great Sage and all… I’m assuming the recent years have been pretty lonely, yeah? You have people now, too. Not just your mother.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, as if contemplating your words. Then he lets out a loud snort. “Pffft! Lonely, me? Never!” He laughs and returns to his mincing. “I got my mama and little monkey siblings and that’s enough for me. No offense to you or the kid, mind.”

You already could tell from the way he quickly said it that it was a lie. Otherwise, he wouldn’t pester you as much as he did these past months. But you choose not to press further than that, giving a simple, “Hmm, alright.”

No words are exchanged for a little while afterward, Monkey King uncharacteristically quiet. Sometimes a passing comment would be made, or asking for his assistance—since he pretty much just strong-armed his way into helping you cook the meatballs. Otherwise, nothing too deep was discussed.

As the meatballs were cooked in a pot of heated oil, you kept stealing glances at Monkey King, finding your mind wandering.

There was much you knew about him already, and more you learned and most likely will continue to learn. One thing you can tell straight away from that talk alone was that he was certainly a lot lonelier than he makes himself out to be. If his eagerness to be part of an activity isn’t obvious enough, then the way he tries to persuade you or MK to do something with him sure was.

Someone as charismatic as him… he didn’t get that from being alone. He got it from being with others, and not just his monkey family.

Thousands of years of being with family and friends and teachers alike… Suddenly having all of them gone—either through being killed, dying naturally, or otherwise—can leave one to have a heavy desire to fill that empty space again.

You could tell he was close already with the monkeys hanging around his temple, and you’re sure it’s doubly so for the ones back at Flower Fruit. But there’s a stark difference between the company of a family of animals and being around actual people. No offense to them, of course.

In your short interaction with Miss Lihua, you could equally see how much he cared about her and loved her company—even missed it, implying they hadn’t seen one another in a long time. Just her isn’t enough to scratch the itch someone like Monkey King has when it comes to social interactions.

The monkeys are sweet, and seem more intelligent than most primates. It’s difficult to describe the feeling given when talking to people—but you’re sure he’s felt it, especially after all the training sessions with MK and the times he’s spoken with you. It sure as hell was very obvious now just how badly he craved that human interaction again after he practically broke into your house just to spend time with you while MK was busy.

Does he really have just his mother left out of all of them? What happened to the other monkeys on Flower Fruit?

I only know the bare bones about his story, and even then, most of it is just his Journey… anything before that is a guessing game.

“Sooooo…”

There it was.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” He asks.

“Mm?” You blink, looking at him now as the last of the meatballs are finished.

“You had a pretty thoughtful look on your face, firecracker. Figured you’d want a minute to let those thoughts stew. Buuuut it’s also been quiet for too long, and I’m bored, so—” he shrugs “—what’s on your mind?”

You tilt your head, contemplating whether to actually say it outright. You decide against it, for now, though. You may have stepped through the cracked door Monkey King left for you, but he chose to stay on the other side when you offered the same. It seems he’s not quite ready yet to open up about himself, which you don’t blame him.

“Well…” You hum softly, looking down. A subject comes to mind, so you pick that, “Actually, I was wondering what other blessings there were.” You look at him now, saying, “Back with the Bull Family, they asked which blessing I had… I didn’t even know there were others aside from my visions.”

“Oh… oh!” Monkey King grins, clapping his hands together. “Well! You see—there are actually a lot of different blessings the heavens give you humans.” He pokes you on the nose, laughing when you slap his hand away.

His tail flicks in the air, curling thoughtfully as he taps at his chin. “Hmm… well, the clairvoyants are the obvious ones, others… oh! I forgot the official term the celestials call ‘em, but healers are heaven-blessed as well.” He scratches at his side. “Sure, healing magic can be taught and all that stuff, but it’s super difficult to learn. There are a lot of different ways an injury could be healed.”

“Like what?” You ask, beginning to place the cooled meatballs into a container.

“It’s hard to put into words…” He taps his chin again, making a face as he thinks. “There’s the standard healing someone’s injuries with your own magic, then there’s this thing they can do… such as pulling the injury away and into yourself.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “So… say someone has a cut on their hand, and you’re the one healing it, you could just… make it so the cut’s on your hand instead?”

“Yup! It’s a tit-for-tat kinda deal. Transference is usually only recommended if you have no other choice. It takes the least amount of energy to do, but at the cost of you getting those injuries instead,” he explains with various hand gestures. “There’s quite literal lie detectors, good luck charms, those blessed with wisdom and clarity…” He says, counting on his fingers. “Trust me when I say there’s quite a bit, I don’t really remember them all.”

“I see…” You hum, cleaning up the kitchen. “Are… any of them as highly sought after as clairvoyants are?”

Monkey King looks at you, tilting his head. He doesn’t answer at first, his eyes roaming your posture. Then, after a silence longer than you’re comfortable with, he says, “It’ll be hard to believe, but yeah. A lot of heaven-blessed are desired by a lot of different types of demons. Clairvoyants, healers, and those who had unnatural good luck were the most sought after, though…”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, due to how little of you there are left, clairvoyants have been more desired than the rest… if this were back in the day, you’d be better off.”

“Think I’d be way better off if I was a good luck charm instead. Or a lie detector,” you mumble, unable to stop yourself from sounding bitter.

Whether Monkey King sensed it or not, he made no show. Instead, he snorted and lightly bumped his shoulder against yours. “I dunno, I’d say I’m preeeeetty lucky havin’ you as my assistant. Who knows? Maybe you are a good luck charm!”

You roll your eyes, lightly elbowing him out of your space. “Yeah, yeah… flattery doesn’t work on me, Great Sage.” Even so, you won’t deny your appreciation for him making the subject lighthearted. The bitterness you still feel will be hard to get rid of, but you’re glad for small moments like these to make it easier.

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and you hear Uncle Zan calling out, “Nibby, I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Uncle! In the kitchen right now, and we have a guest,” you holler back, turning to grab yourself a plum.

Uncle walks into the kitchen, smiling and giving your hair a light ruffle. “I know already—I had a brief vision of his sudden visit on my way off Sandy’s boat.” He turns to Monkey King and bows deeply. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Great Sage. I deeply appreciate you helping MK and my nibbling.”

Monkey King clears his throat, letting out a sputter of a laugh. “Geez, I keep forgetting how polite you clairvoyants are, hah!” Once Uncle Zan stands straight, Monkey King says, “It’s no trouble—just the Great Sage being great and all. I’m sure there’s plenty that both firecracker and MK can learn from me.”

“Unfortunately it looks like humbleness isn’t one of them,” you mutter as you clean up the mess.

“What?! I am so humble!” He squawks, puffing his chest out with pride. “I’m the humblest monkey you’ll ever meet!”

Uncle laughs, “Either way, it is admirable that you are taking MK as your successor.”

“Eh? Admirable?” Monkey King scratches at his cheek. “Admirable as in I’m taking the time out of my very busy schedule to train him? Absolutely! Unless you meant something else by it, Uncle.”

“Admirable because you recognize your own time has come to an end, and it’s time for a new chapter to begin. Yours was a long one, was it not?” His smile stays welcoming and gentle. He didn’t point out Monkey King calling him ‘uncle’ so easily either, but you can tell from the certain shine in his eye he caught it immediately.

He says, “You’ve taken a large step forward admitting that this has become too tiresome for you. Not many are able to accept such a thing, believing it's their eternal burden to bear. And to take on help as well, equally admirable.”

Monkey King clears his throat, his tail whipping behind him before he grabs onto it to pick at some stray hairs. “Heh—well, ya know—it’s nothin’, really.”

You raise a brow, looking between him and Uncle Zan, who simply smiles. Is Monkey King really just that easily flustered by genuine compliments or praise? You didn’t expect him to be able to even get flustered. Yet, also looking at Uncle’s expression, you felt like there was more to it than just that. Rather than pry, you decide to keep quiet.

