Chapter Text
“So, our plans got chucked out a window,” said MK, sitting down on his bed, brand-new library card in hand. They’d returned home to help everyone get back on their feet after the collective nap. A few people had been on the train or on trolleys, and had to be helped out of the locked vehicles. Some were in cars, and that was a mess in its own right. Some were skydiving when the sleep plague happened! It was a mess. Not everyone who fell asleep woke up again, and it hurt MK’s heart every time he pried open a car door, only to see a dead person sitting at the wheel. Dajing, for his part, wasn’t as taken aback by the dead. He’d look, check for breathing, then see if anyone else was alive. It fascinated and disturbed him how easily Dajing could look at a body and move on. MK couldn’t. All he could think of was the person’s life. If they had family, hobbies, jobs, friends. He’d linger on it. Dajing didn’t.
But despite helping with the cleanup, they still had things they planned to do. “We’ve got to come up with something to do.”
“Seaching?” Dajing signed, his eyes lingering on the potted plants on his shelves. He’d taken to pacing while he spoke, while MK gravitated towards his bed.
“An idea,” MK signed back, humming. “Training. The girl–we do not know who or what she was.”
“I worry about that,” Dajing said, his hands moving slowly as he thought. “She felt familiar.”
“Probably not a good thing.”
“Almost certainly.”
“So,” MK said. “Training.”
He nodded. “You promised Red Son an explanation.”
“Ughhh,” He groaned, running his hands down his face. “I don’t know what to saaaay.”
“What did you promise him anyway?” Dajing asked, his brow raising.
“He wanted an explanation on our…deal,” MK grimaced.
“Deal?”
“Your deal, more specifically,” he signed quickly. “He was confused about you.”
Dajing scoffed. “I bet many are confused.” MK hummed, frowning and raising his eyebrows in confusion. Relenting, he sighed and clarified. “I look too much like the Monkey King to be anything but a relative. He’s too notable not to beg questions of me and my deal.” He exaggerated his hand motions on “deal,” which was fair.
“It shouldn’t matter,” MK countered.
“It does,” he said ruefully. “It always matters.”
MK grimaced again, unsure what to say. Reputations linger; he knew that much. But what Dajing was–will?–be dealing with was going to be immense. MK understood some of it. He was the Monkey King’s successor. He knew, vaguely, that he’d one day take on the Monkey King’s duties. He’d be the Monkey King. But succession wasn’t a noose, like in Dajing’s case.
“Back to the Mountain?” Dajing asked, rubbing his eyes. “I grow tired.”
“There has to be something else we can do. Research, training…Red Son…” He said that name rather quietly, and Dajing simply rolled his eyes. “There’s got to be something else.”
“MK! I need some help with the dishes!” His dad yelled from downstairs.
He looked down towards the sound, but at the corner of his eye he saw Dajing flinch. His eyes closed, and his shoulders hitched up just an inch.
They stood in silence before MK smiled and went downstairs to help his dad. While Pigsy, Tang, and Mei were all affected by the plague, his dad had been doing a lot to help. Sheltering those who’d been hurt before sending them on their way, and Tang acted as a temporary teacher to kids whose parents were not located. Mei, with her strength, helped pull people out of wrecks. The Monkie Kids helped the city, including Dajing, even if many people looked at Him with utter confusion as he walked by. Monkey demons were rarely seen off Mount Huaguo, and they largely stuck to themselves. Even Monkey King hadn’t shown him where they were, saying that there would be time. He didn’t even know if Dajing knew where they were.
Anyway, he made it downstairs with Dajing in tow. He moved to the kitchen on instinct, seeing his dad in his chef-ly glory, scrubbing the pot that had boiled over earlier. “This darn thing…” He swore, scrubbing with intensity.
“Dad?” He asked, holding out his hands to take the pot. His dad was strong. Very, very strong. But MK, with his training and powers, was much stronger. If anyone could elbow-grease those stains out, it’d be him.
Pigsy sighed and handed the pot over. “I just can’t do it like I used to.”
“There’s no shame in that,” Said Tang, gesturing for Dajing to sit at the table. “Time comes for us all.”
“Except Monkey King,” his dad rightly countered.
“Monkey King is an exception to most things,” Tang said confidently, before grimacing. “Or, well, he usually is.”
That was probably meant to factor in the Great Sage’s murder/suicide/death, but a quick look to Dajing said that he wasn’t going to touch that conversation piece with a 10-foot pole.
