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Nezha is no stranger to being tired. He works constantly, remaining vigilant at almost all times. He goes days without sleeping frequently, even though, as a God who was once a human, he needs only slightly less than a human would. He knows what it feels like to overuse his powers and need a break, because of course he does, it comes with his job, but this is different.
The Jade Emperor’s power is massive, a writhing ball of pure energy, dense and thick and heavy, and not just in weight. Holding it in a seal like Nezha’s is incredibly taxing, and it would be to someone more powerful than him, too.
But he bears it as best he can, isolating himself to do it. He must be awake and alert, focused solely on the task at hand for things to remain under control.
It doesn’t take long, a week and a half at most, for things to become truly difficult. Exerting any sort of magical ability, like the kind that keeps his seal over the power, starts to feel like someone is pulling the marrow from his bones, tugging the muscles from his body. Like pouring wet sand through a strainer.
This isn’t going to be sustainable. Though, he knew it wouldn’t be, but he’d hoped he would have more time to figure out an alternative.
His magic starts to waver in starts and stops. Wards he’s put up begin to fail, other Gods manage to surprise him when they arrive because he can’t sense their presence. Then his Glamour falls. All the Glamour does is make him look older than his natural body, but he’s found it to bring a deep comfort to him over the years. It makes him feel less vulnerable.
Containing the Jade Emperor’s power is taking everything he has left in him, very quickly. He doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know his round, chubby cheeks, which hadn’t lost their baby fat before he died, have returned, and he’s shrunk a good few inches. His hands are small, little fingers short and clumsy, unable to wrap all the way around his spear. His armor swamps him, so big he’s forced to take it off and wander around in his pajamas, which still hang off him terribly.
Not that he’s really able to wander much. He feels too heavy for that, like Gravity, a force which has not been able to tie him down since he was gifted his Wind-Fire Wheels, seems to have become much stronger out of nowhere, dragging him down. He spends most of his time on the floor, propped against the wall, and if not there then in bed, imobile with pain and exhaustion.
He doesn’t expect anyone to come check on him. Why would he? No one ever has before, unless they needed something. Why would now be any different?
Certainly he had not expected the Monkey King, someone he had for a long time considered completely incapable of expressing concern, to show up at his palace, nearly two weeks after Azure had been defeated.
Nezha doesn’t hear or sense him coming, lying in bed, shaking with pain and chills, all of his waning energy and focus being put towards keeping those petals closed, keeping the Jade Emperor’s power from escaping. So when his bedroom door opens, it startles him. Not enough to defend himself, but enough that his entire body locks up and his eyes widen.
“Nezha~” Monkey King sings, completely forgoing knocking. That isn’t really surprising. His situational awareness has always been poor. It was never beaten into him the way it was for Nezha. “Where are you- oh!” Nezha must be a sight, if the way Wukong’s expression simply falls is anything to go off of. With what little strength he has, Nezha tightens the blankets around himself, some pathetic, unsuccessful attempt to conceal himself and salvage his dignity. “What happened to you?”
Nezha can’t bring himself to answer, closing his eyes and wishing the bed would just swallow him right up. He’s so tired, he might just fall asleep.
“Nezha,” Monkey King says, more insistent. He sounds slightly worried. He must be afraid that Nezha is in such a state he will fail his job. He won’t. He’s sure he won’t. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Nezha mumbles, his voice weak and scratchy.
“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror recently-” He hasn’t. “-but you don’t look so good.” A furry hand touches his forehead, which Nezha flinches from. He doesn’t get far, smushed into the pillow as he is, and after a few seconds Wukong’s hand does pull away. “I’m no doctor or anything, but you feel kinda warm. Are you sick? Why are you so small?” He pulls away the blanket and Nezha curls himself tighter, shivering violently.
“I’m- fine,” Nezha manages, reaching weakly for his blanket, which Wukong holds away.
“Yeah, it doesn’t really look like it,” he mutters, hooking his hands under Nezha’s armpits and pulling him up, resting him against the pillows. “Your injuries are healed.” He feels over Nezha’s ribs, gently, brow furrowed. “Then what? You can’t get sick, can you? I know I can’t, but you’re… different.” Formerly human, is what he means.
He does not want to admit his shortcomings, but he feels like it’s very likely that Wukong will not leave until he gets to the bottom of Nezha’s mystery ailment, so he caves.
“Just- tired,” Nezha puffs out. “Strained.” He summons into his limp palm the lotus containing the Emperor’s power. Monkey King looks all the more concerned. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t think this is fine,” Wukong says, sceptically. “I mean, Azure couldn’t even handle this, I don’t know why you’d be able to.” Nezha ignores the slight. “I think I should take over.” He reaches out towards the flower. A lightning bolt of panic zips through Nezha, and he jerks away as quickly as he can, retracting the lotus.
“No!” he shouts. “I can- handle it.” He breathes heavily, the crushing weight of power redoubling on his shoulders. Wukong looks frightened, which Nezha has hardly two seconds to think is funny before his vision goes white, then black, and he falls unconscious.