Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Jade Court was a place of impossible splendor. The walls of quarts and jade rose high, adorned with patterns of ancient constulations. Banners, woven from stands of pure starlight, hung from the ceiling, each representing a virtue or grand event from the past. The members of the court were an even bigger marvel. Each were seated at their own respective seat, facing one another with the Jade Emperor at the head overlooking them all. Their very aura reflected their power and dominance as their voices filled to room, speaking over one another, bickering and fighting. Amidst the arguing, the air vibrated with frustration and the barely restrained power of immortal beings.

“The balance is unraveling! These rouge demons grow bolder by the day!” One voice bellowed.

“We cannot allow mortals to suffer while we debate endlessly!” Another chimed.

“If we delay, we invite chaos. Action is needed now!” A voiced called to be heard.

“Indeed, but we cannot act irrationally. Mortal lives could be lost!” One argued.

The arguments rise, a storm of divine frustration. Suddenly, a commanding voice pierces through the chaos.

“Enough.” The Jade Emperor - a figure of authority, his presence radiating an untouchable aloofness - raises a hand. Silence immediately follows. His eyes, sharp as daggers, sweep the assembly. “A dangerous demon plagues the mortal town of Shíyuè. It must be eliminated swiftly if we are to uphold order.”

A ripple of murmurs moves through the halls, each agreeing.

“Summon the Monkey King.” The Jade Emperor commands. A hush descends. Footsteps echo as an attendant bows and hurries out to locate the named individual.

-

He was casually leaning against a marble pillar not far from the court room, bathing in the soft glow of divine light. He was playing with a tassel strapped to his robes, twirling it between his fingers. The picture of nonchalance and arrogance.

An attendant approaches him nervously, keeping a safe distance that does not go unnoticed by the approached.

“The celestial court requests your presence.” Comes a meek voice from the small woman, keeping her eyes down cast.

A smirk finds it’s way onto his face. “Guess they can’t win an argument without me.” He comments, not truly looking for a response from the girl as he pushes off the pillar. She slightly bows before scurrying off.

He strides over to the doors, slicking his hair back and putting on the most confident front he could muster before sauntering into the court room. His confidence and power filled the vast hall, the gods inside turning to him with looks varying from awe - wariness - disgust. It didn’t matter to him.

The monkey king halts before the throne, dropping to an exaggerated bow. “You called, your Radiance?” His tone danced to a dangerous tune, on the edge of insolence. If he used it with any of these other gods, he knew he would have been chewed out then and there, but the Jade Emperor cherished his image too much. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t hear about it later in the emperor’s office though.

The ruler in question eyed him with an unreadable expression. “A demon threatens the peace of Shíyuè. Go. End it.”

The monkey stands, straightening his back and smirk widening. “A simple pest control job? Shouldn’t be a problem; consider it done.” He turns on his heel and leaves just as he enters.

His visits in the court were always short. He was never given details of his chores, just the assignment and location. After that, he was expected to have it cleaned up within the next 24 hours.

He strolled down the halls of the Jade Palace, heading towards the gates that would take him to the mortal realm.

“Might as well get this done.” He thought, feeling rather lazy today.

“Monkey King!” A calm voice called to him. He turned to see one of the celestial gods approaching him.

“Baigujing, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Nothing. It was never a pleasure to speak with her. At least not to him. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but she always sent chills through him.

She smiled at him, the corners of her lips never reaching her eyes. “Where are you off to? Did the court assign a new mission to you?”

Monkey King never truly understood why she was always so invested in what the court sent him to do. While she was a celestial god, she wasn’t one that was normally invited to the meetings. Her role here always evaded him, but he didn’t care enough to ask.

“I’m going to Shíyuè to rid it of it’s demon problem.” He said quickly, wanting this interaction to end as swiftly as possible. Her smile finally seemed more genuine as it grew upon hearing his response. He wished she went back to her fake smile.

Baigujing was gorgeous in all that the word meant. She met all the current standards of beauty but even then, every essence of the woman put him off. Her skin was ice-white, looking like new porcelain, which was a stark contrast to her long black hair that was darker than night. It was always pulled away from her face in intricate patterns. Her robes were a pure white that were pressed and proper every time. She was about the same height as him, which wasn’t too shocking considering that he was relatively short (not that he would ever admit that). Her eyes were sharp, and her irises were a nice deep black orb, complimenting her thin pale lips and slim nose. Her normal, fake (he was pretty sure it was always fake), smile was much more attractive than her real one he was now realizing. This one stretched just a little too wide for it to not be considered eerie.

He blinked a couple times, breaking out of the uncomfortable trance he fell into when taking in her appearance. While he could easily call her attractive, he didn’t see much appeal for himself. He was pretty sure she once made a move on him not long after they first met but she quickly realized that he wasn’t interested and backed off. But she still would come and talk to him frequently.

“That sounds wonderful! I am so glad Heaven has a way of exterminating those veil creatures!” She said, clapping her hands together and her hungry eyes seemed to pierce further into him.

“Right.” He said, slightly dragging the word out and taking a small step back. The only thing he could say he liked about Baigujing is that she wasn’t scared of him. It was quite refreshing actually; most people here strived to avoid him, wether it be walking around him, ignoring him, never meeting his eyes, anything. But she actively searched for him, and she rarely asked anything of him. “Well, I should go. That demon won’t remove itself.” He gently (and awkwardly) offered her.

“Yes, yes, of course. Go.” She waved for him to continue on his way. He was quick to turn and continue his way down.

Soon he stood before the golden gates of Heaven. They were wide open, looking as if they were offering a hug to whoever approached, reeling them in. They glowed brightly, reflecting the golden light of the sun. He always wondered if it was his imagination or not, but they always seemed to glow just a bit brighter when he was going to leave.

“Alright,” He thought, shaking away that thought and replacing it with his normal cockiness. “Let’s make this quick.”

Chapter Text

The town of Shíyuè was small, and that was an overstatement. It truly was less of a town and more of a large pit-stop for travelers. There were more taverns and motels than there were homes for residents. 

It was late out, the hour well into the night with the moon shining brightly on the streets. Shadows consumed the small settlement, only disturbed by the few lights that lined the pathways. Within one of the taverns, in the back corner sat a monkey demon. 

He counted the small silver and bronze coins in a cloth bag that he had received earlier that day. 

“Damn scammer.” His voice grumbled when he realized he had less money than promised. His black tail whacked against the booth in irritation as the individual came to the conclusion he barely had enough for a room at one of these shitty motels. Not that he would let that stop him, he was always good at smooth talking people. All he needed was a young girl that feasted on attention and compliments like it was her daily bread. If that didn’t work, he could just do what he did best and sneak into an unoccupied room.

“On the house from the man over there.” A gruff voice said, setting a beer down in front of the simian. He looked up to see the bartender, an older man with a salt and pepper beard and aged eyes. The man didn’t wait for a response before heading back over to the counter to continue wiping down the already clean surface. He looked over to where the man had motioned and saw someone sitting there already looking back. 

A lean man sat there at a table across from the monkey, his legs crossed with his hands folded in front of him and resting on the table. He was dressed in a nice outfit, a deep grey robe with silver detailing stitched into it. His skin was relatively pale, and his hair was a dark grey with a few thick streaks of white on the sides, slicked back. His smile stretched unnaturally, revealing pearly white teeth that matched the glow of his empty white eyes. 

The demon slightly reeled at the uncomfortable individual gazing at him and didn’t have much time to do anything else before he felt a freezing chill run through him and everything but himself and the strange man melted away into a void. Black surrounded him and he was standing in seconds, reaching into the sleeve of his robe and wrapping his hand around the hidden dagger.

“Who are you? What did you do?” He hissed, pulling the weapon out and readying it as the man casually approached him through the darkness. This wasn’t the darkness the simian was used to, he was used to being surrounded by void, but when it was on his terms and familiar. Now, it was cold. It wasn’t his shadows. 

“Now, now, there is no need for violence, Macaque.” The man giggled as he walked around the irritated monkey. “I am just here to talk with you. My lady wishes to have a meeting. She believes you are perfect for a very special job!”

“Job? If you’re looking to hire me, you can do it like any of my other clients. No need for the theatrics.” Macaque bristled. “Now fuck off.”

The man simply walked back around to face Macaque and pushed the awaiting edge of the blade down with a finger before responding. 

“Please, my lady and I insist! She knows you will be very interested in her offer. It will surely pay more than all the jobs you’ve done and then some.” He said, swipping his hand to the side, revealing a portal that seemed to appear out of no where. “At least hear her out.” He less than offered, noticing the new twinkle of interest in Macaque’s eye at the mention of money.

Then he leaned to the side, falling into the portal and disappearing, leaving the dark furred monkey alone in the void. The silence was deafening and he grumbled, realizing he’d probably be stuck here until he followed, and stepped through the portal with forced confidence. He stumbled once on the other side.

The new area was huge. A large throne room that was bathed in blue light was where he found himself. He very quickly caught onto a theme for decor as he glanced around and saw skulls and bones nailed to the walls as if it was art. The building was weathered, the stone of the structure was cracked and dusty. If he didn’t know any better, Macaque would have believe no one lived here. He looked up towards the front of the room to see two figures waiting for him to notice their presence. The man he had spoken to mere moments ago stood beside a woman, seated on a throne. 

She stood, smile plastered to her face. Her skin was paper white, matching her milky hair that was pulled from her face. Her baby blue and white robes dragged behind her as she descended the stairs to walk over to him. Her face was narrow with almost hollow cheeks and high cheek bones. If Macaque had much taste for women (and he wasn’t practically forced to be there), he would say she was quite pretty, but instead all he could feel was disgust. 

“Liu’er Mihou. The Six-Eared Macaque. The shadow demon. The self proclaimed best thief this side of the world has seen. Welcome, it is a pleasure to have you meet with me!” Her silky voice spoke, seemingly followed by hushed whispers.

“You sure have done your research. I don’t normally hand out my name. Now who are you and what do you want?” He asked, balling his hands into fists.

“My apologies,” She said, at least having the decency to fake remorse on her features. “I hope my servant wasn’t too rude when fetching you. He is always so quick to act when I give him a job, you see.” She said, glancing briefly at the man to her side, looking all to proud of himself. “But I am glad for it, for you see I have a very important job and no other can perform it as well or just as effectively as you.” 

Macaque glanced over to the mentioned ‘servant’, not believing he was truly needed if what she said was true but the promise of money from earlier rang in his ears so he would humor her. 

“Well since you went through the trouble of ruining my night, get on with it.” He snapped.

She tucked her arms behind her back and began to walk down the hall, past the simian. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow until the creepy man gave him a less than gentle shove towards his lady. 

“You may address me as ‘My Lady’, but judging by the look on your face I will allow you to call me the Lady Bone Demon.” She started. “I have a dream, a vision for the world. My, it is beautiful. A world that is pure, and fair. One where corruption and greed is but a distant and old melody that will never be sung again.” She stopped to gaze out of the balcony they had walked onto. The six-eared monkey followed her gaze, seeing the grey of mountains, fog rolling and birds flying in flocks. The golden rays of the sun began to slowly peak out over the horizon, making him wonder how long he had been here. 

“This world is disgusting.” She sneered, beginning to speak again. “It is filled with people who take and never look at the bigger picture. Imagine what this world could be if only those in power worked to achieve it. Doesn’t a world purged of evil sound wonderful?” She asked, finally turning to look at her company.

He knew it was a rhetorical question that he wasn’t supposed to answer, but he did anyway. “It is definitely a nice fool’s errand.”

Despite his dismissive wording to her ‘dream’, she smiles at him. 

“Oh but it isn’t a fool’s errand. At least not anymore. With your help, I can shape this world and make it a reality. And in return, I will give you a place in this new world, one where you will thrive and be happy.”

He sighs, finally bored with going along with her madness. “Yeah, that’s not really my thing. If the only payment you’re offering is to be a new lapdog for you, you approached the wrong monkey.”

“I figured you would respond in such.” She snapped her fingers and a small flap of paper floated into his hands. He glanced down and had to take a double glance once seeing the amount. With this amount, he would never need to steal again, he could buy himself an island and get fat eating fruits and other exotic foods for the rest of his days. “While money holds no value in my world, I do see the appeal for someone with your background. This amount is only half of what I will promise you. Finish the job and I can give three times as much.”

The words barely registered in his mind, as he looked at the check. After a moment he looked up, a small smile playing on his face. 

“Alright, you’ve finally started speaking my language. What’s the job?”

“Have you ever heard of the Samadhi fire?” He thought for a moment before shaking his head. “It is a powerful weapon, and crucial for my plans. I need someone to retrieve the keys to unlocking it. That’s your job. Find the keys, find the gate, retrieve the fire. Only then will you get paid.”

“And where can I find these keys?” He asked, stopping in the middle of a new hall that looked identical to the last five they walked through. 

“Unfortunately, I myself do not know. Very few were trusted with that information. Only those of the most powerful celestial beings know the location. This is why I will give you time, but keep in mind. I am not a patient woman.” She said, turning to him.

Her eyes flashed a bright blue, and in a moment the black monkey felt as if a coldness had consumed him, drowning him. It burned, momentarily, but it seemed to last a life time. He stumbled back, eyes wide and feeling cold.

“Heard loud and clear.” He said weakly, trying to force as much strength as he could into his voice.

“Good.” She turned and left, her henchman following but not before turning and smirking at him. 

Macaque stood there for a moment before yelping as he fell through a portal much like the one he had first walked through and fell back into that same booth. He glanced around and saw the place looked the same, no one even looked towards him. He stared at the table that had his mesely bag of silver and bronze coins. The amount seemed so much smaller now.

“Alright,” He mumbled, sliding from the booth and walking out of the tavern. “Let’s make this quick.”

Chapter Text

The Monkey King strides into the the small town, taking it all in. It was a quaint little town if it weren’t for the thick atmosphere. There were a few people outside but even then you could see they felt on edge. Some were quickly walking, glancing over their shoulders at every turn. An unnatural feeling lingered in the air. Tavern doors creaked loudly when opened, and the scent of stale ale reached the celestial’s nose. He frowned slightly at the sight.

He slowed his pace to really take everything in, noticing claw marks sketched into the stone walls of a few of the buildings. The most lively thing in the town was a few children running around and laughing as they passed a ball between one another, but even that was short lived as one of the children’s mother scooped them up and walked away, scolding them. 

He came to the conclusion that he had seen enough and walked into the nearest tavern. It was small but cozy, with very few people inside. The building itself could do with some better lighting though, he thought. The shadows seemed to seep into the bones of the establishment, flicking with the light.

“Excuse me, sir?” The Monkey King asked, sliding onto one of the bar stools gracefully. He smiled at the man, and it only brightened in amusement when it wasn’t returned. The man was bigger in build, having natural muscle but pulling off an obvious beer belly. He had dark greasy hair and a salt and pepper beard. His mouth was set into a deep frown once the monkey addressed him, pairing with his tired eyes nicely. “Do you happen to know anything about a dangerous, rampaging demon?”

The man looked him up and down, unimpressed. “What, are you some kind of ‘hero’ come to save us?” He asked rudely, voice dripping with disdain.

The king smirked, the confidence in his expression radiating. “I’m not here to save you, old man. Just here to clean up the mess.”

“You aren’t the first, buddy. But be my guest, it’s your funeral.” The man waited for the monkey to get scared and run away, but when he continued to sit there, the bartender kept talking. “That demon comes into town once a week around noon. You should be just on time for it’s weekly visit.”

“Thank you for your time.” He said grandly, mocking a bow to the man before exitting the bar. Just as he was pushing the doors open, he paused and looked over his shoulder. He glanced around but saw no one paying him any mind.

“Huh. I felt like someone was staring.” He thought before shrugging off the feeling and continuing on his way. 

He found a small fruit stall in the center of the town, run by an elderly woman. He happily walked up and inspected a few of the fruits before snatching up a juicy looking peach and flicking a gold coin to the lady. She looked flabbergasted at the amount she was paid for a mere peach. She went to thank the stranger, but he was already walking off to find somewhere to sit and wait. 

-

The sun was high above the sky and the peach was now nothing more than a pit being rolled around the wooden crate he sat upon. He was bored out of his mind with nothing to do. People were keeping a distance, but that didn’t mean they were keeping their eyes to themselves. Children were pointing and asking what the strange monkey man was doing there, and parents were muttering for them to stay away. He was about to get up and purchase another peach when he felt a little tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see a little boy with large eyes looking up at him.

“Do you want to play?” The child asked, holding out a ball to the Monkey King. Upon a second glance, he realized this was one of the children he saw earlier, only now he was alone. 

“Sorry kid, I can’t right now. I’m working.” He smiled, hoping that would send the little one away. It didn’t.

“You don’t look like you’re working. You’re just sitting here.” The boy comments. “Please? All you have to do is kick the ball. No one else will play with me.” 

The celestial monkey looked the boy over and finally notices the pointed ears and small tail behind the kid.

“Ah.” He thought.

Demons were a… new adjustment for the world. Some, like the one he was sent to kill, didn’t like the idea of conforming to society and living peacefully. They believed they needed to live by the rules of the older days and wreak havoc on humans to seem strong and have a place in this world. On the other hand, some demons were ‘reformed’, so to speak. They could integrate into the world of humans as if they were one in the same. While this idea worked in larger, more developed areas, such as Megapolis, it wasn’t rare to find small towns like this that were struggling to adjust and accept ‘good’ demons.

He sighed, finding it in himself to pity the kid.

“Yeah okay, just for a bit.” He caved, smiling a touch when seeing the child’s face light up.

“I’m Fang,” The boy says as he backs up to kick the ball to his new playmate. “What’s your name?”

“I’m the Monkey King.” He says proudly, catching the ball with his foot and kicking it back to the boy.

“That’s a funny name.” Fang laughs, but goes along with it.

The two continue to trade pleasantries for a while, simply kicking the ball back and forth. This did not go unnoticed by others, who would stop and stare for a while at the confusing display. The celestial being slowly found himself enjoying this small moment. A laugh bubbled out of him as the ball came rolling back, bouncing lightly as it hit his foot. He went to return it to the small one when he saw it.

It was quick, so quick he almost missed it and it would have cost the child his life. In a flash, the monkey demon had his arms full of the child and was turning his body to narrowly miss the outstretched claws of a demon. He landed hunched over the small body of a confused child, and looked over his shoulder to see a large body turning to glare at him.

“Sorry Fang, we can pick this up later. I have to get to work now.” He said, ruffling the kid’s hair and gently pushing him to run alone and find cover. Fang glanced to the side and fear set in his eyes as he saw the beast. He tried to grab the other’s hand and drag him away to safely but the older was already turning and facing the monster.

The Monkey King stepped into the heart of the now empty square. The air was thick with the scent of panic, whispers of terrified townsfolk drifting through the area. A low growl echoed through the square, and the simian’s gaze locked onto his target.

The demon was a hulking, twisted beast - lean limbs covered in jagged scales, it’s eyes burning with feral hatred. Clawed hands flexed, ready to shred the next poor soul that approached. 

He couldn’t help but smirk, rolling his shoulders back, mocking the idea of needing to warm up. “Too easy.” He thought.

“Alright, ugly,” Monkey King called out, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance. “Are we going to do this the hard way, or are you going to lie down and save us both the trouble?”

The demon roared, a sound like tearing metal. It lunged forward, faster than a creature of it’s size should have been able to move. 

His eyes narrowed, his smirk grew, and in a blink, he was gone. 

The beast’s claws swiped through air, the force of the blow splintering the crate the other had originally been sitting on. The celestial reappeared behind it, arms tucked teasingly behind his back, and eyebrow raised.

“Missed me,” he teased.

The demon whirled around, it’s fury doubled. This time, the demon unleashed a outburst of oily dark energy that sizzled as it shot towards the other. 

The other quickly and gracefully dodged the attack, realizing in that moment that he was growing bored. His fingers twitched, and light crackled along his arms. With a casual flick of his wrist, blazing golden light erupted between the two, colliding with the weak and dark energy, dispersing it into harmless embers.

“Pathetic,” He muttered. His smirk had died down at this point into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was growing tired of these mindless and tedious fights. There was no pleasure in fighting someone or something that never stood a chance in the first place. 

Of course, this thought distracted him and cost him.

The demon, seizing an opening, charged through the dissipating smoke. It’s clawed hand reached out, aiming for the other’s throat.

“Too close.” He thought, barely managing to twist aside, the demon’s claws grazing his cheek. A thin line of blood welled up and slid down his cheek.

His eyes flashed, slightly bringing a hand up to dab at the new cut and looking at his strangely colored blood. Normally this would alarm someone, but instead, it reignited that playful fire that had died moments ago. His cocky smirk returned sharper this time. 

“Alright,” he drawls, fully wiping the blood away with his thumb. “I guess you do want this the hard way.”

The king’s aura flared, golden light spiraling like a living storm. The earth cracked beneath his feet, unable to withstand the surge of his power. He shot forward, a golden blur, and drove his fist into the demon’s midsection. 

A shockwave rippled outward from the impact. The demon flew backward, crashing through a stack of barrels and into a stone wall, crumbling under the force. Before the creature could recover, Monkey King was already above it, a staff of red and gold forming in his hand. He hurled it down, pinning the demon to the ground. The creature howled in agony, dark smoke hissing from its wound as divine energy burned through it. He landed lightly, standing over the writhing beast.

“This is the part where you beg,” he said calmly.

The demon’s eyes flickered with defiance, then fear. It opened its mouth, perhaps to plead, perhaps to curse him - but he didn’t give it the chance. He raised his hand, a light gathering in his palm, and brought it down in a final, blinding strike.

Silence followed. The dust settled. Where the demon once laid, there was nothing but a slight charred mark on the ground.

The monkey let out a slow breath, rolling his neck as exhaustion seeped into his bones. The victory should have been grand, but it felt relatively hollow. He looked to the side, a smile sliding onto his features as he looked to the townsfolk, but it was swiftly dropped.

The civilians had watched, but none stepped forward to thank him. He saw the fear that lingered in them. His eyes met the little boy’s, Fang, and felt a slight bit of pain as the boy looked horrified at the display of violence. He dropped his ball and ran the other way in fear. 

In that moment, the celestial felt a wave of cold embarrassment wash over him. He turned on his heel and began to head toward the exit of the town. He had finished his job and had no further reason to stay there. It was clear no one wanted this stranger in their town any longer either.

He briskly walked down the cobblestone path, keeping a confident, smug look on his face as he noticed people peeling away when he got too close. He was so focused on getting out of there, he didn’t noticed the interested gaze coming from the shadows. 

Chapter Text

Macaque slipped between the shadows, eyes fixed on the fellow monkey demon that was clearly trying to remove himself from the scene of destruction. The celestial being stuck out like a beacon. His fur was a golden brown, soft and unkempt. It was long, the hair on his head being pulled back into a low ponytail. Atop his head a circular, golden crown that rested against his brow and glinted in the sun. His skin was pale in comparison to Macaque’s, which was tanned. His face had a peach pink marking, rounded near his eyes and followed the curve of his nose.

His robes were… improper in a sense, and the color scheme was confusing. The celestial wore a tight fitted, dark, turtle neck that lacked sleeves. His robe was a pale yellow, the right sleeve being thrown off to reveal one of his toned arms and the minimal straps of armor that the shadow demon was willing to bet were just for show. A teal sash was thrown over the left shoulder, being held against his body with a crimson belt. His pants were bright red, the ends shoved beneath some more armor attached to his shins. He was elegant, in a chaotic way.

Macaque’s lips curled into a calculated smile. “That’s my ticket,” he thought. “Arrogant. Strong. Perfect.”

He stepped forward, breaking away from the shadows to stand in the blazing light of the sun. He approached enough to get the others attention and when those golden eyes met his own, he couldn’t help but acknowledge just how intense his presence was - practically vibrating with suppressed power. The dark simian forced a wave of awe to flash across his expression, just enough to seem genuine.

“Impressive! You certainly don’t waste time, do you?” He said, lifting his voice with casual admiration. “You destroyed that demon quicker than any soldier could draw a sword.”

The golden monkey smirked at the praise, “The flattery is cheap, but appreciated.”

Macaque smiled at this. “This is going to be fun.”

“I’m only being honest. Not everyday you see someone with enough flair to turn a fight into a performance.”

The other seemed to fall at ease, caving easily to the compliments. “And who are you supposed to be?” He asked, crossing his arms and shooting a smug grin. 

“Macaque. You?” He said, extending a hand to the stranger. He didn’t take it. No surprise there.

“You don’t already know who I am?” He chucked confidently. “Most know me as the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.” 

Macaque couldn’t help but let his facade fall for a moment, looking unimpressed with the conceited response.

The celestial sighed when he saw he wouldn’t be addressed as such. 

“The Monkey King,” he tried again. Still, that unimpressed look persisted on Macaque. 

“Fine. Sun Wukong.” He grumbled.

“There we go! Now that’s an actual name!” Macaque cheered, putting that fake front up immediately.

“Well, Macaque, I have places to be. I would say it was a pleasure, but us celestials aren’t supposed to lie.” Wukong turned to leave when he was instantly blocked by the other side stepping in front of him.

“Wait,” he said, “Could I buy you a drink? As a thanks for saving the town.”

Wukong scanned him, the obvious suspicion in his eyes as he drank in Macaque’s appearance. The demon was about a head taller than the celestial, but he somehow felt smaller as those calculated eyes dragged over him. 

He was a stark contrast to the other, being dressed in a dark blue robe lined with a dull yellow and maroon pants that matched the scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was less spiky than the self-proclaimed king’s, but it was far dirtier than the others. His face was completely framed by ebony fur, and his skin was a close match to caramel with a ruby face marking that had sharp edges rather than being smooth and round.

“You want to thank me for ‘saving the town‘ you don’t live in… by buying me a drink?” Wukong asked, cocking his hip to the side and a look of dubious falling on him.