“Most of the time is usually enough,” MK said non-committally, gripping the pot rim and twisting to see the insides better. The burnt soup had done a number on the steel. Black, melted soup-making clung to where the liquid boiled over, and the stench matched its awful look.
“Grosss,” He said softly, before grabbing a brush and soap and working at the stains with vigor.
His dad chuckled behind him. “Don’t grip it too hard, kid! You might-”
The metal dented beneath his fingers. He froze, his mind not quite processing what he had done, and an error message shot up when he tried. Pigsy sighed. “I probably needed to replace it anyway…”
He glanced behind him and caught Dajing’s eye. He met his gaze, then shrugged, the faintest of smiles on his face. He pursed his lips and signed “I fix later,” adding a mocking, exaggerated expression to match.
Dajing chuckled, dipping his head towards his shoulder.
“I fix later?” Tang asked.
“Inside joke,” MK said, walking to drop the pot in the trash. “Have you actually fixed it?” Dajing’s sudden silence (or, well, greater silence?) answered that question easily enough. “Come on, dude, you broke one of your weapons.”
“You what?!” Pigsy nearly yelled, glancing between MK and Dajing.
“Long story short–it was during the Macaque fight, he tried to use a spear as a lever and it failed.”
“I thought the spear was stronger than it was; at least I didn’t use my good spear,” Dajing defended himself.
“What’s the good spear?” Tang asked, inching slightly closer to Dajing.
“I don’t have the words. This,” Dajing said before rummaging through his sack for a good minute before pulling out-.
“ERLANG SHEN’S TRI-POINT SPEAR?!” Tang boomed, standing on the chair and leaning on Dajing’s head to get closer to the spear. Dajing, for his part, fought gravity to stay on his chair rather than fall over and take them both out.
“Tang!” Pigsy shouted, dashing over to pull him away. “You’ll get yourself killed!”
“I would die happy and content if I got to study that-” Tang said before Pigsy covered his mouth.
“Calm the nerdiness, love, you’re freaking him out,” he said, gesturing to Dajing, who, by the way, was now pointing the spear at Tang.
Before, that would have worried MK. It still does a little, but he got better at not unintentionally killing people. He was still good at intentional murder, but that was another problem. He mentally added it to the task list. 1. Research ways for Dajing to Not Die, 2tm. Train in Monkey King’s absence, 3. Figure out who the girl was, 4. Tell Red Son something, 5. Make Dajing less prone to murder?
He was still workshopping that. Anyways, the monkey put the spear away, to Tang’s disappointment. Instead, to distract him, MK did what he did best: he yammered. He talked about what the Cloud was like, prompting Tang to jump in with his experience, and gracefully let Pigsy leave the conversation as he wandered off to ready himself for sleep. Dad was a hard worker, waking by 7, opening the shop by 9, and closing the shop twelve hours later to roll into bed at 10. So it was right on time for him to start winding down.
“I didn’t get a too-good look at everything, given the whole getting hunted business, but it did look interesting,” MK said, scrubbing the last of the dishes for the night.
“It’s one of the best repositories of knowledge in the mortal realm! I’m not surprised you’d find it interesting,” Tang preened.
“I was surprised to find tales from Mount Huaguo there,” Dajing said, catching their attention. “It was very nice.”
“You managed to find time to read something?” He asked, setting the dish aside to dry.
“Or,” Tang interjected. “Did you get distracted?”
Dajing said nothing in his defense, only his cheeks reddening.
“Dajing,” MK chuckled.
“You can’t blame him, MK. It’s very easy to get distracted in the Cloud!” Tang said.
Dajing twiddled his fingers, his eyes darting to the ceiling before he replied. “They were familiar. It felt like…” Dajing snapped his fingers, frowning at the floor. “Need word.”
“Whatcha need?” Nowadays, it was rare for Dajing to get stuck on a word. He was pretty fluent, and so was MK by sheer exposure.
Rather than searching for synonyms or writing it out, Dajing mimed a line between him and MK, then between MK and Tang, and then gestured towards the heart.
Tang got it immediately and signed a word MK didn’t know. Dajing still looked confused, and Tang hummed. “Connection or connect is the word you're looking for, and this–” He held his hands out and brought them together, his left palm facing Dajing while his right palm faced Tang. He then pressed his pointer fingers and thumbs together, like a chain, “–is the word for connect in CSL.”
