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Wukong sat up, fur spiked at the ends, as he heard the roll of thunder crackling in the sky. It sounded like a roar, like the sky splitting open, like the universe struggling to keep itself together.
It shouldn’t keep him up. He’s immortal, he doesn’t need sleep, and yet, he still craves it. Others get antsy when he stays awake for too long, or snoozes the centuries away. So, he obliges by the mortal standards of a rest cycle.
Another peal of lightning and the rumble again, much closer this time. He wished his old friends never taught him that trick of knowing how close the storm is just by the intervals of time between the screeches. It made it where he couldn’t help but wait, counting the agonizing seconds for the danger.
A white flash, and shouldn’t it be orange, dipped in the darkness of chaos, or a black so deep it can’t come from natural fire? Why does all destruction come in different shades, instead of one conclusive source he could track? Wukong spent too much time around things that could actually end his immortal life now, and he had no way around it. He’s just counting the moments in between, wondering if this time, the lightning will strike him down instead.
He struggled out of the mass of warm fluff also known as a monkey pile, setting his paws straight on the rafters. He forewent the hammock tonight and regretted it, needing to make a sound to leap to the matted floor. He winced as he heard MK stir from his sleeping bag, brown eyes bleary as he moved.
“Monkey King?”
He gestured for MK to keep it down, crouching to be in his line of sight. “No danger, bud. Just feeling twitchy.”
“Mmm.” He slowly unzipped the bag, climbing out with one paw rubbing his face. “Need to use the bathroom anyway.”
“Alright.” Wukong watched him shuffle over to a door and shut it gently, then hopped to the window and set the latch shut. He didn’t want the storm getting in and drenching the monkeys. Next, he should really try to get some sleep…
But Macaque insists on staying outside, and it’s starting to worry him. He could feel the wind rattling the windows through his palms. He needs to take a quick look. Then, he’ll definitely go back to sleep.
Wukong shielded his face, squinting into the torrent as he slid open the door to the outside. He could see a dark lump with glowing eyes curled up on the porch.
“You could’ve come inside if you wanted,” he called. When the monkey didn’t answer, he tapped him on the shoulder and repeated the phrase in sign language.
Macaque moved out of his animalistic posture to something more sapient, leaning back to sign back with fuzzy hands. “You could’ve told the storm dragons to spare the mountain.”
“They used to, remember? I don’t know when they stopped, but—”
“It was when you stopped being around to threaten them into it.” Macaque shrugged, the scarf covering his mouth. “While you were buried under that mountain. I thought that once you were back to being a hero, they’d be grateful enough to hold up the old arrangement.”
“Nah. I didn’t deserve favoritism anymore.”
Macaque blew a raspberry, staring at the ground. Wukong opened his mouth to speak, only for both monkeys to stiffen at another howl of wind and burst of thunder. Wukong checked the steel-colored sky for stitches in its fabric, deep purples and blues ripping through to show the horrors beyond. It’s just clouds for miles in every direction with no break in them.
MK picked that moment to rejoin them, dragging a big blanket that he kept around his shoulders. He said something, but Wukong could only gesture to his ears and then the wind to reply. MK unburied his hands and moved so they were in a triangle on the wide porch, making it where they could all see each other’s signs. “Thanks for letting me stay tonight.”
“Of course, bud! I don’t want you flying in this weather.” Another shard in the air, and he flicked his tail to avoid all temptation. He doesn’t have to look if the universe is still there every time. Storms have occurred for thousands of years, and they will occur for thousands more.
“I keep thinking that’s the sound of the world breaking.” MK smiled cheekily, every muscle in his body telegraphing the reassurance he needs. “Weird, right? I wasn’t afraid of this kind of thing before.”
Macaque nodded, the only one who could fold his ears shut to block out the noise. Wukong used to envy his friend for his abilities, but on nights like these, he’s glad that’s one power they can never share. “It’s a bit like the first time I tried to sleep in Megapolis.”
MK tilted his head, confused, while Wukong rolled his wrist for Macaque to continue.
“I only ever slept on the mountain. What you hear up here, it’s birds, monkeys, rushing water and trees rustling. It’s not quiet, but it’s not like the city, where you are constantly listening to a thousand voices everywhere.”
MK looked sheepish as he shifted where he sat. “I had the opposite problem the first night I was up here. It felt so dead to not have people arguing in the street and driving past in huge cars. Monkey King forgot to give me the wifi password, so I couldn’t even turn on some music to make it go away. I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
“If you woke me up and told me, I would’ve helped,” Wukong chastised.
MK screwed up his nose in reply. “I know exactly how well you sleep when you don’t have monkeys.”
“Sandy’s ship was too quiet! And cold!”
“You have fur.”
“You have fur!”
“I didn’t know that at the time!” MK waved his arms dramatically. “And besides, we were not supposed to be in a cuddle pile with an injured Monkey King! It’s, like, against hospitality rules or something. Bedside manner. It doesn’t help with sound.”
“Hearing heartbeats helps plenty.”
“It does?” MK looked to Macaque, who nodded in agreement. “Is this a monkey thing?”
“It’s a thing with plenty of animals.” Macaque paused mid-sign at another round of thunder, waiting until the lightning stopped blinding them to continue. “We could try that, if it helps.”
Wukong spent around five seconds finding a solution that didn’t involve that, then realized how close the storm is if it took so little time for the sound and the light to crush them in stimulus again. He gathered up his two monkeys and shoved them inside, shutting the door behind him. MK waddled over to the hammock and clambered in, holding up the blanket for Macaque next. Wukong joined them last.
Three fuzzy tails curled together, MK trapped between the older monkeys with Wukong listening to their heartbeats. They fluttered too fast, like nervous birds trapped in cages. The storm screeched again, and he squeezed his eyes shut as blood pumped faster.
It was childish, but he repeated it to himself anyway in the silence. The Samadhi Fire is no more. Azure Lion is gone. The chaos won’t reach them here.
The Samadhi Fire is no more.
Azure Lion is gone.
The chaos won’t reach them here.
His pulse slowed. Two more, eventually, followed. The hammock rocked shyly in the home, three monkeys swaddled together. They would be okay.