Uncle Zan pats your head, giving your hair a light ruffle once again. “I will be in my office for a little while—I have phone calls to make and appointments to arrange. Call if either of you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle.” Once you hear the door to his office shutting, you turn to face Money King. “I didn’t know it was possible for the almighty and powerful Monkey King to get flustered like that.”

“Pff—what—flustered? Me?? Hah! Never in your life!” He crosses his arms and turns away, but you can see the deeper shades of red dusting along his cheeks.

You press on, a small grin pulling at your lips, “Are you sure? Because it sure looked like you were getting flustered when Uncle was praising you—”

“Oh, wow, look at that! Something else that’s not this!” He grabs your shoulders and pushes you along to the living room and onto the couch. He grabs the remote with his tail and takes a seat beside you, browsing through several channels.

You scoot a foot away from him, crossing your arms. So he was gonna play that game, huh? Fine, you’ll drop it for now. You never knew someone like him would become so flustered like that, nor did you think it was possible for him to be more susceptible to teasing right after. It can be a fun note to keep in your back pocket, however.

You lean back on the sofa, listening to him ramble for a solid thirty minutes about that same soap opera from a few days ago, going into extensive detail of each character in the series and what their motives were. You were only half listening to it all, if you were being honest, letting out some small hums to let him continue on. Your mind couldn’t help but fall to wandering to everything that’s been going on. From MK’s training, to your own personal training, to the premonitions you’ve had, to learning more and more about Monkey King with each passing day.

Not to mention the fact that your life here has been so different from how it was in America. You were so used to just… being alone in all of this, with the only support system being your parents before they died. Small groups of friends never lasted long, both because of your premonition issues and the fact you moved too much to ever truly settle and permanently befriend anyone. It wasn’t like you wanted to, anyway, not after the thousandth time it happened.

Now, though… things are so different. Never once did you think or expect a life like this waiting for you after everything that’s happened.

It’s as if you’ve been trying to shove a puzzle piece that didn’t belong on a specific puzzle for years, desperately trying to force it into place, only to just now find out that it belonged to a whole different puzzle altogether. It may fit a little lopsidedly, but it still fits, and now all you have to do is find the rest of the pieces to put this puzzle called a life together for yourself.

As odd a feeling as it is, finally finding what was needed for yourself, it’s… nice. It fills you with a confidence you haven’t felt in what feels like a lifetime. Like the weight that’s rested so heavily on your shoulders is slowly but surely being lifted. It’s still there, still overbearing at times, but you’ve noticed how lighter it feels during certain moments.

It’s a nice feeling, one you—

“Ghhhk!”

THUMP!

The sound of something heavy colliding with the floor rips you from your thoughts. You look around, quickly taking notice that Monkey King wasn’t present in the room anymore. Did he step away while you were spacing out?

You hurry to your feet, rushing to where you heard the sound and ending up at Uncle Zan’s office.

Oh, no… don’t tell me that idiot harassed Uncle while he was busy with work.

The door was cracked, and you saw a body on the floor twitching. Pushing the door open further, your jaw drops at the sight of Monkey King laying on the ground with Uncle Zan standing over him, eyes blown wide and gripping a taser in his hand.

“Uncle—what—you—you just fucking tased the Great Sage!”

Uncle takes a breath, his trembling hand stilling and he clears his throat. “Yes—well—you see—” he places the taser back on his desk. “He snuck up on me and thought it’d be a fun prank to startle me.” He kneels by Monkey King, saying, “A good thing my reflexes are still on the up and up after so long, at least—ah, Great Sage? How are you feeling? Can you move?”

You kneel on Monkey King’s other side. You place your hand on his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t convulse too much, but thankfully it seems he’s already calming down from it. “You tried scaring my uncle—the most paranoid man in China—as a prank? Are you insane?!”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t say I’m the most paranoid,” Uncle argues, but it holds little ground.

“H—Hah—” Monkey King wheezes, his fingers twitching and flexing, “—what—did you use to power that baby?” He coughs, slowly moving and getting to his feet. “Wow! Wow, wow, wow! Hahaha, I haven’t felt— oof —something like that in a millennium!” He laughs, loud and hearty, leaning forward until he takes Uncle Zan’s offer to lean on him for support.

You keep a firm grip on Monkey King’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t fall over. “I cannot believe a normal taser actually did something to you. I thought it was just gonna be a little tickle for you.”

“Haha, well,” Uncle Zan rubs his hands together, an anxious tick he has, “I may have had Sandy amplify the power of our tasers so they’re more suitable for demons and supernatural creatures rather than humans.” He pauses, then looks at you. “You didn’t use it on a human, did you?”

You blink, giving him a confused look. “What—of course not. I haven’t had a need to.”

“Okay, okay, that’s good. Because it would kill an ordinary human.”

“It would what?!” Before Uncle could go into explaining, you throw your hands up. “Ya know what? I’m not even surprised at this point, considering all the traps and wards you have around here.”

Monkey King stands tall, laughing again, “Hahaaaa, that’s amazing. Hey, hey, Uncle, tase me again!”

“Absolutely not,” Uncle Zan helps ensure Monkey King’s face doesn’t meet the floor again. “It will still hurt you, and it’s extremely disrespectful and rude to bring harm to my own guest. Ah, I’m sincerely sorry for that, Great Sage.”

“He kinda deserved it for sneaking up on you, Uncle.” You go to Monkey King’s other side, just in case he needed more assistance, but it seems he was recovering very quickly from it. His fur still stood on end, but he’s standing more straight now and is slowly relaxing his muscles.

“Eh—I thought it’d be funny. Oh well, guess that’s what I get for sneaking up on a paranoid clairvoyant,” Monkey King shrugs with a big smile, beginning to smooth out his own fur.

“Twice,” you correct.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You and Uncle Zan look at each other, both letting out a small sigh. Uncle says, “If I may be bold, please do not do that again. I would very much like to not tase the Great Sage more than once in my life.”

“Sure, sure.” Monkey King waves his hand. “Won’t happen again, Sage’s honor.”

“Good, thank you.” Uncle dusts off Monkey King’s tunic. “Now, off you two go. I have meetings to arrange with clients,” he says before shooing you two out of his office.

“Your uncle’s a cool guy,” Monkey King hops back onto the sofa, getting comfortable as he smooths out the rest of his fur.

“Mm.” You sit arm’s length away from him. “He is.”

“Now! Where were we?” Once again, he goes on his rant about the soap opera still airing on the television. This time you listened with a bit more intent, to avoid him getting bored again at your spacing out. You’d rather avoid him attempting to pull another prank on you or your uncle today, so you think it’s best to humor him for now.

Even still, the enthusiasm he carried with his chatting was a bit fun to listen to. Within the hour, you found yourself making your own quiet commentary with Monkey King’s more loud and energetic commentary. Your involvement only added to it, it seems, as he had a much bigger smile on his face the rest of the time he spent with you in your home.

As strange and unfamiliar all of this was… it was nice. This was nice.

In time, you felt you could get used to this.

Chapter Text

It’s not often that the powerful and “handsome” (as he likes to put it) Great Sage Equal to Heaven asks for assistance. Especially so openly. Granted, given how he’s admitted that he’ll have trouble training MK with certain topics, you can’t blame him too much.

If anything, you’re just shocked he decided to take his day of visiting you to actually make mention of it. While Uncle was still busy with making calls or answering emails, you and Monkey King finished the most recent episode of his favorite soap opera (called Tangled Tales of the Tea House, he proudly reminded you).

Now it was just reruns and commercials, a brief silence falling between you that lasted a solid… three minutes. You commend Monkey King for lasting that long, honestly.

“Sooooo…” He pats his hands on his knees, leaning back against the sofa. “I… miiiiiight need your help with something involving the cub.”