“Who said I don’t live here?” Macaque offered, knowing he was caught but not feeling overly worried about the other walking away anymore. He clearly has caught his attention enough for the golden monkey to stay, if his body language could say anything. The other didn’t seem to want to press the very clear lie, and sighed. He looked towards the gates of the town, then to the sky before turning back to Macaque.

“One drink.” Wukong said. Macaque smiled, leading the other to the nearest bar he saw.

-

There weren’t many people in the small establishment. There had been a group of people but they left after seeing Sun Wukong enter.

That was fine in Macaque’s opinion. He wasn’t really interest in buying a congratulations drink for his cocky companion, he was here to set his plan into motion. He waved down the bartender, a short and curvy woman that looked tough enough to run the biggest of troublemakers out of her tavern, and ordered a couple of cheap ales. He wasn’t a huge fan of alcohol, but he’d do anything to make this little rendezvous last long enough.

Wukong turned to him, resting an elbow on the counter. “What do you want?”

Macaque wasn’t going to pretend any longer that he didn’t want something. He appreciated the forwardness of the other, glad he didn’t have to dance around before getting to the point. “You’re sharp,” he said, as if it wasn’t apparent enough. “I’m looking for something that is rumored to be pretty powerful. The kind of thing only someone like you could help me find.”

“Oh?” The celestial’s eyes narrowed in interest, a smile toying on his lips at the subtle praise. “And why would I help you find something ‘pretty powerful‘?”

The demon monkey gave an exaggerated sigh, eyes glimmering with feigned exasperation. “Because if you don’t, this little demon problem you just fixed? It’ll look like child’s play compared to what’s coming.” He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice as if worried someone in the already empty building would over hear. “I’m talking about a weapon capable of burning entire cities to cinders. The Samadhi Fire.” 

He hoped that’s what it was capable of. The Lady Bone Demon hadn’t really given details on what exactly it was, and he was never one to question clients. He simply assumed by the name it could be capable of such power, and it seemed he was right.

A flicker of recognition crossed Wukong’s face, and something else that might have been fear. “You’re after the Samadhi Fire? Dangerous thing for a demon to be sniffing around.”

Macaque smirked. “Well, dangerous things should be kept out of the wrong hands, don’t you think?”

Golden eyes swept over the dark monkey, and amusement played in his voice. “And whose hands are the right hands? Yours?” 

Macaque laughed, a sound light and mocking. “Hardly. I’m just the messenger. But I hear whoever controls that fire could become a nightmare for Heaven and Earth. And I can assume that’s your department, isn’t it? Keeping nightmares in check?”

Wukong’s lips twitched, caught somewhere between a frown and smirk. “You’re not wrong.” He looked away, eyes inspecting the drink that was placed in front of him with slight disgust. “But if you know of such a threat, why not request an audience with a celestial buddha? If they deem it urgent enough, they will inform Heaven.”

“Exactly; if. Do you really think they would believe a demon? You on the other hand, you’re a celestial. You’ve got Heaven’s ear. You don’t need permission to do what’s right, do you?” Macaque could see the conflict rising in the other’s eyes, the seeds were planted and beginning to fester.

The tawny furred monkey casually brought a hand up and traced the crown on his head with two fingers, slightly frowning at the object. “I don’t need anyone telling me what I can or can’t do,” he responded.

“Exactly.” The sly monkey’s voice was smooth, coaxing. “You could stop this before it becomes a problem.”

A long pause stretches between them. The bartender had disappeared into the back at this point and the two simians had been left alone for the duration of the conversation. Wukong picked up his glass and rolled his wrist, watching the drink swirl as he weighted his options before Macaque. The latter waited impatiently, hoping his words were enough to deceive the other. 

Finally, Wukong exhaled through his nose, the sound half a sigh, half a growl. “I don’t know where it is-”

Macaque’s insides deflated immediately. “This was a waste of time,” he thought, irritated. 

“-but I know someone who might.” The other finished. “Only issue is he travels so I don’t know where he is either.”

He wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or dejected. At this point, all he could rely on was the hope that this ‘someone‘ truly knew where Macaque could obtain the weapon, but it sounded like there was a chance he wouldn’t even be found in a mannerly time. The Lady Bone Demon said she would give him time, but how much time did he really have? A week? A month?

He sighed internally, knowing he should take this since it was his only lead.

“Alright then,” he said, reaching out his hand for a second time. “Lead the way, partner.”

Wukong narrowed his eyes at the last word, but he extended his hand, fingers calloused and strong, and slipped it into Macaque’s.

 “I already regret this.” The celestial comments, slipping from his barstool.

The two walked out the the tavern and didn’t look back as they headed for the gates. They began down the road, both blissfully unaware of just how deep into the darkness this path would take them.

Chapter Text

Macaque could deal with a lot.

He never grew up with younger siblings, hell he didn’t grow up with siblings period, but he heard how annoying they could be. How they would talk your ears off with random nonsense and how it seemed to be their life goal of bothering their kin. But he had grown up around other foster kids.

Now, to say he grew up around them was sugar coating it. He avoided socializing like it was a plague. But, even then, he got good at putting up with a lot of chatter and bullshit.

His first impression of Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, under all those fancy robes, was that he was arrogant. But he had assumed that was just for show when he was speaking to people he looked down upon - like Macaque. He had figured that once Wukong got acquainted with someone, he would be tolerable and take the vanity down a notch.

How wrong he was.

They had been walking down this path for hours and all Macaque had heard was this insufferable moron singing his own praises. He told Macaque of his great feats and how he overcame each of them with great ease, rising in the ranks of Heaven as if nothing. He told Macaque of how the other Gods feared him and looked at him with awe. He told Macaque how people swooned over him and the feasts that had been thrown after he saved a city.

The black simian was struggling to keep up his interested facade as he listened to the sage yap.

“I fought this one god, and won!”

“I fought this one troll, and won!”

“I fought this one bull, and won!”

Macaque couldn’t help but groan internally as Wukong kept yammering on, basically retelling the same story over and over. He wished he could remove his ears from his head for the rest of this trip.

Wukong strode confidently ahead, his voice carrying on the wind. The golden threads of his robes shinning in the sun’s rays making him seem as if he were glowing.

“And then there was that time I took down a mountain demon,” he boasted, eyes gleaming. “Thing was twice my size, all fangs and fury. But I didn’t flinch. One well-placed strink and boom - it crumbled like wet clay.”

The thief’s eyes were glazed at this point, fixed somewhere in the distance, barely suppressing a sigh.

“And did I mention,” Wukong continued, “That the villagers were so impressed-”

Macaque groaned loudly, finally having enough and interrupting. “-they threw you a feast, showered you in praise, and declared you the greatest thing to grace their miserable existence.” He glanced sideways at the celestial, his tone dry and tired. “Yes, yes, I got it the first dozen times.”

Wukong raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Jealous?”

“Of what? Your endless ability to talk about yourself?” Macaque snorted.

The tawny monkey chuckleed, unfazed. “Hey, if you’ve got in, flaunt it.”

Macaque stopped walking abruptly, hands on his hips, eyes narrowing into slits. “I swear, if I hear one more tale about your ‘legendary’ feats, I’m going to sock you and ruin your ‘perfectly handsome face‘.” The last bit being a quote from the conceited monkey himself, spoken earlier.

Wukong grinned, turning to face him, his golden eyes twinkling in amusement. “Stop it, you flirt,” he joked. Macaque only glared harder at the remark. “Admit it, you love hearing about my victories.”

Where Wukong could have possible come up with that idea was beyond Macaque. The entire trip, up until this point, he couldn’t remember if he had time to speak at all.

“I’d rather eat my own tail.” He deadpanned.

A look of feigned hurt came over the monkey king. “You wound me.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “The only thing wounded here is my patience.”

They began to walk again, the taller slightly ahead, hoping to put some distance between himself and Wukong’s ego. But, of course, that was only hopeful thinking. The other quickened his pace til he was once again beside Macaque.

“You know,” Wukong drawled, “you’d be a lot more fun if you just admitted how impressed you are.”

Macaque didn’t even glance at him. “I’ll be more impressed when you go five minutes without talking about yourself.

“Five minutes?” He brought his hand up to his chin, pretending to think. “That sounds impossible.”

“For you? Absolutely.”

A moment of silence stretched between them - glorious, merciful silence. The black monkey began to hope he’d actually won when-

“Have I told you about the time I fought Erlang Shen, greatest warrior god of Heaven? Of course, he was until I showed up and-”

Macaque groaned, long and loud, tipping his head back to the sky as if pleading with the heavens for strength. “I should have known better.”

The sage laughed, sounding bright and unbothered. “You really should have.”

He was shot another glare from the demon, who had truly had enough. If he was going to talk, he should at least speak of something useful.

“So who is this guy we’re going to talk to?” He asked, hoping this would change the topic from Wukong.

“A traveler. He studies all sorts of powerful artifacts and celectial beings. Probably one of the smartest guys I have the pleasure of knowing!” Wukong said cheerfully, crossing his arms and turning his nose up, proud.

Macaque paused at this, glancing to the celestial. “Some traveler knows the location of the Samadhi Fire? I thought information like that would be kept close knit with you ‘powerful celestials’.” He said.

“He’s more than a traveler, really. The Jade Emperor has trusted him with a lot of dangerous missions throughout his life. Think of him more as an honorary celestial.” Wukong responded.

“Right. But if he’s a traveler, that moves around a lot, how are we going to find him? Where are we even going?” Macaque asked, finding the small plot hole in the golden monkey’s plan.

“It’s true I don’t know where he is right now, but there is one place he always goes back to. Even if he isn’t there, the owner is always informed of where he is going so we can just travel to him if need be.” He said casually.

This sounded like it could take a while. Which led him back to his earlier concern of how much time did he really have? He had never heard of ‘The Lady Bone Demon’ before, but to be fair, he had never heard of the Samadhi Fire either. Wukong clearly knew something about it, so maybe he knows about the Lady too.

Would it be smart to ask? He wasn’t one for snooping on his clients, but considering how she definitely was not his every day of the mill hire, he felt he should know a little more about what he had gotten himself into.

But that only raised more questions. What if Wukong did know who she was? What if she was some enemy of Heaven and he was now also marked an enemy? What if Wukong decided, in that moment, he was a threat and needed to be terminated?

Macaque was no fool, he was strong, stronger than your average demon, and smarter too. But Sun Wukong? While he would never claim to be impressed, there was no denying his power. He wouldn’t be shocked if the sage really was well received in Heaven for his power and skill.

He watched him fight that demon in the square, and while he was confident he could last longer and give the other a bit more run for his money, he knew he would meet the same fate as that scaled demon - a charred mark and another victory for Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, to brag about. He slightly shivered at the idea.

“Fine,” Macaque said. “But how long until we reach our destination?”

“Well, the place is in Megapolis, so at least a week?” The celestial monkey pondered.

“Megapolis is a two weeks trip at best, you fool!” Macaque yelled.

“Really? Huh,” Wukong didn’t seem that perturbed by the idea of walking for two weeks. “Welp, then we better keep on moving and pick up the pace!” He said, far too happy for Macaque’s taste.

“Can’t you just, oh I don’t know, teleport us there?”

“I can’t teleport, silly. You really weren’t listening to me talk about myself!” He laughed casually.

“Then fly us there! You, a great sage, grander than us mere mortals, want to walk all the way there?” He tried to pique Wukong’s interest by playing into that ego of his, but it seemed to go over his head.

“Are you in some sort of rush? I think it’s nice every once in a while to go for a stroll!” Wukong said. For a moment, Macaque wondered if he was joking.

“This is not a stroll. And yes, I kind of am. Did you miss the part where I said the Samadhi Fire could fall into the wrong hands?” He asked quickly.

“I didn’t miss that part. But I do think I missed the part where you told me exactly whose hands these were? Unless there is a certain someone you know of, that is actively going for the Samadhi Fire as we speak, I don’t think there is any rush.” His argument was weak. It was stupid. But it still had Macaque backed into a corner. He didn’t know enough about who he was working for or what he was retrieving.

It also didn’t help that, technically, the hands the weapon needed to fall into were his. His goal was to find the keys, grab the weapon, and bring it back to the Bone Demon.

“I don’t know, I just heard… whispers. Someone is trying to get it, so we should find it first and get it somewhere safe.” He tried.

Wukong looked at him, taking him in before an amused smile graced his face again. “We? My, so forward~” He joked. “Y’know, you don’t strike me as the self-righteous one. What’s in all this for you?”

Macaque chuckled, knowing he didn’t fully have to lie here as his mind flashed back to the cold, drowning, feeling he had gotten when speaking with the Lady. “Call it self-preservation. This sounds like the type of weapon doesn’t play favorites.”

“You’d be right about that.” Wukong states, a different tone in his voice that Macaque nearly missed. Might as well take advantage of this moment.

“So what is it?” He asked.

Wukong brought his hands up to rest on the back of his head as he looked up to the sky. He pondered the question for a bit, for whatever reason was not clear to the dark simian.

“Pretty much exactly like it sounds. It’s an inextinguishable flame that could burn through the fabric of reality. No one really knows where it came from, it was just here one day. A few celestials had to get together and divert it’s power so it was more manageable. After that, no one has seen it ever since. Most of Heaven was kept out of the loop, so I couldn’t just go up there and ask.” He laughed, “Even if I did, they wouldn’t tell me.”

“Huh, what does she want with something like that?” Macaque wondered. She said she wanted to build a new world. As self-centered as that thought was, he didn’t understand how you were supposed to build something with a weapon of destruction.

“Speaking of Heaven, I should probably head back up there soon.” Wukong commented, sounding more like it was a side thought for himself rather than informing Macaque.

“Wait, what? You said you would help!” Macaque said, turning to the golden simian quickly.

“And I will. But I was sent down here by the court for a job. I need to inform them that it’s done or they’ll come searching for me. I’m not really supposed to be away from Heaven for long,” He laughed. “The sun is setting, you should find somewhere to sleep. I’ll be back in the morning!” 

Macaque turned and noticed that it was indeed getting darker. The sun began to dip behind the mountains painted in the distance, the golden rays clinging to what it could before the shadows over took the land.

“There isn’t an inn for miles.” He deadpanned, watching the other pause.

“That sounds like a you problem,” Wukong winked. “Goodnight!”

And he was gone, disappearing in a blur of golden light, up into the sky. Macaque glared and growled lowly at the rude display. He was lucky he had shadow travel and could easily find a nearby town to sleep at.

As he layed in a bed at the cheap inn he had found, luckily not far from where the two had been, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wonder. Some were about Heaven, others about Wukong, most about the job and his employer.

He roled over, hoping the hole he was digging didn’t go too deep. The last thing he needed in his life was more problems.

Chapter Text

“There you are!” Wukong laughed, “I was beginning to think you ran off!”

Macaque glared at him through tired eyes. He hadn’t been sure when the celestial would return so he had gotten up very early in the day to return to the spot where they had parted. The sun had barely risen over the peaks and even the cicadas were still awake, playing their songs. It was annoying to see the golden monkey so awake and chirpy this early in the morning. Macaque himself was never a morning person, he preferred staying up late and sleeping well into the afternoon. 

“Is this going to be a daily routine with you?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Ha! No no, like I said, I just had to inform the Jade Court that the demon had been dealt with. You’re stuck with me from here on out now; lucky you!” Wukong said, looking too pleased with himself.

The thief stared at the other wondering if he should be happy about that or not. 

“It’s too early for this.“ He thought, turning and continuing to walk down the path. 

They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the forest waking up filled the void between the two. The black simian hadn’t realized the silence at first but when he did, he looked over to Wukong, expecting him to not be there. Instead, Wukong walked casually beside him, hands rested behind his head. The tawny monkey was looking around, taking in the scenery of the forest. 

There was this tiny sparkle in his eyes, one that was similar to a child in a candy store. It was small, but noticable enough for Macaque. He watched the monkey king for a bit, trying to understand why he would look so interested in some random forest.

Macaque looked where the towering trees stretched their gnarled limbs to form a canopy of deep emerald and gold. Sunlight filtered through in scattered rays, casting patches of warm gold on the forest floor, which was blanketed with moss so rich it looked like velvet. The air was still cool from the morning fog, tinged with the scent of pine needles and the faintest hint of wildflowers.

The golden monkey walked ahead, his gaze lifted to the branches above, eyes wide with an uncharacteristic softness and wonderment. The warm glow of his presence seemed to make the light dance more vividly as he took in the details that Macaque was overlooking. He paused to watch a small bird with a burst of crimson on its chest flit from branch to branch. A genuine smile tugged at his lips, the arrogance that Macaque was growing used to being replaced with momentary awe.

“Would you look at that,” he murmured, finally breaking the building silence. “It’s like the whole place is alive.”

Macaque, a few steps behind, raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head, glancing at the same bird before looking back at the other with a skeptical expression. “It’s a forest. They usually are.”

The monkey king ignored the remark, bending down to run his fingers across the soft moss. The green beneth his touch was so vibrant, so full of life. “I never get to see places like this. Up close, things that have grown naturally.”

Macaque watched him for a moment, his gaze flickered between Wukong’s childlike wonder and the trees surrounding them. To him, the forest was just another place to pass through. It wasn’t of much interest to him, in fact, he didn’t really care for nature. He had grown up in a city and that was the kind of life he prefered. Fast pace, with lots of people he could rob from. Not socialize with. The only thing he could do without was the noise.

The name ‘Six-Earred Macaque’ wasn’t figurative. He really did have six ears, three on each side, but he normally kept them hidden with a glamour. When he was a child, the other kids in the orphanage were always curious about them. Instead of asking though, they would always pull on them, rub them, scream into them. It had caused him a lot of pain, and was probably where his distaste for being around others stemmed from. Having four of his six ears hidden did help with mutting sounds, but things still sounded louder than it would to a regular person. So the forest was a nice change.

Now, his ears picked up on the tranquil sound of running water from a stream, the fluttering of wings from a flock of birds, the rustling of leaves and branches as the wind swept through.

“What’s so interesting about a bunch of leaves and birds?” He muttered, more to himself than to the other.

“Everything!” Wukong beamed. 

“I find that hard to believe. You’re a celestial. You see wonders grander than this everyday I’m sure.” Macaque said, not too sure why he was egging Wukong on, giving him an excuse to speak.

Wukong seemed to ponder that thought for a moment, his eyes breaking away from the scenery to look forward and picture his home in Heaven. “I mean, sure. But the extraordinary ‘wonders’ of Heaven become everyday things when you’re stuck there all the time.” He laughed. “So these simple ‘leaves and birds‘ become a lot more interesting when you don’t see it often. Plus, Nezah reads books about these incredible animals and places on Earth to me all the time! I heard there is a lizard that can shoot blood out of it’s eyes! Have you seen one before?”

Wukong’s eyes sparked as he turned to Macaque, looking far too interested. The black monkey grimaced a bit at the image painted in his head of a reptile that would eject bodily fluids from its eyes.

“Uhm… no, sorry.” He responded awkwardly. This definitely was not what he was expecting to come from his interaction with the monkey king. Wukong turned away after that, but the shine in his eyes didn’t leave. There was another moment of silence that pasted between the two.

“You know, it wasn’t blood, but there was the sea monster I had to fight once-” Wukong started. Macaque groaned loudly. He should have known he wouldn’t make it a whole hour without Wukong managing to weasel in his own praise.

-

They had been walking for hours now, the sun high above their heads. Macaque had slowed down his pace substantially, the sweat pooled on his brow and his face felt hot. He pulled at the scarf wrapped around his neck, but still refused to take it off. He was not made for walking these long distance journeys, that’s what his shadow travel was for. 

Sun Wukong, on the other hand, looked like he was in his natural element. He was just as chirpy as this morning, yapping on about something Macaque didn’t have the energy to entertain anymore. He was practically skipping down the trail as he talked, clearly not caring that his companion was not listening. The only hint that he was even a little hot from the blazing rays of the sun, was the discard of his left sleeve of his robes, showing off both his arms. Macaque narrowed his eyes, beginning to wonder if the celestial preformed photosynthesis and was absorbing energy from the sun. 

“What a stupid thought, you’re starting to lose it.” He thought. Speaking of which, his stomach was getting more angry with him every passing hour. The last he had eaten was a day ago and he was starting to feel the toll. 

“Hey, you okay back there?” Wukong asked, finally seeming to grow bored with being ignored.

“Great.” Macaque responded in short. Then his stomach betrayed him. It let out a low growl, making sure both monkeys knew it disagreed. Wukong let out a laugh, about to poke fun at the embarrassing act, when his own stomach hissed. 

“We should go find some food probably.” Wukong said sheepishly. “I’ll go look for some town near by!” He climbed up a tree, not waiting for a response.

“You aren’t going to see anywhere for miles, Wukong!” Macaque called up. He didn’t get a reply and waited a few minutes until the other came flying down only seconds later.

“There is a town over that mountain.” He said.

“How-” Macaque started.

Wukong’s lips grew into that smug smile that he was beginning to hate more and more. He pointed to his eyes and laughed. “Magic.”

-

The trail wound down the mountain, where the air grew warmer and the scent of pine faded into the earthy aroma of the valley below. The decent into the valley was slower than Macaque would have liked. The sun still hung high in the sky, indifferent to the two figures trudging along the dusty path. The path beneath their feet was uneven, strewn with loose pebbles and the occasional twisted root, but Wukong moved with the casual grace of someone who had nowhere else to be.

Macaque, on the other hand, felt every ache in his legs and shoulders. The weight of exhaustion settled heavily on his limbs, each step fueled only by the promise of food.

As the forest thinned, the landscape opened to rolling meadows, painted gold and green by the swaying grass. In the near distance, nestled against a lazy river, the town waited. Thin tendrils of smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint sounds of life breathed into the stillness of the valley.

The golden primate halted next to the ebony version of himself, hands on his hips, taking in the scene with a glimmer of satisfaction. 

“Finally.” Macaque muttered, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

They trudged onward, their pace quickening as they approached the outskirts. Weathered wooden houses and fences leaned slightly with age, giving the place a worn but sturdy charm. Chickens clucked in a nearby yard, and cows grazed in an open pasture.

The scent of something frying - meat, maybe fish - curled through the air, and Macaque’s stomach clentched in response. He resisted the urge to sprint towards the source, instead scanning for the nearest tavern.

He spotted a squat building with faded red banners fluttering at the doorway. The carved wooden sign above the enterance was chipped and peeling, but the smell wafting through the open windows promised something warm and filling. Without waiting, Macaque pushed through the doorway.

Inside, the tavern was dim and smelled of oil, broth, and aged wood. A handful of townsfolf sat at low tables, their voices a quiet hum of conversation. A broad-shouldered woman with flour dusted hands glanced up from behind the counter and nodded.

“Pick any seat,” she called, wiping her hands on her apron.

Macaque chose a table near the wall, dropping onto the bench with a sigh. Wukong slid in across from him, his face split with a shit-eating grin.

“See?” He said, leaning back as though he owned the place. “It wasn’t that bad. A little walk, some fresh air-”

The thief held up a hand, eyes narrowed. “Spare me.”

The celestial chuckled and turned his attention to the menu carved into a wooden board above the counter. His eyes lit up. “Look at that. Fried dumplings. Steamed buns. Noodles. This might be the best decision you’ve ever made!”

Macaque, opting to ignore the jab, flagged down a young server who approached with a practiced smile. “Tea, noodles, and dumplings,” He said.

The golden monkey didn’t bother with such restraint. “I’ll take three servings of noodles, two servings of dumplings, four pork buns, and tea.”

The servers eyes widened at the large order before scurrying off. 

For a few blessed moments, silence settled between them. Macaque let himself relax into the booth, his eyes drifting over the worn interior of the building, the flicks of lanterns light against the walls. It was nice, in a simple, cozy, way. 

Then, inevitably, Wukong broke the peace.

“So,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table, “what exactly is your plan after this?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, we go ask my pal about the Samadhi Fire, and then what?”

Macaque inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly; resisting the urge to snap. “Then we go and retrieve it. We aren’t going to talk to your ‘pal‘ just for the sake of a fun history lesson.”

“Well sure,” Wukong said, beginning the pick absentmindedly at the splinters on the table. “But this could be a wild goose chase.”

Something cracked within the black simian and he could feel his patience wearing thinner by the second. “What do you mean ‘wild goose chase’?”

“Look, this guy is the smartest person I know, leagues smarter than half the immortals I know. But even he doesn’t know everything. The Samadhi Fire was hidden and mostly kept a secret at least a few milleniums before he was even born. He could very well know next to nothing about it.” Wukong said too casually for Macaque’s liking.

“Well,” Macaque started, low and dangerous as he glared at the other. “It sounds to me like you know more than you’re letting on and we don’t even need this friend of yours. Maybe the only one leading me on a wild goose chase is you.”

Their eyes met across the table, the tension crackling like a drawn bowsting. But before it could snap, the server returned with steaming bowls and plates, setting them down with skilled efficiency. The aroma of broth, garlic, and freshly fried dumplings washed over them.

Macaque picked up his chopsticks, eager to focus on something other than Wukong’s infuriating face. He took a bite of noodles, the warmth spreading through his chest. For a moment, everything else faded.

The monkey king, of course, was scarfing his own food down, drawing some looks from others in the tavern. 

“You’re going to choke if you keep that up,” Macaque said, unimpressed and a tad grossed out.

“This is almost as good as the food served in Heaven!” The celestial monkey cheered, shoving another pork bun into his mouth.

Macaque sighed, eating a dumpling of his own, letting the edge of his irritation dull slightly. He didn’t trust Wukong, didn’t like Wukong - not after what he said earlier, but he was willing to let it go in this moment. He wasn’t sure he would be able to eat if he let his anger eat away at him.

-

They had finished eating and payed for their meals. Wukong, surprisingly, had a grand idea of staying in town for the night and then buying supplies for their journey in the morning so they wouldn’t have another starvation scare.

Macaque easily agreed but regreted it the moment Wukong tried to gloat that he was full of great ideas. 

