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Wukong grumbled to himself as the paper pinched, preventing the neat edge he was hoping for.
“That’s alright,” Sanzang assured, “You're doing just fine.”
The monkey’s tail flicked in annoyance. That was easy for the monk to say, when all of his paper flowers were coming out perfectly symmetrical and folded, and Wukong’s looked like they’d been folded by a hyperactive toddler… who was also blindfolded.
Dissatisfied with his half-finished project, Wukong went to put it down and start another flower.
“Finish what you start,” the human chided, “If you keep stopping as soon as it doesn’t go according to plan, you’ll never get anywhere.”
“This is dumb,” the monkey king pouts, “I don’t get why you’re making me do this.”
“I’m not making you do anything,” Sanzang replied as he picked up another sheet of paper, “I offered to teach you, and you said yes.”
“... that doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it.” he huffed as he picked the paper flower back up.
Sanzang half-smiled at that, “You know, you sound just like I did when I was a little boy.”
“I’m older than you.” he pointed out.
“I know, but still.” he hummed as he kept his eyes on his folding, “I often had trouble sitting still.”
Wukong blinked at that, “You had trouble sitting still?”
“Yes.”
“Really? You, who’s able to sit in place for a whole year in meditation, had trouble keeping still?” Wukong arched a brow in disbelief.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” he chuckled, “But yes. I was a fidgety child. The abbot who raised me told me there was nothing wrong with that. That I simply had to learn to focus all that energy where it was appropriate, so every afternoon he would invite me into his study for tea and teach me how to fold flowers.”
“I’ve… heard of lessons like that before.” Wukong commented vaguely. In all honesty, it didn’t sound too different from when Subodhi taught him poetry as a more appropriate means of expression rather than fidgeting during his lessons.
“It certainly wasn’t easy,” Sanzang said as he set aside another flower and picked up another sheet of paper, “Sometimes, I cried in frustration because I couldn’t get the folds to line up right, until the abbot taught me something very important.”
The monkey perked up at that, “What’s that?”
“That the point of teaching me zhezhi wasn’t for me to achieve perfection at the skill. It was simply to enjoy the process of it.” he smiled fondly as he recalled, “I think I folded at least ten thousand bad flowers before I folded a single decent one. And yet it’s possible to enjoy the process of imperfection as much as it is the process of perfection.”
Wukong paused as he looked at his little flower, crooked and wrinkled and barely resembling a flower at all, “Well, if a bad one is as good as a perfect one…” he said as he offered it to the monk, “Then you can have my first one.”
Sanzang smiled as he took it, holding it like it was fine art, “Thank you Wukong.” he said as he tucked it away, “I’ll cherish it always.”
“AAAAAARGH, THIS IS SO DUMB!” MK huffed as the paper pinched, preventing the neat edge he was hoping for, “What’s even the point of this!?”
“I thought we left you questioning my teaching lessons behind after that whole ‘two-timing your mentor with a jerk-faced Macaque’ incident.”
The kid paused at that, “... okay yeah, I learned my lesson with that. But what does origami have to do with training!?”
“Zhezhi.” Wukong corrected as he crafted another flower that was so perfectly folded it made the student seethe even more, “And the point is to learn to enjoy the process. You’re not always going to do well in training, kid. There’s gonna be days where you suck. And I mean really, really suck. Like, suck so hard you turn into a blackhole and-”
“Okay okay I get it.” MK grumbled as he added another flower to the basket of them.
Wukong smiled in satisfaction, “Alright, I think that’s enough for today.” he smiled as he stood and stretched, “You’re good to head home.”
“Wait, really?” MK blinked, “That’s it?”
“Yeah. I mean, unless you want to fold a hundred more-”
“Nope, I’m good! See you tomorrow!” he immediately scrambled to his feet and booked it with a brief wave goodbye.
The Monkey King laughed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
Picking up the basket, he summoned a cloud steed and headed off into the sky. He traveled for some time before reaching a temple, with countless offerings from visitors left at the doors. Flying through an open window, he landed on the floor with a sigh, “Sorry it’s been a while, Master.” he said as he approached the tomb, “The kid’s been keeping me on my toes. If I was half as bad as he is, then I apologize profusely.”
The stone tomb adorned with gold said nothing in reply. It was covered in countless paper flowers, some of them so old it looked like a gust of wind was all it’d take for them to crumble. After carefully arranging the new set of paper flowers, Wukong took his time sweeping out the shrine and making sure everything was in its proper place before kneeling before the tomb and paying his respects. Sometimes that meant saying a little prayer, sometimes it was reciting a new poem he’d come up with, and other times it was simply telling his master about recent happenings.
When he was done, he bowed his head one last time and stood, picking up the now empty basket, “Until next time, Master.” he smiled, pausing to look back at a single paper flower.
An imperfectly folded flower, centuries old and placed beside a small statue of his mentor. Cherished always.