Chapter Text
Today, it couldn't get any worse.
It couldn't get any fucking worse. Ice crawled up his arms as tears slipped down his face. It wasn't Macaque's comforting coolness, (he misses him. Is he okay? Did he think MK abandoned him?) It was burning hypothermia.
And then he's broken free, the only warning he gets is the faint whisper of "he's coming" before Monkey King is in front of him.
She yells something about destiny, his sight is blurred and his ears are ringing. He hears Monkey King mock her, before swooping him up.
It's all a blur for a while. It only stops when they're a safe distance away and finally free from her choking grasp, if only for now. And he remembers how pissed he is.
Not just for himself. For The Six Eared Macaque as well.
He's talking to Tang about something, having Mei wrap his head, when MK stomps over; he's finally free from his trance and all he can think about is the abandonment he faced and the second one Macaque faced.
He knew far too well about Macaque's issues. That day, when he found Macaque trying to claw his ears off. That day, where Macaque spilled his insecurities just as MK had before. He had been terrified, but now he's just fucking angry.
Monkey King is saying something, in that stupid cocky tone.
Then, he's promptly punched in the face.
He doesn't even try to dodge or react or whatever the Monkey King himself can do. He just stares, wide eyes. They all do.
(Mei looks like she's about to cheer him on, though.)
(Good.)
"WE TRUSTED YOU! "
He yells with a broken sob, pointing off in whatever direction he thought Flower Fruit Mountain was in.
"How could you do that to me? To him? Again?! "
His fuel is dying down, running off only the anger he feels for his other mentor, his friend.
"MK-"
Sandy speaks up, but he's promptly shut down by Pigsy putting an arm out. Mei looks ready to jump Wukong herself. Tang is quiet, for once.
"Bud, I.. "
"I thought you were trying. To fix this. "
MK let's out another heart wrenching sob, and Wukong swears it's gonna kill him.
"You didn't even try to move. "
MK sniffled, wiping away tears with tired hands.
"I deserved it. "
Wukong gently says, opening his arms for MK. The boy collapses into them, no one says a word.
The silence is deafening. Until it's not.
The sky cracks with unexpected thunder, clouds turning gray in a moment's notice. The crew stands, Sandy rushes to get the wheel. Mei's sword is drawn, Pigsy is protecting Tang.
A shot is fired and there's yelling. MK looks around, no one is hit. Whoever is attacking them is incredibly quiet. And when the clouds clear just a bit and the jet-thing's driver is revealed.
MK has never been more scared in his life.
Wukong was always expecting things. It came with the life of being the Monkey King. He expected Demons, Celestials, even Buddha himself.
He did not expect Macaque.
Maybe, maybe he fucking should've. He drives the jet thing at the flying boat, attempting to crash into it. Barely missing, multiple times.
It shakes the ship, Wukong grabs onto MK to keep him from slipping as the attack carries on; this was not like Macaque, to hit fast and obvious. Macaque was slow, meticulous, unnoticeable.
This was anything but Macaque.
On the last attempt, it grazes the side and the jet goes down. Macaque, thank the gods, elegantly lands on the ship. The ship tilts in the opposite direction, Sandy trying to keep it in the air, hoping too; Wukong faces the other Monkey with wide eyes as the ship succumbs to chaos around him.
It's Macaque and it's not. And that terrified Wukong.
His best friend (does he have that right anymore?) is standing, alive, in front of him; yet he's dead all the same. Ice crawls up his arms, patches on his head and legs, sticks out from his missing eye; His eye that is still there is shining a bright, terrifying blue. Wukong takes a step back.
He does not want to fight.
"Uh- Is anyone gonna explain who this guy is?!? "
The Dragon Horse girl yells, stomping her foot on the ground like an angry horse.
"I'd like an explanation, too-"
Tang speaks up, before he's promptly shut up by Macaque taking a single step forward. Wukong matches it with a step back.
"What did she do to him? "
MK whispers in terror, voice shaking with each word. Wukong is the same, though.
He is too cowardly to even speak.
Macaque's mouth opens, not a thing comes out. It clicks and jerks like he's fighting for control, probably because he is. Wukong thinks he hears bones snapping and shuttering, he's unsure.
Finally, something gets through. It's a simple word. A word that utterly breaks Wukong. It is the weakest he's ever heard Macaque, even on his deathbed; the one he had made.