Macaque really couldn’t understand Sun Wukong, self proclaimed Great Sage that is Equal to Heaven. How could someone like him exist?

A celestial. A being forged for the realm of the righteous, of harmony and justice. The tales children grew up with spoke of Heaven’s chosen as paragons of viture - humble, serene, always acting with grace and respect. Those stories painted celestial beings whose presence brought comfort and whose words carried wisdom.

And yet…. here was this.

Sun Wukong, who seemed to embody none of those vitures. His arrogance was a flare in the dark, impossible to miss. He wore his pride like a crown, tossed out careless words like confetti, and seemed to delight in irritating everyone within earshot. He boasted, he teased, he smirked. Where was the dignity? The reverence?

“Is this what Heaven produces?” Macaque thought bitterly. “If the gods are like this, what hope does this world have?”

Strength didn’t justify arrogance. Heroics didn’t excuse a lack of humility. 

For a terrifying moment, Macaque almost found himself understanding what the Lady Bone Demon had been saying. He shook his head quickly to discard that thought and slipped into the shadows.

Wukong and him had split up to gather things for their travel. He had lost sight of the sage and thought this would be a much quicker way to find him. 

It didn’t take too long to find the other, even though this town was much bigger than the one where they had first met by about six times, the golden monkey still stuck out like a sore thumb. Macaque had a fleeting wonder of if it was even possible for the other to truly blend into a crowd.

The black simian was about to step out and approach the other when he paused, questioning what the other was doing. Wukong had been tasked with finding perservable food to travel with, but instead of speaking and buying from a vender, he was crouched down near an alley.

Macaque slid through the shadows to get closer, momentarily asking himself what the idiot was doing.

A small figure stood before the celestial - a child, no older than six, with tear-streaked cheeks and dirt-smudged hands. Her clothes were worn, her sandels barely holding together. She cletched a straw doll to her chest, hands trembling lightly as she looked at the monkey demon. 

Macaque stilled, shocked by the sight. Wukong spoke softly to her, his voice low and free of his usual swagger.

“That’s a very pretty doll you have there, is she your friend?” He asked, a kind smile looking far more natural on his face than the smug one Macaque had been growing used to. The little girl offered him a small nod, which he seemed to happily except.

“I used to have a lot of dolls too, the best friends I could ever ask for,” he said.

“She’s broken.” The girls mummbled slightly, moving one of her hands and the head of the doll immediately flopping over.

“Huh,” Wukong said, cocking his own head to the side to mimic the doll. He then smiled again at the child. “Nothing I can’t fix though.”

The child sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Really?”

“Of course,” Wukong said, flashing a small reassuring smile. “She just needs a little care. We all do sometimes.”

With surprising tenderness, he pulled a ribbon that had been part of his overly extravagant outfit and wrapped it around the doll’s neck until it was back in place. 

“There you go,” He said. “Good as new.”

The child’s eyes lit up with wonder. “Thank you, mister!”

Wukong ruffled her hair lightly. “Take care of her, alright?”

She nodded vigorously, clutching the doll close before scampering off down the alley.

Wukong stood up, dusting his hands on his robe. The swagger slipped back onto his face like a mask. He turned towards the market area, resuming his confident stride, unaware of Macaque watching from the shadows.

Macaque really couldn’t understand Sun Wukong, self proclaimed Great Sage that is Equal to Heaven.

A celestial was supposed to be humble, and righteous, and kind. And maybe, just maybe, there really were those virtures hidden in Wukong. Deep in Wukong.

Like really deep.

Macaque stepped out of the shadows, watching the arrogant monkey speak to a merchant about fruit. 

For the first time since meeting the other, he pondered the idea that the sage really wasn’t so bad.

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn bled through the horizon, casting a pale glow over the dirt road. A chill lingered in the air, the kind that clung to the skin and made every breath feel sharper. They woke up even earlier than the day before, when more of the land was bathed in dark than light.

Wukong walked ahead, his steps brisk and determined. He barely looked back to see if Macaque was keeping up.

He was, of course - though not with the same sense of pep to his step.

The dark simian trailed behind, hands shoved into the pits of his arms for warmth, his eyes half-lidded as if the early start offended him. His gaze wandered lazily to the mist that coiled around the edges of the forest.

“C’mon, bud! Put a little energy into it!” Wukong sang, sparing a glance back to his companion.

“Please,” Macaque said, voice deep and still thick with sleep. “The sun is barely up. Can you keep your voice down?”

Wukong chuckled, the sounds bright and careless. “The sooner we get to the city, the sooner we get what we need.” Macaque hated how he couldn’t argue.

The path stretched ahead of them, winding into the dense green of the forest. The trees loomed tall and ancient, their leaves filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns that danced along the ground. The air smelled of moss and dew, and somewhere in the distance, a brook babbled softly.

The days began to blur together after that. Mornings broke early, with Macaque pushing though the exhaustion, but keeping his eyes sharp and focused on the job. The afternoons were a mix of blissful moments of silence and grating conversations - Wukong filled the air with his stories, Macaque answering with quick witted retorts that often left the celestial grinning like a mischievous child.

Evenings became the most tolerable. The glow of a campfire, the hum of insects, the quiet crackle of wood - it all created a fragile truce between them. They sat on opposite sides of the fire, the flickering light casting long shadows. Sometimes Wukong would hum an old song under his breath. Sometimes Macaque would close his eyes and pretend he didn’t care.

But each day, the distance between them remained. Not quite allies. Not quite enemies. 

Despite Wukong always talking about himself, Macaque had very quickly picked up that there was a wall set in place by the sage. Wukong didn’t trust him. Which was fair, he shouldn’t trust the thief. But Macaque couldn’t help but wonder if that would be a problem down the road.

Granted, he didn’t trust Wukong, he never would. But they needed to place enough trust in one another if he was going to get through this before that demon came back and extended her hand for the weapon he was tasked to retrieve.

Trust was such a difficult thing to build, and you couldn’t gain trust without giving it. And that was never going to happen on Macaque’s part, so the only other option was to make himself indispensible to the celestial.

How? He wasn’t sure. But as he watched the golden monkey fall alseep through the fire, the flames reflecting off that amber fur, making him glow like the sun, he knew he had to figure it out.

And fast.

-

It was on the sixth or seventh day - Macaque had stopped counting - when the air changed.

The forest grew quieter. The gentle breeze that had been rustling through the leaves faded, replaced by a tense stillness. Even the birds seemed to sense it, their songs evaporating into the silence.

Macaque really wanted to believe it was because they were half way to the city, but even then, this eerie silence couldn’t have be caused by that.

Macaque’s senses prickled. He slowed, eyes scanning the shadows beneath the trees. Wukong must have noticed it too, because his usual swagger faltered. He tilted his head, squinting into the undergrowth.

“You feel that?” He asked, his voice low and cautious - a rare departure from his usual bravado.

Macaque nodded, fingers grazing the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath his robes. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured.

Then, a grin graced Wukong’s face, spreading wider and a reckless gleam in his eyes flashed like a blade unsheathed. “Wrong?” he drawled, his voice returning to an expected tone, dripping with excitment. “Sounds like right to me.”

Macaque’s jaw tighted. “Wait, don’t-”

But it was too late. 

A bellowing roar shattered the silence as a creature burst from the shadows. It was larger than Macaque expected - easily twice their height, its limbs grotesquely enlongated and tipped with jagged claws. It’s body was tightly wrapped with a grey skin, the pelt of an animal hung on its head and fur covered its waist. It’s eyes glowed a searing, malevolent red, swirling like molten lava.

The demon’s face was a twisted mask - a nightmare blend of beast and decay - the skin peeling back to expose teeth that jutted from its maw like shards of broken glass. A stench rolled off it in waves, rancid and sulfurous, the scent of death and brimstone.

Macaque looked to the sage, noticing how his face lit up with a joy that bordered on madness. “Now this is what I call a good afternoon!”

Before the other could stop him, Wukong summoned his staff, flashing in the filtered light. He lunged, movements fluid and predatory, like a force of nature unleashed.

The demon swiped at him with a clawed hand, its stike whistling through the air, but Wukong sidestepped with maddening ease. He laughed, the sound bright and wild, his confidence as unbreakable as the staff he wielded.

Macaque’s heart pounded in his chest. “Wukong! Stop being an idiot!”

But he didn’t stop. He twisted and slashed, his staff carving a shallow line across the demon’s forearm. Dark, viscous blood oozed from the wound, sizzling as it touched the ground, burning holes into the earth.

The demon howled, more enraged than injured, and swung again - faster this time. Wukong barely ducked in time, the tips of the claws grazing a few strands of his hair.

Macaque gritted his teeth, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood to the sidelines. He didn’t have time for Wukong’s foolishness.

But could he help? The short answer was yes, he could. He had powers. Powerful ones at that. But that was just it. Most demons didn’t have abilities, at least not one like his. If he used them, and Wukong saw and deemed him dangerous, would he turn his attention away from this monster and onto Macaque?

The dark simian honed back in on the fight and for a moment, it looked like he worried for no reason. It seemed like Wukong really did have it all under control.

Wukong’s eyes sparkled with mischief, darting forward and bashing the staff into its knees. The demon fell forward, and the celestial moved to stand in front of it, raising his weapon to deliver the final blow when-

“Wukong! Watch out!”

It was like its bones pushed through the demon’s skin to create a new gangly arm, lashing out in a blur. The blow connected with a sickening crunch. Wukong’s body arced through the air before slamming into a tree with a bone-jarring impact. The crack of wood and the thud of his body hitting the ground sent a chill rippling through Macaque’s spine.

“Damn it!” Macaque snarled, panic prickling beneath his skin. He summoned tendrils of shadows to wrap around the fallen demon and pull it flush against the earth. He opened a shadow portal underneath it and watched it wither, trying to pull itself from the restraints as it sunk slowly into the void.

He would leave it in the void, and that’s where it would die. 

Macaque quickly turned his attention back to Wukong, sprinting over to his crumpled form. He was sprawled on his back, one hand pressed against his side. A strange liquid seeped through his fingers, looking like golden honey, staining his elegant robes.

Macaque furrowed his brows in confusion as it switched from that molten gold color to a natural crimson color before realizing that Wukong had just glamoured his blood. His face was slightly pale, but his eyes flickered open, the smirk still stubbornly curling his lips and clearly ignoring what he had just done.

“Why did-”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed, cutting Macaque’s question off, “just… a small flesh wound.”

“Shut up,” Macaque snapped, his eyes flashing in frustration.

“Where did the demon go?” Wukong asked, noticing the disappearance of the beast.

“I took care of it,” Macaque said. “Now let’s get this patched up.”

-

The night air was cold, a crisp bite that seeped into the skin and settled in the bones. The campfire flickered, casting a warm glow that seemed too fragile against the darkness pressing in from all sides.

Wukong was sitting on a rock, his robes discarded to reveal the jagged gash along his side. The wound was angry and red, blood crusting around the edges. Macaque knelt beside him, a cloth soaked in water clutched tightly in his hand.

“This is going to sting,” Macaque muttered, not bothering to soften his tone.

Wukong’s lips turned into a faint smile. “I’d be disappointed if it didn’t.”

Macaque scowled and pressed the cloth to his wound a little harder than necessary. Wukong hissed, his muscles tensing, but he didn’t pull away. The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile, broken only by the crackling of fire.

For a moment, Macaque focued on cleaning the blood, his movents gentle despite his earlier frustration. The wound was deep, but not life threatening - at least, not for a celestial. If he were a mortal, he’d likely be on the brink of death. 

“You’re reckless,” Macaque said, his voice low. “Even more so than I figured. You weren’t paying attention and you were too cocky. You can’t go into fights acting like you are indestructible.”

Wukong looked to him with that jack-ass smug look, “Careful, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you are starting to care.”

Macaque once again applied too much pressure on the wound, causing Wukong to yelp. The black furred monkey grumbled under his breath. Silence fell over them again, much longer than the first time.

Wukong’s gaze drifted to the flames. The firelight danced in his golden eyes, reflecting something deeper, something Macaque couldn’t quite read.

“Maybe,” He said, soft and gently, taking a pause as if he was wondering if he should continue his sentance. “I just like convincing everyone else I am.”

The honesty in his voice startled Macaque. He stilled his movements, the cloth still pressed to his side. For once, that usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that made Macaque’s chest tighten.

“That’s a dangerous way to live,” Macaque replied, not sure what to do with this shift in the atmosphere. “You’re not doing a great job of convincing me.”

Wukong chuckled at the attempted humor from the normally stoic one of the pair, but it sounded almost hollow.

Macaque and Wukong sat in silence the rest of the time it took to bandage the wound. Macaque skillfully wrapped the gauze around his torso, his fingers brushing Wukong’s skin and fur as he worked. The contact was fleeting, but it felt strangely significant in that moment.

When he finished, he sat back, his eyes meeting Wukong’s. He watched that arrogant mask click back into place for a second time.

“Wow,” the celestial said, looking down at Macaque’s work. “You’re really good at this. How come?”

Instead of answering, he gave the other an unimpressed look. “I’m more interested in knowing how you don’t know how to do this.”

Wukong shrugged, a smile toying on his face. “I never had to worry about patching myself up. Celestials’ bodies can handle a lot, and they heal quickly too. I’m sure this will be healed within the next few days.”

“So that’s why you act recklessly,” Macaque said, placing the remaining bandages into his bag. “you think it’s just practical to take some damage.”

“Anything is practical if it gets the job done.” Wukong said, but it didn’t have the same amusement that his voice had been supporting. 

A large crack from the fire caused the two of them to look toward the flames. The fire crackled, the shadows danced, and something unspoken hung in the air.

“Get some rest,” Macaque said finally.

Wukong smiled - a real smile, tired but genuine. “You’re not half as cold as you pretend to be.”

Macaque was shocked for a moment upon hearing that, but soon his lips were twitching. “And you’re not half as invincible as you talk yourself up to be.”

For once, Wukong didn’t argue. He leaned back, his eyes slipping closed, the firelight casting gentle shadows across his face. 

Macaque watched him for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to the darkness beyond the fire’s glow. 

“I should probably rest too then, who knows when he’ll wake me up in the morning.” Macaque thought, not much bite behind the idea like there normally was.

He went to settle into his position by the fire when a breeze blew over him, sending a shiver down his spine. The fire was snuffed out as if it was nothing but a spark. Cold consumed Macaque who immediately felt on edge, looking around.

Whispers seemed to seep into their campsite from the forest, distorted and soft. The coldness in the air only grew until the black monkey could see his own breath. He looked to Wukong only to see he was no longer there.

“Wukong?” He called, trying to keep the concern out of his voice and failing miserably. It wasn’t worry for the other, more so concern coming from the confusion of what was going on. 

It hit him a little to late.

“What do we have here?” A voice sang out from the dark. A man stepped out from the shadows to reveal himself to be that henchman of the Lady Bone Demon.

He was still dressed in dark robes, looking almost exactly the same as the last time Macaque had seen him. He walked closer, around the now cold fireplace.

“Traveling with a celestial monkey? What an interesting plan of action. I am sure my Lady will not be happy to hear that one of Heaven’s lapdogs is involved in our plans.” He said, but he didn’t seem concerned with the issue at all. In fact, he seemed delighted.

“What did you do to him?” Macaque asked, genuinely confused to where his companion had gone.

The servant rolled his eyes, letting his playful face fall a second long enough to show he was irritated with Macaque’s ‘stupid’ question. “He is right here,” he said, motioning to the monkey that had reappeared, still sleeping soundly. “This is all an illusion, I am simply just cheking up on your progression. And am I glad I decided to do so! You involved the Great Sage Monkey King into our plans? How stupid are you?”

“I did not involve him. I’m using him. You and your Lady didn’t exactly give me any helpful information on where to find this celestial weapon. So who better to ask then a celestial themself?” He said, crossing his arms. “He doesn’t know anything about your plans, all I told him is it’s in his best interest to help me find it.”

“Hm,” the servant said, looking at the sleeping figure of Wukong. For once his face wasn’t twisted into an unnerving smile, he had this thoughtful look. “And you decided he would be the best celestial to ask?”

“He doesn’t need to be the best one,” Macaque argued, growing frustrated that he had to defend himself over this. “He just needs to be dumb enough to trust me and lead me to the Samadhi Fire. And he is. He hasn’t bat an eye since agreeing to help.”

“I’ll use him, find the keys, unlock the weapon, and give it to the Lady Bone Demon. You will pay me what was promised, and we will go our sperate ways. I don’t care about her dream as long as I’m left out of it.”

The Lady’s henchman watched Macaque for a moment, that obnoxious smile plastered back to his lips.

“Fine, but it is clear you know nothing of the infamous Sun Wukong,” He said, turning his back and beginning to walk towards the shadows. “I warn you, not out of concern but for the sake of my Lady, be careful with trusting him. He’s better known in Heaven as a monster, than a hero.”

“Wait, what-”

But he was interupted by a gust of cold wind pushing into him. He brought his arms up to block his face, only to bring them down and see the man gone. The fire was lit again, warming up the area and filling the silence with its crackles. The campsite didn’t have a filter of blue over it anymore, now being blanketed in the black of shadows and the orange of the flames.

He looked over to the celestial monkey. Wukong was curled up into a ball. His head was rested on his arm and his tail curled around to his face. There was this soft peacfulness that rested over him. All the usual tension from his smiles was gone, his face being completely relaxed now. His lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows rested comfortably on his face.

Macaque’s eyes slowly moved down from his face to his side, where he had been struck only a handful of hours ago. He pictured Wukong’s skin stitching itself back together at an unnatural pace, being perfectly smooth come morning. For a moment, the color of Wukong’s blood flashed before his eyes. The slight shimmer that it held, the glittery gold color of it, before it deepened and shifted to the normal and expected crimson. 

Macaque wondered what the point of that was, it was a strange and unnecessary act. Demons commonly bled black, the more powerful a demon the more human the color was. Macaque, of course, bled a ruby red. He wasn’t surprised to find out that the less natural a celestial’s blood, the more powerful they were.

“So why did you hide it?” He wondered. If anything, he thought Wukong would be flaunting the golden blood, as if it was worth as much as actual gold coins. Which, to some freak, it probably was.

‘He’s better known in Heaven as a monster, than a hero.’ Those words rang in his head. He looked back up to Wukong’s face, trying to find the resemblance of a monster in the sleeping figure. 

Macaque turned his attention to the discarded robes that were now ruined from the tear and blood stains. He wondered how many of Wukong’s robes had been ruined due to similar instances. Probably a lot. 

He sat there for a moment, when an even more disturbing thought crossed his mind.

“How many of your robes have been ruined from someone else’s blood?”

Macaque couldn’t deny the earlier understanding that was built between the two. But now, it seemed like a new chasm was between Macaque and the guide to comprehending Sun Wukong. 

That was something to worry about tomorrow though, because right now, he was tired. And once he was rested, he would figure out how to play Wukong like a puppet.

Chapter Text

Another week had passed since Wukong got injured, and like he had said, the wound was gone within a couple days. Macaque had suffered more of his arrogance and could only shut him up when reminding the celestial that himself, a demon, had to save him.

The city now loomed on the horizon, it’s silhouette rising against the bright noon sky like a promise of bustling life. Towering walls surrounded Megapolis, and above them, one could see tiled rooftops and elegant spires stretching towards the sky.

Wukong stopped in his tracks, a grin tugging at his lips. “There it is. I told you we’d make it before dark.”

Macaque brushed past him, not wanting to waste another moment. 

As they drew closer to the city, it rose before them like a living tapestry, the buildings seeming to reach for the Heavens themselves. Wukong slowed his pace, his eyes darting to every detail - the ornate architecture, the colorful banners fluttering in the breeze, the distant sound of bells ringing from somewhere deep within the city.

“You’re staring,” Macaque remarked, glancing back at Wukong.

Wukong ignored the comment, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he took in the scene. “It’s incredible,” he said, almost breathless.

“It’s a city,” Macaque replied flatly. “They all look the same after a while.”

A pause.

“Haven’t you been here? You said this is where we could find your friend?”

“It’s…“ Wukong trailed, letting his eyes soak up more of their new setting. “Been a while. This place looks different. But I know my friend is here somewhere. Probably.”

Macaque shot him a glare but didn’t say anything, letting Wukong lead the way. They passed a group of children chasing each other around a cart stacked high with fruits. A vendor shouted at them to be careful, and Macaque watched Wukong smile at the mundane chaos of it all. The air was thick with scents - sweet, tangy, savory - all mingling together into a heady perfume that made his stomach growl despite himself.

The streets of Megapolis unfolded like a maze, lined with cobblestones that gleamed faintly under the sun. Stalls flanked the main roads, each one overflowing with goods - jewelry that sparkled in the light, woven fabrics in every color imaginable, and strange trinkets that Macaque couldn’t name.

“Come on,” he said, having to tug Wukong forward by the arm when he stopped to examine a stall selling hand carved figurines.

“I’m just looking,” Wukong protested, though he reluctantly followed.

“You’re gawking,” Macaque corrected. “We aren’t here to sightsee.”

Macaque noticed Wukong glancing at a food stall where a cook flipped skewers of meat over an open flame, the juices sizzling and sending up a savory aroma. “Heaven doesn’t have this,” he said more to himself than Macaque.

“What, street food?” His tone incredulous.

“No,” Wukong said, his gaze sweeping the bustling scene and not continuing that thought.

After, Wukong seemed to break out of his trance of wonderment, finally focusing on finding his friend. They continued deeper into the city, passing narrow alleys filled with laundry hanging from windows and the occasional stray cat darting through the shadows. 

Wukong would accidentally bump into someone every once in a while, awkwardly apologizing to them before continuing. Macaque, however, was a large contrast to the celestial. He navigated behind the other with ease, sidestepping merchants and weaving through crowds. As much as he hated them, Macaque really was made for city settings.

They walked around the city for a while, Macaque pretty convinced that Wukong was lost. He would ask someone about some building, have them point in a direction, and he would end up going the opposite way. By the time they stopped in front of the structure, the sun had set and the city was lighting up with artificial light to combat the dark.

“This is it,” Wukong said, nodding towards the modest building with a wooden sign hung at the top. It read Pigsy’s in a thick calligraphy font.

Inside, the restaurant was cozy, it’s wooden interior warm and inviting. Macaque only saw one couple occupying the space, slurping noodles up as they giggled together about something. The two of them walked in and took seats at the bar area.

“Your friend works here?” Macaque asked, folding his arms and resting them on the counter.

“No,” Wukong replied, “But this is a place he frequents. He told me that after a long expedition, this was the best place to come.”

Then, a young man emerged from the back of the restuarant, throwing a towl over his shoulder and wiping sweat from his brow. His face lit up the moment he spotted Wukong. 

“Monkey King?” He said, rushing over excitedly. “Oh my gosh, you’re really here!”

“MK,” Wukong greeted with a grin, reaching over to put the boy in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

The boy’s admiration was unmistakable, Macaque noted, as MK laughed and pushed the arm away. His gaze almost reverent as he took in Wukong’s presence.

“I never thought I’d see you here again! What brings you to the mortal realm? A mission? A grand adventure? Here to kick some demon butt?” He asked, practically vibrating from his enthusiasm.

“Something like that,” Wukong replied, his tone lighter than usual. “But first, food. My friend and I have been traveling for days and need the best noodles in the world.”

MK leaned over to look at Macaque and smiled brightly at him. He then rushed off to go grab their food, nearly tripping when he went behind the kitchen.

Macaque leaned back in his chair. “He adores you.”

“Of course he does,” Wukong laughed that cocky laugh of his. “What’s not to adore?”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “How does someone like you have a mortal fanboy? I can’t imagine anyone willingly tolerating your constant self-praise.”

“Jealous, are we?” Wukong smirked, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and flipping them between his fingers.

“Curious,” Macaque amended.

Wukong glanced towards the kitchen, as if checking to see if the kid would be reappearing soon. “He was just some scrawny kid when I met him. He might have been twelve? I don’t know, I’m bad at guessing mortal ages.”

Macaque raised an eyebrow. “And where exactly did this momentous meeting occur?”

“A battlefield,” Wukong said simply, his tone turning uncharacteristically somber.

Macaque paused before leaned forward, for once feeling interested to hear about one of Wukong’s inevitable victories.

“He was in some no-where village, away from his dad when this demon started to terrorize the place,” Wukong continued. “A nasty thing - nothing like I had ever seen, in all honesty. Corpses stitched together into something grotesque and violent. It had been praying on the villagers for weeks. By the time Heaven sent me, the place was nearly deserted. Most of the people had either fled or…“ He trailed off, his gaze distant for a moment before shaking his head. “Anyway, MK was one of the few who stayed behind. Too stubborn to leave and too set on the idea of being a hero, I guess. When I found him, he was trying to hold the thing off with nothing but a stick.”

Macaque blinked. “He tried to fight a demon. With a stick.”

Wukong chuckled. “It completely broke when he went to swing it. He was brave, I’ll give him that. Foolish, but brave.”

“And then you showed up to save the day,” Macaque said dryly.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Wukong nodded, unbothered by the sarcasm. “I took care of the demon, and the next thing I knew, MK was following me around like a stray dog. He wouldn’t stop thanking me, asking me questions, pestering me to tell him every detail about Heaven and my missions. It was… annoying.”

“But you liked it,” Macaque said, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Wukong shrugged, a small, genuine smile dancing its way onto his face. “Maybe. He reminded me why this world is even worth protecting. When you’re been doing this as long as I have, it’s easy to forget.”

Macaque was silent for a moment, his eyes flickering to MK, who was talking to a pig demon by the stove.

“So,” Macaque said finally, “he worships you because you saved him once?”

Wukong shook his head. “It’s more than that. I’ve only been to this realm a handful of times for more than a simple demon execution job, but every time I came back, he’d somehow find me. Once, he traveled days just to bring me some ridiculous little trinket he made. A little wooden monkey, if I remember right.”

