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It was like it all happened in slow motion.
The monk and Wukong arguing, something snapping in Tripitaka's eyes, him raising two fingers, the look of fear across Wukong's face.
Macaque wanted to scream, to beg him to wait, to remind him he promised not to, but his mind could only focus on one thing:
Don't let MK see.
He rushed toward his son and blocked his view of Wukong, covering his ears tightly. He was still running on empty magic wise, so he couldn't do more than hope his hands were enough to block out the worst of the noise.
An intake of breath.
Wukong's cracked, "Wait—"
Then the screaming started.
The look of absolute horror on MK's face was something Macaque wouldn't forget anytime soon. And the anguished yells were something Macaque himself wished he could forget—it was something he had forgotten, at least a little bit after all these years.
He never thought he'd have to hear it again.
MK clutched Macaque's hands tightly, tears welling in his eyes. Macaque growled and looked over his shoulder. "Monk! Stop!"
Tripitaka didn't listen, standing over Wukong with a frown. The other pilgrims, like Macaque expected, were avoiding the scene and doing nothing to help.
"Sanzang!" Macaque cried, his ears buzzing with magic and pain. "Please—"
MK struggled out of his grip suddenly and rushed toward the noise. Macaque stumbled after him, but MK was despite his young age.
He reached Tripitaka quickly and shoved him, hard enough to make the man stumble. "Stop it!!"
The chanting stopped before he righted himself. For a moment he looked shocked, almost angry. Then his eyes landed on MK and he suddenly looked distraught. "MK—"
"You were hurting him!" MK cried, tears streaming.
The monk reached out a hand, but Macaque quickly guarded his child, teeth bared. "Don't you touch him."
Tripitaka's face hardened again, though he seemed unsure of himself. "Monkey is my disciple—"
"He's my dad!" MK snapped back. "And you hurt him!"
Behind them, Wukong struggled to his feet. "Guys, i-it's fine—"
"You promised not to used it," Macaque said lowly, ignoring Wukong's words because no it wasn't fine. "I don't know why I trusted you."
Tripitaka opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water, before offering a lame, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't…"
MK sniffled behind him and Macaque's blood boiled knowing it was the monk's fault. If Macaque didn't back off now, there would be blood spilled. So he quickly gathered MK in his arms and took Wukong's hand, pulling him along to the farthest edge of their camp.
"Macaque—"
Macaque glared at Wukong. Words weren't needed. Whatever Wukong saw in the shadow's eyes had him deflating. The king glanced at the others, then away, something close to painful understanding on his face as he let Macaque lead him far from the group.