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Chapter Text

Macaque - Mistakes

The mistakes of Sun Wukong were legendary and even those that hadn't made their way into the Journey to the West were intimately known by the Six-Eared Macaque.

However, finally granted the freedom and time to reflect and grieve he could now acknowledge his own mistakes.

He'd put Wukong on a pedestal of his own volition, chosen to ignore signs of the shifting dynamics of their relationship and desperately believed that every one of Wukong's conquests for power and immortality would be the last - that this time he'd be satisfied, that this time he'd stay.

He'd set himself up to fall, even if Wukong hadn't been trapped under that mountain, he could see now that the promise of a peaceful life together was never going to be realised.

Being separated from Wukong had allowed him to regain independence and confidence he hadn't even realised he had lost. However, these had been hard earned during his second life, only possible after he finally understood what a mistake it had been to make Wukong the centre of his world when he had never been the centre of Wukong's.

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Pigsy - Admiration

At first, he'd been in disbelief at Sandy's radical lifestyle change and then he'd been angry, almost feeling betrayed at the change. In the end, however, he couldn't help but admire who Sandy had become and what he'd overcame in order to do so. It gave him hope that he could change for the better too.

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Red Son - Fire

He'd always been proud of his natural affinity for fire magic, and he'd trained relentlessly to further hone this skill to perfection, pushing himself past his limits time and time again in the pursuit of the power to decimate his enemies and bring honour to the Demon Bull Clan!

But upon learning about the Samadhi Fire, about the power he had once held, he couldn't help but feel that he and his powers were lacking in a way he'd never be able to overcome.

----

Macaque - Fire

Flower Fruit Mountain was burning.

Èrláng Shén and his hound destroying everything in their path.

No match for either of them, he did what he could from the shadows to save lives and curb the spread of the fire.

Until the hound caught his scent, and let out a nightmarish howl, causing its master's eyes to fall upon him - the shadow of the demon that dared to think himself equal to the gods.

Flower Fruit Mountain was burning and the Six-Eared Macaque burned with it.

----

Macaque - Dìyù

There was terrible restlessness in his soul that urged him to keep moving no matter what, a need to constantly be in motion.

Because if he stopped, even for a moment, it feared it would be dragged back to the Dìyù.

To be still was to be dead; to be dead was to suffer the unending torture of the Dìyù.

He had to keep moving.

----

Sun Wukong - Shadows

Wukong had once never doubted that his shadow would always be behind him. No matter what mischief he found himself in, all he had to do was turn around and there he would be.

But on days where he could not escape reflecting on the past, a nagging thought persisted.

Had it been Macaque's decision to follow behind him instead of standing at his side? Or had he never had a choice?

----

Sun Wukong - Consequences

Wukong couldn't help but wonder sometimes if the Journey had been an elaborate part of his punishment. A trick to enforce upon him the consequences of his immortality.

For here he remained, undying, long after everyone he'd loved was gone.

----

MK - Demon

MK was doing his best to work through the stress of well, everything. But learning that he was some sort of monkey demon thing was really pushing him to his limit!

And he really was trying to remain positive and look on the bright side of it all. Like... Monkey King! Monkey King, his lifelong hero, was a monkey demon - and why wouldn't he want to be more like him? He was great!

...if you ignored all the not so great things he had done.

But that was fine! Because you know who else was a demon that he loved even more than Monkey King? Pigsy! They'd be closer than ever! Able to talk to each other demon to demon!

Yup! Get to talk all about what it was like to be a demon! A demon in a human city... With all the discrimination and hardships that came with that...

Well, it probably wouldn't be that bad for him, right? Or for Pigsy now that they were both heroes! And he'd been an even better hero now that he was so much stronger as a monkey demon!

Sure, he was still learning how to control that strength but it's not like he had a track record of having dangerous, unwieldy powers that had caused mass destruction or anything...

...

Ok, so he wasn't doing a great job finding or focusing on positives right now! But could you really blame him?

How could he not be worried about such a massive change? Especially when he didn't know what it meant for him or the people he cared about?

And he knew, he really did, that he didn't have to figure this out alone, that his friends and family would be by his side to help him through this but...

What if they couldn't help him? What if he was too dangerous for him to even let them try?

And if that wasn't enough there was one other terrifying thought he'd been desperately trying to ignore.

If he'd inherited everything from Monkey King - his power, his legacy, and now even his look!

Could he have inherited his immortality too?

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Macaque - Death

Macaque had spent considerable time agonising over his death - the events that led up to it and the things he could have done to avoid it, the cause of his death and the pain of it all.

And he, of course, had spent no shortage of time thinking about who had taken his life.

And he had in no way made his peace with any of it but what currently plagued him now was the question of how his death had been possible in the first place.

He wasn't nearly as immortal as Wukong but the heavenly peaches he'd eaten should have made death impossible. So why hadn't they saved him?

Did they lose their potency if eaten in the mortal realm? Had Wukong brought back a bad patch? Maybe they hadn't been ripe enough to grant immortality?

Or had the issue been with him? Was he lacking somehow? Was there some sort of prerequisite he didn't know about? Had he been immortal and done something to lose it somehow?

Or had Wukong simply grown so powerful that nothing could have saved him that day?

He didn't know but the cold feeling of the Dìyù in his bones told him that he was going to find out soon.

----

Mei - Limits

MK's power and abilities seemed to have no limits but then so did the trouble he constantly found himself in.

Thanks for that, Monkey King.

And despite the fact that her powers did have limits - she was going to be by MK's side no matter what trouble he faced!

She was going to push past any and every limit - she would be stronger, faster, smarter, better - no matter what!

And that was a White-Horse-Dragon-Girl-Best-Friend promise!

Chapter Text

Sandy - Tea

Sandy had a ritual that he performed every once in a while.

He'd prepare his house to receive an honoured guest by cleaning it top to bottom, setting up the table with freshly baked snacks and then painstakingly choosing and preparing a pot of tea.