“And you kept it?” Macaque casually asked.

Wukong looked genuinely surprised by the question. “Of course I kept it.”

Macaque studied him for a moment, “You’re full of contradictions, you know that?”

Wukong grinned at that, his usual confidence slipping back into place. “What can I say? I’m hard to pin down.”

Macaque rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the little smile that bloomed on his face. 

“Oh my gods, he can smile!” Wukong laughed, looking genuinely pleased at the display. Macaque wiped it away immediately and was about to snap at the other when MK returned with two steaming hot bowls of noodles.

“Here you go! On the house!” The boy said happily. 

“Thanks, bud!” Wukong didn’t wait before stuffing his face with the food, making MK laugh and Macaque scrunch his nose.

“So, what are you doing down here, Monkey King?” MK asked, drumming his fingers on the bar counter and watching the simian excitedly.

Wukong swallowed a mouthful before grinning at the kid. “Oh yeah, have you seen Tang Sanzang recently? I need to ask him something.”

“Mr. Sanzang? I haven’t seen him for a while now. The last he came here was about two or three years ago.” MK replied, bringing his hand up to his chin in a thinking pose.

Wukong groaned loudly, getting a look from the couple in the corner. Macaque sighed, knowing he shouldn’t have trusted Wukong to provide anything actually useful to this mission.

“So this was all a waste of time?” Macaque asked, glaring at Wukong.

“How was I supposed to know he would fall off the face of the earth? Man, that guy is so flaky. You would think after everything we had been through!”

At this point, Macaque couldn’t tell if Wukong was serious or not. He had dramatically thrown a hand over his forehead and was clutching at his shirt, over his heart.

“Well,” MK awkwardly started, “What did you want to ask him? I can give him a message if you want, y’know, whenever he comes back.”

“That’s okay, kid. We needed to ask him about some celestial stuff, but if he’s not here then we’ll just have to go find him.” The golden monkey sighed.

“I mean, you could try asking Mr. Tang. He isn’t Mr. Sanzang but he is his student!” MK smiled brightly, looking over the moon to help the Monkey King.

“Student?” Wukong sounded unimpressed. “Tripitaka doesn’t do ‘students’. He’s way too up his own ass to want to teach someone anything.”

“Sounds like your kinda guy,” Macaque muttered under his breath.

“No, no, seriously!” MK said quickly. “Gosh, you came the one night he isn’t here. He is a serious history buff and learnt everything he knows from Mr. Sanzang! You guys can stay the night and tomorrow, ask Mr. Tang for help! He’s going to go crazy when he sees you. He doesn’t believe I’ve ever met you, this will serve him right!”

“We might as well,” Macaque finally said. “It’s dark out and this would be a lot quicker than trying to find someone who could be on the other side of the world by now.”

“Fine.” Wukong caved.

“You guys can sleep in the extra room upstairs! All the inns around here are over priced.”

“Thanks, kid. You’re the best!”

The two monkies quickly finished up their food and followed MK up to the second floor of the restaurant. Macaque looked around and saw it had been repurposed into a living area. There was a small living room, with a few closed doors around the apartment. 

“There is the bathroom, and this is the guest room.” Macaque turned to see MK opening a door to a room with a single bed. He paused, before looking at Wukong who had a stupid smile on his face when he saw the layout.

“Hey, uhm, bud,” He said carefully. “Any chance you have another bed or cot around here?”

MK looked between them confused. “Why? Aren’t you two…“ He trailed off before realizing his mistake. Macaque felt heat rise to his face at the misunderstanding. The very idea of such an association with Wukong was foul. 

“I am so sorry! I had just assumed since you never travel with anyone - and he’s here - and I just thought you two seemed like - well I mean you two would be-” MK rambled, his face matching the red bandana wrapped around his head.

“Hey, hey, kiddo. It’s okay.” Wukong laughed, patting the stumbling mortal on the back. “I’ll take the couch.”

Macaque watched him walk over and fall onto it with ease, shimmying into the cushions. 

“You don’t want the bed?” Macaque raised a brow, thinking the celestial wouldn’t be able to handle anything less.

“I’m comfortable right where I am, thank you very much.” He said, shutting his eyes.

MK glanced between the two nervously, before slowly backing up to another door that Macaque could only assume was the kid’s room. “Well, goodnight.” He said quickly, before shutting the door.

Macaque looked back to Wukong one last time, waiting for him to get up, tell Macaque he was joking, and steal the bed for himself. But that never happened. Macaque walked into the room and looked around before ripping the blanket from the bedding and walking back out to the living space. He harshly chucked it at the golden simian who grunted when it hit him.

“Hey-”

“Goodnight.” Macaque shut the door on Wukong before he could start complaining.

Macaque crawled onto the bed and pulled the thin sheet over himself, seeking as much warmth as he could. As hot as the days were, the nights were still freezing. Just as he got comfortable, his ears picked up the faint voice of Wukong through the door, telling him goodnight.

Chapter Text

Gentle, golden light poured into the room from the single window positioned above the bed. Macaque stirred from the light cast over his eyes, fluttering them open. He squinted at the ceiling, feeling groggy, but well rested. 

For a moment, confusion prickled at the edges of his mind. The lack of chill from sleeping outside, the absence of Wukong’s voice loudly telling him to get up - it was so out of place it almost felt like a dream. 

He turned over, sinking into the plushness of the mattress. He felt as if he could fall back asleep with the warmth of the sunlight, the peaceful atmosphere, the slight smell of lavender that clung to the room.

No rush. No cold dew clinging to his skin. No Wukong ceaselessly chattering before he could blink the sleep away.

It was finally peaceful. And once that thought set in, so did a moment of panic.

He sat up quickly, looking around the pretty bare room with minimal decor and remembered that the celestial had gone to bed in the living space outside of his room. His feet hit the wooden floor reluctantly, raking a hand through his hair before standing. He stretched, his arms reaching overhead before he padded softly to the door.

Opening it, he saw the couch was empty with the folded comforter he had thrown at Wukong last night. He glance around and didn’t see anyone.

He could hear the muffled hum of life downstairs - clinking plates, muffled voices, and the occasional scrape of a chair. He followed the sounds, fiddling slightly, and descended the stairs.

The restaurant was almost completely empty. Macaque glanced at the clock that hung on the wall and saw it was late enough in the morning that people wouldn’t be looking to eat noodles, but early enough in the afternoon for no one to have come seeking a meal. Sunlight streamed through the front windows, pooling in golden patches across the polished floorboards. The smell of freshly cooked food and something sweet hung in the air.

MK was the only person Macaque saw, wiping down a table near the counter with his sleeves rolled up and his hair pushed back with that same red bandana. He glanced up when Macaque approached, offering a bright smile.

“Look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” MK teased, tossing his cloth over his shoulder. “It’s Macaque, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” He said awkwardly, assuming Wukong had said something. “I didn’t think I would sleep in. Usually, someone’s making sure I’m up before dawn.”

“Yeah, well,” MK said, flicking a stray crumb off the table. “No one’s going to drag you out of bed here. Probably not anyway.”

“Right,” Macaque trailed, looking to the side. He really wasn’t good at talking to people, and he wasn’t awake enough to fake it. “Where is Wukong?”

MK seemed to brighten slightly at the mention. “Oh, Monkey King? He’s-”

“I sent that deadbeat out to get me groceries. Least he could do if he’s going to be eating my food.” A pig demon grumbled, stepping out from behind the kitchen and crossing his arms with a hard glare fixed on his face. He looked Macaque up and down, seeming to drink in his appearance. His brows furrowed even more. “And who are you supposed to be?”

MK nervously laughed as he slid over to the man, wrapping his hands around his shoulders and looking at Macaque.

“Pigsy, Macaque. Macaque, Pigsy.” He said, introducing the two. The black monkey raised a brow, confused what the problem was. “He is Monkey King’s friend!” MK cheered.

“Friend, huh?” Pigsy asked, cocking an eyebrow of his own. “You have shifty eyes, are you a little thief too? Eating my food and never paying.” He complained.

“We aren’t friends,” Macaque corrected, putting a hand up and lightly shaking his head. “We’re just working together. Temporarily. Nothing else.“ 

“Hm,” The man looked him up and down again, before shrugging and turning to MK. “You better not goof off while that monkey is here, alright? I need you running orders for me.”

MK mock saluted to him, straightening his back and looking stiff as a board. “You got it Pigsy, I won’t let you down!”

Pigsy just shook his head and went back into the kitchen.

“I’ll grab you some food, Macaque.” MK said, following the pig demon back and emerging moments later with a steaming bowl of porridge.

The simian took a seat and stirred the food, about to take a bite when he glanced up and saw MK staring him down. He tilted his head to the side.

“Yes?”

MK snapped up slightly, as if he didn’t expect his obvious staring to get caught. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Actually, I really wanted to apologize for my assumption last night. I know I tend to jump to crazy conclusions and sometimes it makes people uncomfortable. So, I’m sorry I assumed you and Monkey King were, y’know…“

Macaque nearly dropped the spoon at the reminder. He had completely forgotten that this kid thought that him and Wukong were a thing. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “You don’t need to apologize for that, it was just a mistake.”

MK didn’t seem too convinced. “It’s just… when I offered that room with the single bed, I thought it’d be fine because, well, I figured you guys were close since Monkey King doesn’t normally travel with people. And then he corrected me and I was just really embarrassed for assuming-” MK took a deep breath before deflating. “It was wrong of me to assume. You’re clearly not… together-together.”

He hesitated before adding, “Right?”

Macaque shot him a pointed look. “Do I look like I’m ‘together-together’ with Wukong?”

“No! No, you don’t,” MK said quickly, holding his hand sup in surrender. “It’s just… well I mean the way you two talked so casually together, and you call him by his name, and also he was talking about you this morning-”

Macaque groaned and held up a hand. “Okay, stop. You’re making it worse.”

MK shut his mouth with an audible click, his face burning red. “Sorry, I’ll stop. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

Macaque stared for a moment, before rolling his eyes and turned back to his untouched food. “Apology accepted. Maybe don’t go around offering single beds to people next time though.”

MK laughed lightly. “Got it, won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He said, finally focusing back on his breakfast.

The rest of the morning was spent in silence. Macaque had finished his porridge and soon MK was running between the restaurant and delivering food. Wukong still hadn’t been seen all day, which was beginning to make Macaque wonder if he got lost when grabbing groceries.

A few people came in to eat ever once in a while, but for the most part, the place stayed empty. Pigsy only came out a few times and would ask about either MK or Wukong, to which Macaque would always say he didn’t know.

Macaque had just bid MK goodbye for the tenth time and was on his fourth cup of tea when Wukong finally showed up. Only, he wasn’t alone.

Wukong stood in the doorway of Pigsy’s, arms lined with bags filled to the brim with ingredants and a man practically clinging to him. The celestial’s teeth were clenched and his lips were split into what Macaque thinks is a smile but it was so forced it was hard to tell. His eyes radiated the irritation he probably felt and his brows were knitted together in frustration.

He stumbled in, the stranger close on his tail, and dropped the bags on the counter.

“My! You really are super strong! You’ve been carrying those all day, how fascinating! How long does it take before you feel incapacitated?” He asked, picking up one of the sage’s arms and examining it.

Wukong pulled his arm away and put space between them, glaring at him. “A while.” He said curtly. He looked away from his fanboy and finally seemed to notice Macque sat at the bar. His face lit up immediately.

“Macaque! Thank goodness!” He slinked over to Macaque and wrapped an arm around him, bringing their faces close together. “Help; this guy talks more than me.” He quietly mumbled.

Macaque glanced at the man who was currently digging through the grocery bags, not paying the two simians any mind. 

“That’s hard to believe. Are you sure you’re not just losing your touch?” Macaque asked.

“Trust me, he asked about one of my battles and I tried talking but he practically told the story for me.” Wukong sounded dumbfounded by the idea that someone else could recount events that he had experienced. He shook his head after a moment and pulled away from his companion.

“Anyway,” He drawled, crossing his arms and smiling at Macaque. “How did you sleep? I would have to guess pretty good.”

Macaque was a little shocked by the question, he hadn’t expected Wukong to care about mundane things like how someone slept. “Good,” He said shortly.

An awkward moment of silence passed between the two. Macaque glanced back over to the man and saw he had disappeared. He turned slightly and saw him in the back of the kitchen with Pigsy waving a wooden spoon at him, looking less than pleased.

“So who’s that?” He nudged his head towards the man.

Wukong groaned slightly, “That’s Tang, the guy MK said studied under Tripitaka. I still find that hard to believe but having to spend the whole errand run with him, he does know a lot of stuff. I doubt he’ll know anything about what we’re looking for though.”

Macaque just hummed. He really hoped this Tang guy knew where they could find the keys. He didn’t have time to mess around, he needed to find that weapon. It had only taken a week for him to get checked in on by the Bone Demon’s henchman, and another week has passed since they last spoke. Was this going to be a weekly thing? 

He sure hoped not. The more frequent the visits, the sooner Wukong found out Macaque was just using him. He was lucky enough that the celestial hadn’t asked too many questions, but Macaque had a sneaking suspition it was only a matter of time before he was interogated. He would need to start coming up with a solid plan.

Where did he hear of these rumors? Who is trying to get the Samadhi Fire? What does he plan on doing with the keys? Why does he want to summon the Samadhi Fire?

He sighed, knowing that when he thought of one question, five others came with it. He had too many questions, and not a consistant story. The pork chop had already called him out for having shifty eyes; if Wukong began to agree then he was in deep shit.

“Hey, you good?” Macaque was snapped out of his head when Wukong gently bumped his shoulder. 

A strange warmth spread through Macaque, starting from where Wukong had made contact with him and spreading out. He frowned slightly and leaned away.

“My bad, zoned out.” Wukong stared at him for a minute, searching his face for who knows what. Then he smiled kindly at Macaque. 

“Okay, well start focusing, cause we should probably ask this guy if he knows anything.”

Macaque nodded and stood from his stool. The two made it over to the entrance of the kitchen and were about to grab the scholar when they had to duck and dodge a flying spoon.

“Get out of here you freelancer! You can’t just come in here, eat my food, and pay with knowledge.“ Pigsy yelled, now gripping the front of Tang’s robes and holding him up. “Knowledge doesn’t pay these bills!”

“Uh,” Macaque started, not sure if now was a good time to intervene.

MK came running in, probably just got back from delievering noodles, heard the commotion, and was now trying to pry the two from one another. “Pigsy, please!” He cried.

Wukong leaned against the doorframe watching with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Macaque grumbled.

“Only a lot.” Wukong replied, not looking away from the mess in front of the two.

MK had his arms wrapped under Pigy’s and was yanking him back, while the pig demon was violently shaking Tang back and forth, screaming profanities that Macaque had never heard. They were vile though. Tang was just letting his body flop with the motion, holding his hands up in surrender as he tried to get a few apologies in but it was falling on deaf ears.

The two simians watched for a while, mostly tracking MK who was practically teleporting around the two, trying to seperate them. It went on for a while until about five minutes later and Tang, MK, Wukong, and Macaque were sat at a table in the corner of the restaurant. Pigsy was in the back, chopping up some vegetables. Macaque was willing to bet he was imagining Tang as the knife cut through the greens.

MK coughed into his hand. “Anyway, sorry about that.”

“It was funny and made my day.” Wukong shrugged. Macaque elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to grunt and glare at Macaque.

“Can we please get down to business? Wukong, you may have all the time in the world, but I don’t.” Macaque snapped. 

“We just need to know if you know anything about the Samadhi Fire.” Macaque said, turning to Tang. Tang looked a stunned at the abrupt question, adjusting his glasses in an anxious manner.

“The, uh, the Samadhi Fire?” He asked as if he didn’t hear Macaque the first time. It wasn’t like he had bothered to keep his voice down. Tang sat there for a while, probably running through the filing cabinets in his mind, trying to see if he had ever been taught anything about it.

“I told you he wouldn’t know.” Wukong grumbled. “The Samadhi Fire isn’t everyday knowledge that gets tossed around. Of course Sanzang wouldn’t tell you even if he knew.”

“So this was pointless from the start?” Macaque barked at Wukong, finally fed up.

“I told you it might have been a waste of time.” He tried to defend himself.

“Gods, I can’t believe this. I just wasted two weeks listening to you praise yourself and retell stories of how people worship you, but when it comes time for you to finally pull through, you couldn’t even provide someone who can help us.” Macaque turned to Wukong, glaring.

“That’s not fair, you didn’t know anything before I came along. At least I had a plan to get us information. You can’t be mad when you wouldn’t have even had the slightest idea where to start.” Wukong also turned in his seat to face Macaque.

He’d finally had enough. He couldn’t deal with Wukong and his bullshit any longer.

“Here’s an idea. Stop being an egotistical coward and go up to Heaven and ask someone who does know. Don’t throw that ‘Heaven was kept in the dark’ shit at me either. You said it yourself, some celestials had to redirect the power of the fire, so go find one of them, and ask!” Macaque was puffing at this point. If he was any angrier, he’d swear steam would be pouring out of his ears.

His very life was on the line right now, and Wukong was goofing off, practically signing Macaque’s death warrent. He could not understand if Wukong was really this stupid to not consider this option, or if he just found immense pleasure in pissing Macaque off.

“I can’t.” Wukong said simply, looking almost alarmingly more calm than he did seconds ago.

“What?” Macaque’s voice was low and dangerous. But Wukong didn’t seemed fazed at all. “The great Sun Wukong, Equal to Heaven, can’t ask? Or he won’t? Are you capable of doing everything but asking for help?”

That last comment seemed to hit something in the celestial because his eyes narrowed slightly, bringing his lips into a thin line.

MK and Tang sat across the table, both looking between the two. They looked as if they were waiting for one of the simians to pounce on the other any minute now.

“Uh, well actually, Mr. Monkey King and Mr. Macaque,” Tang spoke up, his voice barely a whisper. “I do know one thing.”

Macaque’s head snapped over and he was standing in seconds, sending his chair flying back and slamming his hands on the table.

“Really?” He asked. Wukong was still sitting, looking both surprised and skeptical. 

“I, well, I don’t know any direct information about it, but Mr. Sanzang was grumbling once and mentioned something along the lines of a map to the Samadhi Fire. I think he was implying he had to hide it…. and, uh, yeah.” Tang sheepishly said, too scared to meet either of their eyes.

Macaque felt a joy rush through his blood. He finally had an actual lead on where to find it. “Where is the map? Did he tell you where he hid it?”

“Oh! Uh, no.” Tang replied, awkwardly laughing.

Macaque turned to Wukong, hoping he could finally be useful since Tripataka was his proclaimed ‘bestfriend’. The celestial sat there, eyes looking distant as he seemed deep in thought. His brows were furrowed and his mouth turned in a frown. Macaque rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers in front of Wukong’s face, breaking him out of the trance.

“Hey, Wukong. You’re this guy’s pal, where would he have hidden this map?”

Wukong looked between the three sat around him and seemed to ponder.

“I have no idea.” He finally said.

Macaque’s eye twitched, but he looked back to Tang, waiting for him to come up with something.

“Well, Mr. Sanzang had a whole section in the library dedicated to his research, there might be some information in one of his books about where the map is. I’ll just have to go look.” Tang said, sounding a lot more confident.

“How long will that take though?” Macaque asked. At this point, he couldn’t be in any position to rush the man, but he really needed to rush the man.

“The library is huge,” MK said, causing everyone to look at him. “And Mr. Sanzang has a very… thorough section. I’m sure we could find something if you guys can just give us a couple days.”

“What if we help?” Wukong asked.

“That would be great!” MK cheered, before pausing and then deflatting. “Except, you need a library card to get in and those can take a while to process and be used. Just let Mr. Tang and I help you out, and maybe I can get my friend Mei on board. Reading isn’t really her thing but if I tell her it’s for an awesome cause, I’m sure we’ll find what you two need in no time.”

Macaque and Wukong looked at each other, reaching a small agreement. They would have to rely on these two, maybe three, for help and would just have to wait for results.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Wukong and Macaque were avoiding each other, clearly not over their earlier argument. Macaque felt almost childish but he needed a break from the equally childish sage.

He clearly had no idea what he was doing and was just dragging Macaque down with him. Maybe the creepy henchman guy had a point. Wukong wasn’t the right celestial to ask for help.

Night sprung upon them quickly, and soon Macaque was back in the guest room, ready to lay in bed until sleep claimed him. Just as he pulled the sheet back, a gentle knock on the door caught his attention.

“What?” He called, frowning.

The muffled voice of Wukong came from the other side. “Uh, it’s me. Can I… come in?”

Macaque hesitated for a moment, debating whether to send him away or not. He sighs. “Fine. Door’s open.”

Wukong creaked the door open hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding Macaque’s eyes. He awkwardly stays near the doorway, ready to bolt if he were shooed away.

A moment of tense silence passed between them before Macaque raises an eyebrow. “Well? Say whatever you came here to say before I decide I don’t care.”

Wukong finally looks up and meets Macaque’s eyes before clearing his throat. “Okay so… about earlier. I just - uh - I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Well that was a surprise. Macaque didn’t think the sage had it in him to come and apologize. He wondered if MK had said something to him, which led them to this moment. 

Macaque leaned against the wall, a smirk pulling at his lips. He was going to enjoy this as much as possible. “For what part?”

Wukong seemed to notice, frowning slightly. A flash of irritation crossed his eyes but he pushed through. “For yelling. For not really… trusting you. For being kind of a - uh - a jerk.” He mumbled the last part.

Macaque felt his smirk widen. “Kind of?”

Wukong rolled his eyes, but stayed serious. “Okay, fine, a huge jerk. Happy?”

Macaque shrugged his shoulders. “You’re getting warmer. Anything else?”

Wukong sighs deeply, running a hand down his face. He walks over and sits on the corner of the bed, stunning Macaque for a moment.

“Look, I get why you’re mad. I know I didn’t handle things great. But I was trying, Macaque. I really was. This… whole working-together thing is new to me, it’s not exactly easy.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes, pushing off the walk to stand towering above the celestial. “And you think this is easy for me, hm?”

Wukong groaned, shaking his head. “No. That’s the point, isn’t it? I just - I get it now, okay? I should’ve trusted you more. But…“ He trailed for a moment, mulling the next works over in his head before looking up to Macaque’s eyes. “Maybe you could’ve trusted me a little more too?”

Macaque stares at him a for long moment, hardening his eyes. He had a lot of things he could say in this moment, but a lot of them would result in another heated argument. About a week ago he said he needed to win Wukong’s trust, and here the sage was, offering it on a plater to him. So, instead of giving back a snarky reply, he exhales and rubs his temple.

“I wasn’t exactly fair either.”

Wukong blinks, surprised. “Wait, was that… an apology? From you?”

“Don’t make me take it back.” He deadpans.

The tension in the room lightens by only a little, a clear gap that needs a bridge remained between them.

“For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t have blown up like that. This whole thing - trying to find the Samadhi Fire, figuring out what to do next - it’s just a lot.”

Wukong nods slowly. “Yeah, I know. But maybe next time… we don’t turn on each other? Partners, remember?”

Macaque rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight the smile that blooms. “You’re insufferable.”

Wukong stands up, offering a hand to the dark simian. “And you’re stuck with me. Deal?”

Macaque eyes the hand for a moment, before reaching out and shaking it.

“Deal.”

They step back from one another, the air finally feeling completely light. Wukong gives one last tiny nod and heads for the door before pausing. “Oh, and Macaque?”

Macaque looks back over. “What?”

Wukong looks over him for a moment, eyes searching for something before his face softens and he smiles. “Thanks. For putting up with me.”

Those words twisted something in Macaque, and he hadn’t been ready to hear something so vulnerable from the sage. He looks away, muttering. “Don’t push your luck.”

Wukong lets out a huff of a laugh and clicks the door shut behind him. Macaque sits on the bed, staring at where Wukong had been standing, and sighs. A mix of exasperation and faint amusement tugs at his expression before he lays down and tries to go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Macaque lounged at the bar inside the restaurant, his arms crossed and his head tilted back as he stared at the textured ceiling. The scent of sizzling meat and fried dough wafted through the air, teasing his nose. Nearby, Wukong sat at a small table, one foot propped up on the opposite chair.

Macaque resisted the urge to sigh for the fifth time that morning. They had been stuck here for hours, watching MK buzz around the restaurant like an overworked bee.

“MK! That order isn’t going to deliver itself!” Barked Pigsy from within the kitchen. Macaque turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of the swine demon, a perpetual scowl on his face. Despite the sharpness of his tone, there was a familial undertone to it, like an impatient parent chiding their child.

“Coming!” MK called, nearly stumbling as he balanced a tray of bowls in one hand and a pitcher in the other. He looked both flushered and determined, the kind of energy that only came from trying to impress someone.

Macaque’s gaze shifted to Wukong, who was watching MK with a faint smile, as if pleased by the boy’s frantic efforts.

“You see that, Macaque?” Wukong said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “That’s dedication. The kind of spirit that makes someone great.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “He’s working himself into an early grave because the pig is yelling at him. I wouldn’t call that ‘spirit’.”

Wukong ignored the jab, raising his voice as MK passed by. “Keep it up, bud! You’re doing great!”

MK’s face lit up, his pace quickening despite the precarious wobble of the tray he carried.

Macaque shook his head. “You’re going to get him killed with encouragement like that.”

Before Wukong could respond, the door to the restaurant slammed open, and a whirlwind of motion burst onto the scene.

“MK!”

The voice was bright and even, full of energy, and it belonged to a young woman with sharp eyes and a confident stride. She bounded across the floor, coming to halt beside MK just as he was setting a tray down.

“Mei,” MK called back, his voice just as animated as hers. “Sorry, I’m a little busy right now.”

“When aren’t you busy?” Mei replied with a grin, leaning casually against the counter and eyeing the tray of food. “So, can I-”

“Nope!” MK cut her off, stepping in front of the food like a sheild. “Last time I let you steal, Pigsy almost had my head!”

