Chapter Text
Haixin Village, a tiny harbor town known as ‘The Heart of The Sea,’ hugging the coastline in southeastern China, is smothered between craggy green hills and the wide grey-blue ocean. The crescent-shaped bay is sheltered by big black rocks. Dozens of wooden fishing boats wade near the old piers, their prows painted with bright eyes to ‘see the storms.’ Fishing nets are strung everywhere, like spider webs.
The streets hold aging two-story homes; tiled roofs, stone on the bottom, white plaster above - stained and faded from sea spray. Salt crusts the windows. Nets are strung out to dry between buildings, laundry flapping in the wind between narrow alleys. Red paper charms flutter in doorways to bring luck but drive away spirits.
At the end of the harbour, there’s a little shrine with a monkey statue tucked away among incense. People whisper about the monkey girl when they pass, thinking she’s been touched by Sun Wukong’s spirit.
The morning mist rolls in low on the harbour, both soft and silver. Wooden fishing boats rock gently, their nets dripping in brine. Older men in wide-brimmed fishing hats light hand-rolled cigarettes on the pier, grumbling about tides and luck.
Though somewhere above them, the peace is disrupted - clink, clink, clink - the telltale sound of tiles being disturbed.
Zhenzhu, already awake, already in motion. She scrambles across the rooftops barefoot, tail balancing her every leap. She has a pilfered rip basket of lychees, the handle clenched in one dexterous foot, munching with her hand as she goes. Every so often, she stops to hang upside down from a laundry pole, chittering to herself as women below shout, “猴子妖! (Monkey demon!)” and swat at her with brooms.
She answers with a playful raspberry and vanishes over the edge of the tiled roof.
Zhenzhu’s a tall, lanky girl of sixteen with the unmistakable look of a mutant. Her body is covered in a soft coat of dark fur that bristles in the summer heat, giving her a mammalian, almost unmistakably monkey-like silhouette. She has a long prehensile tail, dexterous enough to hold her weight or snatch objects midair. Her hands and feet are elongated and oddly flexible, with toes that curl and grip like extra fingers.
Her face carries both human and animal notes - a defined philtrum and a slightly muzzle-like cast to her mouth, wide-set golden-brown eyes that gleam with curiosity, and, when she smiles, sharp little teeth meant for tearing fish and fruit alike.
Down in the alley, two little kids shriek with delight as she swoops down just long enough to toss them each a lychee, then she’s long again, climbing the wall like gravity had forgotten her.
For a moment, it seems idyllic: the sea breeze, the morning sun cutting through the fog, her silhouette perched on a boat mast like some mischief god’s shadow.
Then -
A low, thunderous whummmmmmmmm. The sound builds in the mist, nearly vibrating it, the sound strange and alien against the sleepy port. Nets rattle, boats sway. Villagers crane their necks upwards.
Through the haze descends the Blackbird, all gleaming black steel and impossible technology. It hovers just beyond the pier, kicking up salt spray, dwarfing the tiny wooden fish boats.
Zhenzhu crouches on the roof of her grandmother’s house, ears buzzing from the new noise. She hisses between her teeth, tail lashing, half-terrified, half-excited.
“Not hunter… Not soldier… What are you?” She mutters to herself.
The jet ramp begins to lower, and the silhouettes of Ororo and Logan step out into the missed.