You look at him, raising a brow. “The Monkey King, asking me for help?”

“Okay, okay, don’t rub it in so much.” He crosses his arms with a pout. “I’ve tried already to talk to the kid about this topic before he started helping Mei with the Great Wall Race. I tried several times, even, and he didn’t listen.”

You tilt your head, nodding for him to continue. He does, saying, “Remember how we were going to practice his focusing skills? Yeah, so originally my plan was to have him start making his own schedule that he can follow, that way he can still get the stuff he wants to be done while maintaining his training regiment.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, but wanted to hear what Monkey King had to say. If anything, you’re glad he’s taking his job as a teacher and mentor to MK more seriously than he was prior. Though you won’t praise him out loud just yet, it’ll get to his head and then the track of the conversation will be completely lost. “But?”

He rubs his face and groans, his tail swishing about with his growing annoyance. “I talked to him about it the day after you met Mama. We even went through several steps about what could be done for his schedule while you were busy helping Uncle with his shit. He said he would do his best to follow his schedule. Buuut…” He sighs, “The kid has been stretched so thin between leisure time, work time, and training time. Dragon girl certainly isn’t helping, either.” 

“Of fucking course,” you mutter with a shake of your head. “Added onto the fact MK was Mei’s support while she prepared for the Great Wall Race, it was a lot of bad timing and circumstances…” You idly rub at your chin, staring at the coffee table and narrowed eyes. “Then again, he has a lot of trouble saying no to people, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, thank the heavens, I’m not the only one to notice that!” Monkey King throws his hands in the air in mock cheer and nods to you. “He’s awful at it! Every time he tries to put his foot down, he caves at the last second and just—goes along with it, no matter how exhausted he is.”

“Yeah, I noticed it pretty early on with him and Mei especially.” You pinch your chin with your index finger and thumb, looking at him. “You said you’ve already tried talking to him?”

That’s where he averts his gaze and scratches at his neck. You stand to start some tea for you both, him speaking up while you’re in the kitchen, “Look—I can’t keep being the one to tell him all this stuff. I already told him, like, a thousand times before just giving up and staying out of the way.” His shoulders slump. “He’s not going to listen to just me with this particular subject, because it’s one of those things that’s… eh, how do you put it…”

“You need multiple people telling you something to make you realize that maybe something’s wrong?” You offer, grabbing the teacups and kettle. You lean against the counter, looking at him as he leans over the sofa and nods.

“Exactly that!” Monkey King rubs at his face, tugging at his bottom eyelids for emphasis. “Not to mention that even if he did listen to me—it just shows that he values my opinion over everyone else’s. How many times has he listened to me over you when we both said the exact same thing?”

“Mm, that makes a lot of sense now that you say it out loud.” You start sifting through the tea containers as you say, “Alright, I’ll see what I can do about it.” Maybe you should talk to Tang and Mr. Pigsy too, see if you can get an opinion from either of them about it. Whether or not those two actually said something to MK is still up in the air right now, though.

You face Monkey King. He had a thoughtful look, his tail curling and flicking off to the side. Though whatever it was he wanted to ask, he decided against it. Instead, he says, “Great! One less thing this monkey has to worry about.” He chuckles, leaning back against the sofa.

You roll your eyes and get the tea set up for you and Monkey King. You’ll check in on MK during the little party he’s throwing for Mei. If it’s as bad as Monkey King claims, then you’ll figure out what to do afterward.

For now, you’ll just figure out how to entertain this energetic monkey.

○ ○ ○

Okay, after the party for Mei (which was fun, but draining), you can definitely see how tired MK is looking. The circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and even if he had some energy to him, it certainly wasn’t as much as he’d usually have when around Mei. You caught him nearly falling asleep at one point during the big dinner with everyone, and it took a poke to his side to wake him up.

Suffice to say, you didn’t need to see much to determine what needed to be done. After seeing it for yourself, you won’t lie that you were worried about MK. Even if Wukong didn’t go into full detail, you already had a pretty good idea on how MK worked.

Being a kid who hated disappointing others, it often meant putting his own things aside to help those in need. That also meant that whatever he had planned is almost always thrown to the wayside, leaving him to do one of two things. Either one) he’ll try to cram the work he planned into the day he spent doing other things for people and leaving him exhausted. Or two) put it off for a different day, which would—in the end—leave him to never get it done, thus making him more stressed and more tired.

Hence, why you’re on the way to Pigsy's Noodles today to have a chat with MK. You might as well try to do some extra digging with the others while you’re on the way there. You pull your phone out after taking a seat on the bus and pull up your text messages.

You:
Hey Mei, are you busy?

Mei:
hey hey hey!! ヾ(＾∇＾)
i’m not busy
what’s up?

You:
I just wanted to ask if you noticed anything odd with MK.
Has he been acting off recently?

Mei:
Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)
i don’t think so?
like he’s been takin more naps when we hang out at my place
so i guess?
but i haven’t really noticed too much other than that??

You:
I see… okay, thanks.

Mei:
no problem! hey hey we should totally hang out, too!

You:
Maybe another time, sorry.
Gotta finish a few things first.

Mei:
okaaaaaay…
i’m holding you up to that though!

You pinch at the bottom of your lip, idly tugging at it in thought as you look through your texts with Mei. She may have not noticed anything too weird with MK aside from him being tired, but it’s highly possible he hasn’t told her. Or he has told her, and she’s just chosen not to mention it. The list of reasons is a mile long, but you’d just waste time speculating.

For now, you’ll simply mark Mei as being clueless of the situation.

You tap at your phone, messaging the next person on your list.

You:
Hey Sandy, can I ask you a question?

Sandy:
sure teacup! something the matter?

You:
Sort of. It’s about MK. Has he been acting off recently?

…

Sandy:
well
uh
he has…
just a little

You:
Can you elaborate?

Sandy:
it’s not really my business…
but i gotta say I’m worried for him

You:
Did something happen?

Sandy:
nothing serious! it’s more ah
i asked him to help me with repainting my boat a couple times
and you already know, painting boats takes a long time!

You:
Mhm.

Sand:
we finished sometime last week on putting the protective coat on the old girl
but the last time he came by he thought i asked for more help again
even though the time prior when we finished, i told him it was perfect and didn’t need anything else added
i gotta say, when i took a look at him he really looked like he needed some of my sleepy time tea

You:
Did he make any mention of doing favors for others or just you?

Sandy:
not to me no
he only thought i asked for more help
is he okay?

You:
Right now? No. But he will be.

Sandy:
you need any help, teacup?

You:
Maybe send some of that sleepy time tea to Mr. Pigsy when you can for MK.
I’m already on my way there and plan to have a chat with him.

Sandy:
just what has he been up to??

You:
Honestly? I don’t know. But I have an idea…
I think he’s just taking on way more than he can handle right now and can’t say no to anyone.

Sandy:
oh boy…
been there done that
not a fun time
i’ll be sure to get some tea set up for mk and send it as soon as I can!
how have you been btw?

You:
Thanks, Sandy.
As for me, I’m fine.
It’s been a bit hectic, but I’m getting used to the flow of this new “job”.
If that’s the word that can be used when working with Great Sage.

Sandy:
glad to hear teacup <3
never be afraid to ask for help
you have more supporters than your brain likes to make you think!

You smile softly at the message. Sandy’s always such a sweetheart. Even if he doesn’t fully know or understand your troubles, he’s still so sweet to make sure you’re doing okay without being overly suffocating. You really should take a day to spend with him in thanks. Maybe bake or cook him something.

Mentally penning that for another day, you start up a new message.

You:
Hey Tang, are you busy?

…

…

Tang:
Oh, no no, I’m available! I’m getting lunch at Pigsy's Noodles right now, would it be easier to meet there, or…?

You:
That’s perfect, actually, because I wanted to talk to Mr. Pigsy as well. Do you know if MK’s there, too?