Making the tea mindfully was an important part of settling his mind before his guest arrived. He took his time and when all was ready he would take a seat at the table and pour a cup for the empty seat in front of him before pouring his own.

Sometimes he knew who his guest would be and sometimes it only became clear once he'd placed the teapot down who he would be talking to today.

Some days it was an old friend he dearly missed or an acquaintance he'd shared a harrowing experience with. And while these sessions could be emotional but generally he felt some form of peace by the end.

Other days though, the person in front of him was someone that had lost their life because of him. Sometimes he knew the person well, sometimes he knew almost nothing about them. But regardless of how well he knew them, these sessions could often result in downward spirals of guilt and grief.

When the ritual came to a close he would close his eyes, bow low to his guest and when he arose and opened teary eyes they would be gone. He'd carefully clear the table, and then, depending on how the session had gone, take time to meditate and reflect or sit with his cats while he processed how he felt.

The next day he would discuss how things went with his therapist, who would help him assess how true the conversation with his guest had been and whether this ritual continued to be helpful or if it was becoming harmful.

He tried to ensure that this ritual did not do more harm than good by being as compassionate to himself as he was his guest. But it was important to him to reconcile with his past and to honour those that were no longer here. And he could not think of a more meaningful way to do that than by sitting with those that were gone and sharing a pot of tea together.

[A/N - Similar vibe to Leaves From The Vine]

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Princess Iron Fan - Change

Princess Iron Fan had never been known for her mercy or her compassion. Even when she had been a goddess of the celestial realm she had been rightly feared and respected by foes and allies alike.

But since her beloved's imprisonment, she had become undeniably cruel, and as the years stretched on without him, she became crueler still.

She had always been thorough in crushing her enemies and deeply satisfied with her victories but the pleasure she took in causing her enemies to suffer was something that only continued to grow.

Maybe it was how she distracted herself from the grief or how she handled the stress of ruling their territory alone. Many had seen her beloved's entrapment as an opportunity to claim power and land and while she had successfully destroyed any who would dare challenge her, she couldn't deny the toll it had taken on her.

She had become exceptionally malicious and had this only been towards her enemies it would have never been an issue. But she had deliberately caused her son a great deal of suffering.

It had never been a secret to her how much Red Son craved her approval and she always had been sure to dangle it beyond his reach. But that was perhaps the least of her transgressions - she had berated him at every opportunity and turned away in disgust at his tears.

And now that her husband had returned to her, she could only watch from the sidelines as his relationship with their son developed, unable to join them without her poisonous nature causing harm.

She couldn't stand it but it was becoming increasingly clear that if she wanted to be part of what they had then she would need to reconcile with the cruelty within her heart.

She did not know if she was capable of any meaningful change but for them, she was willing to try.

----

Tang - Knowledge

Never in his wildest dreams did Tang ever think he would meet the legendary Monkey King, let alone be an important part of the next chapter of his story! It was still unbelievable! And then learning he was connected to the wise Táng Sānzàng and being able to use his powers? It was just beyond crazy!

But when he finally had the time to sit and think about it, he struggled to understand how exactly he was connected to the great monk.

He'd had an extensive knowledge of the Journey to the West before MK had picked up the staff. But now he would be willing to humbly suggest that he was one of, if not the, leading experts on the famous tale. And still he had so many questions, especially with regards to his role in all this.

The great Táng Sānzàng was a dedicated Buddhist monk and, as such, had never had any children so he couldn't be his descendant. And given his enlightenment by the end of his life, surely he should have been free from the cycle of reincarnation?

But say for whatever reason he was the reincarnation of Táng Sānzàng then why wasn't he some sort of Buddhist monk? It was said that Táng Sānzàng was the tenth incarnation of a soul that had lived nine consecutive lives in accordance with the Buddha's teachings. And Tang was in no way a Buddhist monk - it just didn't make any sense!

Maybe the monk's spirit had just been floating about and had decided, for some reason, to grant him his aid? But then, why him? What made him so special? Was it just his close proximity to the descendants and, possibly reincarnations, of his old disciples? No, there had to be more to it than that!

Right...?

But he'd been scouring the internet and every book he could find but there was no answer to be found that proved to be the indisputable truth and short of a chat with the Buddha himself he had a feeling he might never know.

He should just be grateful to have the sort of power some people had to train lifetimes to have and that he was able to use it to help his friends save the world but...

It was driving him crazy - he needed to know!

Chapter Text

N/A. Scars - Tang

Up until very recently, scars had never been a prominent feature on his body. And the few he had were all pretty lighthearted affairs: falling off his bike as a kid, being bitten by his grandmother's cat, tripping over and hitting his head off the corner of a cabinet - all very normal.

The most obvious scar he'd had was from when he'd had his appendix taken out as a child but still it had faded over time and he could barely remember any of the memories surrounding it.

In fact, most of his scars didn't invoke any sort of feeling from him - maybe embarrassment at absolute worst? But only because of how he'd received them - none of them were particularly big or noticeable enough to make him feel self conscious.

When MK had first discovered the staff and had been working on controlling his new powers, this had resulted in a sharp increase in accidental injuries for Tang - a bump or bruise from a careless swing of a staff, a scratch or cut from being too close to a fight, or even a bite or peck from a panicked transformed MK.

Most of these injuries healed with little issue, only every once in a while leaving a small, permanent mark. He was less concerned with the scars and more concerned with the fact getting injured regularly was apparently just a part of his life now.

He'd amassed a couple more serious injuries and resulting scars from their time running from and then facing off with the Lady Bone Demon - aircraft crashes, fights with powerful demons and ghosts, drastic falls and daring deeds tended to leave a mark.

These made him feel somewhat grateful his normal style of clothing only really left his face and hands uncovered - it was easy to get sucked into terrifying memories if he happened to look at a scar when he was in an odd mood.

