Work Text:
The moment Wukong entered the hut, he saw Nezha move to place a silencing spell around the area. A nice precaution, but a useless one: shadows were hiding everywhere.
Wukong could not have Macaque listening in, not when there was no telling where this discussion was headed.
Mutely, Wukong shoved his hand in his mouth and took out the speech scrambler he had hidden in his food pouch. He ignored Nezha's disgusted glare – the food pouch was a natural and quite useful part of him, thank you very much – but took pity on him and offered his free, relatively clean hand to take.
Nezha only hesitated a few seconds before he took it, the spell taking root. Wukong set the speech scrambler on the table, before he flopped down on his wooden couch, allowing himself this small moment of weakness.
The last conversations he had had with the amnesic Macaque were looping in his mind, grinding him down slowly into a pile of fresh regrets. Many wounds had been reopened, and Wukong still felt raw from them all.
He should have kept his mouth shut about the origin of the scar. He knew he should have. If he had, Macaque wouldn't have been taken over by chaos energy, and MK wouldn't have had to fight him.
But if he had lied, Macaque would have prodded, and the result would have been the same. After all, this blissful charade had to come to an end, eventually. Wukong had only hoped the matter would have been settled in a more gentle way, but with Macaque bringing up that eye over and over again, something in Wukong had snapped. His words had flown out of his mouth faster than he could have stopped them.
He had only wanted to get away from Macaque to keep from hurting him even further. Not his best decision, but at least it didn't even make the top ten of his bad ones.
As for what had happened next, Wukong decided it best not to recall it.
The most important thing was that MK and his friends had managed to bring Macaque's memories back. And, really, Wukong should have felt relieved, but...
Losing Macaque again, this version of Macaque, had been more painful than he had prepared himself for.
When he felt him run away from him, and saw his glare, the contrast had been too much to handle. Suddenly he was reminded of their current relationship, tainted by all the horrible things Macaque had – no – they had done.
He had fallen back into their sorry routine without skipping a beat. Much to his shame, acting upon his anger was far too easy. His Master would be disappointed to see him like this, but even that knowledge could not stop Wukong.
Macaque had always had a way of getting under his skin. Once upon a time, it had even been a pleasant thing, and he wished it could still be so.
During the meal all Wukong had wanted to do was ask Macaque if what his amnesic self had claimed was true, if the way he saw Wukong really hadn't changed in spite of... everything, and if he truly thought that they could fix what had been broken between them, back to the same level of closeness, with easy banter and a great amount of trust.
Realistically, the chances were slim. But there was a part of Wukong that yearned for it to be the case, a part that clung to the few moments of openness they had shared, both in the Scroll of Memory and in front of the Pillar of Heaven. The very same part that was afraid of asking Macaque outright, fearing any of the answers he would be given once all the dust had settled down.
And after all of this emotional turmoil, Wukong had hoped that he could have succeeded in sealing Macaque's powers away and be done with it, but of course that hadn't been the case, even with Nezha's help.
If Wukong ever got his hands on that Nine-Headed Demon...
The fact that Macaque was pretending to not be affected by this situation was driving Wukong mad. And making him anxious. So terribly anxious. An anxiety that only fueled his irritability.
He hated this. He would have given anything to be zapped forward in time and skip everything that would need to be done to ensure Macaque's safety.
He heard Nezha speak, his silent mulling having come to an end.
“This isn't looking good.”
“You think?”
Nezha ignored his jab. “It is also... deeply worrying. It seems I underestimated the problem.”
“Oooor you overestimated your own abilities.”
“I still did more than you.”
Wukong wanted to rebut that, but Nezha was already speaking again.
“We can't leave him like this, he's a risk to himself and to everyone else.”
“You don't think I know that?” Wukong groaned, standing back up. “I swear if I wasn't immortal he'd have turned all my hair grey by now!”
“Wukong, you know we only had three options when it came to dealing with this.”
Repression, imprisonment, or death. The trifecta the Celestial Realm swore by for any given problem. Wukong was intimately familiar.
“Two,” he said, crossing his arms. “We only had two.”
“Right.” Nezha nodded with a frown. “And the choices only became more limited.”
Silence. Nezha was thinking about a solution, no doubt, while Wukong was trying not to think.
He really hated this. These past few days had been horrible, and what he wanted the most in this very moment was to ignore everything, cradle the origami pilgrims to his chest and take a nice, long rest.
But Nezha opened his mouth again, to say something that took Wukong a few seconds to process.