Tang:
Yeah, he’s taking a nap in his room right now. The lad’s exhausted.

You:
So I’ve heard. That’s what I wanted to talk about, but I’m almost at the restaurant, so I’ll save it for when I get there.

Tang:
Sounds fine to me!
Would you like Mr. Pigsy to make you anything for when you get here?

You:
Mmm… I haven’t tried his version of jajangmyeon yet. Let him know I’ll pay when I arrive.

Tang:
No you don’t, it’ll be on me today. Let me treat you, it’s been a while.

You:
Ah, alright. Thank you, Tang. I’ll see you when I get there.

Tucking your phone into your pocket, you look out the window, but not before catching sight of the shadows beneath your feet moving oddly. Your brows furrow, leaning forward to get a better look. You don’t notice anything anymore, which only makes you more weirded out. You take subtle glances around the bus in search of some rat or even someone’s pet, but you don’t find anyone or anything.

You hear a quiet snicker behind you, making you look, but you catch nothing.

Is Monkey King fucking with me…?

Or is it just some other asshole?

Your frown deepens, leaning back in your bus seat.

“Jumpy one, aren’t you?” A voice whispers behind you. You sit up straight, your spine going stiff. Slowly, you turn your head, but no one was there.

…

What or who is messing with you right now?

Your eyes narrow, glancing out the window when you notice you’re nearing your destination. As the bus slows to a stop, you prepare to hop off. Finally, when the doors open, you don’t waste another second to hurry off the rest of the way to Pigsy's Noodles.

Who was that? And how could I have not seen them?

You pinch at your chin with your thumb and index finger, staring at the sidewalk as you think. The moment was so brief, it could’ve easily been brushed off as someone talking to somebody else. Yet… it felt as though it was directed at you, especially with how the voice mentioned the individual being “jumpy.”

You won’t deny you can be… a little jumpy when it comes to things like that, especially after being fucked with by demons (and fey) alike for years in America. You’ve learned quickly to look at the signs and try to find out if you’re the target or if you soon will be.

It hits you as the sign for Pigsy's Noodles comes into sight.

Your shadow moving, as if on its own accord…

The shadow demon…

Are they making a move now? When are they going to make themselves fully known or seen? Too many questions, too many variables, with way too little time to deal with it right now. You run your fingers through your hair, sighing with frustration, before you take a mental note to talk to Monkey King about it.

If only he had a phone, this would be so much easier.

You’ll hound him to get one later. Hopefully the shadow demon won’t interrupt your chat with Tang and Mr. Pigsy. Pushing thoughts about that “prophecy” coming to fruition soon, you focus on the task at hand.

The smell of Mr. Pigsy’s restaurant was the first thing that catches your attention before the neon sign does.  You inhale deeply when stepping into the restaurant, taking in the smell of noodles and exhaling. Two things; one) you’ll never get over the smell of freshly made noodles here. Two) you’ll never be able to fully understand your uncle’s desire to stay inside almost all the time, but to each their own.

Tang calls to you, waving you over to sit at the bar. Mr. Pigsy waves at you as well, then turns away to answer a phone call. When you come closer, Tang stands and holds an arm out to you. It’s a silent offering, his eyebrows raised with a small, hopeful smile.

The guy did love his hugs, huh?

You step closer, pulling him into a hug and exhaling. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he chuckles, but returns the gesture. A pat on the back, then he backs off when your grip loosens. “How are you feeling after that ‘crazy’ celebration party?”

You snort, smoothing out your shirt. “It was draining, but fun, I won’t lie.”

“It’s a lot of work, looking after kids like MK and Mei,” Tang says with a sage-like nod. You both sit on the stools, him sliding the bowl of jajangmyeon to you. “I know it’s been said before, but if there’s anything else you ever need from us, you can just ask, okay? Training an excitable kid like MK can be tough, Monkey King or no. I remember the times I had trouble trying to help teach him history that wasn’t about Monkey King.”

You take the offered chopsticks with a laugh. “You can say that again. I’ve lost count how many times he’s tried to convince Great Sage to let him learn a technique he is not ready for. Thankfully, Great Sage’s head is screwed on well enough to know the kid needs more time.” You offer a small smile to him and say, “I’ll keep your offer in mind, though. Thanks.”

When Mr. Pigsy finishes talking on the phone—most likely taking care of a customer—he turns to you. “Tang told me this is about MK. He’s not in trouble, is he?” He looks you over, raising a brow at you.

You huff, lifting your sunglasses to rest on your head. “No, sir. At least, not with me. I think he’s more in trouble with himself.” You fiddle with your chopsticks before pulling the bowl closer to you. “Can you tell me what’s been going on with him these last few days? I’ve been hearing that he’s overworking himself. I myself have been too busy helping Uncle to really notice, so I thought I’d ask you guys.”

“The better question is what hasn’t gone on with the kid? Overworking is an understatement at this point.” Mr. Pigsy snorts, turning away momentarily to talk to a customer in the outside eating area.

Tang faces you properly, his glasses sliding down his nose a little. “On top of working his usual schedule here, he is also out partying all night with Mei, doing extra work for Mr. Pigsy, and then trying to add in his training regimen is exhausting the lad.” He fixes his glasses before they slide off his face and say, “The last few weeks, he hasn’t been around you and Monkey King for training? He’s been with Mei, either partying or preparing for the race.”

Mr. Pigsy stands closer to you two as he pulls the noodles and preps them for cooking. “I can guarantee you that he’ll be pulling that shit again now that the race is over. And let’s not forget that someone is also asking him for favors, too.”

Tang shrinks suddenly at the pointed stare given to him. “Eh—well—I—I can’t move all those things on my own, and Mother is much too old, and—”

“And all I’m hearing is excuses from you overworking my boy,” Mr. Pigsy waves a flour covered finger at him, before he goes back to cooking. “It’s bad enough Mei is yanking him around at ungodly hours. I don’t need you doin’ that too.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Tang grumbles as he cleans his glasses of the flour that was flung onto him. “It’s exactly why I stopped asking for his help and insisted he rest today.”

“I see,” you sigh, taking a mouthful of noodles as you think. “It’s just as Monkey King told me… Is that everything, or was there more?”

“As far as we know, yeah,” says Mr. Pigsy as he chops up the rest of the ingredients for his dish. Looking over Tang for further confirmation, you notice him tugging at his scarf more than usual, unable to look you in the eye completely.

That’s not suspicious.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh—with me? Nothing, nothing!” He’s laughing too loud for it not to be suspicious. You keep staring. He clears his throat, sweat gathering at his brow. “Please stop looking at me like that. It’s kinda scary.”

“Then tell me the truth,” you state simply, your tone flat.

“Uh—well—you see—it’s uh—I miiiiight have uhm…” He coughs, quickly grabbing at his bowl of noodles—which was more broth than anything now—and slurps at it.

“Tang,” you deadpan, “just tell me and stop avoiding it. Please? It’s for MK’s sake.”

“Ooooh dang it,” Tang sets the bowl aside and rubs at his face. Once fixing his glasses, he says, “I might have had more of a hand at… exhausting the lad…” He pulls his scarf up, covering the bottom half of his face and keeping his head low.

Clearly whatever it was he feels immense guilt over. What in the world could he have possibly done?

You make a small gesture for him to continue, so he does, “The other day he made mention how he wished he could be in multiple places at once… And—haha—well—an expert on the Monkey King such as myself knew… a few tricks that he—uh—could do…”

Oh, no…

“Tang…” You say slowly, almost like a warning. “What did you teach him?”

“I didn’t teach him anything! Promise!” Tang quickly waves his hands in front of him, shaking his head and cowering at the glare Mr. Pigsy was giving him. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. Come now—it was just an outward thought, it was supposed to be harmless! I didn’t expect him to take it so seriously.”

