Chapter Text
The world was still wrapped in darkness when Sun Wukong slipped out of the hut, leaving Kim Dokja sleeping peacefully in his room. 4 AM had always been his favorite time—too late for night creatures, too early for day ones, leaving the mountain in a pocket of perfect silence that belonged only to him.
He stretched, feeling his joints pop pleasantly, and began his usual route. The pre-dawn walk was a ritual he'd maintained for centuries, a habit born from the restless energy that even immortality couldn't quite settle. There was something meditative about moving through the darkness, feeling the mountain breathe around him, watching the slow shift from night to day.
Today's route took him along the eastern ridge, where a series of shallow caverns opened onto a natural platform that jutted out over the valley. It was one of his favorite spots—high enough that you could watch the clouds drift past at eye level, isolated enough that he rarely encountered anyone else at this hour.
Which was why he was surprised to find the space already occupied.
A boy sat at the very edge of the platform, legs dangling over open air, silhouetted against the faint pre-dawn glow on the horizon. Even in darkness, Sun Wukong could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid way he held himself, as if relaxation was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Yoo Joonghyuk. It had to be.
For a moment, Sun Wukong considered turning back, giving the boy his space. But something about the set of those shoulders, the careful distance he'd placed between himself and the cavern entrance—escape route, Sun Wukong recognized—made him pause.
This was a kid who was trying. Who'd agreed to come meet a legendary monster today because Kim Dokja had asked him to trust. The least Sun Wukong could do was not make him wait alone in the dark.
"Mind if I join you?" Sun Wukong kept his voice low, non-threatening. "Or I can leave you be. This is a good spot for thinking."
Yoo Joonghyuk's entire body had gone rigid at the first sound, but he didn't run. Didn't attack. After a long, evaluating moment, he gave the smallest nod.
"You're him," Yoo Joonghyuk said finally. It wasn't a question.
"Depends on who you think 'him' is," Sun Wukong replied mildly. "But yeah, probably."
"The Monkey King. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven." Each title was delivered with careful neutrality, but Sun Wukong could hear the weight behind them. "The one who challenged the heavens and killed anyone who got in his way."
Sun Wukong huffed a quiet laugh. "The stories really do make me sound like a complete bastard, don't they?"
Yoo Joonghyuk's head turned slightly, clearly not expecting that response.
"I'm not going to tell you the stories are wrong," Sun Wukong continued, watching the horizon slowly lighten from black to deep blue. "I did those things. Fought Heaven, killed demons and celestials both, made a mess of things from one end of creation to the other."
"And now you cook food and take care of lost children."
There was something in Yoo Joonghyuk's voice—not quite accusation, but close. Like he was trying to reconcile two completely different people and couldn't make the pieces fit.
"Now I cook food and take care of lost children," Sun Wukong agreed. "Funny how time changes things."
"People don't just change like that. Not fundamentally."
"You're right," Sun Wukong said. "The core of who I am hasn't changed. I'm still arrogant, still short-tempered, still way too confident in my own abilities. But..." he paused, considering how to explain centuries of slow transformation. "The world ain’t black and white, kid. The monkey who fought Heaven wasn't evil—he was desperate and angry and too young to know better ways to solve problems."
"You were protecting your family." It wasn't a question. Yoo Joonghyuk had clearly been thinking about yesterday's conversation.
"I was protecting my family," Sun Wukong confirmed. "My troop on Flower Fruit Mountain. They were going to be wiped out by life sooner or later. So yeah, I fought back. Probably harder than I needed to, but when you're that scared and that angry, restraint isn't exactly your first priority."
The sky was shifting to lighter shades now, deep blue fading to purple at the edges. A few early birds began their tentative morning songs.
"The stories don't mention that part," Yoo Joonghyuk said quietly.
"Stories rarely do. People like their villains simple—much easier to condemn someone if you don't have to think about why they did what they did." Sun Wukong glanced at the boy beside him, taking in the defensive posture that suggested he knew exactly what it felt like to be judged without context. "But real life is messier. People do terrible things for complicated reasons, and sometimes those reasons don't make the actions right, but they make them... understandable."
Yoo Joonghyuk was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "What if someone did terrible things for no good reason? Just because they were... wrong inside. Broken."
Ah. There it was.
"Kid," Sun Wukong said gently, "I've lived a very long time, and I can count on one hand the number of people I've met who were genuinely broken beyond repair. And none of them were children."
"You don't know what I've done."
"You're right, I don't. And I'm not going to ask." Sun Wukong watched a wisp of cloud drift past, close enough to touch. "But I know this—you're sitting here in the pre-dawn dark, probably didn't sleep much because you're nervous about meeting me today. That doesn't sound like someone who's 'wrong inside.' That sounds like someone who cares very much about doing the right thing."
"Caring doesn't undo what's already done."
"No," Sun Wukong agreed. "It doesn't. But it determines what you do next. And that matters more than you'd think."
The purple on the horizon was bleeding into pink now, the first real hints of sunrise painting the clouds in shades of rose and gold. It was Sun Wukong's favorite part of the day—that moment when darkness surrendered to light, when the world held its breath before beginning again.
"Dokja talks about you a lot," Yoo Joonghyuk said suddenly. "Says you saved his life."
