Chapter Text
It was the afternoon when Wukong first had the urge to check on MK again, but it’s now almost sunset as he finally flies out on his cloud towards the city. The kid can handle himself, after all, and the king had been increasingly distracted by a few of the monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain lately. Especially now that it’s Summer and a few of the younger ones have gotten old enough to harass him. Not that he really minded.
Wukong looks to the sky to see its golden hues bleeding into red, a few stars already glinting against the backdrop.
Yeah, he doesn’t mind one bit.
The city’s bright lights and noise bring him back to focus. Once Wukong’s close enough, he jumps off the cloud and transforms into a bird, soaring over the shore. The wind pleasantly brushes through his feathers as a salty scent soaks in. Sandy’s boat lies still against the dock, and Wukong’s eyes of sight see nothing but the man’s sleeping frame. No MK.
Wukong eventually lands on the edge of the city atop a skyscraper, talons flat against the cool parapet. He had taken a bit of a detour, a lush green field behind him now rather than the ocean, one that’s barely touched by the city’s growing walls. If he’s being honest, it’s just nice to stretch his ‘wings’.
If his timing is correct, MK should be at home right now if he’s not on the boat. Probably with Mei. Wukong isn’t that far, he can get there before the sun sets completely.
He’s beginning to relax when a voice cuts through the usual sound of traffic like a searing blade. “Aw, did you come all the way out here just to see me?”
The sage whips around, careful not to fall from the ledge as he transforms to his usual form in a flash. The fur on the back of his neck bristles as he stares at the dark-furred macaque. That familiar smirk is already starting to irritate him. He has better things to do right now than fight Macaque.
“What? Nothing? Not even a hello?” Macaque tilts his head with a taunting laugh. Wukong’s hand drifts to the bamboo staff on his back, “What do you want, Macaque?”
“Can’t I greet an old friend?” Spitting the words out like poison, Macaque’s smirk twitches to show more of his fangs. “It’s like you don’t even want to see me…sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” There’s a growl that escapes his throat at the end.
Despite the familiarity of them, the words still sting Wukong.
The sage glances at the city for a moment. Macaque goes to move but Wukong is the first to strike.
His staff connects with the demon’s ribs, slamming with enough force to send him flying onto the grass plains. They won’t be fighting near mortals this time. Wukong will make sure of it.
No MK either. The kid has experienced enough.
Dust settles as the king jumps from the skyscraper, making his way towards the upturned dirt that Macaque created. The demon rises into a stance, shaking the dust from his fur. “You can do better than that. Aren’t you a king? A Great Sage?” Chuckling with malice, Macaque always knows just how to piss him off.
Wukong’s fist collides with the others, and so does the next. And the next. While a few hits land, it only takes seconds for either of them to get back on their feet and keep going. His adrenaline roars in his ears, and he’s not sure if it’s from the anger or the rush of a fight after so long, but it makes the king feel alive. Macaque’s eyes pierce the dark in a purple glow as an apparition tries to grab at Wukong.
“Haven’t found any new tricks?” He taunts, stomping away the shadows that disperse like smoke. Macaque snarls, landing a kick to Wukong’s stomach. Choking, something drips from between the kings teeth onto the grass. He stumbles to the side before Macaque can add to the injury, taking a second to recover before resuming a fighting stance. He wipes some from his chin. It glints like jewelry under the rising moon. Yeah. Definitely blood.
The fight goes on similarly. Both take hits, injuries building and healing all the same. Macaque never seems to shut up, taunting the Sage like he has nothing to lose. However, even he’s starting to slow down.
While yes, Wukong is above even the average immortal, he can still get tired out. Especially when he’s been taking advantage of MK’s apprenticeship to grow rusty. What a mistake.
Another hundredth apparition disperses, parting what little grass is left after hours of peaceful plains becoming two rivals new battleground.
Macaque misses what would’ve been a punch to the mouth, and Wukong grabs him. He’s slammed into a boulder a second later, the force cracking the stone. Their pants escape as smoke, both trying to catch their breath in the crisp night air. It’s almost peaceful for a moment before Wukong recalls what he’s doing and Macaque’s next inhale becomes strangled.