“What idiotic idea did you put in my son’s head?” Mr. Pigsy, now finished with the customer’s order, leans on the counter and gives his full attention to Tang, which seems to only make him more nervous in revealing it.

You sigh, “Mr. Pigsy, maybe ease up a little?” You lightly pat Tang’s shoulder. “He obviously feels remorse for his mistake, so before either of us berate him for it—we need to at least know what the mistake was.”

A short, curt hum from Mr. Pigsy, but he leans back and crosses his arms.

Giving you a look of thanks, Tang clears his throat once again and says, “I—ah—might have told him about one of Monkey King’s 72 Transformations… the one where he could make clones of himself?”

Lacing your fingers together, you rest your elbows on the counter, making a noise to indicate you were listening. From what you recall, all Monkey King would have to do is just pluck his hair and blow it—then out pops a clone of himself. You don’t remember him making mention of teaching MK that technique just yet, so either it hasn’t crossed his mind or he thinks MK isn’t ready for that. You would’ve liked to ask Monkey King about it, but the guy doesn’t have a damn phone.

I should bug him to get one, but that’s for later.

“You what?!” Mr. Pigsy groans and throws his hands up in the air. “Are you kidding me? He already takes on too much, and you want him to take on more by being able to make clones of himself?”

“Of course I don’t! I’m just as worried about him as you all are! I just—” Tang fiddles with his scarf “—it was an outward thought, a passing thing, and I mentioned it out loud to him, and he ended up taking it seriously. So now he’s been practicing trying to make clones of himself. So far—thankfully—it hasn’t worked, but that just means he’s spending more time making himself tired and—you already know the results of that.”

You let out a sigh, massaging your brow. It just feels like this day is getting longer by the second. Convincing MK to take care of himself and set boundaries wouldn’t be difficult. You knew, however, the biggest obstacle was him actually putting that into practice.

“We need to talk to him,” you say, loud enough to get Tang and Mr. Pigsy to stop arguing. “Mr. Pigsy, would you be comfortable with temporarily closing the shop so we can have this talk uninterrupted?”

He takes a breath, backing off from Tang, and nods to you. “I can shut down any online orders and close shop for the time being until this is settled. No matter how long it takes, my son comes first.”

“Okay, good. Thank you.” You turn to Tang now, saying, “You should stay to talk to him, too. He looks up to you more than you realize, you know.”

The comment certainly wasn’t something he was expecting, a deep red blush rushing to his cheeks and a laugh that’s both nervous and flustered sputtering out of him. “Oh, come now, you’re just flattering me—”

“Are you really gonna try to play the humble card now?” Mr. Pigsy shakes his head, looking at you. “I swear, he always gets like this every time he receives a compliment, but you’re right. MK looks up to him just as much as he does Monkey King.”

“P—Pigsy!”

His only response is a laugh as he starts closing up shop once getting the customers out. You look at Tang to say, “It’s also important to rectify the mistake you made in giving him this idea.” You scoot closer, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “Noticing when you’ve made a mistake and working to fix it is better than—oh, I dunno— pretending it never happened?”

“Ah—you’re right,” he sighs, “it also sounds like you speak from experience.”

“You have no idea.” Both personal and not personal experience.

“Haha, I’ll take your word for it, then.” He perks up, fixing his mussed hair and giving you a smile. “I’ll see what I can do to offer a helping hand for him.”

“A helping hand for who?” You and Tang collectively turn to the back door and see MK stepping in—more half-stumbling—rubbing at his face and yawning. He’s still in his sleepwear, his shirt crumpled and shorts almost falling off, while his hair looked more akin to a porcupine with how all over the place it was.

He blinks once, twice, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before fully registering that you were sitting next to Tang. Then he’s by your side in an instant, nearly slipping on the tiles in his socks, and going off, “Oh my gosh, hey! Hi! How are you? It’s been so long since we got together because I was so busy with helping Mei with the race, and then I was too tired to really talk during the celebration dinner and—”

“Woah, woah,” you put a hand on his shoulder, holding up your other to make him stop. “One at a time, okay?” You can’t help but chuckle at how quickly he regained his energy just from seeing you. It was endearing.

You open your arm in an offering, which he eagerly accepts, wrapping his own arms around you and burying his face into your shoulder.

“Sorry—sorry—I just—” he sighs, his shoulders relaxing as you return the hug, “—I missed you, even if it was just a week-long thing. After seeing you almost every day for training—it felt weird, I guess??”

Adorable.

“I understand, kiddo, don’t worry. I missed you too.” You push his hair aside to look at his face properly. Still dark circles under his eyes. His face looked a bit sunken too—was he skipping meals? Mr. Pigsy won’t like that if he is. You spot several gray hairs sprouting on his head as well, another telltale sign that he’s putting too much stress on himself.

“I’ve been doing fine during the time you were busy, MK. Just getting certain things together for your training with Monkey King and helping Uncle with his work.” You look over his face again, asking him, “How’ve you been the past few days I’ve been helping unavailable?”

“Me?” MK blinks again, rubbing at the back of his head. “Well—I’m fine. Just been a little tired recently.” He suddenly notices Mr. Pigsy doing the last few things he needed to close the shop and looks between you and Tang. His shoulders suddenly became more tense, slightly hunched, and his hands were in front of himself, fidgeting and playing with his necklace.

He’s making himself smaller… does he think he’s in trouble?

“So—uh—what’s going on? Dad—Mr. Pigsy doesn’t ever close shop—especially not this early, haha… Did something happen?”

“Yeah, MK,” Mr. Pigsy brings two stools over towards you and Tang to make a pseudo circle with the four of you. He pats one for MK to sit on. MK does. Mr. Pigsy lets out a harsh exhalation, then says, “Something happened to you, kid.”

“Wuh—with me? But—I’m fine? Right?” He doesn’t sound very convinced when he says that.

“You said you’ve been tired recently. Can you tell us why?” You ask, turning yourself to face him properly. “You’re not in trouble, if that’s what you’re assuming. Tang and Mr. Pigsy have just noticed how tired you’ve seemed—and I can already tell just from looking at you that you don’t look too hot.”

“It’s not meant to be an interrogation either, mind!” Tang quickly interjects, patting at MK’s shoulder. “Please, if you start to feel uncomfortable, you’re okay to tell us. We just—we want to make sure you’re alright.”

He looks between you all, fidgeting and playing with his necklace before tucking it back into his shirt. “I promise I’m okay! I’m just—a little more tired than usual, you know?”

“I know, but you haven’t told us why.” You cross a leg over the other, placing your pack on your lap. “I haven’t been here, so any kind of update would be helpful—this isn’t to make you feel on the spot or anything, but suddenly hearing that you’re exhausted a lot more than usual is concerning.”

“Mmn—well—I mean—” MK shrugs, not looking at any of you and opting to stare at his socks, as if they were more interesting. “I mean—I’ve just been really busy helping out, you know? Obviously I gotta work here, and then at one point Sandy needed my help, sometimes Mr. Tang, and a couple of Mr. Pigsy’s business associates…”

“Mhm,” you hum.

He keeps talking, “And then I also gotta work on training at home as well—more of the mental training and breathing exercises that Teacher’s giving me, none of the fighting stuff because—hah—would rather not break a portion of the city again so soon. But Mei also wants to hang out, too… and then I was her support during the Great Wall Race…”

He seems to deflate more and more with each thing he lists off, and heaves a sigh. “Man… now that I say it out loud, it’s, like, super tiring doing all this stuff.”

“Then why not just say no?” You offer, saying, “You’re allowed to put your own stuff first, MK. Obviously, your job stuff is up to Mr. Pigsy, but I’m sure he’s willing to work something out with you. And anyone else who needs your help or wants to spend time with you would understand you need time to yourself, you know?”