Being able to summon a defensive bubble around him went a long way to reduce injuries and scars but it wasn't full proof - not if something caught him off guard and he couldn't react quickly enough.

In the aftermath of Azure's destruction and the discovery of MK's monkey form, Tang found himself tracing along a scar on his bicep - received courtesy of an impromptu crash into the ocean to escape Macaque - and thinking about how few scars his friends seemed to have gathered recently.

And the glaring conclusion he'd drawn was that he was the only human amongst them.

Demons and dragons scarred but it seemed to take a hell of a lot more to injure them in the first place and then either wounds just healed better or scars stood out less.

He remembered Mei once squinting at Sandy before rudely pointing to his side and asking about the near invisible mark there and before he could answer she'd started to point out hundreds of other small marks that were so easy to miss if you weren't looking.

Pigsy had looked murderous at her behaviour but Sandy had just awkwardly explained they were scars but even big injuries healed to nearly nothing for him.

He'd been patient in teaching them about how healing differed from demon to demon - so many factors could be involved in whether a scar was left and how it looked. Obviously type played a big part but interestingly, some demon's feelings about the wound could affect how it healed.

So a big wound that had perhaps been obtained in a fight to save the world could, theoretically, heal better than a small cut that you'd gotten through an accident depending on how traumatising or upsetting you personally found it to be.

He'd also explained stress and overall physical, mental or magic health could influence healing as well but he'd argued it could be the same with humans albeit perhaps to a lesser extent.

Pigsy had looked uncomfortable through it all and it made Tang intensely curious what category of healing Pigsy fell into. He certainly had a large smattering of cooking related scars on his hands and arms but from what he knew of Pigsy's life before Pigsy's Noodles, it wasn't unreasonable to think that stress and poor health had helped make those marks permanent.

This theory was given further credibility when he realised just how few scars Pigsy seemed to have picked up from their most recent adventures despite having been injured worse than him in a lot of cases.

Curiously, Mei herself didn't appear to have many visible scars but her dragon avatar did and he had no idea what that meant - he really hoped it wasn't some sort of manifestation of emotional or mental scars but Mei very rarely appeared affected by anything - the most she revealed was concern for MK or righteous fury.

Something perhaps he should find a way to subtly ask her parents about.

And then of course there was MK - who got injured on a seemingly daily basis and had never had a scar to show for it. Even before the staff, he'd never had an issue with scars as far as he knew but given the mystery of what MK actually was this wasn't too surprising in hindsight.

All this to say, his own scars made him feel human and not in a good way. More in a "I'm unbelievably fragile" way. His scars reminded him how close he had come to the end and it scared him into putting his all into mastering his new powers because dying was not on the agenda.

His mother had taken him to a fortune teller as a child who had predicted he would live to be ninety-two years old and he had taken that to heart - he was not letting some maniac hell bent on destroying the world cutting his promised time short!

But still the scars on his skin reminded him that some things were out of his control.

Chapter Text

N/A. Home - MK

Pigsy's Noodles as far as MK was concerned was home.

It was the only home he'd ever known - his earliest memories were sitting at one of its tables with a bowl of noodles with his dad or his grandma somewhere around him making a fuss.

With everything that had happened this last year and with an uncertain future on the horizon, it brought him an endless amount of comfort that the restaurant and its owner had hardly changed at all.

In amidst his many thoughts and fears about his new monkey form was the idea that he must have come from Flower Fruit Mountain, after all where else could he have come from? And this spurred on the uncomfortable feeling that it was supposed to be his home.

And don't get him wrong, he loved Flower Fruit Mountain. He loved hanging out with Monkey King and the monkeys and he loved the island and all it had to offer. He could happily call it a second home but it wasn't home.

He'd been having nightmares about it - a particularly unpleasant reoccurring theme involved Pigsy taking one look at him in his new form and kicking him out, sending him off to the island to spend the rest of his days.

Dream Pigsy was merciless in telling him he didn't belong, that he never had. That he was just too dangerous and destructive to keep around. It was best for everyone that he just stayed on the island, like Monkey King.

When these nightmares forced him awake in a cold sweat, he resisted the urge to run to Pigsy and beg him not to send him away.

He was an adult, he didn't go running to his dad in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream. He instead did the responsible thing, which was to send memes back and forth with his best friend and ignore all the bad feelings. It was just a dream after all. No bearing on the real world or his real life fears whatsoever. Nope. Not at all.

If he was a bit clingy and reluctant to leave for training the next day well that was just because he was tired was all. He'd be fine once he got going. He was grateful that Pigsy never called him out. If anything he seemed to indulge him a fair bit, gruffly returning hugs and plying him with mountains of food.

He idly wondered what Pigsy thought about all of this. His adoptive son becoming the successor to the Monkey King and then being revealed to be some sort of monkey demon? You'd think it would garner some sort of reaction.

He definitely knew his stress levels had gone up since the former but he hadn't really expressed any concerns over the latter. Not that MK had given him much chance - he'd done his best to dodge questions about how he was coping.

But he seemed to fuss over him the same amount. It didn't matter that he was near invincible, his dad still lectured him on being careful and he still fed him until he couldn't move and patched up the tiniest scratches.

What was he even worrying about! Pigsy was never going to kick him out! Even if they actually figured out what his whole deal was - it didn't matter! His dad was his dad and that was that!

...right?

Right! Why even waste time thinking about it. He would just get himself worked up over nothing. Pigsy and Pigsy's Noodles weren't going anywhere. Not by choice.

He didn't let himself think of the alternative where both were gone. Very much not by choice. Taken from him by forces beyond anyone to stop.

He had been feeling particularly melancholy one day when a random thought had come to mind - what would grandma think of all this?

He likes to think she'd be proud of him for helping people but she'd probably be absolutely exasperated by the mess he made in the process. She'd always been tidying up after him when he was little. Dutifully trailing behind him and picking up toys and art supplies.