“Do you know where Macaque got his powers from?”
Wukong shrugged, trying to appear unbothered even if giving the answer made him feel like he was making a mistake. “They came to him when he needed them. Classic magic stuff.”
“So they're innate?”
“Unless he lied to me.”
He hadn't. Wukong was sure of that, or at least surer than back when he had been trying to convince himself that everything Macaque had ever told him had been lies, all because it had made it easier to banish him from his heart.
But, for all his acting skills, Macaque had been too open, too vulnerable as he had shared what he had gone through in his early life; on that night he had finally trusted Wukong enough with something as personal as his past.
It had happened before Wukong had started his search for immortality, before they had even met DBK. Macaque had looked ethereal under the moonlight, his smile tentative and awkward after the heavy conversation, as he had confessed something that had made Wukong's heart leap for joy and swell with that familiar and powerful emotion that he would only ever get around Macaque.
“I had never known what freedom and happiness really were, until I met you.”
“Thank you, for everything that you are.”
To recall these words, and that night, felt like a slap to the face. Wukong stared at Nezha with a new resolve.
“One,” he said, firm in his demand.
“One what?”
“One option. We're not locking him up somewhere, or shackling him.”
He watched Nezha grow confused at the way he was adamant about this. It was an understandable reaction, some angry part of Wukong wanted to do this anyway, out of a twisted sense of justice for himself. He batted the thought away with a proverbial staff.
Nezha groaned. “Wukong, sealing his powers failed, unless you can find something more powerful to-”
“Okay, then why not imprison his powers somewhere else?”
“That's not-” Nezha said, bringing a hand up to cover his face. He let it fall back to the side, staring at Wukong with some interest. “What did you say?”
“Why not imprison his powers? Remove them, outside of him, far away?” Wukong repeated, as if talking with one of the many half-deaf or out-of-touch immortals he knew. “Like we did with the Samadhi fire? Remember?”
“I'm not the one who lost his memories lately,” Nezha said with some bite. “But you're right, that is a way to go about that option.”
“So, we're going with this?” Wukong asked, less than enthused by his own idea, aware of the potential consequences as he was.
“We're going with this.” Nezha nodded. “Which reminds me... Red Son told me something interesting about the Samadhi fire, which I assume you're also aware of.”
There were many, many things stored away in Wukong's mind, most of the information as misplaced and buried as the trinkets in his treasure room. He would need Nezha to be more specific.
“Which is?”
“The girl from the western dragon clan, Mei. As we’ve learned, she had this power inside her since birth, and tamed it. But it wasn’t dormant, as we had thought: she had been making use of the Samadhi fire before the Lady Bone Demon was even in the picture. The same properties, but a different appearance.”
Wukong quickly caught on. “You think it's the same with Macaque? His shadow powers...”
“Could have been chaos energy all along, yes. It would explain why he was able to mess with the Nine-Headed Demon's powers.”
Of course. Basic rules of magic, after all: doing the same thing nullifies it. With the right tweaks, alike powers can neutralize each other.
Or be reverted to some sort of primordial state, apparently. Regardless, Wukong would still greet that chaos-obsessed demon with his fists if the opportunity ever presented itself.
“Here as well, they seem different at first glance,” Nezha continued, “but the way they work...”
It was the same. Wukong had noticed. Today, and a long time ago, the same thing had happened. An overuse of magic and an unstable mental state had Macaque overtaken by his own power. It was something Wukong never had experienced himself; had not even realized was possible.
All he had known was that Macaque was lashing out, doing everything he could to defeat him and hurt the ones he loved.
He had only understood after the fact, far too late.
“You never cared!” “He never cared about me...
“You abandoned me!” “He abandoned me!”
As a result, the way Wukong had handled it both times had been like night and day…
Macaque, It's okay,
stop! bud,
Don't make me do this! I'm not going anywhere.
“If that's the case...” Nezha said, his voice sounding far-away from Wukong. “We cannot simply seal his extracted powers away and hide them like we did the Samadhi fire. We'll need to keep them active, so that-”
Nezha's voice had become quieter and quieter, giving way to another one, filled with scorn and an edge of despair Wukong had failed to register - worse, that he had ignored - back then.
Macaque's very last words, before...
“Go on, Great Sage! Strike me down, hero! You know what'll happen if you don't!”
Wukong did know. So he had struck.
But...
Macaque could have dodged.
He should have dodged!
Why hadn't he dodged?!
…
Wukong had only wanted him to stand down.