It's a small word. A small thing.
A simple 'run'
Macaque charges. Wukong cannot move.
Mei does.
Her sword held high, a laser shoots out. The possessed creature (that's not his friend, not now, anyway) skillfully dodges. If Macaque were in there, he'd end each movement with some mocking remarks.
He does not.
A few more shots are fired off, before something is thrown. He thinks it's from MK, this time, some type of metal bar. Macaque dodges with ease, once again.
This time, he doesn't move again. Wukong can almost see the struggle in that ice. There's an explosion. The ship is falling, Macaque is falling. He can't reach the other he has too-
The sound of water fills his ears. The events after blur together in a haze of melancholy.
The last coherent thought in his head is "Are they alright? "
-
Dissociation is a bitch.
When Wukong finally mentally checks in, they're in jail. He would be surprised, but honestly, he really has gotten used to this type of stuff by now.
Pigsy is trying to dig his way out with a spoon(???), Tang is talking to him, and MK is silent; He feels like he should probably talk to his kid.
Sighing, Wukong stands up and heads over, sitting by his student with a huff.
"Hey, bud. "
He keeps his voice low, it comes off sounding tired.
"How're you holdin' up? "
"I really wanna punch Lady Bone Demon in the face. Hard. "
MK responded without missing a beat, looking up at his mentor with a face that easily masked his anger.
"Don't we all. "
Wukong responded, still trying to keep the conversation light.
"... We'll get him back, though. I promise."
MK crossed his arms at that.
"You better keep that or I'm gonna punch you, hard. "
The boy huffed, and Wukong knew how much sass he got from Macaque, then and there.
And then the wall explodes.
"Guys! "
MK yelled, a smile in his voice
"You- you jail breaked us! You broke the jail, we're freeee!!! "
Wukong gives a, frankly, very tired thumbs up.
-
Wukong isn't the type of guy to focus on his thoughts. For a number of reasons, it is just generally a bad idea.
But meditation is the best option he has. He's confident in MK, even if he hates leaving him to fend for himself again.
(Macaque would be disappointed. It fuels his need to regain his power)
He comes in and out of this state, a few times; words of the crew getting past to his ears. Something about water, the beating sun, the grass and the yells of "baby powers", gold and a chill.
He falls back deep, but something feels wrong in the back of his mind, he doesn't know what.
It goes by in blips of something and then back to nothing; his mind is blank, in most parts, as he skilfully avoids memories that haunt his psyche.
Of blood and decay, of headaches and crowns, of mountains and friends. He hates it all, hates having to be in this state.
And then he's not. The past replaces the present.
This is, quite frankly, terrible.
The Monkey King, Sun Wukong, wakes up to quite the interesting surprise. The building they're in shakes violently, and his master and brothers are panicking up a storm. With a simple huff, Wukong kicks down the door.
"Don't worry, Master! "
He calls back to the two in the building
"Sun Wukong will handle this demon! "
-
It's so cold. So, so cold. It consumes him in every way. It's colder than winters, it's colder than mountain tops, it's colder than death.
He has not lost his poetic nature in spite of possession.
He can barely see it. Sickeningly, she covers his working eye but not his blind one. He moves like a robot, slow and calculated in each step.
It reminds him of plays. Maybe when he played an old, sick man. Or a woman who wore a thousand layers of clothes. Or maybe a villain, too foolish to think going slow was a bad idea.
He was warm then. He's so cold.
Each step is a fight, his mind is shattered and filled with dry-ice fog. Each interlude, of walking to get closer to them, he rests; he lets her have that win.
His bones crack everytime he moves, they never loosen. He thinks it's ice, freezing them over just to break off and restart again. Do they melt safely? Or will they kill him when- if he's freed?
That's what he fears the most, shamefully enough. If this ever ends, will he go back to being dead? He cannot go to Diyu, Wukong erased his name. He is never going to be reincarnated.
And if doesn't return to his ghostly state, what will become of him? Will he simply stop existing? It's terrifying, to shut your eyes one last time and be met with nothing.
I will erase the very memory of you.
He might not have a choice in that.
His bones crack with each step. The sun is beating and yet he only feels a thousand winter's chill.
-
Festivals are actually the worst, Wukong has decided. Screw the damn fireworks, screw the lights, screw the food; if this is how he has to spend JUST this festival, he might never recover.