He guesses his dad would be the only one who might know, maybe Tang might have an idea, but he's not sure he could bring himself to ask either of them.

Caught up in thoughts of the past, he had sought out some of the photo albums that were squirreled away. Feeling nostalgic for simpler times he'd sat down and looked through albums that were absolutely full of pictures of him growing up.

He remembers asking for pictures of his dad and grandma from when they were younger but they'd both looked a little sad at the question, his grandma explaining that they didn't have many but she had rallied and promised there'd be lots of photos of him to look back on.

And she had delivered. Even after she'd passed, Pigsy had made sure to keep it up and once he became friends with Mei basically every second of his life had been captured from then on. Whether he wanted it to be or not.

He stared at a picture of himself drawing at one of the booths, a candid shot with Pigsy in the background cooking. If he went downstairs, he could recreate that scene right now. All that would be different would be their age and his art style.

He knew that change was just a part of life but he couldn't help the part of him that just wanted to desperately cling to the familiar. To reassure himself that the important things weren't changing, that his family and home were still here.

He was still MK. He was just MK with some crazy powers, who was friends with the Monkey King and was possibly some sort of monkey demon who saves the city, world or universe from time to time.

He tightened his hold on the photo, his chest feeling uncomfortable, as he tried to reconcile the boy in the picture with the person he was now.

He just about screamed when Pigsy spoke directly behind him, he turned around hand to his heart as he stared at him, "What?"

Pigsy rolled his eyes, "I said, feeling nostalgic?"

He crouched down and started leafing through the photos and MK was suddenly struck with a thought, "Do you ever look through these?"

Pigsy shrugged, "Eh, I suppose every once in a when I remember they exist but I'm not the sentimental sort."

MK fidgeted, "You ever wish we could go back to when things were... y'know simpler?"

Pigsy snorted, "I don't think life's ever been simple but I'll admit you do give me a hell of a lot more to worry about these days. It would be nice not to worry about you fighting maniacs." MK couldn't help but cringe slightly.

Pigsy continued, "But then I wouldn't have got to meet Chang'e so..." He shrugged.

It startled a laugh out of him, "That's your takeaway from me being the Monkie Kid? It's stressful but hey I got to meet my idol so it evens out?"

Pigsy grinned before he stood up and patted his shoulder, "What I'm saying is - you never know what's going to happen. You've gotta take the good with the bad. It does help that we've all got each other's backs though - makes the bad a lot easier to deal with."

MK watched as he walked to the kitchen and hoped desperately that he would always have him in his life. He could live without Pigsy's Noodles but god he'd never be without Pigsy. Without his home.

Chapter Text

Macaque - Soul

Binding one's soul to a body was no small task but it could be done. And even done relatively pain free if the one casting the spell had the skill and inclination. And while the Lady Bone Demon had doubtlessly had the skill, she'd had no such inclination.

She had torn his soul apart just so she could stitch it back together again.

He couldn't say for certain that she had even stitched all of it back together, for all he knew there was very little of his original soul left, and he wasn't sure if it was worse to imagine it with gaping holes or as an unholy amalgamation of many.

Either way it was infused with her magic, her very essence threaded with his to keep it all together. And he was sure it must be a grotesque thing to look at, deformed almost beyond recognition. The Ten Kings would likely just have it destroyed if they ever got their hands on it again.

But now that she was gone, the magic that had kept it together was fading.

His soul was coming undone at the seams and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

[A/N - Similar vibe to Better to Forget]

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Wukong - Immortality

Wukong had once feared his own death more than anything else. And that fear had driven him on an obsessive quest for immortality. Taoism, peaches, wine, pills, the book of the dead - he was possibly more immortal than the gods themselves and yet his fear persisted.

Even now, as his immortality haunted him, he still felt twinges of fear at the thought of his life coming to an end. But it was a manageable fear - he no longer ran from it, he no longer obsessively tried to stop it.

Heaven could rest easy.

In its stead however a new fear arose - the fear of another's death. Something that he'd never even truly considered until Macaque's bloody corpse lay at his feet. But the seed had been planted and with every subsequent death its roots dug deeper into his heart.

Where once he ran from his death, he now hid from others'. He isolated himself, he refused to give any soul the opportunity to leave him again. The loneliness was terrible but the grief was unbearable.

And then MK happened.

Wonderful, incredible, mortal MK.

There wasn't a day that went by that Wukong didn't sit with an immortal peach in his hand and consider the possibilities.

----

MK - Pain

We both fight for what we think is right, and that pursuit only leads to one thing...

To pain.

The Lady Bone Demon's last words haunted him. They filled him with a terrible fear of himself - of his destructive powers and of the dire consequences his decisions could result in. He had the potential to cause untold suffering to so many people and the fear was almost crippling in its intensity.

But he was slowly realising that that wasn't all that the Lady Bone Demon had meant, if that's what she had meant at all. He had been so focused on the pain that he could inadvertently cause others, he hadn't stopped to consider the pain that they could cause him, nor the pain he could cause himself.

----

Macaque - Senses

Resurrection really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Sure, he was alive but there was no denying his body wasn't what it had once been, his senses irrevocably damaged.

Food had to be over seasoned to near toxic levels for it to taste or smell of anything, his remaining eye was less reliable than his shadows for perceiving the world around him, and he could only be grateful that his hearing had been supernatural in nature before his death, for while diminished, it was still more impressive than that of any mortals.

Gentle touches barely registered and his tolerance for pain was now so high he had to regularly check himself over for injuries, not able to rely on himself to register it without physically seeing it. It was a bit of an annoyance to not realise you were bleeding or had broken something but honestly it was a worthwhile trade off to finally have a reprieve from physical pain.

He supposed he had to be grateful as well that he'd never had a great deal of interest in sex prior to his death and that he had little time for it now he'd returned or he was sure he might feel something about his apparent impotency.

Had he come back to life with anything other than a desire for revenge he was sure he'd be agonised over his body's shortcomings. As it was however they were just inconveniences that made his mission all the more difficult. If anything they only added more fuel to the fire.