So that they could talk. So they could fix this.
He hadn't meant to...
(He had. He had he had he had-)
He hadn't meant to do this!
(Liar liar liar liar liar-)
“You’re still alive! Get up!”
“Macaque, come back!”
“Master! My friend! My friend is…”
“Please…”
He's dead.
He's dead, he's dead he's dead he's really dead-
I didn’t!
I didn’t abandon you.
You abandoned me!
HE ABANDONED ME‼
There it was, flaring up again, clouding his mind. That flash of white hot anger, this aggressive grief that brought with it rage and sorrow, ensnaring his heart like a thorny vine and making it bleed.
Grief was not a stranger to Sun Wukong, least of all after his cherished friends from the Journey had gone away one after the other. But that grief was a soft one, their memories a source of warmth and comfort, the weight of their absence undeniable but never crushing, not after all these years, at least.
The senseless deaths of his generals and marshalls, Liu, Ba, Beng and Ma, and of the many monkeys who had died at the hands of celestial soliders and human hunters, filled him with a profound sadness covered with a hazy veil of nostalgia.
But the grief he felt for Macaque was just as persistent and dramatic as he was, a turbulent and unpredictable thing that Wukong was unable to handle, only push away. But even as he tried his hardest to ignore it, it screamed out: “I'm still here, look at me!”
And all Wukong could do to muffle it was to latch onto the feelings that never strayed far behind: the guilt of having murdered the one he had once called his first and best friend, and the resentment that Macaque had hurt many of the people Wukong loved so dearly, pushing him to commit such a vile act.
It was a guilt he could never fully accept as his, and a resentment he had claimed with open arms. Although, after all the new things they had gone through together, and what Wukong had come to understand today....
“Wukong!”
Wukong snapped back to reality, a really blurry Nezha standing in front of him. Distantly, he registered the warm press of a palm through the layers covering his shoulder.
“You don't need to carry that blame, it was an accident.”
Wukong took in a breath. Let it out with some struggle.
His voice was tight as he said, “That's what you told yourself, right?”
He saw the hurt in Nezha's eyes before he even processed that his words had turned into weapons. The warmth on Wukong's shoulder disappeared as its source recoiled, a veil of stoicism covering Nezha's face, hiding away any expressions.
Blessed will be the day Wukong thinks twice about how his words could be interpreted.
“Nezha... I'm sorry. It's just... Our circumstances, our actions, they're not...”
“Yours were justified. I know.”
“Don't go putting words in my mouth!” Wukong argued, a little desperate to fix this misunderstanding. “It was different! You were on your own, of course you weren't to blame!”
The veil lifted a bit, Nezha's traits softened.
Wukong sighed. “There were so many ways... So many ways I could have gone about it. They had been rescued, Wujing was here, you were around... The battle should have been over and yet I still...”
Wukong choked on his words as much as his tears.
“Crybaby,” he heard a fond voice say from distant, happier memories.
“I still...” He tried to take in a breath, wiping at his tears in anger. Why wouldn't they stop falling? “I could have done something else. Anything else.”
Maybe something close to what he had done today. It was insulting how easy it had been to get through to Macaque with only a hug and empty reassurances.
Would it have been as easy, back then? Could this suffering have been avoided, somehow?
“The rage of battle is a state that's not easy to overcome,” Nezha said, grabbing his attention anew as he stepped closer. “That day, you were both blinded by it, fighting like I'd never seen before. Nobody in the world could have come between you two, save one.”
“But it was over... He was defeated, he...”
“You forget he escaped from the chains of your spell. He would have gone after the Great Monk and the rest of the pilgrims again, it was an impossible choice you had to make, bound as you were by your mission. You were only doing what you had to do.”
“But he-”
That blow shouldn't have been lethal.
Macaque had let it be.
But why?
“Wukong, there's no sense thinking about how you should have done it. If this battle had happened today, as you are now, the outcome would have been different, yes, because you are different. I know you're aware that it's unfair of us to judge our past actions thanks to the lessons those very same mistakes taught us.” Nezha closed his eyes and sighed. “Back then, you didn't know any better.”
“I should have!”
“Same as I,” Nezha said, regret underlining his voice. “Look, I know how it feels, to kill a best friend, one of your very first friends, someone you-”
With a sharp intake, Nezha took back control of his breathing, reeling back his emotions. “But I have to admit I don't know... this. If he... If Ao Bing somehow came back, I wouldn't know what to do, or how to feel. All that I know is that love is a hard thing to kill.”
