Chapter Text
“Master, PLEASE !” Wukong begged, on his hands and knees before the monk.
Sanzang fought hard to keep from cracking a smile as he hummed in thought, “Well Wukong, you’re Buddhist now,” he explained matter-of-factly, “And Buddhists must shave so as to abandon vanity.”
“But my fur isn’t about vanity!” he borderline sobbed, “It keeps me warm in the cold and cool in the heat! It helps me sense the world around me and keeps bugs off my skin!”
“Hm, I don’t know if that’s true or not.” he crossed his arms, “Are you lying?”
“I SWEAR ON MY TITLE AS THE HANDSOME MONKEY KING, I AM NOT LYING!” he declared, holding a hand over his heart.
“Alright, alright.” he chuckled, putting away his razor, “You’ve convinced me.”
Wukong practically wheezed with relief, “Many blessings upon you, Master!”
“ However ,” he pulled out a pair of scissors and a brush, “We are at least going to turn that mane into something more manageable.”
The monkey blinked, pulling a lock of hair over his shoulder to look. It did seem rather unsightly after growing out unwashed for 500 years…
“Fine,” he conceded as he sat cross-legged, “But if I so much as think I feel a razor, I’ll hit you! Circlet or no circlet!”
“Fair enough.” the monk nodded as he sat down behind the other. He began at the bottom of the mane, careful not to let the brush snag on any knots.
Wukong fidgeted anxiously. Did Sanzang know how important grooming was in monkey society? He must, right?
“So,” the monk suddenly said, “Do you find you prefer certain methods of education over others?”
“Pardon?” the Monkey King blinked.
“Well if I am to be your master, I should understand how best you learn.” he explains as he works his way up the mane, “Do you prefer lectures, or perhaps writing things down?”
Wukong thought for a moment. The last time he had been a student was with Master Subodhi and while he had nothing but respect for the man, learning under him had been a harsh endeavor. He could still recall the harsh scoldings and hits over the head, hundreds of years later.
“Well?” Sanzang pressed.
“I… guess whatever way works best for you.” he shrugged, “Though, I must warn you. I have trouble with metaphors.”
“Metaphors?” he echoed as he put down the brush and began trimming away the dead ends.
He shrugged, “I was born stupid, so sometimes they are beyond my understanding.”
“I don’t think that’s a matter of stupidity.” Sanzang replied gently as he snipped away at the hair.
“You don’t?” Wukong turned his head to look at the monk in surprise, only to have his master gently turn his head forward again.
“I don’t,” he nodded as he continued cutting, “Sometimes what works better for others doesn’t work well for oneself, and there is no shame in that.”
“Oh.” he said, mulling over the words for a moment, “... one more thing.”
“Yes Wukong?”
“Sometimes, I cannot sit still during lessons.” he explained nervously, “It’s not that I’m not listening, I just find myself so enthralled and raptured that it bursts out of me inappropriately.”
“I don’t find that to be inappropriate at all,” he said as he paused to make sure the mane was coming out evenly, “You just happen to be expressive in your learnings.”
Wukong couldn’t help but sit in stunned silence. After 500 years of believing he was a terrible student, suddenly he wasn’t? The things he was admonished for were now completely acceptable?
Either teachers had become more lenient in the last few centuries, or he just happened to get stuck with a strict one the first go around.
“There,” Sanzang said as he finished with a smile.
The Monkey King quickly got up and walked over to a stream to look at his reflection, beaming at what he saw, “Not half bad!” he said as he fluffed his hair, “Perhaps you were a barber in another life, Master!”
“Perhaps,” he laughed as he put the brush and scissors away, “And I was sure to leave it long enough to braid it back if you wanted to.”
He squinted at the monk suspiciously, “I thought Buddhists were against vanity?”
“It’s not vanity if it’s practical.” he said as he stood and tied up his bag.
“.... waaaaaait a second!” he gasped, pointing accusingly, “You were never going to shave my fur in the first place! You were messing with me!”
“Now why would I do that?” he played dumb as he mounted his horse.
“You terrible monk, you!” Wukong pouted, but nonetheless stomped over to grab the horse’s reins and carry their belongings, “Be ashamed!”
Sanzang burst out laughing, “Consider the haircut my penitence!” he said as they began down the road, “You know, you might benefit from Parikrama, or perhaps Prostration.”
“As long as you don’t get fed up with me and flay me, I’ll learn whatever you want me to Master.”
“Of course Wukong.” he nodded, before actually processing what the monkey said, “... wait, what?”