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It's not uncommon for MK to find himself trying to cram his day into a single word. It'd turned into a fun mental game- almost like he was trying to compact each treasured day to fit into his memory.
Some days were best categorized as "boring", settled on after taking into account the slow, sluggish pace of patrons ordering noodles at that time. But there were always days he could slap the label of "exciting" onto, the word just enough to encapsulate the adrenaline-driven high that came with stopping demons from terrorizing the city.
It really wasn't often that he could really call a day "miserable". Maybe whenever he had to be dragged into a dentist appointment. Or deep-clean the kitchen because "the stove ain't gonna scrub itself. And it definitely isn't gonna clean the wall behind it either."
His optimistic nature usually kept him from dwelling too harshly on the "worser" parts of his day, trying to focus on whatever inch of positivity the world had given him to work with. After all, if you're given an inch, you might as well take a mile.
But he hardly thought there'd come a day when he had to describe a day with the Monkey King as "miserable". And yet...
Here he sits. Legs already sore from the awkward butterfly stretch Monkey King had maneuvered him into, the bitter bite of the cold having already sunk into his bones from the occasional spray of mist from a nearby waterfall, and stewing in the rawest form of misery.
"Aw, c'mon bud. It really isn't that bad."
MK forces his eyes away from Monkey King's crossed arms. Because yeah, it is that bad. And no mildly disappointed frown from his idol is going to change such a fact.
He's wet. Cold. And should've been sparring with Monkey King an hour ago.
But no, meditation was just sooooooo important.
He pointedly watches the thump of his mentor's tail against the grass. "You can hate it all you want, but we aren't moving on until I get five minutes of pure meditation."
MK could practically hear the rest of his day being torn to shreds. Gone were the plans he'd made with Mei to go to the arcade tonight. And his plans to go to bed early- even if the arcade plan had already disregarded that idea anyway.
Getting five minutes of meditation would take days, especially at the rate this butterfly stretch had his thighs burning.
"Bud, you're killing me here."
MK finally lets himself fall onto his back in a sprawl of limbs. The ground isn't nearly as unforgiving as he wished- maybe then he could've faked some hurt to get out of this boring lesson. "Five minutes will take forever," he groans.
He's barely given a moment to drown in his sorrows before something tail-like wraps around his leg, yanking him into the air with a yelp before dropping him back onto his feet.
"It isn't forever," Monkey King says. Like he isn't lying through his teeth. "It's just five minutes. 'Sides, don't you wanna get to the more fun side of training?"
MK makes a face. "So this is the miserable part."
"Only in the beginning," his mentor admits with a soft smile. "Took me a decade to find true peace in it, but once you're there, you're there."
MK's eyes widen. "A decade-!"
Monkey King quickly waves a dismissive wave, his smile turning quickly into a cheeky grin. "Ah, decade-schecade. Maybe we just gotta try a different approach with you. Here, sit back down."
Begrudgingly, MK drops back down onto the grass, beginning to bow his legs awkwardly and remake the butterfly shape. He's almost embarrassed at the subtle tremble they hold.
Monkey King's head suddenly tilts. "Oh."
Nope. Nevermind. He's fully embarrassed.
"I see the problem," his mentor murmurs to what MK thinks is himself. Then, louder, "See your legs?"
MK glances back down at them. They haven't lost their tremble, his knees lifting slightly every now and again in a weak attempt to relieve the stress.
"They're trying to bend, right?"
"Uh...yeah?"
"Try crossing them instead."
MK almost sags with relief at the order. He quickly pulls one leg over the other, the burn in his thighs lessening into a dull ache of the past. The new position he finds himself in he can only describe as "criss cross applesauce".
Monkey King gives a knowing look. "Better?"
"Waaaay better."
"Alright, now straighten your back."
MK does as he's told, even lifting his chin high like he'd been taught by Pigsy. The pig demon definitely didn't mess around when it came to posture.
Though the amused expression on his mentor's face told him that the monkey likely didn't share such a sentiment.
"Not all the way, bud. Save that stiff posture for the Celestial Court. You want to slouch and then slowly stack your spine until it feels comfortable."
MK nods, folding over before carefully beginning to straighten his back until it felt right. Not too slouched, not too straight. Just enough to feel relaxed.
"Now arms out. Drop them right onto your legs. How does that feel?"
MK hums as he takes a mental account of himself. He legs feel better than they had earlier, his spine straightened and yet not strained with the fear of Pigsy's reprimand. His arms don't feel overstretched either, palms resting comfortably against the fabric of his pants.
"Good," he admits with a grin. "Really good."
Monkey King gives a single, proud nod. "Now we're talking! Drop your chin a little and slowly close your eyes."
Slowly but surely the world around MK grows darker, the black canvas behind his eyelids still vibrant with neon shades of green and red ribbon from the sun's rays of light.
"Aaaaaaand relax."
Bit by bit the noises of Flower Fruit Mountain begin to swell in volume. The growl of the nearby waterfall swells, contrasting itself smoothly with the soft hiss of water dropping into the pond below.
When the wind blows past to play with his hair it seems to whisper in his ears, first sweetly and then as if to apologize for the faint "pitter patter" of the water droplets it casts onto his jacket.
Somewhere to his left Monkey King's tail sweeps mindlessly through the grass, flattening each blade with a calm swish.
It was almost odd. How loud the quiet paradise of Flower Fruit Mountain could grow if he chose to hear its chaotic melody. Chaotic- because even as they sung sweetly with each melody braiding itself seamlessly into their song, it still followed an organized chaos that kept MK guessing what would come next.
A leaf falling from to the ground? The eager rustle of leaves from little monkey's playing nearby?
As it turns out, the most prominent sound to join the mountain's tune is the muted tap of a boot growing near. It's the only signal he gets before Monkey King speaks once more.
"That's five minutes, bud. See, I knew you could do it."
MK inhales slowly, taking in the soft, warm air around him. It seems to stop his mentor in his tracks. Or at least he thinks so, judging by the lack of footsteps that would've followed otherwise. "Can we do five more?"
His eyes close just hard enough for him to hear the smile in Monkey King's voice.
"'Course. Want me to keep track again?"
"...nah."