It would have been nice to get his revenge and live out a life finally free of Wukong but his body had clearly not been resurrected with that in mind, the Lady Bone Demon had just needed him functional enough to complete his half of the bargain.

This body just had to suffice in order to fulfil his revenge. As long as Wukong was finally burning in hell Macaque didn't even care if he was right there with him.

[A/N - Idea explored further in Shadow]

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Macaque - Peace

Finally free, Macaque had taken to doing absolutely nothing. He'd find a spot on Flower Fruit Mountain for the day and just kick back and relish every breath he was alive to take.

Today he lay in the middle of a field, the sun shining upon him as the grass gently caressed him, and his appreciation for the gentle breeze that rustled through his fur could not be put into words.

He didn't yearn for adventure, he didn't want for more, neither had ever brought him the peace that simply lying here with a familiar heartbeat just on the peripherals of his hearing did.

He ignored the small whispers and stirrings in his mind and heart that wanted to reject the peace that stone heart brought him. Let him have this, he told them. In this moment, let him indulge in peace without questioning why it was Wukong that it was forever intrinsically linked to.

Chapter Text

Macaque - Gentle

Macaque was sure he'd once known how to be gentle. Kind words and softly spoken reassurances familiar to his lips. Hands careful and patient as they groomed fur and tended to injuries. Expression loving and unguarded.

In the present however gentleness was a foreign concept, something impossible to understand or extend to himself or others.

Not when pain, anger and fear forever roiled beneath his skin.

The best he could offer was a lack of violence.

The monkeys were the sole recipients of this parody of gentleness.

He never responded to their chirps, lest his words turn sharp and cruel. Never returned the favour when they groomed him, to protect them from bloody, unpredictable hands.

The most contact he ever initiated was to remove them from his person, careful to do them no harm as he did. But he largely let them do as they pleased, allowing them to sit on his shoulder or sleep beside him, only stopping them if there was a real need to.

He wished he could offer them more, reciprocate their affections with his own, but just the thought of reaching out to hold them made his hand twitch dangerously, the thought of answering their chirps with his own causing bile to rise up his throat.

For now, this was all he could offer them and he could only be grateful a number of them seemed to think it was enough.

----

Macaque - Death (TW: Suicide)

Body broken and eye ruined, the Six-Eared Macaque lay and stared unseeing up at the stars from the crater that Wukong had left him in.

Their fight had ended long ago and yet still he remained, paralysed by the unfathomable.

Wukong had spared him, a mercy he made sure he knew was out of respect for his master's wishes and nothing else, and then walked away with out a backwards glance, his parting words a promise that he would not be so forgiving a second time.

The finality of it all was deafening.

Wukong was everything. He'd pledged himself to him wholly and completely. His love and loyalty entirely his. Without him he was nothing.

He could hear nothing - past, present, future - it was all gone.

And as the sun rose on a new day, he let the carnivorous shadows that he'd leashed but never tamed finally sate their hunger for his flesh.

An agonising death he'd forever feared, now a welcome end.

----

Wukong - Peaches

The immortal peaches that grew on the island differed from those that grew in the Celestial Realm in a number of significant ways.

His peaches only offered immunity from age, illness and death for a hundred years while the Heavenly peaches offered all that and more - granting various boons and with their effects lasting millennia.

But on the flip side, his peach trees also bore a bountiful harvest of fruit every hundred years, whereas the Heavenly varieties could take anywhere from three thousand to nine hundred years to produce fruit.

So he had the better deal if you asked him, the tastier peaches too.

But while he took a great deal of pride in his orchard, an abundance of immortal peaches did present him with an issue.

It had taken him some time to decide on how best to distribute the peaches to his troupe without creating a dangerous imbalance that was of detriment to the island and all that lived on it. Because, as it turned out, immortality had no bearing on fertility or sex drive.

But after much trial and error he eventually came up with a plan that everyone mostly managed to adhere to. It largely boiled down to "You wanted to eat a peach? Then you had a contraception seal slapped on you for as long as you were immortal.". There were a couple other caveats and ultimately he had the final say on who became immortal but that was the long and short of it.

So every one hundred years, the monkeys decided if they wanted to ask for immortality or not. Some only did it once - wanting to experience the sublime taste of an immortal peach than being overly concerned with longevity, and some had had a peach every single time it had been on offer.

He always dealt with his most long-lived troupe members first, and at this point he didn't even ask any of them if they wanted a peach, just handed it over to them with little fanfare and let them happily chow down on the very finest of the peaches on offer.

So he played favourites a little, sue him. He'd known some of these monkeys for basically his whole life, they were getting the best pickings.

This year however he was startled when General Ba simply shook his head when he handed him his peach. His fellow stalwarts looked equally shocked by his polite refusal and immediately began to question what the hell he was playing at.

But no matter what anyone said or did he stood firm in his decision - he no longer wished to be immortal.

He was ready to grow old.

He wasn't ready to die necessarily but he was ready to begin the final leg of his journey.

No one really knew how to handle this news, the rest of his stalwart looking at their own peaches uncertainly. It had always been the four of them - how could they eat their peaches if he didn't eat his?

Ignoring the chasm widening in his chest, he had promised to keep a peach aside for him, in case he changed his mind. To his relief, this was enough reassurance for everyone else to eat their peaches, clearly confident that he would change his mind, they were going to make sure of it!

Looking at the quiet resolve in Ba's eyes, he had his doubts but he told himself that he would respect his decision no matter what. No tricking him into eating a peach or guilting him into it and when the time came... when he...

Ba's expression softened at his teary eyes, placing a gentle hand on his arm, and Wukong was powerless not to sweep him up and hold him tightly.

The pain of losing him, and inevitably Ma, Liu and Beng, already unbearable.