Dajing nodded seriously, repeated the motion, and let his hand movements be corrected. Usually it would be Monkey King doing this. Showing the word, then correcting hand placements to make sure it wouldn’t look like a different word. Some hand signs were like that. Apparently, in American Sign Language, the signs for ‘thank you’ and ‘fuck you’ were just a subtle hand placement apart. Though if Dajing was representative of sign language users, it was probably intentional. The words for ‘bug’ and ‘orgasm’ were, as well, now that he thought of it, though there were a few more steps for those. How did MK know this? He looked up some sign language stuff online once and came across signs that were often confused for each other.
Though, with Monkey King gone, those lessons would stop.
Wait. “Dajing, we could learn more CSL with Tang!” Said monkey turned to him in confusion, but Tang looked interested, at least. “With Monkey King gone, we won’t be learning any new CSL words or grammar; we’ve gotta keep up progress on our learning there!”
Tang’s face split into a beaming smile. “I would be more than happy to continue both of your educations on CSL!”
Dajing glanced between them, an assessing look in his eyes. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.”
MK whooped while Tang went on about lesson plans, teaching, and how lovely it would be to teach or something. MK stopped listening. Dajing, however, was listening and elbowed him in time to hear the instructions.
“Next week, I want you two to get me a list of words or phrases you don’t know, but would like to know. Could be basic things like asking for a phone number, asking someone to slow down, etc.” Tang said, clapping his hands.
“How do I call someone–” then wrote something down on a piece of paper, then handed it to Tang. He probably got that when MK tuned out. Oops.
Tang, however, didn’t look impressed. “It’s not very nice to call someone an idiot.”
“MK is being one.”
“Still not nice.”
“He is ignoring a conversation because he doesn’t know what to talk about,” Dajing said, gesturing at MK without abandon. “It is–!” He gestured wildly. He clearly didn’t need to know how to call someone an idiot specifically; his body language did a lot of the heavy lifting.
Tang sighed. “Yeah, that’s a little silly. Alright, I’ll teach it. Better you learn from me than the internet”
Said monkey smiled rather widely, glancing at MK.
He groaned, crossing his arms. “Ughhh, fine, I’ll send that text.”
Now, Dajing looked victorious.
MK stared at his phone screen, the bright LEDs nearly blinding him in the dark room. Despite pushing him into it, he was meditating in the corner. It was a part of his nightly routine, apparently. Something he did to try and settle himself before bed. It didn’t always work, but it comforted him.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Despite agreeing to it, he still didn’t have a solid idea of what to say. How did he even start? Where could he start? Did he need to keep things secret? How could he protect Dajing? Red Son may not be a pure enemy anymore, but that didn’t mean he could share everything with him. Keeping it at ‘it’s complicated’ wouldn’t satisfy the demon.
He let his phone hit his stomach, groaning softly. Okay, he had to work backward: what did Red Son likely know, and what would he be most confused about?
Well, Dajing was assumed to be Monkey King’s son; Princess Iron Fan said that clearly enough earlier, so what might sprout confusion?
Ahhh, wait. Monkey King having both a son and a successor. It seemed like overkill. Why have two when you can have one sorta situation? Well, he could lie–say that Dajing wasn’t interested in the position, or he could be truthful and say he was from another world, and he wouldn’t stay here permanently.
Or, as he glanced to the corner of his room again, he could say that Dajing wasn’t blessed with immortality like Monkey King, and in fact, had a terminal illness. It’d be true, from a certain point of view. But he didn’t want it to be true. There had to be some sort of cure for what Dajing had unwittingly done to himself. Some way to stop the Great Sage from killing him.
He twisted around, looking for a stress ball he kept in his nightstand. He found it and shot it at Dajing, who flinched out of meditation and grabbed it mid-air, earning an annoyed glare.
“I’ve got an idea on what to say, but you have to approve it.”
A raised eyebrow.
“The Great Sage,” he signed.
Dajing shook his head. “No–”
“We could say it’s a disease, and that is why I’m Monkey King’s successor. That he’s searching for a cure.”
“We don’t know what he is looking for,” Dajing pointed out. “He could be resting as he said he was.”
“Do you actually believe him on that?” He asked skeptically.
“No.”
“Then that’s that, he lied to us, so I think it’s at least a little fair we get to lie a bit in return,” he said aloud, crossing his arms. Dajing quickly mimed zipping his lips and glaring at MK. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, what do you think of the idea?”