But he doesn't really get a choice.
The lights overwhelm him, burning holes in his eyes. The sounds flood his ears and he thinks he almost knows how Macaque feels. He couldn't imagine this with six ears. He glances at his- the kid's friends.
3̶ 2 rings in their hands, one left. His face is painted, a bell in hand. Thousands of eyes on him.
He's panicking, but who cares.
(Macaque was made for this, not him)
He hits the bell, an anticlimactic final to an otherwise amazing performance by the pigman.
And then there's an explosion. Wukong doesn't even flinch at that.
There is a very Tang-like scream, and then a very Tang-like person falls into Pigsy's arms. His nervousness can be smelled from a mile away.
"Way to go, Bench warmer! "
"Uh- Guys- the ice monkey's here-"
It goes to hell after that.
-
The train ride is horrible. The lights, despite being turned as low as they could, are blinding to Wukong; the noises of the train burn his mind. He is overwhelmed too all hell. He doesn't remember the name for it.
The normal passengers all coward away, near the corner of the train. No one wants to approach them, rightfully so.
Silence fills the entire train. It's broken by the pig.
"So, this 4th ring, where is it? "
"What? "
It comes from both himself and MK. A little bit too much like each other. That's something Macaque would say.
The pig stands taller, hands balled into violent fists ready to strike. His lover puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, confused
“You said there was a fourth ring! “
Wukong blinks into wide eyes, taking a step back. He doesn't remember- no, he does. He remembers; the urge to lie lays on his lips like an old friend.
“What's he talking about, King? “
The dragon girl speaks up. MK looks slightly angry, he can taste the secrets in his mouth. It's falling apart. Wukong cannot let this fall apart–
There's a screeching as the train is suddenly ripped apart. The smell of flowers and fire fill the air.
Nezha arrives with smoke in his trail, and Wukong steps up to deal with his old friend.
It's a perfect distraction.
-
It's truly the perfect distraction.
Up in the mountains, a clash of fire and fur. Of ribbons, spears, and gold. Wukong hates to say it, but he feels alive like this. In the freezing temperatures, with uncut claws sharpened like knives, he feels free.
Bang after bang, clattering with purpose, pink and yellow clash like gods. There is bitterness and there is fun. One takes this too seriously, the other not seriously enough.
He's thrown into a mountain. It feels like this has happened a hundred times. It stopped hurting when his skin turned to iron, his lungs to pure copper. He feels nothing but exhilaration.
“I'm still faster. “
Nezha taunts with a wicked smile, folding the rings out like playing cards. He's got the winning deck, after all. Wukong's poker face falls into a smile.
“And even dumber. “
“WHY CAN YOU NEVER LET ME HAVE THE LAST WORD?! “
Nezha rages like a child, and it gets a cheeky laugh out of Wukong.
And then the ice hits. He can never have the last laugh.
“Oh- no no no-”
Wukong whispers pleads under his breath like a prayer. Frost leaks from his mouth, the warmth of words clashing terribly with the freezing temperatures. Golden eyes, melting away to red, stare desperately at the ice covered monkey.
It has almost consumed him fully. Cruelly, it leaves his dead eye to the moon's light. Blood has stopped leaking from it, replaced by puss and sickness from infection. Wukong worries it will kill him a second time, leaving his body mummified in ice. Is he even alive under there?
Without a word, he stops forward, ripping the rings from Nezha.
“NO! “
Nezha screeches. His fire could not burn through the bitter ice. The black fur reflects in it like the night sky.
“What?! Not gonna preach a little? Talk about how ‘DeStInEy Is GrEaT’ and such? Come on! Every good villain's gotta have their monologue! “
Wukong beckons. Anything to keep her away from them. Anything.
“Wukong.”
It's not her voice.
“Shut up, please. “
It's a whisper in a dead man's tone. With infection in his head, ears torn to shreds. He rips apart fur-turned gold, watches it float away in the wind.
“Macaque-”
Wukong says his name like it's a god’s.
“I'm sorry. “
Wukong can't tell if it's genuine. His apologies had always been so empty-- not because he didn't mean it, but because he said them so often.
“But I have to do this to get out. I'm not going back to an ornament.“
And in the end, monkeys are selfish creatures. Selfish and cowardly. This time, Macaque flees.
This time, Wukong is the one calling out. It feels unendingly cruel.