Chapter Text

Azure - Joy

Azure had never had any difficulty making friends. His goodwill and confidence easily winning over citizens, superiors and his fellow soldiers. And as a result, he had no shortage of people he could call upon for a drink, and he'd spent many a night celebrating victory and toasting Heaven's reign with parties of hundreds, every single one of them someone he would have happily called his friend.

But he understood now how shallow that camaraderie had been, how dependent it had been on his compliance of the status quo.

A status quo he was increasingly disquieted with.

At first, it had only been the odd isolated incident that had caused him to feel uneasy - usually a call made by one of his superiors that just didn't sit quite right with him. But, never one to fear speaking his mind, he had raised his concerns and had subsequently been placated by his opinions being respected and his suggestions taken seriously.

But amidst concessions of minor failings and gratitude for his thoughtful insight, there was always the gentle reminder that he didn't have the full picture, that there were details and factors that his rank did not permit him to know.

He had always accepted that subtle reproach gracefully, his faith in his superiors and the Will of Heaven too strong to believe they weren't doing everything they could for the greater good.

But those same decisions that rubbed him wrong kept happening, again and again. And while his feedback was always welcomed, and even discussed at length, only the most superficial of his recommendations were ever implemented.

His frustrations only continued to grow until, in the aftermath of a bloody campaign, he finally reached his breaking point.

The concerns he had raised to his superiors had never been frivolous or of little consequence. How could they be?

When they had been about stopping innocent blood from being shed.

The Celestial Armies were already returning to Heaven, the great evil they'd been sent to quell successfully defeated. And he'd no doubt they'd be celebrating their victory long into the night, many already patting themselves on the back for a job well done.

He stood alone in the ruins of the war-torn city and solemnly bore witness to the aftermath of "victory".

He took a deep breath.

And then began to help where he could.

It was not the job of a general to move rubble, or to carry the dead, or to tend to the injured, or to quietly console the grieving.

But he worked tirelessly to alleviate the suffering here in any way he could and in doing so it reinforced a glaring truth.

This could have been avoided.

All of it.

If only he'd been listened to.

----

He was not quiet in his criticism of the campaign, or with his frustrations with the army and Heaven at large. And it was here that he learned how quickly one could lose favour for speaking their mind, for questioning the status quo.

It was one thing to sympathise with the mortals that bore the brunt of war but it turned out to be quite another to suggest that Heaven should be doing more to protect them.

He had been taken aback by the anger and offence that even the most benign complaints or suggestions could spark in his fellow soldiers. Any perceived slight taken incredibly personally.

A fellow general had eventually pulled him aside to warn him of the harm his fury was doing.

He was a good man, he was told, passionate about doing right and he could understand his frustration at his advice being overlooked but there was a right way and a wrong way to voice his concerns. All he was accomplishing by so "aggressively" questioning higher powers was pushing people away from him and eroding trust.

It was said in the spirit of someone that didn't want to see a good man get in trouble.

Sympathetic. Understanding. Friendly.

He had swallowed down his anger, thanked him for his advice and apologised for being so emotional.

His "friend" had smiled in relief, slapped his back good-naturedly and reassured him that he understood. After all, who wouldn't get frustrated at a blunder that they had foreseen and had warned their superiors about?

It had been a much needed intervention but not for the reason his fellow general might have believed it to be.

It wasn't just his battle prowess that had awarded him with the title of general. His tactics and people management skills had ensured his success time and time again. And it was obvious that he needed to think carefully on how best to bring about the changes he sought.

He would maintain the status quo for now, be the Azure Lion that Heaven wanted to see. But his mind remained his own and no opportunity to do good would escape his keen eyes and ears.

----

The opportunity he was waiting for finally materialised in the form of a collaborative mission with Yellow Tusk the Wise and the Golden-Winged Peng.

They had all known of each other, had even met in passing more than once, but this fortuitous meeting would mark the beginning of a legendary brotherhood.

It was a curious team that had been put together:

Yellow Tusk, a highly esteemed scholar with an impeccable memory that was almost unrivalled in the field of written magics.

Peng, a guardian of the Pure Lands that was occasionally called upon to act as the personal guard of the highest ranking officials in Heaven, including the Queen Mother.

And him, General of the Wǔtái Division of the Celestial Army, responsible for keeping the north-east regions of the mortal realm safe from malignant forces of Chaos.

And to capture a thief of all things.

No ordinary thief, of course, but he couldn't fathom how the three of them had been chosen for this mission. True, each of them had a relevant area of expertise applicable to what little they knew about their target but it truly was bizarre.

Not that he was complaining, it was a nice change of pace and Yellow Tusk and Peng were extremely competent coworkers and remarkably good company.

It would come as a surprise to no one that it was Peng that eventually let a scathing comment about Heaven slip - deeply insulted that such high ranking and overqualified specialists had been forced to take on such a demeaning task.

He had been careful in his response, not disagreeing that it was unusual, and Yellow Tusk had answered similarly.

It was a moment that could have been easily forgotten, written off as misguided frustration.

But there had been a strange charge to their conversations after that point, each of them carefully testing the waters with small, easy to explain away critiques of the status quo, hopeful they weren't imagining the kinship between them.

Until eventually Peng forced the issue into the open, casually mentioning that their role as personal guard awarded them access to all sorts of gossip. That they had heard rumours about how vocal the two of them had been with their displeasure with Heaven's upper management but that, of course, that they had since come to their senses.

He had glanced at Yellow Tusk in surprise - he had never heard of anyone else so blatantly criticising Heaven's Elite before. But after a moment he had turned back to Peng and, sure he had not misunderstood their tone, he had quirked a smile, "Would we be birds of a feather perchance?"

Peng's grin had said it all.

The tension between them had broken and it quickly came apparent how incredibly like-minded they all truly were. Even though they each had their own cause that had led them to see Heaven for the farce it was.