“Pfft, Pigsy would never really, he’s all bark.” Mei teased, sticking her tongue out. “Sharing is caring, MK!”

“Ah, Mei, No!"

Macaque observed the exchange with mild interest, noting the way they bickered with an ease that spoke of long familiarity.

“Who’s that?” Wukong asked, his voice dipping with curiosity. Macaque knew he wasn’t really being asked by the sage, but found it in himself to respond.

“Probably more trouble,” He said dryly, though he couldn’t deny that Mei’s lively presence added some much needed energy to the otherwise dull afternoon.

As if hearing them, Mei’s gaze flicked to the table where they sat. Her eyes lit up as she practically skipped over to them.

“Hi there!” She said brightly, resting her hands on the back of an empty chair. She looked them over, her eyes lingering on Wukong for a moment before a knowing smirk curled her lips.

“You must be Monkey King! MK’s been talking my ear off about you. Says you’re a huge deal.”

Wukong blinked, caught slightly off guard by her sheer enthusiasm. “Well, I am a huge deal,” he said, recovering quickly.

Mei grinned, leaning closer with a hushed air. “Good! Because I told MK if I ever met you, I’d see what all the fuss was about. Gotta say, jury’s still out.”

Macaque snorted into his hand, earning a sharp look from Wukong, but Mei either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Anyway,” she continued, straightening up and flashing them both a cheerful smile. “I’m Mei. Friend of MK and professional fun-haver. So what are we doing?”

“Waiting,” Macaque said, deadpan. MK had promised them that morning that when he got on break he would go straight to the library with Tang and begin looking for any and all information that they could about the map and where the keys to the Samahdi Fire was. Unfortuntely, MK’s ‘break’ didn’t actually exist. It was more of a ‘whenever he can escape Pigsy’ thing. And that pig had been watching him and Wukong like a hawk all day.

Mei made a face. “Ugh, boring. I can fix that.”

MK, having reappeared with a few packaged meals, pointed at her dramatically. “Mei, you better not cause chaos. I will never hear the end of it.”

“Define ‘chaos’,” Mei shot back, cocking her hip to the side and placing a hand on it.

“You and MK hanging out.” Pigsy said from the kitchen.

“You know you love our shenanigans!” She called. “Anyway, this place is great and all, but you’ve been cooped up here forever.”

MK narrowed his eyes, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind the mock suspicion. “Okay, and what are you wanting to do?”

“Noting sinister!” Mei said with an overly innocent tone that did nothing to mask her mischievious grin. She spun to face Wukong and Macaque. “What about you two? Staring at walls and each other all day can’t be exciting. Don’t you want to go out and do something fun?”

Wukong perked up immediately, his desire for a bit of excitement shinning through. “Fun? You mean, like sparring? Or maybe a contest of skill? I’m undefeated in-”

“Not everything is about you,” Macaque interrupted, shooting the sage a bored look.

“See? This guy gets it!” Mei pointed at Macaque, who looked vaguely horrified to be included. “No contests. No fights. I’m talking about the market! Food stalls, music, chaos - everything you could possibly want in one place.”

MK hesitated, glancing back toward the kitchen where Pigsy’s barked orders were still echoing. “Normally I would, but today I really don’t think-”

Mei grabbed his arm, nearly dragging him toward to door. “Oh, please. I’ll smooth it over. Besides, you deserve a break.”

Mei pushed the door open, turning to flash Wukong and Macaque an expectant look. “Come on! You’re not seriously going to sit here all day, are you?”

Macaque opened his mouth to decline and remind them what they should be doing, but Wukong was already standing and vibrating with energy. “A market, huh? I’m all for crowded places with people to talk to!”

Macaque groaned under his breath but followed reluctantly. he wasn’t about to let Wukong wander off unsupervised, especially with people like MK and Mei to encourage him.

-

The market thrived under the warm glow of a late afternoon sun, its golden rays casting long, shifting shadows across the cobbled streets. Brightly colored canopies stretched over crowded stalls, their vibrant hues of red, orange, and green swaying gently with the occasional breeze. The air buzzed with a symphony of life - vendors shouting prices, children darting between adults’ legs, and the steady clatter of wooden wheels as carts pushed their way through the chaos.

Humans and demons mingled freely here, their differences blending into the market’s colorful tapestry. A human butcher, his face ruddy from the heat, waved a cleaver in the air to advertise his fresh cuts of meat. Nearby, a horned demon with violet skin crouched behind a stall of glimmering jewels, her serpentine tail flicking idly as she bargained with a sharp-tongued customer. Street performers added to the commotion, playing flutes or juggling fireballs, while pickpocketers slinked through the mass like shadows, their eyes scanning for easy marks.

The scent of grilled meat and roasted chestnuts mixed with the tang of incence and the faint, metallic aroma of magic lingered in the air. A merchant hawked steaming buns from a bamboo basket, their fluffy white surfaces releasing curls of fragrant steam, while another loudly proclaimed the curative properties of his “enchanted” tea leaves.

Macaque trailed behind the others, his sharp gaze darting from stall to stall. Trinkets, coin purses, poorly guarded lockboxes - everything caught his practiced eye, though he feigned disintrest. His fingers twitched slightly, a reflex born from years of honing his craft, but he kept them firmly tucked into his sleeves.

“Keep up, Macaque,” Wukong called over his shoulder, his tone light but teasing. He walked ahead with the presence that demanded attention - as though the world was his stage. People parted for him instinctively, some out of awe, others simply to avoid being run over by the confident stride.

“I’m not the one running around like a headless chicken,” Macaque muttered, eyeing MK and Mei as they flitted from stall to stall.

Ahead, MK and Mei had already dissolved into the market’s mayhem, their energy blending seamlessly with the bustling crowd. Mei darted from stall to stall, pointing out colorful trinkets and dragging MK along with her. The two of them radiated the kind of carefree enthusiasm that made the world seem brighter, even against the backdrop of the market’s frentic energy.

“This is exactly what I needed!” Mei declared, picking up a brightly colored mask from a booth. She held it up to her face and turned to MK. “What do you think? Mysterious and elegant, or just terrifying?”

“Definitely terrifying,” MK said with a laugh, ducking when she swatted at him with the mask.

Macaque stood back with Wukong, both watching the two kids pick up more masks and decide which was the scariest. Macaque glanced over to see that awestruck look back on Wukong’s face as he looked around. The black monkey could tell he was trying to play it cool, but he was failing miserably.

MK and Mei rushed over, both hold two different masks. “Okay,” MK said, eyes shinning. “Which one is scarier?”

MK help up a red mask. The face had a snarl on it, looking much like a demon’s face. There were three yellow eyes that matched the stained wooden teeth. In simple words, it was ugly. Not particularly scary, but definitely ugly. Mei, on the other hand, went for something completely different. Macaque was already convincing himself that she was joking.

She help up a porcelain white mask with giant eye holes cut into it. The cheeks and lips were brushed a rosey red, and it had delicate blue flower detailing on the forhead and some added foliage on the cheeks. Unlike the red one, it was very pretty. The kind of face that most woman wanted for large festivals.

He raised a brow at her as if asking her to answer his suspisions.

“What?” She asked, dropping the mask to her side and pursing her lip.

“That’s a porcelain mask.” He deadpanned.

“Nope, I agree with Mei on this actually,” Wukong said, trying to hold back a laugh. “It reminds me on this goddess I know in Heaven.” He snickered.

MK pouted. “Monkey King, you were supposed to be on my side!” 

“Sorry, kid,” He laughed. “But I’ve seen scarier masks made from real demon faces. I don’t blame you though, I could see this scaring a mere mortal.”

“Right,” Macaque rolled his eyes. “Because the Great Sage has seen horrors beyond imaginable in him lifetime.”

Wukong smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Envy doesn’t suit you, Macaque. But it’s understandable.”

Before Macaque could fire back, Mei darted between them. “Oh don’t start. You two bicker like an old married couple.” Without missing a beat, MK coughed into his hand and Macaque glared at her for the poor choice of wording. Wukong continued to smile as if he hadn’t heard her. “C’mon, Great Sage, I want to see you put your money where your mouth is. There is a game booth over there, and we’re all playing.” She started tugging them forward.

“I don’t play games,” Macaque said immediately, his tone flat.

“And yet, here you are.” Mei replied with a grin, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along without a second thought. He allowed himself to be dragged along, though his unwillingness was obvious in every step. Mei’s enthusiasm was a force of nature, sweeping them all toward a cluster of brightly colored stalls on the far end of the market.

“Here we are!” Mei announced, spreading her arms theatrically as they reached the game booth.

The stall was flashy, its wooden frame painted in the clashing shades of red and yellow. Small prizes dangled from the awniing - wooden carvings, glass figurines, and cheap silk scarves. A bored-looking vender, a humanoid demon with greenish-grey skin and eyes like polished amber, lounged behind the counter.

“Step right up!” The demon called half-heartedly, his voice lacking any real energy. “Test your strength, skill, and wit! Win a prize to impress your friends!”

Wukong looked over the booth, a frown pulling at his lips. “What a shameful way to show strength. Anyone could win this.” He muttered, though his eyes flickered to a prize set on a shelf of the booth: a gleaming jade fingurine shaped like a dragon.

“Then prove it,” Mei said, grinning as she elbowed him. “Come on, celestial hero. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

Wukong smirked. “Fine. What’s the game?”

The vendor perked up, clearly sensing an easy mark. “Simple,” he said, gesturing to a bunch of bottles grouped closely together. “Throw a ring around one of these bottle necks. You get three tries!” He slid three rubber rings across the counter and infront of the sage.

“Piece of cake,” Wukong said confidently, rolling up his sleeves.

Macaque leaned against the side of the stall, watching with faint amusement. He’d seen this kind of setup before - rigged games designed to frustrate and trick overconfident customers. The rings would be too light, making them more suseptible to bouncing and the bottle necks were just slightly smaller than the rings. It would take a perfect and accurate throw to actually win something from a booth like this.

Wukong picked up the first ring and inspected it, testing the weight. He put it close to his eye before looking to the bottles, his eyes flashing gold for just a second. His expression shifted when he realized somethiing was off. He shot a quick glance to Macaque, who smirked knowingly but said nothing.

“Good luck.” Macaque drawled, folding his arms.

Wukong ignored him and threw his first ring. It was a perfect throw, gliding through the air. Until it wasn’t and bounced off one of the bottles.

“Not so easy, is it?” Mei teased, while MK gently elbowed her and then gave the celestial and reasurring thumbs up.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” he replied, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice.

He tried again, adjusting his aim, and managing to get it to roll around the head of the bottle before popping off. He tried again and a similar outcome happened, the vendor’s smug grin was starting to show.

“Looks like you’re out of luck,” the demon said as Wukong’s last ring sprung off the bottle.

Wukong frowned, stepping back with a huff. “This game’s rigged.”

“Of course it is,” Macaque said casually, pushing off the stand. “But even rigged games aren’t completely impossible.”

Wukong shot him a glare, but Mei clapped her hands eagerly. “Yes! Let Macaque try!”

Macaque sighed but stepped up to the counter, tossing a single coin onto it. The vendor handed him three fresh rings, clearly skeptical of Macaque’s chances.

Unlike Wukong, Macaque didn’t bother testing the weight of the rings or overthinking his approach. He picked up the first ring, weighted it briefly, and let it fly. It swung around the bottle for a second before laying flat against it’s neck with ease.

The next two rings that he threw soon followed, each making it around the glass bottles. The vendor and Wukong had similar faces. Mouth hung open with their jaws on the floor.

“Unbelievable!” Mei cheered, jumping up and down.

“You’re a total natural at this!” MK joined in, the two gathered around Macaque and getting into his face.

Macaque shrugged and stepped back from them. The vendor scowled but handed over the jade figurine, muttering under his breath.

Macaque turned the figurine over in his hand, studying it before walking past the two kids and holding it out to Wukong.

“For you,” he said simply.

Wukong blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

“You wanted it,” Macaque replied, his tone casual, almost dimissive. “And I don’t have the time or interest to carry it around.”

For a moment, Wukong didn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then he took the figurine carefully, as though it might shatter in his hands.

“Thanks,” Wukong said quietly, a rare note of sincerity in his voice.

Macaque stared at Wukong as he looked fondly at the tiny dragon, waiting for him to say something stupid or bring up a time he’s faught a dragon. But he never did. Mei inturrupted the moment by clapping her hands together. “Okay, now that Macaque’s shown us all up, how about we all head back?”

“Probably for the best, Pigsy is already going to want to skin me for running out like that, don’t want to also be showing up at a ridiculous hour.” MK admitted, laughing vaguely.

“Think he’ll have the kitchen still open? I could kill for some noodles right now,” Mei asked as they all began to walk back.

“You just ate half a dozen skewers,” MK said.

“And? I’ve got the stomach of a dragon, leave me alone.”

Their banter filled the cool evening air as the group wound their way through the cobbled streets. The market was quieter now, with vendors packing up their wares and lanterns casting long shadows over the alleyways. A faint breeze carried the scent of soy sauce and fried dough, mingling with the distant chatter of a city settling in for the night.

Wukong walked next to Macaque, his usual bravado dialed down as he turned the small jade figure in his hands. His eyes would glance to the small object, then in front of him, and then to Macaque. The dark simian could tell words were on the tip of his tongue, his only question was why he was finally keeping quiet.

“What.” He said, growing tired of this weird silence that continued for a couple minutes too long.

“Huh?” Wukong snapped his head to look at the other, his hands freezing.

Macaque sighed and rolled his eyes. “I never thought the day would come, but I can see the gears moving in your head. What is it?”

“Nothing,” He said, looking back to the toy and flipping it once more. “You… you didn’t have to give this to me.” He finally said.

Macaque searched his face as they walked. Wukong’s brows were slightly furrowed and his eyes had this unspoken question in them. Macaque frowned, then tsked.

“I wonder if I will ever understand you.” He said, walking slightly ahead of the sage. Wukong was quick to catch up but didn’t respond. They could see the restaurant in the distance when Wukong eventually answered.

“I wonder the same thing.” Macaque stopped walking at that and watched Wukong follow MK and Mei into the restaurant. Wukong had a bright smile back on his face and was ruffling the kid’s hair. Macaque followed them in and saw MK standing in front of Pigsy, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Took you long enough,” He grumbled. “Didn’t think you’d be back before I had to go searching for you.”

“See?” MK said, throwing an arm around Mei. “Perfect timing. Not a minute too late!”

“Barely,” the man shot back, but there was no real heat behind the words. “And you,” he glared at Wukong. “You’re, what, like a few thousand years old? You should be more responsible and not encourage such behavior.”

Wukong laughed and leaned back against the counter. “First of all, I’m only like four thousand something years old. That’s basically a child compared to most of the others in heaven. And I’m not exactly well known for ‘responsibility’, so I’m not sure what you expect.”

“That’s not something to gloat.” Macaque grouched.

Wukong shot him a smirk but didn’t respond. “Anyway, I’ll leave you all to your late night chatter. Some of us actually like to wake up with the sun.” He padded off to the couch on the second floor, leaving Macaque with the other three. Wukong’s absence instantly left a vacuum, and it wasn’t long before MK’s wide eyed curiosity rushed to fill it.

“So, Macaque,” MK began, dropping into a chair near Macaque with a grin. Mei slid into the seat beside him, propping her chin in her hands. Pigsy had returned behind the counter, but his gaze sharpened, clearly listening in.

Macaque raised a brow. “Yes?”

“You’ve been traveling with Monkey King, what, two weeks now?” MK asked. “What’s he like? I mean really like, not the stuff you hear in stories.”

Macaque quirked a brow, his lips twitching faintly as if debating whether to answer. “Loud,” he ultimately said.

MK gave a laugh, but seemed dissatified with that answer. “Yeah, I can see that. But seriously, what’s he like when he’s not fighting demons and saving towns?”

Macaque searched his face, seeing that MK was clearly wanting a certain answer. The only issue was, Macaque didn’t think he could lie and say what he was longing to hear. “He’s exactly what you think he is,” Macaque replied, tone clipped.

“That’s vague.” Mei’s voice cut in, light but pointed. “You don’t strike me as the type to travel with someone like him without a reason. What’s your deal?”

Macaque’s gaze shifted to her, his posture stiffening slightly. The memory of the Lady Bone Demon flashed behind his eyes, and the mere thought sent a chill down his spine. He had been wondering constantly the past few days when she would approach him again. The longer he sat here chatting about pointless stuff, was another second wasted, and a moment closer to her coming to finish him if he didn’t finish this job. “My deal?” He asked.

“You know.” Mei waved a hand. “Why are you tagging along with the Monkey King? You don’t exactly scream ‘hero sidekick’.”

Pigsy’s voice rumbled from across the room, sharp and steady. “More like ‘shifty adversary’.”

Macaque’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the older man. “I wasn’t aware I was on trial right now.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Pigsy said, his tone implying he absolutely meant it personally. “I’ve just got an eye for trouble, and you look like it.”

The tension in the room began to rise, the air growing thick. “Okay, okay. Let’s all calm down!” MK interjected, his grin strained but still eager. “Macaque, you don’t have to tell us your whole life story, but it’s gotta be interesting traveling with someone like Monkey King, right?”

“Look kid,” Macaque sighed. “I’m not sure what you’re wanting to hear exactly, but considering how you idolize Wukong, I don’t think you want any answers out of me. If I gave you all my honest thoughts, you’ll walk away thinking of one of us as an ass. And we don’t have time for that right now.”

MK opened his mouth to respond, but Macaque cut him off. “We already wasted an entire day at the market doing nothing productive. You promised you would help us find information and twenty-four hours later, we are no closer to finding the keys.”

“Oh,” MK said, looking down. “Sorry,” Mei instantly was all over him.

“Hey, there’s no reason to get mad at him. I dragged you all to the market. I’ll go with MK and Tang tomorrow and you’ll get what you want. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.” She snapped.

Macaque felt a small pang of guilt when he saw MK’s glazed eyes. The kid looked uncomfortable with the lecture he recieved from the demon. For a moment, Macaque could see Wukong’s annoyed face when he found out about this. He wanted to apologize, tell MK that he was just stressed. But his pride was a driving force in his life. And it drove him to stand up and walk off to the small guest room he was offered.

He briskly walked up the stairs and looked over to the couch. Wukong laid there asleep, a blanket pulled over himself. Macaque’s ears twitched at the soft breathes that came from the sage’s parted lips. His eyes traveled to the small coffee table that was in front of the makeshift bed, where a small dragon figurine sat. Macaque took in the scene for a moment, before turning away and going into his room.

Tomorrow, MK, Tang, and Mei would go to the library, and hopefully by then, he and Wukong can move on to retrieving the keys.

Chapter Text

The restaurant felt far quieter without the whirlwind energy of MK and Mei to fill the space. Macaque sat near the corner table, arms crossed tightly against his chest, as if the posture alone could hold his frustration in check. It didn’t. His irritation simmered, spilling over into sharp glances at anyone who so much as looked at him.

“They should have let me sneak into the library with them,” Macaque muttered under his breath, slouching further into his crossed arms. “We wasted enough time yesterday at that damn market. Now we’re just sitting here, doing nothing. Again.”

Pigsy, wiping down the counter with his usual vigor, glanced Macaque’s way but wisely kept his mouth shut. Wukong, however, wasn’t so considerate.

“Some of us find patience to be a virtue,” he said from the next table over, balancing his newly won figurine on the edge of his palm like a precarious trophy.

Macaque glared at him. “Like you’re one to talk. You are the most impatient, impulsive, person I have ever met, and I have met a lot of those.” Wukong just seemed to beam at his statement, pissing Macaque off more.

Pigsy straightened, his expression tightening. “You could be useful instead of sitting there scowling, you know.”

Macaque’s sharp retort danced on his tongue but he said nothing. The last thing he needed was to argue with MK’s father while he was reliant on their guest room. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, trying to push away the tension knotting his shoulders. But it was no use.

Another minute of this, and Macaque was sure he’d snap.

He managed to sit there for about an hour longer. Wukong had actually made himself busy and helped Pigsy for about half of that time, before a few customers came in and he found a way to once again talk about himself. He was recounting the events of some fight between him and these two demon brothers, while Macaque could feel his resolve slipping further and further. The customers had left and the restaurant was back to that unusual silence.

Wukong was spinning his figurine on the table like a top, the soft click-click-click of stone against wood gnawing at Macaque’s last nerve.

“Do you even listen to yourself when you tell those stories?” Macaque finally snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet like a whip.

Wukong glanced up, one eyebrow arched in exaggerated curiosity. “What’s your problem now?”

“My problem,” Macaque bit out, leaning forward, “is that you treat all of this like a game. Yesterday was just a fun distraction for you, wasn’t it? Because none of this actually matters to you.”

Wukong’s easy smile faltered. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t take this mission seriously,” Macaque continued, his voice low and biting. “I thought after last time you would try and be a little more thoughtful with your actions, but clearly I was wrong. You get to parade around as some big, important celestial hero, and the rest of us have to clean up the mess.”

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent. Even Pigsy stopped mid-swipe with his rag, his gaze darting between the two of them.

Wukong slowly placed the figurine on the table and stood, his usual confident smirk replaced with something harder, colder. It actually sent a chill down Macaque’s spine. His anger was quick to disband, the words he had just spoken catching up to him. “You don’t know anything about me,” Wukong responded quietly, his voice stripped of that usual bravado.

Macaque wanted to double back, to apologize for turning on Wukong after he had agreed not to, but his pride was too big. “Maybe not,” he shot back, rising to his feet as well. “But I know enough to see that you’re holding us back.” 

Before Wukong could respond, Macaque brushed past him and stormed out. 

The sun hit his face as he stepped out onto the street and he had to squint his eyes. He stalked toward the edge of the city, his fists clenched and his thoughts racing.

What was he even doing here? Why had he wasted so much time?

He walked for what felt like hours, his anger gradually ebbing into something quieter, sharper. The library wasn’t far now, he could see it in the distance, and the idea of sitting still while MK, Tang, and Mei searched for answers suddenly felt unbearable.

Making up his mind, Macaque slipped into the shadows and headed for the library. The building loomed, a sprawling stone building that seemed out of place among the city’s architecture. It’s high arched windows glowed brightly from reflecting the sun’s light, and there were people walking in and out every second.

It wasn’t difficult for him to sneak in, he just needed to find an abandoned corner so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Luckily for him, the library was vast. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched into the dimly lit distance. The scent of old parchment and ink hung heavy in the air. Somewhere, the floorboards creaked softly every time someone passed. 

Macaque moved quietly through the aisles, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath him. He spotted the trio at a large table near the center of the room, hunched over an assortment of scrolls and ancient tomes. Mei sat nearby, idly flipping through a book, her expression bored but her movements sharp and efficient.

“Any luck?” Macaque’s voice cut through the quiet, startling all three of them.

MK jumped, nearly toppling out of his chair. “Macaque? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Macaque said dryly, slidding into a chair across from the two kids. “You’ve been at this for hours, and you still haven’t found anything useful.”

Tang frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Research takes time, you know. It’s not exactly instant.”

Mei crossed her arms, smirking at Macaque. “And here I thought you were the more patient one out of the two.”

“I am,” Macaque siad, brushing past her jab to scan the pile of books on the table. He picked one up and flipped through it, his eyes skimming the text. “But I’m not going to sit around while you three fumble around in the dark.”

MK’s initial shock faded into excitement. “You snuck in to help us? Is Monkey King with you?”

The reminder of how he had parted with Wukong left a stinging feeling within him, but he ignored it. It wasn’t important right now.

Mei snorted. “Oh, this should be fun. Let’s see how Mr. Impatient handles ancient texts.”

Ignoring her, Macaque settled into his chair, his focus already on the book in front of him. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of pages as the four of them worked in quiet determination. After a while, Tang leaned back, rubbing his temples.

“The keys to the Samadhi Fire were entrusted to the celestials that redirected its power, so we just need to figure out what they did with them. I would have to assume that the map Mr. Sanzang mentioned has their locations, we just have to find out where he put that map. It could be tucked in any of these books, or its location could be in these books.”

MK sighed. “That’s a lot of work. Mr. Sanzang has a lot to go through,” they all turned to look at the towering book shelf that was lined with scroll, books, tablets, all with Tang Sanzang’s work.

“Are we even sure it’s here?” Mei asked, looking to Tang.

“Well…“ Tang looked to the side, with doubt written on his face. “No, but I know this is where he keeps all his recorded work. Something like the Samadhi Fire has to be here somewhere.”

“Something like the Samadhi Fire shouldn’t be in here.” Macaque corrected. “At least not written out in perfect literature. It’s dangerous, something even the celestials feared to the point they hid it.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” Tang asked.

Macaque thought for a moment, looking at the book in front of him. Words were sprawled in front of him but they held no significance. “If Sanzang is as important to the Heavens as you say he is, then maybe he was trusted with this information. But he wouldn’t have just left this knowledge laying around. People don’t hide things like this without covering their tracks.”

MK tilted his head. “You think we’re looking at this the wrong way?”

“Possibly,” Macaque said, his mind working through the possibilities. “If I wanted to keep something hidden, I wouldn’t leave an obvious trail.”

Mei perked up. “So… what would you do?”

Macaque hesitated for a moment, the thief in him reluctant to reveal too much. But then he sighed. “I’d hide the clues in plain sight. Something that seems ordinary or insignificant.”

Tang narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “That’s… actually a good point. Maybe we should focus on the small details.”

“Finally,” Mei said with a grin. “The monkey talks some sense.”

Macaque shot her a sharp look, but he didn’t argue. They turned back to the books with renewed focus, the faint sounds of the city outside serving as a backdrop to their work.

Sometime had passed and he was beginning to lose hope. He just finished skimming through another book that was discussing ancient artifacts, but it proved to be useless like the last twelve. How could one person write so many books about so many weapons? He reached for the next one, his fingers pulling a slim, unassuming book from the edge of the pile, its leather cracked with age. It had no title, only the faint impression of a compass etched onto the front. He flipped it open, skimming the contents. The handwriting was rough and uneven, like the author had been in a hurry.