"I gave him a room and some decent meals. Hardly heroic, kiddo."
"He was dying." Yoo Joonghyuk's voice was flat, stating a fact. "Inside, where it doesn't show. And you saw that. Saw him when everyone else just looked through him."
Sun Wukong felt something twist in his chest. "Yeah, well. Takes one to know one, I guess."
"You were dying inside?"
"A long time ago. After everything with Heaven, after the journey west, after..." Sun Wukong waved a hand vaguely. "After all of it. There were a lot of years where I was just... going through the motions. Existing but not really living."
"What changed?"
Sun Wukong smiled slightly. "Started paying attention to the small things. Smaller animals and cooking and watching the sunrise. Started choosing to help instead of hurt. Started letting people matter again, even though it scared the hell out of me."
"Why would it scare you?"
"Because caring about people means you can lose them. And I'd already lost everyone once—didn't much fancy doing it again." Sun Wukong glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk. "But turns out the alternative—not caring, not connecting, just drifting through eternity alone—that's worse. Much worse."
The sun was cresting the horizon now, spilling golden light across the clouds and painting the world in shades of amber and flame. Yoo Joonghyuk turned to face it fully, and in the growing light, Sun Wukong could see the tear tracks on his cheeks.
"He wants me to stay," Yoo Joonghyuk said. "Dokja. He wants me to come here, to the mountain. To be..." he struggled with the word. "Safe."
"And what do you want?"
"I don't know." Yoo Joonghyuk's hands clenched in his lap. "I don't know how to be safe. Every time I let my guard down, every time I trust someone, it goes wrong. I ruin it or they hurt me or—"
"Or sometimes it works out," Sun Wukong interrupted gently. "Sometimes you trust someone and they turn out to be exactly who they said they were. Sometimes safe places actually exist."
"You can't promise that."
"No," Sun Wukong agreed. "I can't promise nothing bad will ever happen again. Can't promise you won't get hurt or scared or that life will suddenly be easy. But I can promise that if you decide to stay, you'll have a place here for as long as you want it. No strings attached, no expectations. Just... room to breathe and figure things out."
Yoo Joonghyuk turned to look at him fully for the first time, dark eyes searching Sun Wukong's face for any hint of deception. Sun Wukong held his gaze steadily, letting the kid see whatever he needed to see.
"Why?" Yoo Joonghyuk asked finally. "Why would you do that for someone you don't even know?"
"Because someone should have done it for me, back when I was young and scared and didn't know how to ask for help." Sun Wukong's voice was rough with old memories. "Because Kim Dokja cares about you, and I care about him. And because maybe, just maybe, the best way to make up for all the damage I did back then is to build something good now."
The sun had fully risen now, bathing the platform in warm morning light. The darkness was completely gone, replaced by the clear promise of a new day.
"I'll think about it," Yoo Joonghyuk said finally. "The staying."
"That's all I'm asking. Well, that and maybe come back to the hut for breakfast. Kid's going to be disappointed if you're not there when he wakes up, and watching him try to hide his disappointment is genuinely painful."
The corner of Yoo Joonghyuk's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "He does have terrible control over his expressions."
"Worst I've ever seen," Sun Wukong agreed fondly. "Wears his heart right there on his face for the whole world to see. It's both endearing and mildly terrifying."
They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, watching the mountain wake up around them. Birds called to each other, insects began their daily chorus, and somewhere in the distance, a deer barked its morning greeting.
Finally, Sun Wukong stood, stretching elaborately. "Come on. I'll make breakfast—nothing fancy, just rice and whatever vegetables survived the night. Fair warning, I'm going to act surprised when you show up, because if Dokja figures out we talked first, he'll get all weird about it."
Yoo Joonghyuk stood as well, still cautious but less rigid than before. "Why would he get weird about it?"
"Because he's got this thing about orchestrating people's happiness. Likes to think he's being subtle about it." Sun Wukong started back toward the cavern entrance. "Kid's about as subtle as a brick through a window, but damned if he isn't trying his best."
"He cares a lot," Yoo Joonghyuk said quietly. "About everything. About everyone."
"Yeah," Sun Wukong agreed, something warm settling in his chest. "He really does. It's one of his best qualities, even if it means he worries himself sick half the time."
They walked back toward the hut in comfortable quiet, the morning sun warming their backs. Somewhere ahead, Sun Wukong could sense Kim Dokja beginning to stir, the first hints of consciousness rippling through the boy's sleeping mind.
"Hey," Sun Wukong said as they reached the edge of the clearing. "For what it's worth? I think you're going to be just fine."
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him, something uncertain but hopeful in his expression. "How can you tell?"
"Because you're here. Because you showed up even though you were scared. Because you're trying." Sun Wukong clapped him once on the shoulder—gentle, brief, unthreatening. "That's more than half the battle right there."
As they approached the hut, Sun Wukong could hear Kim Dokja moving around inside, probably getting ready for the day and worrying about whether Yoo Joonghyuk would actually show up.
Sun Wukong caught Yoo Joonghyuk's eye and put a finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing gesture. The kid's mouth twitched again—definitely closer to a smile this time.
Whatever happened next, Sun Wukong thought, at least they were starting from a place of understanding. And sometimes, that was enough.