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Not many people know the breathtaking beauty of Flower Fruit Mountain; its lava-filled borders keep strangers and those who would want to rob it of its allure at bay. But if you are one of the few to make it, to endure the heat and danger, the mountain will reward you. A rush of lush and vibrant plant life, healthy and thriving regardless of the seasons and its weather. A spectrum of colors that dance across an expanse of green and ochre, purples, blues, yellows, reds, all in harmony.
How lucky is it for a place such as this to exist? How lucky he is to live in it.
Liù'ěr míhóu Macaque, all things considered, is lucky to have been blessed with such a home. It is difficult to describe the peace he felt when he came back to Flower Fruit Mountain, even if he must stay hidden in the shadows, out of sight from the King .
Sun Wukong and him aren’t on bad terms anymore, or at least, not as bad as they used to be, but to consider themselves friends is a stretch into the imagination. They are co-mentors for MK, they maintain the peace for the kid; the least they can do for him given everything else they have put MK through.
As far as Macaque is concerned, that is where their ‘friendship’ ends.
~*~
Macaque watches silently as Wukong and MK chase each other in the sky, battling who could reach the legendary staff first, which was sticking upright in the ground a few feet away. The speed of their brawl is intense. To the human eye, they are flashes in the bright sky, solar flares from sunbeams, but to the Six-Eared Macaque, he can see them in their full glory. The sweat on their brows, the determination in their eyes, and the joy on their faces. Laughter echoes in the air, light and beautiful, although Macaque would never admit that part aloud. His ears twitch as he records each exchange of clashes and jokes MK and Wukong share. How long has it been since they’ve felt this calm? Since he has felt this calm?
After everything with The Lady Bone Demon and Azure Lion and that… whoever that snake demon was, Macaque was worried such peace would disappear. Everything is different. The world has chaos, and Macaque can sense a shift in his powers and in the future. If he could just look and listen ahead…
No.
Looking ahead doesn’t do anyone any favors. He knows that all too well.
“HAH HA, I REMAIN VICTORIOUS!” Wukong cheers, waving the staff around like a madman. Oh. Macaque, while distracted by his thoughts, missed the ending to their fight.
“Aw man!” MK weeps, “I totally thought I had it this time!”
“Good work, bud!” Wukong praises, ruffling MK’s hair while he laughs. “It is crazy how much stronger you are getting! Soon, you might even be able to beat mister grumpy pants over there in a one-to-one!” Wukong points over to Macaque, a cheeky grin on his face.
MK beams at the praise, eyes lighting up. “You really think so? I mean, I can feel myself getting stronger, but could I actually beat Macaque?”
Macaque bristles at that accusation. “Try not to feed the kid’s ego, Wukong,” is all he says instead of denying it. While it may be true that MK is getting remarkably stronger, and that he could potentially win, it’s best to not encourage that ideal. Strength isn’t the be-all and end-all. Control and focus are arguably more important.
Wukong twirls the staff in his hands effortlessly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Macaque turns to MK. “All done for the day, kiddo?”
“Uh, maybe… Mei really wants me to play this new Mech game she bought, and I said I’d go after training, but…” MK looks at his hands, troubled by thoughts that Macaque only knows the surface of. Jeez, this kid.
“Go on. I’d rather that dragon girl not burn the mountain tops again to collect you.”
The kid casts his eyes to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. “I can still-”
“ No .”
“But-”
“Listen to Macaque, kid,” Wukong chimes in. “Spend time with your friend. It’ll mean the world to her, you know. She already complains that I steal you too often.”
MK chuckles then takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll head back home.” He collects the staff from Wukong, who then summons a cloud for MK to ride back home. “I’ll see you both tomorrow!”
“Fly safe, bud.” Wukong says, and it sounds so fond that Macaque can’t help but look at him. Despite the immortality brimming in Wukong's veins, time has left its mark on his face. His skin has softened enough that smile lines are present alongside his eyes, and on his face lives a maturity Macaque never got to see grow. He is different .
Why does that make him so sad?
“Are you heading off as well?” Wukong asks, and it takes a moment for Macaque to realize it’s meant for him.
“Oh. Yeah. You reek of peaches, my nose can only handle so much of it.”
Wukong pouts and crosses his arms against his chest. “Well, I remember a time when you loved that… smell.” He tapers off at the end, realizing what he said.
And it is true, so much so that Macaque physically startles. A long time ago, the smell of peaches used to be the only thing that would bring him comfort. And then, for a long time, it brought him only rage and discontentment. Now, he doesn’t know how to feel exactly. Melancholy, perhaps.
Macaque doesn’t know how to respond to Wukong’s statement, so he leaves that to the King and keeps quiet. He’s the one who got all melancholy in the first place.
“Is…” Wukong pauses. “Do you hate it much?” His beige ears flatten against his head, and the gold eyes Macaque used to get lost in dim.
“It isn’t… unpleasant.” Macaque admits, although he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t owe Wukong anything. “It’s just overwhelming, I guess. I avoided the smell for so long...”
Macaque refuses to meet his eyes, so he stares at anything else but the King. His attention lies on a flower next to Wukong’s foot. It is a bundle of yellow and purple flowers, just a day or so away from blooming fully. The upper petal is curling in on itself to reveal a spotted yellow center.
Digitalis Purpurnea. Also known as the toxic beauty (or Fox Glove if you're a peasant).
It’s terrifying how fitting that is.
“I.” Wukong starts speaking but stops, mouth opening and closing. “Is it wrong of me to say I miss you?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
Yes!
No…
Maybe so.
Who cares?
“Is it wrong for me to be happy that you do?” Macaque says, looking at the Digitalis Purpurea.
Nothing is said for a few moments, and Macaque begins to worry that he messed up, that his admission ruined the peace they’ve built, so when he hears Wukong step closer, he braces for impact, physical or verbal.
However, instead, he gets a gentle hand on his chin, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. Oh, how much he has longed, prayed to swim in those golden eyes once more. “I’m glad you’re home.”
An opening. A chance to rekindle, from the beginning. Not to restart and forget everything, but to try again, as new people.
Macaque eases his tail over to Wukong’s and slowly, full of fear, hope and his own desire, intertwines their tails together. Comfort. Peace. “I’m glad to be home.”