As he turned the pages, the entries shifted from mundane musings about travel and landscapes to cryptic accounts of encounters with celestial figures and demons alike. Macaque’s eyes caught on a name that froze him mid-turn: Sun Wukong.

His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer, his finger tracing the faded ink.

“I have been travelng with the monkey for some time now. He claims to be some king of monkeys. He’s addressed by the name Sun Wukong though, so at least I don’t need to play into his fantasies. Guan Yin says he is to help me with my journey, that he is a valuable asset, but I’m not so sure. He’s dangerous - more dangerous than any demon I have ever seen. There’s an unpredictability to him, like a fire that refuses to be contained. I keep wondering if I’ve made a mistake letting him stay with me. I’m not one for taming beasts. Especially one that seems very content with destroying everything in our path.”

Macaque’s pulse quickened as he read on. 

“He acts like he is in control, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. But I see it - he’s lost, hollow. Following vague orders to save himself. But if he loses that thin grip he has on himself, I don’t think there’s a force in this world that could stop him.”

Sanzang described Wukong in a way that didn’t full match the cocky, almost irritating, individual Macaque had been traveling with. there was no arrogance here - just brutality.

Macaque’s grip tightened on the journal. The descriptions gnawed at him, unsettling in it intensity. He kept reading entries that had to do with Wukong and each was worse than the last. There were similarities here and there - the implusiveness, the crude humor, the egotism. But there were new layers, ones Macaque hadn’t seen. Brutality, resentment, narcissism. Was this the Wukong he was traveling with? Was this what the henchman had meant by a monster?

“What’s that?” MK’s voice broke his train of thoughts, and his head snapped up.

“Nothing that will help us,” Macaque said curtly, stuffing the journal into his bag before MK could get a good look.

MK tilted his head, clearly unconvinced, but Mei’s voice inturrupted him. “Hey, look at this.” She was crouched by a low shelf, holding a thin, rolled scroll that looked like it might disintegrate if handled too roughly.

Tang hurried over, squinting at the text. “It’s a map,” he said, unfurling it carefully. “I searched this shelf top to bottom, where did you find it?”

Mei moved over to show a hidden compartment within the wall of the shelf. “I found this page in a book that was just talking about what the Samadhi Fire was, and there were a few symbols at the bottom. I came over here to look and saw a little puzzle in the back with matching pictures. Figured it meant something.”

“How did I miss that,” Tang whispered quietly to himself. He looked at the map and they all waited in silence for him to claim if it was useful or not. “It’s a map to a… a vault?”

MK leaned in, his brow furrowing. “A vault? Like where they’d keep something important?”

“Exactly.” Tang’s voice held a note of triumph. “And judging by the markings, it’s definitely got something to do with the Samadhi Fire.”

Macaque stood and made his way over to the group, crouching down. “Let me see.”

Tang handed over the scroll without hesitation, and Macaque’s sharp eyes scanned the markings. It had a symbol on it that he had seen in multiple books by now, this definitely was the first step to finding a key.

“Finally,” Macaque muttered, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Something useful.”

“See?” MK clapped a hand on Macaque’s shoulder, grinning. “Told you we’d find something in we looked hard enough.”

Macaque shrugged off his hand, his expression unreadable. “Let’s hope it’s not another dead end.”

“Optimistic, aren’t we?” Mei said, rolling her eyes.

Macaque ignored her. “Keep looking, I’m going to search down there for anything else that might be useful.” They all nodded and he slipped away, finding a more secluded area within the library. He sank onto an aged wooden bench, his back to the sprawling shelves. He opened the journal again, turning to the pages that spoke of Wukong. The inked words weighted heavier now, the description of a monkey teetering on the edge of control clashed with the overly talkative, smug sage currently cradling a tiny figurine back at Pigsy’s restaurant.

Feral. A storm waiting to break.

The words jumped out at him. He let out a slow breath, brushing his thumb over the frayed edges of the pages. He had thought he was finally beginning to peg Wukong. Strong but harmless. This journal suggested otherwise. What kind of power did Wukong hold back? And why?

He remembered the little girl in the village, the way Wukong quickly tried to end the fight with that demon, the golden blood that ran through his veins. Things never seemed to add up to Macaque. He shouldn’t even be dwelling on this. This wasn’t important. He had what he needed. A map. A powerful escort. All that was missing with the weapon.

The memories of the map resurfaced, pulling his thoughts in another direction. The vault held answers, but it also held dangers. Something of that power wouldn’t be unguarded. He glanced toward the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting orange ribbons across the streets. The idea of sneaking off to follow the map alone crossed his mind. After all, he was a thief, the one accustomed to slipping into placeed unnoticed and walking out with what others could only dream of obtaining.

But this time, it wasn’t just about stealing - it was about survival. The Lady Bone Demon’s shadow loomed over him, a constant reminder of what awaited if he failed.

Macaque leaned back against the bench, closing the journal and letting it rest on his lap. His thoughts drifted back to Wukong again. He wondered how much of that journal’s description still applied. Was Wukong still that beast, barely contained? Has he actually changed, been tamed by time?

Gods, he needed to apologize for what he said to the celestial. The guilt was eating away at him, and he didn’t know why. He had never felt guilty for the things he said to others. But there it was. Cold and sticky and clinging to his insides.

He stood up and went back to the group. They hadn’t found anything else, and Macaque was pretty sure they hadn’t even looked. No matter, they had tomorrow if it was going to be that big of a worry. They decided to leave, Macaque sneaking back out and joining up with them on the outside.

They all walked back, the three humans chattering enthusiastically together a few paces ahead of the simian. What should he say to Wukong? ‘Sorry for snapping at you’? No, no. That was dumb.

The closer they got to the restaurant, the more nervous Macaque became. They walked inside and he quickly looked around for the golden monkey. There were a few customers sprinkled here and there, and the trio had taken up the seats at the bar, but no sign of Wukong.

Pigsy came out from the kitchen, three steaming bowls of noodles on a tray. He set each in front of the humans and looked to Macaque. “You want some?” His gruff voice asked.

“Uh, no, I’m okay.” He awkwardly said. “Where’s Wukong?”

Pigsy thought for a moment before shrugging. “Not sure, he left not long after you did. He didn’t say where he was going.”

Well that was like a punch to the gut. Macaque felt the guilt rise up again, eating at him with more vigor.

“You feel bad or something?” Pigsy questioned, looking him up and down.

“About what?” MK asked, mouthful of food.

Macaque was about to deny. Deny feeling bad, deny that anything had happened in the kid’s absence, but no words came out. After Pigsy realized he wasn’t going to say anything, he replied. “Those two got into another fight.”

“What?” Mei and MK were quick to jump up and get in Macaque’s face. “How come?” MK pouted.

Macaque looked at them before deciding he didn’t owe them an explanation. “Nothing, it will sort itself out. If Wukong wants to go pout by himself, then let him.” Macaque went upstairs and shut the door to the guest room locking himself away.

He waited hours sitting on the bed, staring at the journal he stole from the library. He told himself he wasn’t waiting for Wukong but a part of him knew that was a lie. He fiddled with the book, a few times opening it before remembering that he felt like throwing up every time he looked at the words.

It was late into the night, or maybe early into the morning when he heard movement. He quickly got up and opened the guest room door to see Wukong, about to tuck himself into the couch.

Their eyes met and the room filled with awkward tension. No one said anything for a long moment, Macaque silently hoping Wukong would say something like last time. He didn’t.

“Where were you?” Macaque squeezed out, his voice sounding small.

Wukong’s eyes had a small glow to them in the drak, looking Macaque up and down, searching his face. The dark money felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. “Out having a fun distraction and not taking anything seriously. You know me, causing a bunch of messes for others to clean up.”

The words stung and Macaque grimanced at each word he emphasised. He stood there and opened his mouth a few times before closing it. He shut the door to his temporary room and stepped a bit closer to the sage. 

He finally opened his mouth, ready to apologize, when he took noticed of Wukong’s appearance. It was hard to make out in the dark, but after getting closer, he could see. Wukong looked tired. His face was somewhat pinched, as if he was trying to hold back from showing he was in pain. His eyes and nose were slightly puffy, and if it weren’t so dark, Macaque was sure they would be red.

“Wukong, what’s wrong?” His voice rose slightly in volume, slipping up and concern shined through in his tone. Wukong flintched slightly at the sound, bringing a hand up to his temple, rubbing a small circle.

“Macaque,” he said, his voice biting and sounding as if a parent was lecturing their child. He seemed to noticed and tried to calm down, looking up at the other with a pleading look. “Not tonight.”

Macaque opened his mouth again but nothing came out. They stared for a moment, Macaque finding it in himself that he didn’t want to leave Wukong here like this.

“Please.“

That did it for Macaque. He hesitated one last time before giving a small nod and walking back to his room. He sat back on his bed and wondered what had happened while he was at the library.

Did Wukong cry about what he said? That seemed very extra, even for him. Macaque had said worst things the first time they fought. There was no way Wukong was that upset about what he said. So…

What happened?

Macaque laid there with his thoughts, coming up with ridiculous theories and stories about what Wukong got up to while he was gone. Some involved the sage balling his eyes because of  stress, other were about Wukong being allergic to pollen.

The pollen idea seemed more feasible to Macaque, truth be told.

He found it difficult to fall asleep that night. He had wanted to apologize and then brush it under the rug by sharing news of the map, but now it didn’t seem like either were going to happen. Macaque wasn’t sure if Wukong wanted him to apologize, and by tomorrow, MK or Pigsy will probably have already told him about the map.

Macaque fell asleep that night, having an itch in the back of his mind every time he picture Wukong’s tired face.

Chapter Text

Macaque stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Wukong and Pigsy to remain in silence. Wukong sat in the corner, his usual bright and confident demeanor dulled by Macaque’s parting words. His arms rested on the table, fingers tracing idle patterns on the wood, but his gaze was distant, fixed on nothing in particular. Silence pressed against him, louder than the faint dragging of a wet cloth as Pigsy watched him.

The sting of Macaque’s words clung to him like an unwelcome shadow.  “I know enough to see that you’re holding us back.”. The phrase echoed in his mind, poking at the raw edges of his carefully constructed walls.

It wasn’t the first time someone had questioned him, hell, it wasn’t the hundredth. But for some reason it felt different coming from Macaque. Usually, Wukong could shrug off doubts with a laugh, a joke, or some over-the-top boast. That’s what everyone expected - the confident celestial monkey who always had the upper hand. But beneath the mask, there was always the gnawing fear that maybe the doubts weren’t so far off.

Maybe Macaque was right. He was holding them back. That was a new idea though. He was used to going in alone and coming out alone. The only one he risked holding back was himself. And he needed to hold himself back. If he didn’t, who would?

He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers stilling. The truth he never admitted, even to himself, was that the role of the invincible king had been taken by him - not earned. Heaven had carved it out of him, shaping him into a weapon, something sharp and unyeilding. He had become good at following orders (for the most part), at cutting down what they told him to, but that wasn’t the same as being good.

He clentched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists on the table. His reputation in the mortal realm was a comforting lie - a shield against the truth that he was to scared to think into existance. And now, here he was, sitting in some mortal’s restaurant, struggling to maintain even that fragile illusion.

Wukong sighed, leaning back in his chair and letting his head fall against the wall. He glanced toward the door Macaque had stormed through earlier, a flicker of irritation sparking in his chest. 

“Why do I even care what he thinks?” Wukong thought. He didn’t owe him anything. But the irritation didn’t hold; it was too easily swallowed by the heaviness that had settled over him.

The chair creaked as Wukong stood, his movements graceful and masking the weight he felt. The silence of the restaurant felt like it was trapping him, and he couldn’t shake the itch under his skin, the restless need to move. He didn’t bother telling Pigsy where he was going. It wasn’t like the man would care - or maybe it was just that he didn’t want to hear whatever he’d have to say.

The warm sun greeted him as he stepped outside. The city’s sounds - merchants selling things to bypassers, muted conversations, the distant clatter of hooves - blended into a dull hum around him. Wukong pulled in a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. It didn’t work.

His steps carried him aimlessly through the streets, his mind tugged in a hundred directions at once. Macaque’s biting words still echoed faintly, but now something else gnawed at him - a creeping sense of obligation.

He’d been away from Heaven far longer than he should have been, pushing the boundaries of what the Jade Court would tolerate. His lips twisted into a bitter smile

“As if they’d notice I was gone for the right reasons.“

They didn’t care about the demons he’d fought, the mortals he’d saved, or the long night Macaque spent trying to patch up a wound they’d never see. No, to them, absence was absence. It didn’t matter if he was fighting tooth and nail in the mortal realm or lounging by a river, neglecting his duties.

But still, the thought of returning sent a chill down his spine. Heaven wasn’t home - it never had been. For all its golden towers and endless skies, it felt more like a cage. A cage dressed up in light and glory, but a cage all the same.

Heaven was where the rules were written in stone, where choices weren’t choices but commands, and where he was nothing more than what they made him. A sage. A hero.

A monster.

Wukong stopped walking, his fists clenched at his sides. He hated it there. Hated the cold, empty halls. Hated the silence that settled in his chest every time he stepped through the gates. But he couldn’t avoid it forever. If he waited too long, they’d send someone to find him, and that would only make things worse.

“Just one day,” he muttered to himself. “Show my face, play the part, then I’m back.”

The decision made, Wukong turned his steps toward the outskirts of the city. Finding a quiet spot beneath the gnarled old trees, he tilted his head back to look at the sky. His fingers tightened around the jade figure Macaque had gifted him, tucking it safely in his palm.

For a moment, he hesitated. The mortal realm felt more real than anything Heaven had ever offered him. Here, people didn’t pretend. They fought, cried, laughed, and bled. Maybe he thought so fondly of it because this was his first home; his real home. Or maybe he would think of anywhere that wasn’t Heaven just as fondly.

He didn’t want to return. Not even for a day.

But he had to. Loosening his grip on the figure and tucking it into his pocket, he flicked his wrist and summoned his cloud. Hopping on it, he quickly made his way up to the gates of Heaven. The familiar glow of the gates awaited him on the other side, and with a heavy heart, Wukong stepped through.

The moment Wukong’s feet touched the pristine marble of Heaven’s halls, he straightened his posture, the weariness from his walk melting away like dew under the sun. The faint hum of celestial energy surrounded him, oppressive and stifling, but he wore his cocky grin like armour.

“Ah, home sweet home,” he announced to no one in particular, his voice echoing through the grand halls.

The towering golden arches and the endless sky stretched above him, all glowing with ethereal brilliance that Heaven was so proud of. It was immaculate, perfect, and utterly lifeless. Wukong let his gaze wander lazily, feigning awe, though his stomach churned.

A pair of robed attendants approached him, their expressions a mix of irritation and formality. “Monkey King,” one began, her voice clipped. “you’ve been absent from your duties for an extended period without reporting. The celestials have been curious about your lack of attendance.”

“Extended? Oh, come on,” Wukong interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “You make it sound like I’ve been gone for centuries. A couple weeks is a mere second for immortals.”

The other attendant’s mouth tightened. “You were expected to report back weeks ago. The Court is-”

“In case you forgot,” Wukong cut in again, flashing a wide grin. “I did report back and my services were no longer needed. So I was merely going about my time while I was not being asked for.”

The first attendant sighed deeply, clearly unimpressed. “The Council has requested an audience with you. Immediately.”

“Oh, requested, huh?” Wukong rubbed his chin in mock contemplation. “See, that word makes it sound optional.”

“Immediately,” the second attendant snapped, her patience clearly thinning.

Wukong raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get your virtues in a twist.”

Normally, he was more agreeable with the lesser immortals here, but he could still feel that earlier anger from what Macaque had said. He didn’t mean to take it out on them, and he wasn’t sure why Macaque of all people could get under his skin like he did, but here they were.

As they walked through the golden corridors, Wukong let his eyes drift over the familiar sights. Celestials of all shapes and sizes moved about, their steps purposeful, their faces serene - or blank, depending on how you looked at it. He spotted a group of younger celestial soldiers training in the distance, their gleaming armor catching the light as they sparred.

He could see Erlang Shen at the front, watching with that usual scrutinizing gaze of his. It did bring a more genuine smile to his face, more so at the fleeting thought of going down there and pissing off the warrior. The older man looked Wukong’s way, and while they were no where near each other, the monkey was sure he saw him. 

The reached the grand doors to the Court chamber, and Wukong couldn’t resist one more comment. “Let me guess,” he said, leaning toward the attendant, “they’re going to give me another assignment, of another demon, terrorizing anothertown filled with more innocent people.”

The woman didn’t even blink. “They’re going to reprimand you for your insubordination and failure to follow your directive.”

Wukong’s smile falter for just a second before making it widen. “Oh, I love a good reprimand. Brightens my day every time.”

The doors opened with a low groan, revealing the long hall where the council sat in all their shining, self-important glory. Wukong squared his shoulders, strode inside like he owned the place, and offered them a lazy salute.

“Hello, illustrious Jade Court,” he drawled. “What can I do for you today? Rescue a village? Slay a demon? Pose heroically for a mural?”

The silence that followed was heavy and disapproving, but Wukong just stood there, grinning like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Irresponsible,“ one god spat, rising from his ornate chair. His robes, shimmering with constellations, rippled as he pointed an accuatory finger at Wukong. “You vanish for weeks without a word, and when you finally deign to return, it’s with that insolent grin plastered on your face!”

“Irresponsible?”  Wukong repeated, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’ve been hard at work, keeping the mortal realm safe. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Another god, an older woman with silver hair braided with golden threads, sneered at him. “Hard at work? Is that what you call gallivanting around with no supervision? You’ve become a liability, monkey. Reckless. Disrespectful. An embarrassment to the Jade Court!”

“Ouch.” Wukong clutched his heart theatrically. “You wound me, truly.”

The gods erupted into a discord of voices, each hurling their own accusations:

“You act like a child, not a hero!”

“Do you even know the meaning of duty?”

“Why the Emperor keeps you in his ranks is beyond me!”

Through it all, Wukong stood there, his grin fixed in place, though it began to feel more like a shield than a weapon. He wanted to snap back, to remind them that while they sat here preening in their robes, he was the one down in the dirt fighting their battles. But he didn’t. Instead, he let their words wash over him, his gaze drifting toward the massive throne at the head of the chamber.

The Jade Emperor sat in silence, his expression carved from stone. He sat there in perfect stillness, his eyes sharp and piercing and filled with barely contained fury. Locked onto Wukong.

The shouting died down as one by one, the gods noticed the Emperor’s silence. A heavy stillness filled the hall, more suffocating than the gods’ combined scorn. The Emperor rose slowly, his every movement commanding attention. When he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant, carrying the weight of millennia.

“Silence,” he said, the single word quieting the chamber completely.

Wukong straightened, his grin faltering ever so slightly under the Emperor’s gaze.

“Sun Wukong,” the Emperor began, his tone measured but laced with disappointment. “You were sent to the mortal realm as a memeber of Heaven, entrusted with the power and authority of the Jade Court. And what have you done with that trust?”

Wukong opened his mouth to reply, but the Emperor raised a hand, cutting him off.

“You treat your responsibilities as a game,” the Emperor continued, his voice growing colder with every word. “You abandon your post without notice. You fluant the rules of this Court as though they do not apply to you. Do you think yourself above us? Above the order we have sworn to uphold?”

“I-” Wukong started, but the Emperor’s glare pinned him in place.

“You are an armament, simian,” the Emperor said, his voice thundering. “Not a rogue. Not a jester. You represent Heaven itself, and yet you sully our name with your antics and your arrogance.”

Wukong’s grin was gone now, replaced by a tight lipped expression as he clenched his fists at his sides.

“You want to be treated like the King you claim to be? The Sage that is equal to Heaven?” The Emperor asked, his tone scathing. “Then act like it. Show us that you are capable of discipline, of respect, of loyalty. Or perhaps,” he added, his eyes narrowing. “we should find someone else who is.”

The words hit Wukong like a blow to the chest. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but the weight of the Emperor’s gaze - and his own guilt - kept him silent.

The Emperor turned to the rest of the Court. “This meeting is adjorned. Monkey, you are dismissed. Report back to your chambers and remain there. Do not make me summon you here again for such matters.”

With that, the Emperor sat back on his throne, his expression hard and unyielding.

Wukong nodded stiffly, his throat tight as he turned and strode out of the council hall. The doors closed behind him with a resounding thud, and the weight of the reprimand settled heavily on his shoulders.

He made his ways through the grand halls, towards his room. Wukong’s chambers in Heaven were pristine, almost unnervingly so. The quartz walls gleamed as if polished daily, and the air was thick with the scent of lotus blossoms. It was the kind of room mortals would envy - spacious, elegant, and drenched in luxury. But to Wukong, it was just his assigned cell.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, exhaling sharply. His fingers ran through his hair, messing up the carefully styled locks as he pushed himself off the door and made his way to the bed. He stepped over papers that littered the floor, Wukong liking the mess in the other wise clean room. He didn’t sit. Instead, he stood there, staring down at the nest he had made out of silk sheets and plush pillows, his jaw tightening.

The Court’s words still echoed in his head, particularly the Emperor’s. “Show us that you are capable of discipline, of respect, of loyalty.“. It wasn’t the first time he had heard those accusations, but tonight they felt heavier. Maybe because, deep down, he knew some of it was true.

He plopped down heavily in his mess of a bed, burying his face in his hands. His thoughts drifted away from the Emperor’s voice to the laughter of the mortal realm - MK and Mei’s playful banter, Pigsy’s gruff scolding, Tang’s fanboying. For all their flaws and quirks, they felt more real to him than anyone here ever had.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he thought of MK, so wide eyed and earnest, always eager to please. Mei’s loud, infectious laughter followed by Pigsy’s muttered complaints about her disturbing the peace. Tang, bright eyes as he asked too many questions, and the way he nudged his glasses when he answered them before the sage could.

And then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to Macaque.

He pulled out the small jade dragon from his pocket and looked it over again. It was a simple thing, crudely carved from hard stone, yet Wukong cradled it in his hands all evening as if it were some precious treasure.

He flipped it over in his hands now, running a thumb over its surface. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He murmured to the empty room, addressing Macaque as if he were there.

It wasn’t the figurine itself that made him feel this way. It was the act - the fact that Macaque had given it to him without a second thought. Wukong looked over to the small wooden monkey MK had carved and gifted him, now treasuring two small trinkets. Everything in Heaven came with conditions, with expectations. Even the mortals who revered him sought something in return for their prayers and offerings. But Macaque… Macaque had handed him the figurine and walked away, as if it were nothing. Even though Wukong kept seeming to mess up with him.

The weight of the gesture sat heavily on him now, more so than it had in the moment. He found himself missing Macaque’s sharp remarks, his scowls, the way he looked at Wukong like he was trying to figure out if he was worth his time. It was infuriating. And yet, here he was, sitting in his chambers in Heaven, holding a jade figurine and thinking of a man who barely tolerated him.

Wukong chuckled to himself, the sound hollow. “You’ve got a strange way of making an impression, Macaque.”

He leaned back on the bed, the dragon still in his hand, and stared at the ceiling. Despite everything, he found himself wishing he were back in the mortal realm - not for duty’s sake, not to escape the Court’s reprimands, but because there was a part of him, however small, that wanted to see Macaque again.

The soft hum of silence in Wukong’s chambers was interrupted by the faint sound of the door creaking open. Wukong didn’t need to look up to know who it was; there was only one god in Heaven who would dare enter without knocking first.

“Monkey King, I am so glad to hear of your return!” Came a light, teasing voice.

Wukong groaned, sitting up from his sprawled position on the bed and gently placing the figurine on the floor next to his nest. “Baigujing, what an unexpected delight,” he said dryly, though there was no malice in his tone. “To what do I owe the honor? Have the other gods sent you to deliever another lecture?”

Baigujing stepped into the room, her movements fluid and graceful. She was dressed in her usual robes, which shimmered faintly like sunlight on snow. Her expression was as serene as ever, but her sharp eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Don’t flatter yourself, great Sage,” she replied, lingering near the closest wall. “I’m not here on anyone’s behalf. I just thought I’d check in on you after your summoning. I heard from some servants that you really put on a performance in the Court.”

Wukong smirked, standing up and stretching. “Impressive, was it? I aim to entertain.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “And yet, you don’t seem entertained yourself.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “The Court’s scolding loses its sting after the hundredth time. Same accusations, same empty threats. They’ll get over it.”

Baigujing’s gaze flickered to the green dragon on the floor, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she walked further into the room, her steps deliberate. “You’re restless,” she said after a moment.

Wukong snorted, leaning against one of the pillars holding up his roof. “Aren’t we all? Heaven’s a paradise of rules and routine. You can’t blame me for wanting to stretch my legs every now and then.”

“Stretch your legs?” Baigujing raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call your latest escapade in the mortal realm?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m fulfilling my duties,” he said, his tone lighter than the truth behind it. “Protecting the realm, upholding Heaven’s reputation. You know, the usual.”

“Hmm,” Baigujing’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was something unnerving in her expression. She circled the room slowly, her fingers lightly brushing against the back of a chair. “And how’s that working out for you? Protecting, upholding, entertaining… Does any of it actually make you happy, Wukong?”

He flintched slightly, not liking how his name sounded on her tongue. For a fleeting moment he thought about how it sounded when Macaque said it and realized he liked it much better then. “Happiness isn’t exactly the point of my usefulness,” he said finally, his voice quieter. 

“No, I suppose it’s not,” she agreed, stopping in front of Wukong, crouching down elegantly to look at the jade figurine. She studied it for a moment before turning her gaze to a stack of parchment paper and a small bowl of black ink. “But I think it should be.”