Dajing groaned, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “It could work.”
“Better,” MK signed before picking up his phone again.
MK:
Hey, u up?
Red Boy Menace:
I am.
What is that grammar you are using?
Good cause this is a bit complicated and I dont wanna put it off.
Pardon?
You wanted to know about why Im Monkey King’s successor, yet has a kid, right?
Partly, yes.
I’m surprised you were able to make such an accurate guess.
Rude
Maybe Ill never tel you and leave you to question it forever.
Continue, peasant.
Still rude
Anyways, Dajing’s dying.
I can see you typing still but that’s why Monkey King left Mount Huaguo and why I’m his successor.
Monkey King only found out a bit before he started training me, and it hasn’t impacted Dajing too much but
Well, we’re hoping he doesn’t. You know
Kick the bucket too soon
That’s impossible. He’s the son of the Monkey King.
From what we’ve gathered, thats part of the problem
His body isn’t powerful enough to contain the power he does have and its going to slowly kill him
…
I must speak with my parents.
We want to keep this to as few people as possible.
They can help, I assure you.
Thats sweet and all but we were enemies not too long ago, soooo
You wanted an answer, thats it
They will keep it a secret, I swear.
Youre there kid, of course youd say that.
Its getting late, I have to take Dajing home
They will keep it secret because the Monkey King helped save my life when my power nearly destroyed me.
“What the fuck?” he asked softly. His mattress shifted, accommodating new weight–Dajing had gotten up. He showed him his phone, letting him read the conversation, his eyes growing wider and wider before he gasped.
“The True Fire of–” he flailed, then used the keyboard to spell out “Samadhi” before deleting the text. “Red Boy had it in my universe. It must have been too deadly for Red Son to hold.”
“Makes sense…” He hummed, his thumbs hovering again. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“The Red Boy I met was a worse form of Red Son, angry, envious, and spited by Heaven for things out of his control,” Dajing said, his signs nearly unintelligible in the dark. “He chose death rather than face Heaven’s wrath again.”
“Oof,” was all he had to say about that.
“So, to say…” He stilled. At first, he thought it was just him thinking. He stared at his hands and calculated what to say. But he typically fiddled with his fingers. Not stare at them.
“Dajing?” he asked softly, pulling himself up and using his phone screen as a flashlight. He was completely still, staring at his hands with a vacant expression. The lights were on, but no one was home, sorta look. Fuck, he knew that expression. “Shit,” he said softly, setting his phone on the bed and pulling Dajing to his bathroom. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was fairly sure it was a panic attack. Or something related to the relics. Either way, the bathroom had a small med kit he’d bought a while ago to handle minor burns or scrapes he got on occasion.
If Dajing hurt himself again, he might use it up.
So, he waited for Dajing to come back to him. He eyed his hands in case they went for his head again. He ran out to grab his phone, typed a quick explanation to Red Son, and started looking up how to help someone during a panic attack.
From what he saw, he did at least something right by moving him. But Dajing wasn’t responding at all. Didn’t show any sign that he was aware MK was there. He was completely zoned out.
He couldn’t tell you how long he sat there, studying every minute twitch and breath, waiting for a sign of consciousness. Until finally, Dajing blinked. His breathing quickened, and he scanned the room with a confused, wary expression until he saw MK.
“What,” was all he said.
“I don’t know, it almost looked like you were having another panic attack. Or, I don’t know…” he scratched the back of his head, glancing at the ground. “You were just completely zoned out.”
Dajing–to MK’s relief–fiddled with his fingers before he spoke again. “I was seeing the Great Sage’s fight with Red Boy. Then I saw mine again. It–” Dajing sighed, looking up. “I did not like it.”
“I can’t imagine…” MK grimaced. No, bad wording. He could imagine, if a little. “I’m betting you’re exhausted, right? I’ll get you home.”
Dajing rubbed his eyes, breathed a few times, then signed a shaky “Okay” and followed Dajing outside.
So, he took Dajing home to Mount Huaguo. He helped get him set up for sleeping and pulled out some food. Just got him settled. Or, as settled as he could be. He was flinching at any abrupt noise, and his head was on a swivel.
MK felt awful leaving him like this, but Dajing waved him off, assuring him he’d be alright for one night.
MK didn’t believe him, but fighting about it was the last thing either of them needed. He left with a pit of worry in his stomach.
This would have been so much easier if Monkey King were here.