There’s a cold numb to it, like his previous anger had solidified into an icy grip. As if his body is tired of feeling. It’s nothing new. It’s just that now he isn’t going to cover it with bad humour or sleep.
If Macaque wants a fight to the death then Wukong can make it happen.
Macaque’s claws dig into the hand around his throat, a bitter laugh escaping him, “There’s the real Sun Wukong.” He winces slightly when the grip tightens around his neck. The last part coming out in a growl. “Come on then, do it. Finish what you started.”
Wukong feels the demons pulse thrum against his fingers like a silent mantra. It’s fast, afraid despite the confident demeanour Macaque wears as he taunts him.
Something shatters in Wukong. The sage’s heart clenches as their eyes pierce each others. It’s familiar. The malice behind the demons eyes, daring Wukong to actually strike him. To end their rivalry. Memories of his first fight with Macaque begin seeping into the edges of his mind. When he had taken the Six-Eared Macaque’s eye. Back then there was something else beneath it too; a sense of betrayal. The feeling of a bridge splintering as it tumbled into the rapids below.
It makes him feel sick.
There were the memories of the nightmares Wukong was plagued with afterwards. The ones where he would relive the events over and over again. Wukong has never been considered a remorseful person, but there were a couple times he would get up to pray. Where the cold sweat from the dream made his fur stick to his skin like a clammy embrace he couldn’t escape. Guilt is a silent torture on its own, and he was never truly free of it. It’s chains would always choke him from the inside.
Even if he tried to forget.
Wukong’s fun like that. His brain tricks him into thinking he’s gotten over something by numbing those emotions and memories until they’re just a bland taste in the back of his throat, but deep down they’re never really gone.
A side effect of having no one ever believe in you, and so he’s never been able to forgive himself.
Blood drips from Wukong’s hands and wrists as Macaque’s claws grasp at him, digging into his flesh. He can’t do this again.
Wukong hesitates, his grip loosening.
Macaque growls before lunging forward, twisting their positions to slam Wukong into the cracked stone. The sage hisses out in pain from the impact. Macaque is glaring down at him with bared teeth, pressing his chest down with a forceful hand. The anger radiating from him leaks into his voice like poison, “What’s wrong with you? Suddenly you can’t kill me?” He hisses. “Say something!”
For a moment, Wukong looks past Macaque’s shoulder at the moon. Was Chang’e watching this? Was any god watching this? Were they laughing as the Great Sage who tricked them so many times showed weakness to someone he betrayed? To a demon? Like so many he’s killed? He internally shakes himself out of it.
Focus. They don’t control you.
Wukong concentrates back on the monkey above him, glaring in return and ignoring the throbbing pain from the rocks digging into his spine, “I won’t do it.”
“Why?!” Macaque grips Wukong’s armour, and the king realizes there’s a desperation to it as he leans closer to Wukong’s face. He isn’t quite sure what the demon hopes to find. Maybe Macaque doesn’t know either.
“I’d just regret it all over again.” He wants to look away from the others prying eyes, but keeps them trained. Wukong doesn’t miss the way Macaque flinches at the words.
There’s a beat of silence before a smile of disbelief stretches across Macaque’s face, “You’re kidding me.” He starts to laugh. A hollow and cruel one. “You suddenly regret that? After all this time? You really have gone soft.”
Wukong’s mouth feels dry at the sound, narrowing his eyes. “You were my friend, Macaque.” The words sting like a fresh wound even though it’s been decades.
MK was always better at this sort of thing than Wukong ever was. He tries to be a good mentor, he does, but people aren’t his strong suit. They’re MK’s. Maybe it’s stupid to try and imagine what your student would do in your shoes, but Wukong can’t help but think of that now. What would he do? What would MK do if he hurt someone irreparably? Something lights up in Wukong as it finally clicks.
He would try to fix it. Apologize.
Wukong tries to sit up, the hold on his armour making it difficult. The demon only shoves him back down harder as the sage settles for putting a hand over the one holding him. The muscles tense even more under his touch. “I’m not the same person I was back then. Neither are you.”