She picked up a brush and dipped it into the liquid, raising it over the paper and watching it drip. Black liquid hit the white paper and spread on impact. It crawled everywhere, defiling the purity of the clean parchment. 

Wukong watched her, staring at her eyes as they bore into the paper, her irises matching the black of his ink. “Why are you really here, Baigujing?” He asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

She turned her attention to him, her smile widening just a fraction into that grin that made him uncomfortable. “Can’t I simply be curious about how you’re doing?”

“Curious,” he repeated skeptically.

“Yes, curious,” she said smoothly. “After all, someone needs to keep an eye on you before you self-destruct.” Her tone was teasing again, but there was an undercurrent of something else - something Wukong couldn’t quite place.

“Well, I appreciate the concern,” he said, watching her rise and having to slightly look up at her. “But as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

Baigujing’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she nodded, stepping back. “If you say so.” She turned and began towards the door, before stopping. “Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said casually, glancing over her shoulder. “The Emperor had some rather… interesting remark about you after the session. He was speaking with Erlang when he said you need to learn your place.”

Wukong stiffened, his teeth grinding. “Did he now?”

She turned fully, her expression unreadable but her tone light. “He called you ‘unruly’, I believe. Said it was high time you were reminded of what happens to tools that think they’re more than what they are.”

Wukong’s smirk was gone, replaced by a stormy glare. “He said that?”

“Not in those exact words, or course,” Baigujing replied, tilting her head. “But the sentiment was clear. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything personal, though. You know how the Emperor is - always so focused on maintaining order.”

Her words were laced with mock sympathy, and though she wore her usual serene expression, the faintest hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. She was enjoying this, and Wukong knew it.

“Thanks for the update,” he said sharply, his voice taut with barely concealed anger.

“Anytime,” she said, her smile widening. “Do take care, Monkey King.” With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Wukong seething in her wake.

He stood there for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. The room felt suffocating now, his earlier thoughts of Macaque and the figurine buried beneath a surge of indignation.

Before he realized it, his feet were moving. He didn’t know where the anger would take him, but there was only one person he wanted to face.

Wukong stormed into the grand hall, the heavy doors slamming open with a force that echoed through the chamber. The Emperor sat on his throne, flanked by celestial attendants and advisors, all of whom turned to stare at Wukong’s sudden and unceremonious entrance.

“Monkey,” the Emperor said, his voice calm but holding an unmistakable edge. “To what do I owe this disruption?”

Wukong strode forward, his movements sharp and purposeful. “You’ve got something to say to me, your radience?” He demanded, his voice ringing out. “Something about knowing my place?”

The room fell silent. A few of the advisors exchanged uneasy glances, while others looked to the Emperor for his reaction.

The Emperor’s expression remained impassive as he rose from his throne. “You barge into my court uninvited, speaking out of turn,” he said evenly. “And yet you wonder why I question your discipline?”

“I’ve done everything Heaven has asked of me,” Wukong shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve fought your battles, carried your burdens, endured your punishments, played the part you assigned me. And still, you call me a tool?”

“You misunderstand,” the Emperor said, his tone colder now. “A tool is obedient. You are becoming a liability.”

The words struck deep, and for a moment, Wukong faltered. But the anger burned too hot to let him stop. To remind him that he was terrified of this man. 

“You sit up here in your perfect court, judging everyone below you while you do nothing!” Wukong snapped. “You don’t even see the real world. You just send me to clean up your messes and call it order.”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, and the air in the hall seemed to grow heavier. “Enough,” he said, his voice resonating with an authority that silenced even Wukong. “You have forgotten yourself.”

Wukong’s defiance flared again, but before he could speak, the Emperor raised a hand. He began muttering a spell and Wukong’s eyes widen in realization. The circlet that sat on his head began to glow and squeeze, causing him to crumple in pain. He reached up and clawed at the golden accessory, screaming in pain as he pulled and scraped. Tears filled his eyes, unwillingly spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t hear the words that left his mouth but he could only assume it was him begging for the pain to cease.

“You will remember your place,” the Emperor said, his voice like ice. “You are a weapon of Heaven, nothing more. You exist to protect its order, not to challenge it.”

Wukong laid on the floor, panting, still trying to recover from the pain but it lingered. It hurt more when he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth but he couldn’t seem to relax his jaw or open his eyes. He felt hands grip his arms and drag his limp body out of the court room. His vision blacking in and out. He looked up to see the Emperor turning away without sparing him a second glance.

The attendants dragged him through the halls, probably heading towards his room, when he sluggishly pulled from their grip. They all stepped back with uncertain looks while Wukong straggered to his feet. His head was pounding, the tears kept pouring, he needed out of here.

One moment he was stumbling through the halls of Heaven, the next he was wandering through the dark streets of Megapolis. He found Pigsy’s easily and dragged his feet up the stairs. 

He was exhausted. He was in pain. He wanted to sleep. He was about to lay down on the couch when the guest room door opened. Macaque stood there, looking almost surprised to see Wukong. They watched one another for a moment, before the taller of the two began opening and closing his mouth, struggling to find words.

Wukong searched him, finding peace in seeing the other just standing there.

“Where were you?”

The words were tight, and sounded slightly accusatory. That peace in Wukong passed and all the emotions he had gone through the last twenty four hours bubbled in him.

“Out having a fun distraction and not taking anything seriously. You know me, causing a bunch of messes for others to clean up.” Despite him quoting Macaque from the early afternoon, his thoughts went to what the Emperor had said.

Macaque flintched but took the jab. He gently shut the door behind him and stepped closer to Wukong. He finally seemed to find whatever words he was looking for and went to speak them before abruptly stopping.

His brows furrowed as he took in Wukong’s face and the sage felt hot under his gaze.

His sheepish posture turned more urgent as he took another step forward. His voice rose, the concern evident. “Wukong, what’s wrong?”

The shift in volume sent a pang of pain to spark within his brain, causing him to reel and rub his temple. He knew deep down he wasn’t angry with Macaque, at least not anymore, but he didn’t have time to conjure up an apology for the black monkey. He needed to sleep off this migraine.

“Macaque, not tonight.” His voice came out much more irritated than he meant, and he could see it didn’t go unnoticed. “Please.” He added, hoping that would help smooth it over.

A moment later, Macaque was nodding and retreating back to his room, leaving Wukong alone in the darkness. He threw the blacket over himself and curled up, willing sleep to concur him. It didn’t take long for him to fall unconscious, hoping that when he wakes up, the pounding will be gone, and his heart would feel lighter.

Chapter Text

Macaque woke to the soft, muted light of the morning spilling through the crack in the thin curtains. For a moment, he just layed there, staring at the ceiling and replaying the event of the previous day in his head.

Guilt gnawed at him like a stubborn thorn. So much had happened yesterday. He fought with Wukong, they found a map to the first key, he read a journal that had some very interesting thoughts on Wukong, and the sage had looked… broken last night.

Macaque sighed and sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He really wished Wukong let his apologize last night so he wouldn’t have to worry about that today. The words Wukong spoke rang in his ears, “Macaque, not tonight“.

That had stung more than Macaque wanted to admit.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the cool wooden floor. The room was silent, save for the faint creaks of the old building settling. It was later than he usually woke - he could feel it in the warmth of the sun filtering in - but the thought of facing everyone downstairs felt heavy.

With a deep breath, Macaque pushed himself to his feet and padded towards the door. He’d face Wukong today, clear the air, and maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t feel so… wrong.

But as he shut the door and was about to go down the stairs, something caught his eye.

There, on the couch in the center of the main room, laid Wukong, still fast asleep.

Macaque froze. That was odd. Wukong was always up at the crack of dawn, bounding around like some overzealous rooster. Seeing him still sprawled out, tangled in the comforter Macaque had throw at him day one, felt wrong.

He crept closer, his footsteps silent on the creaky floorboards. Wukong’s usually vibrant face looked pale and drawn, his features slack in sleep. There was an almost fragile quality to him now, something Macaque wasn’t used to seeing.

More a moment, Macaque just stood there, staring, a mix of concern and guilt swirling in his chest. He should have apologized last night. Should have told Wukong no, that what he had to say was important.

Instead, he ran the moment he got the chance.

Macaque crouched down beside the couch, his sharp eyes scanning Wukong for any visable injuies he already knew didn’t exist. Shocker, there were none. At least, not that he could see, but the exhaustion etched onto Wukong’s face spoke volumes.

“What happened to you?“ Macaque thought, his brows furrowing.

Wukong stirred slightly, his lips parting in a faint mumble before setting back into silence. Macaque hesitated, then reached out, his hand hovering over Wukong’s head. He felt tempted to smooth down his messy fur, but pulled back before making contact with a frustrated sigh.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, standing up and running a hand through his own hair. He’d apologize when Wukong wakes up. And if he still didn’t want to talk, well, Macaque would find a way to make it up to him.

He went down stairs to find MK eating at the counter and Pigsy in the kitchen, cooking away. MK took notice of him and smiled.

“Hey, Macaque. I see you finally woke up.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing back towards the stairs. “Wukong still hasn’t.”

MK frowned slightly at that and looked to a bowl of noodles that appeared cold now. “I didn’t hear him come in last night and I almost didn’t recognize that depressing mound he was on the couch this morning. What’s wrong with Monkey King?”

Pigsy glanced over his shoulder, MK looking to Macaque with worried and pleading eyes.

“I…“ Macaque stood for a second, wondering how to respond, how to cease the kid’s worry. The image of Wukong’s face - puffy eyes and nose, shadows beneath his eyes, a pained look hidden poorly within the muscles of his face - Macaque had no idea what to tell MK. “I’m not sure. But he’s going to be okay,” He assured.

“Here, bring some food up. I’m sure his ass will be bouncing around after he’s recharged.” Pigsy offered, plating a new bowl of noodles in a steaming broth. Macaque laughed at the statement but it was hollow.

“Want me to come?” MK offered, standing from his stool.

Macaque considered it for a moment, maybe Wukong would rather see MK than him, but then he thought about how Wukong seemed to shield the kid. With that thought in mind, he shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but he probably wouldn’t want you to see him like this. He really cares about you, and wouldn’t want you to worry anymore.”

MK seemed reluctant, but nodded his head and sat back down. Macaque took the new bowl of food from the counter and carried it carefully back to the living area. Wukong was still asleep on the couch, his breathing steady but shallow. Macaque set the bowl down on the small table nearby and crouched beside Wukong again.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low so as not to startle him. “Wake up.”

Wukong stirred, his brows furrowing as he blinked awake. His golden eyes were duller than usual, and it took him a moment to fucus on Macaque’s face.

“What..?” Wukong murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“You’re been out for a while,” Macaque said, keeping his tone neutral. “Figured you could use something warm to eat.” He gestured to the bowl on the table.

Wukong’s gaze flickered to the noodles, then back to Macaque. “You made that?” He asked, his tone laced with surprise.

Macaque chuckled a bit, leaning back on his heels. “Pigsy did, I wouldn’t trust my cooking.”

Despite his exhaustion, Wukong’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Thanks.”

Macaque stood, crossing his arms as he watched Wukong sit up slowly, wincing slightly as he got up a bit too fast.

“You’re not getting sick, are you? Do celestials even get sick?” Macaque asked, his tone sharper than intended. Concern crept into his voice before he could stop it.

“No, I’m fine,” Wukong replied, though his voice lacked the ability to persuade someone to believe that. He picked up the bowl and took a cautious sip of the broth, the warmth seeming to bring some color back to his cheeks.

Macaque lingered nearby, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “You look like hell,” he muttered, then immediately regretted it.

To his surprise, Wukong chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, you don’t look much better.”

The tension between them eased slightly, and for a moment, Macaque allowed himself to feel the weight of their unspoken truce. He continued to hoover, watching Wukong pick at the food. His mind wrestled with a decision - whether or not to ask the question that was burning in his thoughts since last night.

He wasn’t the type to pry, let alone encourage social interactions, but something about the weariness in Wukong’s eyes, the heaviness in his usually carefree demeanor, made him want to know.

“What happened?” he asked, keeping his voice even, almost casual, as he sat in a plush chair next to the couch.

Wukong froze for a fraction of a second, his chopsticks pausing midway to his lips. He lowered them back into the bowl slowly, staring into the swirling broth as though it held answers.

“It’s nothing,” he said, a little too quickly.

Macaque raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

Wukong sighed, setting the bowl down on the table with a soft clink. He leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his messy hair. “I just… had to take care of something,” he said vaguely, his tone deliberately light. “Got caught up, that’s all.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “Caught up in what?”

Wukong looked at him then, his golden eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” Macaque said, crossing his arms, “because you look like you’ve been dragged through seven layers of hell and back. If somethings going on, I need to know.”

Wukong looked at him with a sharp glare, no longer having that soft look in them. “Sorry for not looking reverent enough for you,” he snapped, causing Macaque to sit up straighter. Where did this hostility come from?

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Wukong cut him off, his voice dipping into a mockingly apologetic lilt. He gestured vaguely at himself. “Sorry for ruining your schedule with my overwhelming failure to meet your high expectations. Truly tragic.”

“Wukong, that’s not what I-”

“Isn’t it, though?” Wukong snapped, his eyes locking onto Macaque’s. There was something raw in his gaze now, it seemed like the celestial wasn’t even really looking at Macaque. “You said it yourself. I’m holding us back. I’m a burden. And guess what? You’re right.” His voice cracked on the last work, and he looked away quickly, as though ashamed to have let it slip.

Macaque froze, guilt twisting in his chest like a knife. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice softer now.

Wukong laughed bitterly, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Sure sounded like it.” He gestured vaguely with his hand, his energy visably drained. “But you don’t need to sugarcoat it, Macaque. I get it. I never seem to do right by anyone, never can do enough for anyone. The Court loves to remind me of it. I’m… defective. A liability. If I can’t get the job done, what’s the point of having me around?”

It didn’t even seem like Wukong was talking to him anymore. Just babbling a bunch of nonsense. Macaque’s jaw tightened. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not a liability.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me.” Wukong’s tone was sharp, but there was a hollow edge to it.

“Okay, look, you’re reckless and arrogant and annoying as hell,” Macaque said firmly, getting a sharp look from Wukong, but he continued. “But you aren’t a liability. I wouldn’t still be here if you were.”

Wukong blinked at him, taken aback by the bluntness. For a moment, he looked like he might argue further, but the fight seemed to leave him. He sighed, placing the bowl down on the table.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, more to himself than to Macaque.

“Then help me understand,” Macaque shot back. His tone wasn’t harsh - it was steady, almost pleading. “Tell me what’s going on with you. Because right now, all I see is you trying to pretend you’re okay, when you’re not. And I’m not trying to travel with some performer - I need someone who can actually be a hero.”

Wukong looked at him with wide eyes, at a loss for words. He blinked after a moment and seemed to snap back into reality. His shoulders sagged slightly. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. Just give me today and I-”

“It matters to me.” Macaque cut him off, voice filled with a confident certainty.

Wukong looked up, startled by the sincerity in Macaque’s voice. For a moment, the mask he wore - the confidence, the arrogance - Macaque saw it completely fall, revealing the full extent of exhaustion and doubt beneath.

They stared at each other in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Wukong shook his head, a faint, tired smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re relentless, you know that?” He said, a tired amusement in his voice.

“I’ve been told,” Macaque replied, his own lips quirking slightly.

Wukong sighed, leaning back into the couch. “I still think you’re wrong, but… thanks.”

“It’s a start,” Macaque said, crossing his arms and leaning into the chair.

Macaque let the comfortable silence between the two stretch, not thinking there was a need for small talk. For once, the dark monkey wasn’t thinking of the quiet as a break from tortorus tales told by Wukong; honestly he wouldn’t mind if the sage began quietly chatting about nothing important. But it was clear neither of them felt the need to fill the air.

Macaque still wanted to know exactly what had taken place the day before that warrented Wukong to look so undone, but he wasn’t going to push further. He brought up ‘the Court’, which made Macaque wonder if Heaven had contacted Wukong. Did they tell him he had to come back? Was he in trouble with the Emperor?

How bad could it be though? People up in Heaven believed in peace and those other mushy virtues. 

Then again, they sent Wukong to kill rogue demons…

He looked to Wukong who was mindlessly stirring the broth, eyes looking content but distant.

“We found something,” Macaque said finally, breaking the quiet.

Wukong raised an eyebrow, his exhaustion momentarily giving way to curitosity. “Found what?”

“A map,” Macaque said, shifting slightly on the cushion. “We all dug through about a dozen books yesterday, and we found a map to one of the keys.”

Wukong’s expression sharpened, the earlier vulnerability replaced by his usual confidence, though it didn’t sit as securely as it normally did. “Really?”

Macaque nodded. “Yeah. You were right, your friend did know something. It’s in some vault, located in some city past the Jade Forest. We can leave as soon as you feel better.”

Wukong looked surprised at his statement. “Are you sure? We can… we can go now. I just need to tell MK goodbye-”

“No,” Macaque stopped the golden monkey who was about to get up. “you still don’t look good, rest today. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

Wukong chuckled. “First thing? You sure you can peel yourself up for that?”

Macaque smiled, genuinely. “As long as you can give me five minutes of silence.”

“Five minutes?” He smirked. “Sounds impossible.”

“For you? Never.”

The two fell back into a silence for a moment. Macaque felt something strange and warm bubble in his chest as Wukong smiled at him. Unfortunately, he knew that feeling. Or the beginning of that feeling, anyhow. He willed it down, dropping his smile and furrowing his brows.

“You okay?” Wukong asked, noting the shift and looking concerned. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, flashing a strained smile. “I’m fine.”

Wukong didn’t look convinced, but left it alone. They stayed up there in their own little world for a bit longer. Wukong finished his meal and Macaque showed him the map, both discussing the best route to take. Soon, they were heading back down together to join the rest of the group. Macaque watched him closely as Wukong gripped the railing and made his way down the stairs, each drop seeming to cause him pain.

Soon he was casually walking over to the counter and quickly engaging in bright conversation with MK who was checking up on him. Mei saddled up next to Macaque, almost unnoticed.

“So? What’s wrong with him?” She asked, looking at the two across the restaurant.

“No idea. He wouldn’t say. But that’s fine, he’ll be better by morning.” He said, not looking at the girl.

They stood and watched the two, MK talking animatedly as Wukong smiled fondly and nodded, taking in every word. That afternoon, and into the early evening, they explained their plan of leaving tomorrow morning and heading to Yuè Chéng Shuǐ, a city not too terribly far from the one they were in. Just a… few weeks.

Macaque sighed as he stared at the map. Luckily, it had been nearly two weeks since the Lady Bone Demon or her servant checked in on him, but he was growing worried. He’d had this job for close to a month now, and he hadn’t acquired one key yet.

“A three weeks trip is too long.” He comments, boring his eyes into the map to see if they missed a quicker route.

“We’ve picked the fastest path,” Wukong comments, but looking with Macaque.

“You could use some of my family’s horses.” Mei says all the sudden. They look up to her with a bit of surprise. “It should cut your trip to half that time.”

“Really?” Wukong asked, sounding skeptical. “You’d actually let us?”

“Of course!” She cheered, smiling brightly at them. “You’ll just have to make sure to bring them back! My family prides itself on our stallions!”

Macaque and Wukong looked at each other and nodded. “I’m sure we could manage that.” Macaque said. They spoke of a few more details, Mei promising to bring the horses in the morning, Pigsy saying he would pack food for them as long as he was paid, Tang organizing a bunch of books he thought had useful information, and MK…

“Please!” MK cried, clinging to Wukong’s robe.

“I’m sorry bud, but I don’t think…“ Wukong looked at his pleading eyes, looking around for some help but Macaque was enjoying every second of this.

“Pigsy would never let you!” He finally decided, like that was a good excuse.

MK whipped his head over to his father figure, turning those puppy-dog eyes to the swine. “Oh no, don’t drag me into this. You can tell him no just fine!” Pigsy said, holding up his hands.

“Please, Monkey King! Let me come!” MK tried again, asking for the tenth time now.

“I don’t think a responsible adult would let you…“ Wukong tried again.

“But I am an adult.” MK said. He then turned to Macaque. “Please, Macaque! Let me come with you guys! I’ll be super useful! I’ll hold the map for you, find firewood, shine your shoes! Please!”

Macaque shrugged. “Hate to say it, but Wukong is right. This mission is too dangerous.”

MK rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “You guys are just running around looking for keys. How dangerous could it be?”

“Rogue demons?” Macaque more stated than asked.

“Natural disasters?” Wukong offered.

“Getting lost.”

“Poisonous bugs.”

“Venomous reptiles.”

“Dehydration.”

“Okay, okay!” MK said, putting his hands up, stopping to two monkeys from continuing. “So a little danger. But that’s good for the soul, right? Monkey King, you face danger and you came out fine!”

Wukong coughed awkwardly, looking to the side. “He also has a magic staff, incredible powers, and immortality under his belt.” Mei said with a bright smile.

“Not helping Mei.” MK snapped.

“Bud, the answer is no.” Wukong said a bit more serious, narrowing his eyes at the kid. MK seemed to deflate but accepted the answer finally.

Macaque and Wukong were heading up the stairs a couple hours later, bidding everyone goodnight. Wukong still looked very tired, that light in his eyes not fully returned.

“You sure you don’t want to take the bed tonight?” Macaque asked, giving up on the cool act and openly showing concern.

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to the couch. If I switch, I probably will have a harder time falling asleep. Plus, knowing you, you need better sleep than me.” Wukong laughed, getting a chuckle out of Macaque as well. “Well… goodnight.”

“Yeah,” Macaque said softly, turning towards his room. “Goodnight.”

He didn’t get far before he felt it - arms suddenly wrapping around him, firm and warm.

Macaque froze.

“Just - don’t move,” Wukong said quickly, his voice low and almost pleading. “Just for a second.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Macaque hissed, stiffening under the tightness of the embrace.

“Hugging you,” Wukong answered bluntly, “Obviously.”

Macaque opened his mouth to protest, but something in Wukong’s tone stopped him. it wasn’t playful or teasing like usual. It was raw - tinged with that vulnerability he had begun to see time and time again that made his throat tighten.

“Why?” Macaque finally asked, his voice quiet.

“Because I want to pretend,” Wukong said, his words rushing out like they’d been bottled up too long. “Just for one moment, I want to pretend that this is normal. That I’m not a disaster. That… we’re not walking into uncharted territory on some risky mission.”

Macaque’s chest squeezed. He could feel Wukong’s grip on him - not desperate, but firm, like he was holding onto something he was afraid to lose.

“You’re an idiot,” Macaque stated, but he didn’t pull away. He’d give this to Wukong, since he really couldn’t offer anything else to the struggling sage.

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a few long moments. Macaque’s body stayed tense at first, his instincts screaming at him to shove Wukong away. But slowly, almost reluctantly, he let himself relax. He wasn’t sure why he gave in. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe he wanted to pretend for a moment too.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to care,” He finally said, his voice dry but soft.

Wukong chuckled quietly against his shoulder. “And here I thought we’d bonded deeply these last few days.”

When Wukong finally let go, his expression was lighter - like he’d just shed some invisible weight. Macaque rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering warmth from the embrace.

“Don’t make it a habit, though,” Macaque muttered as he looked over his shoulder at the celestial.

“No promises,” Wukong called as Macaque walked into his room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Macaque laid down on his bed and listened closely to the shuffling of Wukong getting comfortable on the couch. He found himself staring at the ceiling, his thoughts surprisingly still. He drifted to sleep, feeling warmer than usual as the touch of Wukong lingered.

-

The next morning he had been poked awake, annoyingly, by the golden monkey, who seemed to be back to his bubbly attitude. They didn’t waste anytime getting ready, quickly making themselves decent, eating, and heading outside where the horses awaited.

“Why are there three?” Macaque asked, raising an eyebrow at Mei. It was annoying to see she was just as chirpy as Wukong in the morning.

“Duh, cause MK and I are coming!” She said. The two monkeys froze, glanced at one another, both silently asking if this was given blessing by either.

“No you aren’t.” Wukong said, though it sounded more like a question. “Besides, that still doesn’t explain three horses?”

“My parent wouldn’t let me take four, so MK and I will just ride together.”

MK appeared out of nowhere, bag slung over his shoulder and smiling brighter than the sun barely peaking over the mountains.

“Okay, seriously, why is everyone but me a morning person?“Macaque’s thoughts grumbled.

“You kids aren’t coming.” Wukong said seriously.

“Yes, we are.” MK argued back. Wukong went to deny this claim again when MK cut him off. “You guys are going to need all the help you can get and let’s be real, you two will need someone to separate you guys before the end of the day. You barely got anything done by yourselves here with all the arguing you do.”

“We do not argue that much-”

“He starts it.” Wukong said out right.

Macaque whips a glare over to him, about to snap a response before seeing Mei and MK’s pointed looks, realizing they just proved their point.

“You can’t stop us, so you might as well bring us.” Mei said, looking too proud of herself, MK nodding enthusiastically along.

The two monkeys shared one last look before WUkong sighed, defeated. “Fine. But you two can’t complain once on this journey, understood?” He pointed a harsh finger at them. They immediately agreed and began situating their belongings on the horse.

“Scared they can out-complain you?” Macaque teases.

“Maybe you should stay back and I go on with the kids.” Wukong grumbled, pushing past to also pack his things on the back of his horse.

Pisgy and Tang came out before they left, helping pack up the food and hugging Mei and MK goodbye, wishing them safety. Pigsy threatened Wukong a little bit, Tang gave a dramatic dialogue about their journey to come, Macaque sat back and enjoyed the whole thing.

Soon, the four were trotting down the city streets towards the Jade Forest, and onwards to Yuè Chéng Shuǐ.

The morning was peaceful for the most part. Wukong gloating about another story, MK eating up every word, and Mei taking every chance she could to make a jab of the celestial monkey. Macaque couldn’t deny that he was actually enjoying watching this.

But it was impossible to ignore the sensation of an icy hand trailing along his back, causing him to look over his shoulder as a sudden shiver ran down his spine.