For Yellow Tusk, it was the needless bureaucracy, corruption and incompetence of those in charge. For Peng, it was the clear discrimination of those that weren't human in appearance, how with little exception those in charge had human faces. For him, it was the refusal to be proactive, to not use the incredible power of Heaven to improve the lives of mortals.

They opened each other's eyes to more and more of the systemic issues that plagued the Celestial Realm and it became increasingly clear to them all what lay at the root of it all.

The Jade Emperor.

----

Their careers as revolutionaries were still very much in their humble beginnings but while they slowly made sense of the way forward their newfound friendship flourished.

After committing himself to the status quo, there had been a disconnect between him and the world. He had still befriended his fellow Celestials, still laughed and cried with them, drank and worked with them. But it had been a hollow experience, knowing they would abandon him in the first instance he dissented.

But now, he had finally found true friends in Yellow Tusk and Peng and the joy merely being in their company brought him was indescribable.

It was unfortunate that their duties kept them apart but Yellow Tusk - brilliant, brilliant Yellow Tusk - had developed a foolproof method for them to pass secret messages onto one another. And while many such messages spoke of revolution, just as many spoke of their day-to-day and made plans for some fun at the very first opportunity.

There was no greater feeling than raising a glass with his brothers, squandered somewhere safe from prying eyes and ears, talking all night about their hopes and dreams for the future.

There would be more of them, he always told them, they would find others invested in their cause. But drunkenly he always swore that as long as he had the two of them by his side then there was no future where their dreams didn't come true.

Chapter Text

MK - Burn

For an inextinguishable, interdimensional flame, capable of burning the fabric of reality, the Samadhi Fire hadn't really done a lot of, y'know, burning.

You'd think at the very least there would have been some singed clothes or reddened skin from being in the literal blast zone when the fire was released but no one had been physically worse for wear as a result of the fire itself.

Not even him, and he'd literally run head first into it to reach Mei!

But now, only days after the event, he'd realised he hadn't come out of that terrible experience unscathed.

At first, the aches and pains and exhaustion from saving the world had been so severe that he hadn't been able to do much more than sleep - only waking up when Pigsy physically roused him and forced him to eat something. And then, once he had been up and about, he had dived head first into helping with the restoration efforts.

So it had taken a little while to realise that the strange discomfort he was feeling whenever he stopped for a moment was more than just the remnants of his harrowing adventure or the result of overworking.

But while it was a discomfort during the day when he had plenty to keep him busy, at night he began to writhe as he burned from the inside out.

And as he felt invisible flames scorch everywhere and no where inside him, he knew without a doubt that it was the Samadhi Fire's doing.

But even after everything he'd been through and his big talk about being a team, he hadn't found the courage to tell the others.

It wasn't too bad he told himself - he could mostly ignore it during the day and it saved him from nightmares at night. And who's to say it wouldn't go away all by itself if he just ignored it?

To the surprise of no one, it did not go away all by itself.

It was equally unsurprising that his various attempts to quell the fire by himself did nothing either. But in hindsight, treating it like a fever or some normal sickness was always doomed to fail. As was messing about with his magic but in his sleep deprived state, he really had thought he was onto something by just trying to force the magic out.

Ultimately, he could only be grateful Pigsy had been keeping such a close eye on him and had caught him tossing and turning and grimacing in pain one night before forcing the truth out of him.

He had then been unceremoniously dragged in front of Monkey King and, after a bit of back and forth with Nezha and the Demon Bull Family, a remedy had quickly been found.

He'd already known that the Samadhi Fire was no ordinary flame but he hadn't fully appreciated that it was an ancient, eldritch power that obeyed no law and burned however it saw fit.

It had set his magic alight and there was no telling what the consequences could have been had it not been caught when it had.

He had been lectured to within an inch of life, and rightly so, but he hadn't been the only one to face everyone's ire. Because, as it turned out, he hadn't been the only one keeping burning secrets.

Although, arguably Mei experiencing the internal burning of the Samadhi Fire was of even greater cause for concern.

----

Sandy - Weight

Sandy was exceptionally grateful that his friends were so accepting of his aversion to violence. That they let him play a much more supportive and defensive role during fights, even when he was clearly capable of so much more.

But the fact he had to fight at all still weighed on him.

He constantly had to remind himself that fighting he did now as a hero, was not the same as the fighting that he'd finally walked away from.

He was protecting people. He was saving the world. He was doing it for this greater good.

And not because it was all he'd ever been good for.

The Scroll of Memory had made it harder to believe that.

Whether his ancestor or his previous life, his time as Shā Wùjìng had reinforced the idea that violence was in his blood, or worse was in his very soul. And it was a hard thing to reconcile with.

His nightmares had become so bloody and violent that he couldn't tell his own memories apart from Shā Wùjìng's, where one of them started and the other ended.

But the worst of it was the thrill of it. Of how right it felt to be on the battlefield. To draw first blood and be the last one standing.

He didn't want to fight.

He didn't want to be that monster again.

But some days it felt all but inevitable that he would.

----

Mei - Legacy

With the Lady Bone Demon defeated, and the Samadhi Fire used up in the process, the day had been well and truly saved but she knew it would take some time before any of them fully recovered from the ordeal.

Staring in the mirror, she tried to find signs that she had changed. A piece of the Samadhi Fire had apparently been with her for her whole life, after all - shouldn't she be able to feel its absence? Shouldn't she feel different now?

She wasn't sure she did.

Sometimes she thought she felt flames on her skin or a burning in her heart but she was sure that was all in her head - just remnants of terror that refused to let her go.

She wondered if there had been any signs she had missed growing up? Maybe the fire had been the reason she had excelled at aggressive or powerful dragon abilities but had utterly failed with any that required restraint or finesse? Had it bolstered her magic? Would she be weaker now without it?

Only time would answer those questions about her strength but the question of whether she could have known sooner was one she struggled with.

Because it wasn't just her that would have missed those signs - it would have been every family member before her too, those that had carried the flame and those that had been close to them.