“Don’t touch me.” Macaque growls hypocritically, tearing away from Wukong to stand. “I can’t believe that kid-“
The king’s voice cuts through his with an edge as he finally lifts himself off the rubble. “This is between me and you. Not him. You put him through enough already.”
“Oh did I?” Macaque grins mockingly, his fangs glinting. “What? You want me to apologize to you? After what you did? After you tried to ki-“
It’s a switch being flipped. Wukong feels those numbed emotions break their case, lashing inside him, rushing through his skin until he’s grabbing Macaque by the collar. “I’m sorry, okay?!”
A second passes, then another. Time seems to pass all too slow while they stand there before Macaque finally breaks it, “You think I’d believe that?”
It’s not like anyone else ever has.
“Listen— I am.” Wukong lets go of him with a frustrated sigh.
Macaque shakes his head, both of them all too aware it’s too little, but Wukong wants to believe it’s not too late. After all, you never truly grow out of being foolish in wishing for a happy ending. Even if the happy ending involves healing a wound that’s become a scar. Wukong just doesn’t want to go home tonight and regret. He’s done it enough already.
Wukong speaks again, “I fucked up, Macaque. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry I was a shitty friend.” His claws dig into his palm as his hands clench at his sides, “but I can’t ignore what you did to the kid, either.”
Macaque sneers, looking away. He’s quiet, as if waiting for Wukong to continue, and he does, “Maybe this is— ugh.” The sage runs a hand through his hair, slightly gripping it. It’s hard to get words out when you’ve choked on them for decades, and maybe that’s why it’s even harder to understand what they really mean. Wukong finds the confidence to speak again, the words coming out painful and uncomfortably honest, “I want to be your friend again. A real one. I don’t need you to forgive me, but I want you to give me a chance to earn it.”
It feels vulnerable, like the sages thoughts and mind were between them now, tipping the scale. Macaque glances at Wukong for a moment with crossed arms. It’s clear he’s mulling it over as Wukong starts to hear his own heart thudding in his ears. The demon’s ears flicker and he knows he can hear it.
Just say something already.
Macaque finally turns to fully face him, “Earn it how? What would I be giving you the chance to do?”
“Show you I’m not the same person I was. We can talk. Take it one step at a time to see what we’re both comfortable with.” Wukong shrugs slightly, the muscles in his shoulders aching. He hopes what he’s saying doesn’t seem like wishful thinking. Even if he knows it is.
Macaque growls slightly, “Fine.” He brushes some of the dirt off his scarf. “I’ll give you one chance, but don’t expect me to just forgive you when you start acting nice.”
Wukong feels a massive weight slide off his shoulders, relief flooding his veins. “I won’t. Oh, and I have one condition.” Macaque narrows his eyes as Wukong speaks, “When you’re ready, apologize to MK.”
“Deal?” Wukong offers a hand out with a smile, blood staining the skin from when the demon dug his claws into the flesh.
Macaque pauses before taking the hand, “Deal.”
Before the Sage can say anything else, Macaque tears his hand away, “I’ll see you around then.” A tendril of inky shadows sweep up his legs, enveloping the demon as the floor swallows him. As quick as it was sudden.
The king blinks before processing and turning to begin looking among the rubble for his staff. The bamboo is easy to spot among the debris as he grasps it. Using the last of his energy, he summons his cloud and starts his journey back to Flower Fruit Mountain. The plains look almost unrecognizable from the air.
The wind is pleasant against his fur during the travel, but when he lands and finally enters his home he feels it all crash. The adrenaline is gone, all that’s left now is the ache of his muscles and the swirling storm of emotion that has muddled from exhaustion. Door clicking behind him, the wood flooring creaks under his uneven footsteps. Wukong drags himself to the couch and falls onto it, armour and all. The bamboo staff clatters to the floor as he finally lets himself fully relax.
Wukong wonders, if his friends who travelled with him to the West were here today, would they be proud? Would this be something they expected from their golden king?
He hopes so, or maybe he just made a huge mistake.