Wukong flinched. His face grew hot, as a strange kind of pain went through his chest. Where was Nezha going with this?
“If we're going through with the removal of his powers, and we will, Macaque will need you around. You know how hard this would be on any of us. Even if we are successful in taking his powers away, chaos is volatile, unpredictable, there's no telling if it'll be truly gone. You'll have to put your differences behind you and keep an eye on him, watch out for anything amiss.”
Wukong almost wanted to laugh. Leave it to Nezha to steer an emotional talk straight back to business as usual. The whiplash was strong enough to shake off any remnants of Wukong's grief.
“So, what, you want me to keep playing nanny with him? Set up more wards around the mountain, get more monkeys on patrol?” Wukong joked.
“Don't pretend you wouldn't have done so anyway,” Nezha said with the clear intent to tease him, even as his tone stayed poised.
And, okay. Maybe little Nezha had a point there, but it did not mean Wukong had to concede it.
“Eeeeh, alright, I'll do it, but only because it's you Nezhy.”
Nezha sighed, rolling his eyes at his carefree act. Good, this was safer territory, more familiar. Wukong could see in the dwindling tension of Nezha's shoulders that they both felt the same.
Neither were great with showing their true feelings. They had both mastered the art of suppression, with only one of them perfecting it to a point that had Wukong almost worried. When did Nezha stop being fun?
But he couldn't dwell much on it, as Nezha was back to planning.
“Of course, if you do find out anything unusual, I ask that you report it to me.”
That caught Wukong's attention. “By “me”, do you mean “you”, or the Celestial Realm?”
A pause. “... Both?”
“Nezha.”
Nezha looked uneasy as he explained, “You know that many celestials are worried about the chaos. Between the Jade Emperor's passing and this old threat coming back, there's talk of it all around. If I hide what we've learned, and it's found out, my father...”
Wukong bit his lip. Right.
“Fine. I don't like it, but, fine. But it's not me you'll have to convince.”
“I'm aware.” Nezha nodded, his demeanor becoming less assured as he continued speaking. “And he'll also have to accept that his powers are going to be experimented on.”
Wukong blinked.
“Huh?”
“That's what I was talking about when you...” Nezha gestured to him. “You know.”
There was a confusing feeling rising up within Wukong at the thought of strangers tinkering with Macaque's powers, and it might even have been protectiveness. He tried not to think too much about it.
“Why would we need to do that?” He frowned, not able to hide his irritation. “Don't we already know enough by now?”
Nezha shook his head. “At this point, all we have is pure speculation. I'm not at all an expert, and neither are you. But there's a palace full of renowned alchemists up there. And the sooner they figure it all out, the sooner Macaque will get his powers back. I'm sure he'll understand.”
It was a sound reasoning, which annoyed Wukong greatly.
“You're feeling mighty sure of a lot of things. And even if he accepts, completing the removal of his powers won't be easy. At all.”
“I know. But between the Samadhi fire and the yellow Color Stone, I got a pretty good track record in handling unfettered powers, don't you think?”
Chasing away the very last memory he would ever have of Azure as he was consumed by the very fabric of the universe, Wukong tried to smirk, even as his heart cried.
“I think you're getting cocky.”
“If that's all you have to say, am I right to assume this discussion has come to an end?”
“Suit yourself.” Wukong shrugged, taking the speech scrambler and idly playing with it. “Ready to face the ferocious beast?”
“... You think he’s going to be upset?” Nezha said, offering his hand.
“Oh, livid. But it was all for the best. Not only would it have been a bad time if he’d heard…” Wukong paused, listening to the panicked buzzing of a very clumsy bumblebee. “He isn't the only one to eavesdrop around here.”
He did not know whether to be proud of his student, or annoyed.
Nezha caught on, looking at the insect struggle to go through a crack in the wooden planks.
“I didn't even notice him. That's... kind of impressive?”
Alright, Wukong would go with proud on that one.
Maybe not with the exit. That part needed some work.
“Hey,” Wukong said to Nezha, who veered his attention back to him. “Thanks for coming.”
A soft expression of surprise took over Nezha's face. He let bloom a small smile as he said, “Thank you for calling.”
Their hands met, the spell lost its effect, and they reached the door, the only thing standing between them and the rest of an unpleasant night, or a straight-up disaster.
So, before Nezha opened it, he turned to Wukong.
“Ready?”
Wukong wasn’t.
He nodded.
“Ready.”