“I—I know, I know—I just—” He fidgets with his fingers, scratching at his hand before catching himself and says, “I like helping people, I do! But—I—I also don’t want to disappoint anyone by telling them no. What if they get upset that I can’t help them but can help someone else?”

“Who could you possibly disappoint, son?” Mr. Pigsy claps a hand on MK’s knee. “The only disappointment I have for you right now is how little you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I’m sorry… I just—it’s hard to say no, you know? Seeing them look upset or disappointed that I can’t help them, but I can help others , it—I feel bad.”

Is he talking about multiple people, or just one person and is afraid to say who?

MK’s lips fall to a deep set frown, his eyes still downcast. “I want to help people, that’s why I always offer. I like doing it.”

“It’s a valiant thing to want to help people, MK,” Tang cuts in now, saying, “However, it’s not healthy for a growing boy such as yourself to take on so much responsibility.” He reaches up, plucking a gray hair from MK’s head. “You’re stressing so much, you’re causing your hair to go gray.”

“Ah—what?! Gray hair can come from stress??” MK reaches up to one in his eyesight and plucks it as well, looking at it. “I thought it was just some weird magic monkey stuff or whatever that was making me age faster…”

Tang snickers and claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Mr. Pigsy slaps his forehead. You pinch at the bridge of your brow.

Dear lord, this boy…

You groan, “Ugh—no, MK—it isn’t just from getting old. If you stress so much, it will cause your hair to gray out and also for you to lose hair as well.” As an example, you reach a hand out to his hair, raising a brow in question to him. He only tilts his head at first, then nods with a confused look.

You comb your fingers through his hair, careful of the tangles, before you pull your hand back. Showing your now hair covered hand to MK, you raise a brow. “Like this.”

“Oh, can I keep that, actually? I need it for practice—”

“No,” you and Mr. Pigsy say at the same time, making MK wince. You ball up the hair strands, careful not to drop any on the floor, and throw it away in a nearby trash bin, then tell MK, “That brings us to the other point of the matter… Tang.”

It was Tang’s turn to wince now, letting out a loud, nervous laugh as he tugs his scarf. “Yes? Me? Oh, right, haha—ahem—well, MK, you see… remember when we talked about Monkey King’s 72 transformations and the cloning and what have you?”

MK nods slowly, prompting Tang to continue, “I, em…” He sighs, his shoulders falling and glasses nearly slipping off his nose when his head droops. Fixing up his glasses, he continues, “MK, it—it was wrong of me to give you that idea at a time like this.”

He holds up a hand before MK could interject and continues further, “It’s not wrong to remind you of a power that Monkey King has, no. But it was wrong to do so during this time because you are so stressed you can’t do everything you want to do for yourself and others, that you’re stressing yourself further to try perfecting this power. Learning the cloning technique won’t fix anything, MK, it’ll just make you go bald at a young age.”

“But—” MK’s fidgeting gets worse the more visibly stressed he gets, scratching at his hand and arm now. He keeps talking, his mouth like a broken faucet of words, unable to stop, “But how can I get everything done? I don’t—I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but—but I also want to take this all seriously—I’m trying so hard to take it seriously, but it’s so difficult and—and—”

“Hey, hey, hold on.” You scoot closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, your other reaching for his hand that’s continuing to scratch and scratch and scratch. You place your hand on top of his, making him stop. “MK, can you look at me?”

He does, his eyes having a soft gleam to them, a telltale sign of the tears that have nearly been shed. A stress cry, most likely. He quickly rubs at his eyes with his shirt and lets out a breath. “Sorry—sorry—”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe here, MK.” He looks at you again as you speak, “It’s not a bad thing to want to help people. It’s not bad to want to be there for them. It is bad, however, when you’re disregarding your health in favor of taking care of people who are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”

Mr. Pigsy opens his arm to MK in a silent offering, which he accepts and leans into Mr. Pigsy’s side. Giving MK a side hug, Mr. Pigsy brushes his hair from his face as he says, “If you want to start making a proper schedule for yourself, you need to learn and accept that you’re just going to have to disappoint some people. It’s not the end of the world if you tell them not right now.”

You listen quietly as Mr. Pigsy talks, letting your mind roam for a short moment. It’s odd that MK is so focused on not wanting to disappoint others, yet you don’t catch a hint of it from Tang or Mr. Pigsy during this whole talk. You know Uncle Zan wouldn’t be disappointed either if he knew, nor did Sandy seem that way—if anything they all just seemed worried about MK.

Could it be Monkey King? No, no, that doesn’t make sense. Monkey King was just as concerned, maybe a little annoyed, but you didn’t sense any disappointment from him.

The only person you personally knew that was close to MK was Mei… Which felt weird considering how close the two were. Granted, you had no idea how Mei worked with serious situations, just silly ones. Not to mention, she seems to be a ‘talk before you think’ kind of person, so it’s possible that she ended up voicing her disappointment so much it’s caused this kind of habit for MK.

There are other factors, of course. Other possible individuals who could’ve caused or amplified this, but you don’t know either kids well enough to paint the full picture just yet.

This rabbit hole just keeps getting deeper…

Mr. Pigsy continues, giving MK a small squeeze into his side, “Setting boundaries is important. And if someone can’t respect your boundaries, they clearly don’t respect you, and you don’t need people like that in your life. Not when you’ve already got so much going on.”

MK doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes still downcast but looking more thoughtful than before. His stress-induced scratching has stopped, now opting to hold Mr. Pigsy’s hand in his and feeling the top of Mr. Pigsy’s hand with his thumb. He chews his lip, opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, closes it.

“We’re not expecting an intense change overnight, you know,” You give his shoulder a shake. “If you want, we can do a tarot reading later to help figure out what you can do to make this a bit easier.”

“Is that okay?” He looks at you now.

“Of course. Whenever you want.”

“Is it—is it okay if we do it now?” He chews his lip again, looking at his hands. “I’m trying to figure out what I can do, but—I keep running a blank.”

“Some advice from me, kiddo, before you go do that,” Mr. Pigsy speaks up, making eye contact with MK to say, “Don’t back down so easily when someone tries to convince you to go against your plans. You deserve respect as much as they do, understand?”

MK smiles and nods. “I understand. I—I’ll try.” He gets to his feet, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt before looking at you. “Uh—where can we…?”

“If you want it to be private, then let’s go into your room, if you’re comfortable with that.” You get to your feet as well, helping Mr. Pigsy put the stools back.

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Uh—should I get ready for work afterward, Dad—?”

“No, no, you take the rest of this day off,” Mr. Pigsy waves a hand at him. “I won’t be opening the shop for another hour or two—gonna try finding something, get some preppin’ done that I wasn’t able to do earlier today…” He starts mumbling to himself, scratching at his chin as he walks into the back.

You notice how a small smile played Mr. Pigsy’s lips as he walked away. Most likely from when MK called him dad. How precious.

Tang clears his throat, getting to his feet as well. “If you’d like, MK, I can do some research on chi energy to help you learn to master the cloning technique after you take care of yourself.”

That certainly seemed to make MK perk up more, a big smile already on his face. “Yes—yes, please!”

So easily excitable.

“Of course! But remember, only after you get that schedule better put together and get some sleep.” Tang lightly ruffles his hair. “Now, off you go! I’ll be heading home to start looking through the books.” He nods to you, before exiting out the backdoor.

MK takes you upstairs to his room, where he spends a solid minute apologizing for how messy it is, before he grabs a chair for both you and himself. You’re really not surprised at the sheer amount of Sun Wukong merchandise the kid had, considering how much he idolized the monkey, but it was still a sight to see. Cleaning off his desk—which was more pushing everything aside for you—he sits down and crosses his legs, grabbing at his headband and using it to tie his hair back.

You sit down, placing your bag on the table, then look at him. “I noticed you seem to hesitate calling Mr. Pigsy ‘dad,’ can I ask why that is?”