She'd been reluctant to bring up anything to do with the Samadhi Fire with her parents at first but eventually the need to know combined with feeling that her family deserved to know about the horrifying power they'd been carrying for generations won out.

It required being more honesty about what she'd been through than she would have liked but she'd done her best to downplay what a harrowing experience it had truly been.

It had clearly been a shock to both of them and, after reassuring themselves that she was alright and cursing out Monkey King for all he was worth, they immediately got to work seeking answers - asking the extended family, going through the archives and reviewing family memories.

There was some record of the Samadhi Fire ritual as told by Áo Liè but he apparently hadn't been too concerned about the whole thing, barely even mentioning he'd been singed by a wayward flame during a "little whoops-a-daisy".

They'd been able to make some educated guess about the route the fire had taken through the family tree but it didn't bring anyone much peace.

Just a frustration that there must have been signs that had been missed and an anger that such a curse had been placed upon their family.

Chapter Text

Wukong - Betrayal

It had taken MK several years to realise something was amiss, that his face alone was the only one amongst his friends that wasn't changing, the signs of aging banished from his complexion.

Wukong had long anticipated the day he would run to him in distress and beg him to tell him that it wasn't true, that he was still as mortal as he'd ever been.

Wukong had been appropriately confused, alarmed and horrified at all the right moments as they came to the conclusion that picking up the staff had conferred MK not only his powers but his immortality.

He'd sworn up and down that he'd had no idea that it had even been possible, picking up the staff hadn't given him an extra immortality, after all! But still he apologised profusely as he weathered MK's agony.

He supported him as he tried to find a remedy and listened to him at length as he debated giving up the staff. Even if he hadn't been able to hide how upsetting an idea that was, he told MK he would respect his decision.

An easy thing to do when he knew that giving up the staff wouldn't cure him of his immortality, and so that any attempts to do so would be short lived.

Because the truth was that MK's immortality had little to do with the staff, and everything to do with the immortal peach he had selfishly tricked him into eating years ago.

----

MK - Differences

To this day, Pigsy probably had no idea why MK, in his mid-twenties, suddenly started being such an attentive and appreciative son but while he'd initially been a little surprised, and a lot suspicious, he certainly wasn't upset about it.

Any why would he be?

MK now almost never complained or dawdled when Pigsy asked him to do something, he treated him like a king every father's day and he always made time for a father-son day every month where he genuinely wanted to know what Pigsy had been up to and how he was getting on.

Don't get him wrong, it wasn't like he'd been a bad son or anything before that but he could admit he'd taken his dad a little for granted at times.

That all changed as he'd gradually befriended Red Son, and had subsequently gotten to know Princess Iron Fan a little better though.

He and Red Son's childhoods were like night and day in comparison. Obviously, the most glaring difference was the fact that Red Son had been born and raised in a palace, which came with all the luxuries that entailed, but he'd take his humble upbringing at Pigsy's Noodles over Red Son's palace any day of the week.

Because compared to Princess Iron Fan, Pigsy was basically parent of the century.

That wasn't to say Pigsy had been a perfect parent, because he most certainly hadn't been and the man himself would be the first to admit that. But he had always put MK's health and wellbeing above all else and, even if at time's he'd struggled to express it, he'd loved and cared for him as if he was his own flesh and blood.

Princess Iron Fan on the other hand...

He doubted she'd ever shown Red Son even a shred of love or affection. If anything she seemed to hold him in contempt for simply daring to exist.

Now, he could understand to some extent why she might not have always been the world's best mother - she'd lost her husband, she'd been ruling and defending their substantial territory, more than one attempt had been made on her life, the list went on - but that didn't justify the downright cruel ways she treated her son, even to this day.

Nothing Red Son did was ever good enough for her and while it made his blood boil at the injustice of it all there was little he could do, because despite everything Red Son still loved her and wouldn't tolerate anyone saying a bad word about her.

So critiquing Princess Iron Fan was out but heaping as much love and affection on Red Son as he could wasn't. And with very little subtly he did his best to do just that, and sure sometimes he maybe went a little too hard on the positivity but he had a whole lifetime of negativity to catch up on!

---

Mei - Similarities

You'd never catch Mei saying that MK had had an easy childhood. Between being an orphan and having to deal with the stigma that came with having a demon for a father, he'd certainly known his fair share of hardships. But he hadn't had a bad childhood either. Sure, he'd never known the lap of luxury she had but he'd hardly lived in poverty.

More importantly however, he'd had a parent that had always tried to put him first, not his own ambitions or the prestige of his family name, just him and his happiness and wellbeing.

She knew that she had been extremely privileged in many ways - money ensuring she had all the latest toys, tech and fashion as well as the very best education - but that hadn't been enough to stop her from burning with jealousy every time she had been reminded of how much better MK's relationship with Pigsy was compared to her own relationship with either of her parents.

She wasn't proud to admit that, as a teenager, she'd largely taken this injustice out on Pigsy - treating him with flagrant disrespect and encouraging MK to rebel against him at every opportunity. Any time MK so much as hinted that Pigsy had done something that had upset him she'd doubled down and painted the man in as bad a light as possible.

Thankfully, that had largely been a short lived phase - although probably not short enough if you asked Pigsy - and these days she was basically an honorary member of the family, her own relationship with Pigsy, and Mr. Tang, appeasing at least a little of her desire for some positive parental attention.

MK had grown up with a lot of love and it filled him with a righteous anger that Red Son very obviously had not. Mei, of course, equally burned with the injustice of his upbringing but unlike MK she could understand Red Son's painful and desperate desire to still have a meaningful relationship with his parents.

Because even with all her attempts to rebel, even with all their criticism, dismissals and belittling, she still wanted the same thing with hers.

It was a difference that created some friction between Red Son and MK at times, but it was a similarity that connected Red Son and her. There was a quiet understanding between the two, and slowly but surely a willingness to open up and commiserate with each other, to talk about the weight of expectations and how they wished things could be different.