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“Wukong. A word.”
It’s the only warning either of them receives before Monkey King disappears beneath a portal, his mentor’s soured expression quickly swallowed by the harsh lash of shadows. Macaque sinks alongside him, and MK barely manages to catch his final glance toward Peng’s prone form on the couch.
A confirmation they won’t wake while they’re gone, MK decides, lips twitching into a frown.
Just when he thinks those two will finally have the time to reconcile the Universe throws yet another hurdle to deal with.
“Don’t worry about them,” Pigsy’s voice chimes in, calloused hands pressed into a first-aid kit. They rescind only to hand a roll of gauze over to Sandy. “Let them fight it out. Maybe it’ll save us from whatever disagreement they'll find tomorrow.”
“Be realistic,” Mei laughs from one of Monkey king’s armchairs. With a click her phone shuts off. “Arguing is, like, their thing.”
“Yeah,” MK echoes. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Mhm! But I think Piggy just wants Macaque to say what we’re all thinking.”
MK tries not to let himself deflate at that. He knows, agrees with it to an extent.
Yet, “And that is...?”
Like a blade Mei, Pigsy and- from the kitchen -Tang’s words slice through what little had been left of his hope. “They can’t stay.”
A harsh thud sounds from the hallway and MK almost thinks it a blessing from the Heavens themselves. At least, he does until he notices the heavy layer of tension that floods the room. Peng might still be passed out on the couch but that didn’t mean everyone’s nerves had calmed much.
With a clap MK forces the room’s attention back onto himself.
“I’ll go check it out,” he declares, easy. They’d have at least a few hours before Peng woke up, maybe more if the bird’s fever stuck around. “Probably just a little monkey that knocked something over.”
The crowd only nods and with that MK whisks himself into the hallway.
He tries not to linger too long on the photos that line the walls, distant taunts of memories of kinder times.
Monkey King’s first visit to Pigsy’s shop.
Mei’s first tour of Flower Fruit Mountain.
MK’s first win against Monkey King.
Another thud sounds, this time with its own hum of displeased chatter.
MK sighs. Just as he thought.
The dull rumble of Monkey King’s voice intermingles with Macaque’s higher-pitched tone, their bitter symphony an unintelligible echo through the bedroom door. He should’ve known the two wouldn’t have strayed far; Macaque had seemed far too panicked to facilitate that.
Despite his presence the barking continues, bits of the conversation filtering through the closed door.
“And if...you...”
He takes a step forward.
“...look, just...”
Another.
“...the others don’t...!”
MK finally presses his ear against the cold wood.
“I know, I know,” Monkey King’s voice registers, tight with something MK can’t quite place. It's...unnerving. Monkey King had always been the easier of the two monkeys to read.
“You don’t,” Macaque snaps, accusatory in nature. Nothing new, MK notes. Arguing was practically as easy as breathing to the shadow monkey. “You don’t know because if you did, Peng wouldn’t still be here!”
“Fine, fine! Maybe I don’t. But this is a chance- a-an opportunity!”
“For what, some cheap nostalgia trip?”
Distantly MK notes just how hysterical Macaque sounds, his voice high in pitch. It’s a far cry from composure, carved with jagged edges that scream there’s something more. Something he’s missing.
He presses his ear further into the door.
“You're taking this too easy, Wukong! There could be actual consequences to this.”
“Like there were when you came crawling back?”
Oh, rough blow. At least, judging by Macaque’s irritated snarl it is.
“You didn’t-!”
The next words seem far more exhausted than angry.
“Y’know what, you’re deflecting,” Macaque finally hisses. MK can already imagine the wrinkled fabric as the two immortals poke and prod at one another in unbridled fury. “Something is after Peng. Whether provoked or not, it could very well come back to finish the job.”
“To Flower Fruit Mountain? Pfft, don't make me laugh.”
“The island’s seals are getting old,” Macaque counters, and it sounds almost a tick away from a threat. “Who knows what new magic could slip past them.”
“I’ll handle it,” Wukong insists tightly. “Peng can recover while I fortify the seals.”
“So, what? You’re gonna drag a half-dead eagle through the island for the next month while you brush up on charms? Gonna close your eyes and pretend it’s the good old days?”
“Macaque.”
“No, no,” the shadow crows. Goads, daring for a bigger fight. “Enlighten me, Great Sage. Do you really think that inviting enemies back into your life time and time again is going to fix something? Because it seems like everyone’s finally gotten their break from fighting ‘big bads’ and you just offered shelter to another one.”
Much to MK’s own surprise, Monkey King doesn’t offer a rebuttal.
“We’ve only had closer and closer calls,” Macaque huffs. Then softer, hopeful, “It’d be better just to turn them in to the Celestial Realm and-”
A beam of light shines from beneath the door before the vibrant thud of the staff filters through his ears.
The room quiets almost instantly, and MK has to strain to make sure he doesn’t miss the hum of Macaque’s portal. He wouldn’t blame the shadow monkey if he does take his leave; Macaque didn’t have a reason to stay and- judging by what he'd heard from Tang –Macaque wasn’t really ever on good terms with Peng.
Finally, “We can’t keep them here.”
A gentle sigh.
“It’s not forever,” Wukong says. His voice rings hoarse, like he can’t believe the statement either. “’S just until they’re...”
“Back to normal?”
Bitterness.
“Able to fly again.”
Exasperation.
“It’s an artifact fix,” Monkey King tries. “You’re good at those anyway.”
“Oh great,” Macaque cheers, voice draped with sarcasm. “You want me to help too.”
“It’d get them to leave faster.”
...
There’s a sudden chuckle, warm and bright like the sun. “I got you with that one, didn’t I?”
“Just shut up. We should get back before Peng wakes up and breaks something.”
MK straightens just as footsteps sound within the room, one pair light and the other heavy. For once he can’t tell which is which.
“Hey,” Wukong murmurs and the footsteps stop. “I know that my judgement calls aren’t...”
“Sound? Sane?”
“Was gonna say ‘the best’,” Monkey King huffs. “But I’m serious. I need you to back me up on this, even if it’s just to say, ‘I told you so’ at the end of it.”
There’s a light clink of a claw against the doorknob just as Macaque’s voice becomes louder, clearer.
“Mm, maybe I will stick around for that ‘told you so’. But if something goes wrong, so help me Wukong-”
“We’ll all be there to fix it,” MK interrupts, arms crossed. He thinks he sees the smallest flash of surprise from Macaque before it’s replaced with familiar tired eyes. “We’re all a part of this, not just Monkey King.”
“You’re getting bold, kiddo.”
Even beneath the tells of stress and anger, MK knows thinly veiled approval when he sees it. Or maybe that’s just his own exhaustion talking.
“Yeah, he gets it from me,” Monkey King grins. “This is a big ask, you sure you’re up for this, bud?”
“Always.”