“Oh! Oh—uhm—” he laughs, a blush creeping to his cheeks “—I just… I’m not really used to calling him dad around other people. But—I call him dad all the time when it’s just us or us and Mr. Tang because, well—adopted or not, he is my dad.”

“Oooh, I see. Why aren’t you used to calling him dad around others?”

He reaches for a monkey plushie on his bed and hugs it to his chest, rubbing the ear with his thumb. “Haha, it’s kinda dumb, but… well, I would get teased for it sometimes. Nothing too bad, mostly just poking fun and stuff, but it makes me a bit shy to call him dad around others because of the teasing.”

Who would tease MK for calling Mr. Pigsy dad? Why?

“Really?” You can’t help but scoff at the obscurity of it. “Why would they tease you over that?”

“I—well—like I said, they never meant to be mean about it. But they just didn’t really know when to stop, so I kind of stopped calling him dad when others are around.”

You want to ask who of all people would consistently tease, but you had a vague idea on who. So instead, you change the subject back to the topic at hand. “So… about the talk. How are you feeling after that?”

“Hm? Oh—well—mm…” He scratches his cheek, looking at a speck on his desk. “Honestly… I still feel a little bad, mainly because it caused all of you so much trouble…” He hugs the plushie closer, hiding the bottom half of his face with it. “But, I understand that this is something important—for me. If I wanna keep being Teacher’s successor, and bettering myself, I gotta do this.”

“Exactly. It’s gonna be a roller coaster, okay? The path to progress isn’t a straight line—take it from me especially.” You lightly punch his shoulder. “This is gonna take not just time, but dedication and constant vigilance.” You reach into your bag and pull out your tarot pouch.

“I understand. I’ll do my best, I promise.” He scoots closer, watching you pull your cards out.

“We’ll do a three-spread this time,” you explain, “Think of it as checking in on yourself on what’s been going on in your past that caused the issue right now, and what can be done to make your future easier on yourself.”

“Okay… do I knock on it again like last time, and ask my question?”

“Mhm, go on.” You hold out the deck to him.

He reaches out, gently rapping his knuckles against the bone-cards, speaking in a quiet tone, “I—I can’t help but struggle with wanting to help people, and I end up not looking after myself… what can I do to fix that?”

You tap your index finger against the deck. “Will you answer this for him?” Then you pull three cards out and place them on the desk. Not even a few seconds pass before the cards are already burning the patterns into them, making you blink in surprise. Rather than say anything aloud, though, you opt to stay quiet.

That was fast… they must have something important to say.

You pull your phone out to prepare, grabbing photos of the cards for MK to look at as each card is burned in.

The first one is the image of a devil perched on a podium, while on either side of it a naked man and woman are chained to the podium.

The Devil, Upright… interesting.

The second card is an upside down image of a man carrying a bundle of ten large sticks.

Ten of Wands, Reversed… yup, sounds about right.

The third is of a stranger clad in armor riding atop a chariot pulled by two horses.

The Chariot, Upright. Hmm, okay.

MK keeps petting the plushie’s ears, looking over your face. “Is that why you wear sunglasses all the time?”

“Hm?” You blink, looking at MK. When he points at your eyes, you reach for your face, realizing you had left your sunglasses perched atop your head.

“They changed to, like, this weird green-blue, glowy color when you looked at the cards…”

“Oh, yeah. They uh, they do that.” You clear your throat, glancing behind you to make sure his window was shut. “I miiiiiiight have fibbed a little when talking about these cards the first time we met… These specific ones will only work for clairvoyants. When we’re doing readings and the cards reveal themselves to us, it causes our eyes to change like that. It—well—it also happens when we have our visions.”

“I see… okay. And it’s okay if you lied initially, you were just being cautious.” He tilts his head, then looks over at the cards. “So—what do they say?”

“Well,” you pull up the images on your phone, starting with The Devil and showing the image to him. “This was your first card, The Devil.”

“That—uh—that doesn’t sound good…”

“Not every card is going to have a good meaning to it. Each one has a mixed bag, but some are worse than others…” You avoid his stare as you explain, “Think of them more as warnings rather than omens. Do you remember what I said about Major Arcana?”

“Uhm… it was a while ago, but… something about it representing larger parts of your life?”

“That's it exactly. This card in particular wants you to be aware that the changes you need to make won’t be overnight. The other thing it wants to tell you is that you were tricked into thinking you have no control over negative forces in your life, and you can’t break free from it.”

You make small gestures as you talk, MK silent as he listens to each word intently, “Most of the time it can represent an addiction to something, such as drugs, sex, or even being an adrenaline junkie… for you, it’s your desire to help people.

“You’re trapped in a cycle of short-term pleasure of helping others, while in the long-term you’re experiencing negative setbacks such as physical and mental exhaustion. You’ve made yourself believe that this is the way you can feel good—be it about yourself or otherwise—when the reality is it’s hurting you.”

You sigh, leaning back in the chair as you play with your sunglasses. “Since this is representing your past, you’ve been made to think that the only way you’ll be able to feel gratification is by helping others. Which leads us to your second card…”

Tapping the middle card, you show him the image and say, “This is the Ten of Wands, Reversed. It’s a Minor Arcana—which more so revolves around smaller sections of your life—such as the current situation.”

“Reversed?”

“All tarot cards have two separate meanings, there’s the upright side and the reversed side. Some cards’ reversed sides have a more negative meaning, while others remain neutral. This one in particular talks about how you’ve been carrying way too much on your own.”

MK frowns, his eyes now downcast, hiding half of his face behind the plushie again.

You speak gently to him and explain, “This card represents your present state—the state of someone who is trying so hard to be everything to everyone and is now struggling under the weight of it all. It can also suggest you’re carrying a heavy emotional weight that you’re keeping private, and don’t want to share that burden with others—whatever reason you have for it.

“And it’s a card that shows you’re holding onto this burden when you don’t have to. Delegate the weight and see what tasks aren’t necessary to carry on at the moment to try to help lighten the load.”

He nods quietly, looking over the picture. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, but instead of prompting him to speak, you show the image of the final card and say, “This is The Chariot, who appeared upright just like The Devil.” You lightly tap your foot against his to get him to look at you before you continue, “This is a card of willpower, determination, and strength. This is your sign of encouragement to no longer be passive in hopes that things will work out in your favor.

“This card is telling you to apply discipline, commitment, and willpower to achieve your goals, and is telling you that when you do this—you will succeed. No matter what challenges come your way, stick to your course and push past the obstacles that will try to test your conviction or pull you in opposite directions.”

MK sits up a bit straighter, eyes roaming your face, then the cards, then back to you. “But—will I really be able to do it?” He curls his finger around the tail of the monkey plushie. He spoke quietly, as if afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would ruin everything, “Committing to this, to what I need to do, so I can achieve my goals, my dreams… do I even have what it takes?”

You scoot your chair to sit next to him, putting your hand on his back. “Is this okay?”

“Y—Yeah, it’s alright.”

You rub his back, up and down and up and down. “To answer your question, both from me and The Chariot, yes. You have what it takes to achieve your goals, and you’ll be successful as long as you keep your focus and remain confident in your abilities. That means no cutting corners or taking the easy route—that’s what will cause failure.

“This card, as well as the Ten of Wands Reversed, is telling you to assert yourself and be courageous. Don’t be afraid to say no when you need to, and recognize when too much is too much.”

Slowly, he leans against your side, resting his head on your shoulder. You say, “Whatever happened in your past made you want to help others because it felt good to. The reasons can be anything, but it still happened, and it’s what caused your desire to take on as much as possible. 

“It’s time to end these habits and start helping yourself instead of everyone else. The path won’t be easy, as these cards are telling you, but they’re telling you that you can do this, so long as you keep going and don’t give up or try to take shortcuts.”

“But… what if it causes me to leave people behind?” He asks, his voice still quiet, “What if I commit to all of this, become better, but it’s at the cost of leaving the people I care about in the dust? I don’t—I don’t want that. I want to be better—I do! But—not at the cost of others being forgotten…”

It keeps feeling like he’s talking about a particular person or multiple people. He’s purposefully avoiding saying who specifically, though… curious.

You frown and let out a breath. This particular bit was something that wasn’t your strong suit. While you were used to either being left behind or leaving people behind, MK wasn’t. You were opposites—MK focusing outwardly towards everyone else, while you focused more inwardly towards yourself.

Rather than try to find some copout answer, you choose to be honest, “I can’t answer that in a good way, MK.” You sigh. “I’m used to either being left behind or leaving people behind. While it’s a habit I’m doing my best to break, it’s become second nature to me.”

You keep rubbing his back, thinking, then say, “To answer honestly, I’m not sure. One thing I am sure of is it shouldn’t be wholly up to you to make these people not feel left behind or forgotten.”

You keep rubbing his back. He hugs the plushie, keeping the bottom half of his face hidden. His eyes aren’t really looking at anything, more just staring off into space. You say, “Everyone—and I mean everyone, even Sun Wukong—has things they need to work on. Issues or habits or whatever, there’s always something that someone can work on to make stronger or better. You never stop growing unless you let yourself stop.”

Resting your cheek on his head, you slowly exhale. “The people you’re afraid of leaving behind—if they don’t want that to happen, they need to work through their own issues and work to better themselves as well. They can do it as much as you can.”

MK nods. “Okay, I understand.” He nuzzles the plushie for a second, taking a deep breath. “It’s hard. I worry so much for everyone. I just—don’t want to mess anything up and upset them or disappoint them or—or something.”

“No one’s perfect, MK. Not even Monkey King—hell, especially not Monkey King, you’ve heard plenty enough of the stories of his own fuck-ups. And he still fucks up—soooo much.” The sentence makes him laugh quietly. It brings a small smile to your face. “Everyone is capable of making mistakes, the only difference is this; are you willing to acknowledge the mistake and work to fix it? Or are you just going to ignore it and pretend nothing’s happened?”

“I understand… I’m just—still worried,” he quietly admits, tucking the head of the plushie under his chin. “It’s gonna take me a minute to get past it. I—I can’t help but worry about everyone else, it’s so second nature to me.” He tilts his head to bury his face into your shoulder, his voice more of a quiet mumble, “But I’ll do my best. I will. I want to make you guys proud.”

“We’re already proud of you, MK.” You move your hand to his shoulder and give him a side hug. “We’re proud you’re taking the first steps forward to better yourself. We don’t expect an overnight change, and neither should you. As long as you keep going and keep taking care of yourself, we’re always going to be proud.”

He huffs, wiping at his eyes and nodding. “Okay. Thanks. Really—I—I mean it. You’re always so patient with me and—I’m really grateful.”

You chuckle, giving him a squeeze and ruffle at his hair. “You’re young and have a lot to learn—especially with so much responsibility put on your shoulders like this.” You carefully comb at his hair, getting any stubborn tangles. “I’m just trying to give you what I wasn’t able to get when I was your age. It’s not fun, and you don’t deserve to go through that.”

MK sits up to look at you better, his eyes roaming your face. All too suddenly you felt like he was looking not just at you but through you, into your very core. The look on his face was odd—as if he was searching for answers unknown to even him. Like he’s trying to find a library book when all he knew about it was the picture of the cover but no title or author.

“Neither do you. You know that, right?” The question honestly wasn’t something you were expecting. But before you could even begin to think of a response, he keeps going, “I know—I know you’re, like, a couple of decades older than me… and I may not know what you went through in the past, or even when the demon hurt you recently—but—but…”

He chews his lip, scoots closer to you, wrapping his arm around your side and nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “I know you were hurt. A lot. And—I want to help make sure you don’t get hurt anymore. Or—maybe just—help make it hurt less.”

You purse your lips, taking a slow, deep breath.

He’s young—he doesn’t understand.

He’s not ready for the baggage I have.

It’s too much.

He’s not ready.

“That’s sweet of you to say, MK. Real sweet,” you speak slowly, trying to think of how to best respond to this. “You’re a good kid with a big heart—too big for your own good,” you chuckle softly, returning his side hug and resting your cheek on his head.

“I feel like a ‘but’ is coming,” He mumbles into your jacket.

You huff a laugh. “Been in this position before?”

“A few times…”

“Then you’ll know what I’m going to say.” You rub your thumb against his shoulder, staring at your tarot cards as you speak, “It’s sweet you want to help people, to help me, but you need to help yourself first.”

You’re not ready for the baggage I carry right now.

You keep talking, “How about we make a deal, hm? You give yourself some time to work on your baggage first, and I’ll also work on my own. Then, after sometime and we both feel better, more confident, we come back to this topic. Sound fair?”

“Okay… that sounds fair.” MK sits up to look at you with a small smile. “I’ll do my best. I will.”

“Good.” You ruffle at his hair, then pause and think about a particular thing he said. “Hold on—just how old do you think I am?”

“Uh… you’re in, like, your forties, aren’t you?”

He shrinks suddenly under the stare you give him. You say, your voice deadpan, “MK, I’m only a couple of years younger than Tang. And he’s twenty-nine.”

“He’s twenty-nine?! I thought he was older!”

You lightly slap at the back of his head and laugh, “Is it because of our gray hair?? Can’t believe I got called so old—”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry—have mercy!” Except he’s also laughing and using the monkey plushie to shield himself. “I really thought gray hair just meant you were old, not also stressed!”

Giving his arm a good thwap, you back off. You shake your head, still having a soft laugh under your breath. “Alright, alright—back on topic. How are you feeling?”

MK hums, playing with the plushie’s ear. “I feel… better about this. More confident. I’m still a bit worried—but—I know it’ll get better in time. Time is just something I need to utilize! Yeah!” He hops to his feet, puffing out his chest whilst tucking the plushie under his arm. “I can do this! I can! I just gotta… hmm… where can I start?”

“Writing down what you want to do tomorrow could help.” You get up as well. “If you want, since you have the rest of the day off, we can go shopping for a daily planner—see how that works out for you.”

“Oh, oh—yes, please! I was actually gonna ask because, heh, I don’t really know what would be best to use.” He scratches at the back of his head. “Uh—lemme shower and change really quickly, and we can get going!” He doesn’t even wait for your answer before he’s placing the plushie onto his chair and rushing into the bathroom to shower.

You chuckle, then head downstairs to wait for him. Though there was still a lot to be done about this situation and plenty of others, you’re just happy MK’s taking a step in the right direction. Even with the small bumps that have already happened and are yet to come, you’re sure he’ll be alright.

You’ll worry about all the other things later. For now, you’ll just make a small shopping plan with MK once he’s finished getting ready.

Chapter Text

“Mountain time training?” Firecracker gives Wukong an incredulous look, their face all scrunched up with one brow raised in skepticism.

“Yeah! We’re gonna head on over to Flower Fruit, so the kid can get used to some fighting on different terrain!” Wukong flops back onto the sofa, throwing his arms into the air whilst shooting them a grin. “It’ll be fuuuuun, and the perfect thing MK needs to relax and not fret over doing shit for others for once. Like a little camping trip.”

“You and I have very different ideas of what ‘fun’ is, for starters,” they retort with a roll of their eyes. They then say, “Secondly, I have my own shit to take care of, remember?”

“Ugh, c’mon, firecracker, I hardly ever see you relaxing,” he groans and sits up more properly. “It’s always ‘work this’ or ‘notes that’! I get that you’re tryna get your powers under control, but remember what I said about the kid needing breaks between?” He reaches over and pokes their forehead. “The same applies to you too, you know. Constantly racking your brain over what to do with these visions isn’t gonna help.”