A quiet reminder. A silent warning.

He turned back to the three bright personalities that were just a couple trots in front of him. He pushed down all the growing affection he had for them, reminding himself he worked alone, he lived alone, he got by alone.

With that, he recalls his objective and it’s much easier to think of number one.

“Remember, self-preservation.“

Chapter Text

They had been traveling for just a couple hours now and the sun had risen enough for the land to be cast in a pale light, making things much easier to see. Wukong was the furthest ahead, talking loudly about… something. MK was listening excitedly, Mei was focused on the scenery, and Macaque… he was questioning what he was sitting on.

“Mei, what kind of horses did you say these were?” He asked caustiously.

“They are my family’s dragon horses, silly!” She said, her eyes twinkling.

He looked down with uncertainty. The ‘horses’ they sat on did look like horses for the most part except for a few features. They had the same build, and they were white, but their leather had areas that were more scales than skin. Their tails were thin and long with tuffs of colored hair on the ends. Their heads had small horns that sprouted behind their ears, looking like rounded deer antlers. And their eyes were bright and unusual colors, with foggy inner lids that would creepily blink at him.

“Aw, c’mon, Macaque,” Wukong called from the front. 

“Right,” he drawled, still not trusting the creature.

“Oh, relax. Bianhua is the sweetest of the bunch. Very chill and mature.” Mei said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Oh, who’s this?” Wukong asked enthusiastically.

“That’s Jínàn, she’s younger so a lot more lively. But I’m sure someone of your status can keep her under control.” Mei teased.

Wukong looked over the moon, beginning to talk to Jínàn in a higher pitch, cooing. The three watched him for a moment before Macaque saddled up next to the two kids. 

“You gave him a more energetic horse to watch him struggle, didn’t you?” Macaque asked.

“Of course I did.”

“Wait who’s this? I thought we had Bianhua?” MK asked.

“We have Zhulong, MK. We’ve been over this. Zhulong is mine.”

Macaque fell back a bit and let the two bicker. He was glad they could use Mei’s family stallions, this would make the trip much quicker. He had a nagging feeling that he would get a check up soon, that chill kept coming back to him, lightly dragging over his back.

He looked to Wukong that was listening to the two kids, one hand loosely holding the reins, his posture relaxed as he watched MK and Mei bicker animatedly in front of him. A faint smile tugged at Wukong’s lips, softening his usual cocky expression.

For a moment, Macaque found himself studying Wukong’s feature - the golden hue of his skin in the early morning light, the way his hair caught the sunlight, and the spark of amusement in his eyes as he watched the two friends argue.

“He’s annoyingly good looking,” Macaque thought, his chest tightening. He clenched his jaw and looked away, heat creeping up the back of his neck. What the fuck? What was he doing, admiring Wukong like that? This wasn’t some foolish mortal romance. He had a mission, and Wukong was just a piece of that - a strong, and needed piece of this mission. Nothing more. Macaque silently reminded himself of the lies he’d told, the secrets he was keeping. There were so many reasons why he couldn’t let his thoughts wander down that path.

And he wasn’t attracted to Wukong in the sense of wishing for some intimacy. That was completely ridiculous for a number of reasons. First of all, he didn’t like people. He had gone down the path of intimacy and it ended terribly. Second of all, there was a status difference and he wouldn’t kid himself to think Wukong would chose him over Heaven. He had just spent so much time with one person, that’s why he was having these thought. It could have been anyone, and it just happened to be Wukong right now. It was just some pent up sexual tension.

Besides, maybe MK did a have a point; they fought a lot. These weird emotions he was gaining for Wukong really came out of no where and didn’t make any sense. Which makes him think it’s fleeting and not worth dwelling too long on.

“Everything alright back there?” Wukong’s voice broke through Macaque’s thoughts, snapping him back to the present.

Macaque straightened in the saddle, masking his embarrassment with a sharp tone. “I’m fine. Keep your eyes on the road, not on me.”

Wukong raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead turning his attention back to MK and Mei, who were still trading playful barbs.

The morning wore on, and the dirt paths were lined with tall grass and wildflowers. Mei and MK rode to the front, reins in one hand as she gestured animatedly with the other.

“MK, admit it,” she said with a smirk. “You’re scared of the forest.”

MK puffed up indignantly. “I am not! I just think we should be careful. You know, demons and bandits and-”

“And ghosts?” Mei teased, her grin widening.

“There are no ghosts,” Wukong cut in with a laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Spirits on the other hand…“

Causing MK to jump and lean further into Mei, looking around as if one would pop out at the mention.

“But seriously,” Wukong continued. “MK has a point. It doesn’t hurt to stay alert.”

Macaque watched the exchange quietly, his earlier embarrassment fading into a simmering annoyance at himself. Wukong’s laugh echoed in his ears, and he cursed inwardly, feeling the other four pair beneath his glamour twitch as well. This was going to be a long journey.

The hours stretched on as the group navigated the winding paths. The towering trees seemed to form a wall of green on either side of the trail, the sunlight filtered through the canopy in patches, painting the ground with shifting patterns. They stopped briefly at noon in a sunlit clearing, where Mei handed out bread and fruit from her saddlebag.

“No demons, no trouble,” Mei said cheerfully, breaking off a piece of bread. “This is going better than I expected.”

“You just jinxed it,” Macaque muttered, taking a bite.

As the sun began its descent, the forest thinned slightly, the dense canopy giving way to pockets of open sky. The golden light bathed the group in a warm glow, but the shadows that stretched across the path seemed to grow longer with every step.

Wukong, now riding beside Macaque, glanced over to him. “You’ve been quiet today,” he said

Macaque shrugged, keeping his gaze ahead. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

There was a pause before Macaque replied. “What happens when we find the first key.”

Wukong didn’t respond immediately, his expression thoughtful as he turned his eyes back to the road.

“Well,” he said slowly. “then we move onto the next one,” he said encouragingly. 

“I mean there are only three, so it can’t be that hard.”

Macaque hummed and rode next to Wukong for a moment longer, letting the words sink in, before furrowing his brows and finally looking at the other.

“There are three? How do you know?” He asked.

Wukong seemed to stiffen, looking like a child that got caught sneaking a cookie. “Uh, well it was in one of the books Tang packed. Something about three keys.” He said, his voice a touch higher and not sounding believable at all.

“In which book?” Macaque asked, skeptical.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see which one. It was just in there. It was all, ‘the Samadhi Fire was redirected into three keys‘… or something.” He waved his hand around.

Part of Macaque wanted to believe Wukong’s terrible attempt at lying, but the rest of him couldn’t do it. Wukong knew more than he was letting on, maybe he knew where the keys were the whole time and he had just been lying, wasting time. But why? The celestial didn’t have anything to gain from just stalling the inevitable. He was still helping ‘find’ the keys, even if he already knew where they were. So why was Wukong deceiving him?

A cold thought crossed his mind as he glanced over to the sage that had that cocky smile back on his face but he still looked nervous from being called out. Was Wukong planning on stabbing him in the back? Was he already onto Macaque and was just using him? Was this all just some messed up entertainment to the immortal, seeing Macaque struggle to piece this puzzle together only to destroy it when he gets to the finish line?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t have time for backstabbing. He remembered the last time he let someone get close to him. And he remembered where it left him after they betrayed him. He couldn’t let Wukong do that to him.

“Let’s set camp up here!” Mei called over her shoulder, bring Macaque back. They steered their dragon horses off the path just enough so they could see it anymore and tired their respective stallions’ reigns to a branch.

Mei was feeding the horse, Wukong and MK went off to grab some fire wood for the night, and macaque busied himself with organizing the packed food. He was already beginning to miss sleeping in a warm bed, but unfortunately, there wasn’t any civilization for days. By the time the sky turned an inky black, the four were sat around a burning fire, eating their rations.

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. Above, the moon hung high, its silver light filtering through the canopy of the forest. Wukong sat cross legged by the fire, gesturing animatedly as he recounted his story.

“It was massive - three heads, each uglier than the last,” Wukong said, spreading his arms wide as if to capture the sheer size of the demon. “It reeked of sulfur and death, and its voice? Like a thousand dying screams. I could feel it rattling in my chest.”

MK’s eyes were wide in wonder, leaning forward as if he might miss a single word. “And you fought it? By yourself?”

“Of course, I fought it!” Wukong grinned, puffing out his chest. “No one else stood a chance, so I stepped in.”

“Uh huh,” Macaque drawled from where he was perched on a rock a few paces away, idly sharpening the dagger he always carries with him. “And let me guess, you didn’t get a scratch on you?”

Wukong turned to him with a bright smile, seeming pleased that Macaque was engaging in one of his tales. “I’ll have you know it was a brutal battle. I was this close to losing,” he said, pinching his fingers together. “But you know me, I can’t let a demon like that get the better of me.”

Mei gasped, clutching MK’s arm. “How did you beat it? How brutal? Was there a lot of blood?”

Wukong leaned forward, lowering his voice. “It had this weak spot, right in the center of its middle head. I had to climb its back - dodging snapping jaws the whole way - and plunge my staff stright into it. One clean strike, and the beast went down!”

The two kids both let out an audible “Wow,” eyes sparkling.

Macaque snorted. “And then you got your usual grand feast?”

“Exactly!”

“You’re so full of it,” Macaque said, though there was no malice behind the statement, he didn’t have it in him. Wukong just smirked at the comment, clearly not going to argue with the truth.

MK reached into his bag and pulled out a leather bound journal. He opened it carefully, his expression lighting up as he began scribbling furiously.

“What’s that?” Wukong asked, leaning forward with a curious grin.

MK froze mid-scribble, glancing up sheepishly. “Uh…nothing!”

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” Wukong said, his grin widening. He motioned towards the journal. “C’mon, what are you writing?”

“It’s- it’s just notes,” MK mumbled, trying to shield the pages from view. 

Mei laughed. “MK has a whole journal dedicated to you. He’s been writing down everything you do for as long as I’ve known him.”

“Mei!” MK hissed, his face turning scarlet.

Wukong’s eyes lit up and Macaque couldn’t help but let his ears shift to listen in a little closer. This was definitely not helping with Wukong’s ego problem. “Seriously? You’ve been keeping track of my exploits?” Wukong asked.

MK sighed in defeat and handed the journal over. “You can look, but be careful with it! That’s my masterpiece.”

Wukong took the journal with exaggerated reverance, flipping it open. The pages were filled with neat handwritting, little sketches of weapons and battles, and even dramatic titles. Macaque had to strain his neck a little to see, but the kid really had been doing a good job at keeping up with Wukong’s adventures. It almost made the black simian embarrassed that he hadn’t known who ‘Monkey King’ was prior to their meeting.

“This is incredible,” Wukong said, his voice filled with genuine amazement. “You even have my fight with Erlang in here!” 

MK perked up, his earlier embarrassment melting away. “Of course! That was one of your greatest victories and one of the reasons you became a celestial! I wrote down everything I could find about it!”

Wukong chuckled, seeming a bit put off by his comment, but continued flipping through more pages. His eyes glowed as he looked at each entry, until one made his smile falter.

“The Day the Sky Wept?” He read, looking confused. “What is this?”

MK leaned over eagerly. “Oh, that’s when you fought all those rogue demons on some island for Heaven’s honor! Or something like that, there wasn’t much information on that battle.”

Wukong looked to MK confused, as if he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Uh, kid? I’ve fought a lot of demons at the same time, for a lot of different reasons, but I’m not sure which one this is supposed to be.”

Mei tilted her head. “C’mon, Monkey King. Even I know about this one! Granted, I was helping MK find information about it…. but anyway. Now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us about it! I’m sure it was epic!”

He continued to look lost, before MK seemed to try and give him more context. “You know, it was on some island mountain paradise. You fought all these evil demons that were opressing celestials from heaven! The fight lasted forever!”

Recognition seemed to dawn over the sage finally, and then it was followed by something else. It was a bundle of emotions mixed into one, different looks crossing his eyes as if he didn’t know how to feel. He snapped the book shut and handed it back to MK.

“Ah, I remember now.” He didn’t say anything further, glancing back to the fire before standing. “The fire is getting thin. I’ll go get more firewood.”

MK blinked, confused by the sudden change in mood. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Money King!”

Without another word, Wukong strode toward the edge of the camp, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

Macaque frowned slightly. Wukong was constantly annoying like that, he thought. He acted strangely at random moments and then walked away as if running from the problem. He looked at the journal in MK’s hands, wondering just how much he could learn about the sage in there.

“No, no.” He thought. “That’s not what I should be focusing on.“

The journal he has stolen from the library was burning a hole in his own bag right now though, and he wanted to compare notes. Finally look at Wukong and know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, look at the golden monkey and know who he was looking at.

He internally groaned, hating himself and these stupid thought he was having. “You really have everything there is to know about Wukong in there?” He asked the kid, getting both of their attention.

“Yeah, pretty much,” MK said proudly, “Every battle, every adventure, everything there is to know pretty much.”

“Any chance I could borrow it for the night?” He pathetically asked, caving to his selfish desire. “Dumbass.” A voice whispered within his head.

Mei and MK glanced at each other before smug looks came over their features and they leaned forward. ”So, Macaque,” Mei started. “You and Wukong?”

He stopped his movements of fiddling with his dagger, narrowing his eyes at the two of them. “What do you mean, ‘me and Wukong’?” 

“I mean, when are you planning on telling him?” Mei asked, tilting her head.

His heart picked up its pace. Did she know? How could she know? Was she that perceptive? 

“Tell him what?” He asked, playing dumb.

MK rolled his eyes. “Duh, that you like him.” 

Macaque’s heart beat calmed for a moment, his shoulders untensing, before the words hit him and his face was turning red. He had thought she was talking about him using Wukong, asking when he was going to tell Wukong that he was deciving him. Not whatever they were talking about.

“What on earth are you talking about?” He screetched, a look of disgust crossing his features. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb with us. You’ve got it bad for him,” Mei said bluntly, her grin widening.

MK smiled in a much softer, almost pitying way. “You do spend a lot of time watching him. And you always ask where he is the moment you realize he’s not in your line of sight. And winning him prizes at a carnival game.”

Macaque snorted, trying to wave them off. “That’s just practical. He’s impulsive, so I can’t have him running off on me. And I just gave him that cause I didn’t want it.” The last part wasn’t a lie. He actually thought the toy was just another thing to keep up with and he didn’t want to do that.

Mei barely let him finish before she was making a rebuttal. “Yeah, sure. You’re just ‘being practical’. That’s why you ask for him the moment you get back to the restuarnant and don’t immediately spot him, or why you always need to know what he’s doing, or why you’re always staring at him from across the room-”

“I do not stare,” Macaque cut in sharply.

“You do,” MK said, uncharacteristically blunt, though his tone was still light. “Like today, when we were riding. You kept staring at him, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Macaque shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not-”

“Please,” Mei interrupted again, leaning in even closer, “you two keep dancing around each other, butting heads, and keep piling sexual tension on your relationship.”

That got a real reaction out of Macaque, who shot her a glare. “Okay, fine. I will admit there might be some sexual tension, but that’s all it is. We’ve been stuck with each other nonstop for weeks now. That kind of thing happens when two people keep arguing and-”

“Oh, so you are thinking about having sex with him!” Mei teased, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Macaque groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No, I’m saying it’s normal for two people who argue all the time to feel some weird tension. It doesn’t mean anything. It’ll pass.”

MK tilited his head, his expression thoughtful. “Will it? Because it doesn’t seem like it’s passing. If anything, it’s getting stronger. You seem… different when he’s around. More relaxed, less guarded.”

Macaque flinched, but quickly masked it with a scoff. “I’m not different. And even if I were, it’s not because of him. I’m just adjusting to traveling with people again, that’s all.”

“Right,” Mei leans back with a grin that said she didn’t believe him for a second. “You keep telling yourself that, Macaque.”

MK’s smile grew a little sad. “It’s okay to care about him, you know. It’s not a bad thing, and honestly I think it’s cute.”

Macaque stood abruptly, brushing off his robes. “I don’t care about him. At least, not like that. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. There’s no point.”

Mei raised an eyebrow. “No point? Or are you just scared?”

He ignored her, stepping away from the fire. “I’m going to check on the horses.”

Scared? Scared? As he walked away, he was fuming, the thought of him being scared of Wukong insulting. There were scarier things out there. Like the Lady Bone Demon, or her henchman smiling at him, or the way a dragon horse blinks. Those things were scary.

Wukong, on the other hand, was just out right annoying. He talked too much, laughed too much, made everything a joke. It was annoying how he gloated about everything, annoying how he always thought of himself above everyone, annoying how he was always checking up on Macaque like he was some kid, annoying how he never talked when it mattered, annoying how his laugh shook Macaque’s insides, annoying how his eyes would sparkle with childish wonderment at the simplist things, annoying how his fur looked so smooth and soft and Macaque just wanted to card his fingers through- 

“No,“ He thought, slapping his hands to his face. He walked up to Bianhua and gently ran a hand on the side of his neck. The horse huffed slightly and shifted into the touch. He really had no reason to be over here, but he needed to get away from those two kids.

His ear twitched when he heard some thudding in the distance and the sound of the fire beginning to roar louder, signaling that Wukong had returned with wood. He had gotten out of there just in time. Macaque wasn’t sure he could face the sage right now.

He stayed by Bianhua for a while, long enough for the laugher and voices of the trio to drift off into silence, hinting that they all were probably alseep by now. With that thought in mind, he went back, seeing Mei and MK curled up together, sharing a blanket. Wukong was crouched by the fire, poking at the logs with a stick to get it to burn brighter.

His eyes reflected the light, shining like flecks of gold being held in the sun. Wukong looked to Macaque and smiled.

“The horses okay?” He asked, sitting back after getting the flames to grow in size, warming the area.

Macaque just nodded, not being able to find his voice. Wukong didn’t seem to notice and just let it be. The two sat in silence, Macaque getting much closer than he had meant to. Time felt like it dragged on forever, even though the black monkey was sure it had just been a couple minutes.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Macaque asked curiously. Wukong normally would be asleep by now.

The sage’s eyes flickered to the two kids and then to the darkness. “I just thought I should keep watch. In case a demon comes by and tries to cause trouble.”

Macaque hummed in response. He listened to the rustling of the forest, the cracking of burning wood, and the soft breaths coming from the kids.

“You were gone for a while,” Macaque blurted, mentally slapping himself for breaking the silence. He kept his tone casual, almost disinterested, but he knew the way his eyes flickered to Wukong betrayed his curiosity.

“Needed to clear my head,” Wukong admitted simply. He leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the canopy of stars above. “And get firewood, of course. Wouldn’t want us freezing to death.”

Macaque smirked faintly. “How noble of you.”

“I try.” Wukong glanced at him, his lips quirking in a playful grin. “You going to keep watch too? Or just enjoying the peace and quiet now that Mei and MK are out of commission?”

“A little of both.” Macaque shrugged, looking back to the fire. “You don’t exactly make quiet company either.”

Wukong chuckled softly. “Fair. But I’m not as bad as Tang, am I?”

“That’s a low bar,” Macaque said dryly, earning another laugh from Wukong.

The humor in the air faded quicker than either of them would have liked, leaving a more subdued silence between them. Macaque shifted, resting his arms on his knees and staring into the fire again. “So…” He hesitated, then glanced back to Wukong. “Why did you leave earlier? You seemed… upset.”

Wukong didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the stars, his expression unreadable in the flickeriing light. Macaque hated when he got like this, and hated even more that he had seen this enough in the last few days to actually hate it. Wukong exhaled a quiet sigh and turned his head to look at Macaque.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, his voice gentle but deflective.

Macaque frowned. “Why do you always ask that? Because it does.”

Wukong tilted his head slightly, studying Macaque with trained eyes. Then, instead of answering, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and mimiking Macaque’s pose. “You know, I’ve been wondering something.”

Macaque raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” Wukong said, his tone light but carrying an edge of sincerity. “You’re always asking questions about me, but you never say much about yourself. Why is that?”

Macaque tensed slightly, the question catching him off guard. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It’s relevant to me,” Wukong said, his voice soft but persistant. He turned to face Macaque fully now, his golden eyes searching. “You’re a mystery, Macaque. And I don’t mean the ‘cool, aloof’ kind. You have this huge wall built, and I can’t figure out what’s behind it.”

Macaque opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. He dropped his gaze, frowning at the ground as if it might offer him an escape.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Wukong added gently. “But if we’re going to keep traveling together, it’d be nice to know the guy who’s supposed to have my back.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows. “Hypocrite.” He thought briefly. “You don’t need to know anything about me to trust me. I’ve done my part so far, haven't I?”

“No, actually.” Wukong said, but there wasn’t any edge behind the statement. “Traveling together, a few small actions, that’s not all trust is. It’s also about knowing someone. You know way more about me than I’d like. I mean really know things about me.” He gave a pointed look, bringing up those weird vulnerable moments the two siminas have shared. “It wouldn’t hurt to let me know a little about you, right?”

Macaque huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, it might.” The two sat in silence for a bit longer, Wukong not saying anything else, but there was this air just hanging there. Wukong had a small smile on his face, as if he had won the conversation when there really hadn’t been anything to win at. It pissed Macaque off. “You’re impossible.”

“Yep,” Wukong said with a laugh, turning his gaze back to the stars. “But you like me anyway.”

Macaque felt his face flush slighty, glad that Wukong wasn’t looking at him. This idiot didn’t know just how true that comment was. He rolled his eyes and laid down, putting his arms behind his head.

“Goodnight, Wukong.”

“Goodnight, Macaque.”

Chapter Text

The morning sun broke through the Jade Forest’s canopy, casting fractured rays of light that danced along the path ahead. The gentle rhythm of hooves on packed earth filled the air as the group rode in relative peace - for a while, at least. It wasn’t long before MK and Mei’s voices shattered the tranquility.

“I’m telling you, Monkey King could totally beat a demon the size of a mountain with weather powers,” MK declared confidently, reins loose in his hands as he glanced over at Mei.

Mei snorted. “Yeah, sure, if the demon conveniently forgot how to summon lightening and trample him into dust.”

For the last couple hours, MK and Mei had come up with this game of designing monsters that could best Wukong in battle. It was pretty entertaining if Macaque was honest. It had started as a joke, Macaque saying Wukong could beat demon after demon but would probably freak out if a bug bit him. After, Mei and MK began discussing what could bring the powerful sage down. So far, Wukong had turned every make-believe demon down. 

“Excuse me?” Wukong piped up, his tone dripping with mock offense as he turned his head just enough to glare playfully at Mei. “I’ve fought Lei Gong once. He had lightning, thunder - the whole shabang. Took me all of five minutes to bring him down.”

MK’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled out his leather journal, scribbling furiously. Mei rolled her eyes but her grin betrayed her amusement.

“Five minutes? Oh, please,” she said. “I bet he slipped and threw his back out before you even got there.”

“What?” Wukong laughed, smirking and puffing his chest out slightly. “You just can’t accept how great I am, can you?”

Macaque couldn’t help the faint twitch of his lips at the exchange, though he stayed silent, content to observe. These moments - their voices rising and falling, the teasing barbs traded like second nature. Something about it was nice.

His gaze shifted to Wukong, who was now gesturing wildly as he recounted another tale of improbable victory, this time about a “two-headed flame demon” that apparently “stood no chance against a hero of his caliber”. MK hung on every word, his pen scratching vigorously across the pages, while Mei’s skeptical interjections only egged Wukong on.

“Okay, but what about an ancient demon, older than you?” MK asked, eyes alight with excitemnt.

Macaque tuned out the rest of the exchange, his thoughts turning inward. Wukong, as usual, seemed larger than life, weaving his stories with the kind of ease that suggested he actually believed them to be so grand - or he wanted everyone else to. Macaque wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or if Wukong just hated the idea of being ordinary.

And yet, there was something more. Something Macaque had glimpsed in rare moments, like cracks in armor - something vulnerable and raw beneath the surface. He thought back to the night before, to Wukong’s words about him being a mystery, unknown.

What was so wrong with that? Wukong did the same thing. Macaque would think that someone who talks so much about himself would be easy to read, but that couldn’t be further from the truth in this case. Wukong was like a trick question. He let people see one side of him, let them believe that was the only side to him, but Macaque had seen so much more in the span of a month. Wukong wasn’t anything like he presented himself.

Why was it so wrong if he did the same thing? Macaque could only imagine Wukong was trying to hide flaws, he on the other hand was hiding information that could be life or death. The less the sage knew about him, the further he kept him, the better off Macaque would be.

His mind took him back to a time he had someone that he cared deeply for, trusted with his entire being. They had been attatched at the hip, did everything together. But the moment they were displeased with Macaque, they stabbed him in the back. He wouldn’t let himself fall into that same rhythm with Wukong.

The horses’ pace slowed as they approached a clearing, and Macaque glanced back at MK and Mei. Mei was practically doubled over with laughter now, while MK was frantically trying to defend Wukong against whatever hypothetical Mei had thrown at him this time.

“You two really are insufferable,” Macaque muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Wukong turned to look at him then, catching Macaque’s gaze with a sharpness that made his stomach twist. “You’re the one still traveling with us,” Wukong joked, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine. “Must mean we’re doing something right.”

Macaque scoffed, tearing his gaze away. “Or maybe I’m just biding my time until something better comes along.”

Wukong laughed, light and carefree, and for a moment, the tension in Macaque’s chest eased.

Ahead, the path began to narrow, the forest pressing closer on either side. The sunlight dimmed, and the air turned cooler, heavier. Macaque felt it settle on his skin like a second layer, and his thoughts darkened in kind.

The laughter of the others felt distant now, muffled by the weight of the forest and the weight of his own mind. How long could this fragil camaraderie last, he wondered. How long until it broke apart like everything else?

MK’s voice broke through his thoughts, bright and eager. “Macaque, your turn! Who do you think could beat Monkey King?”

Macaque blinked, pulled back to the present by the sudden attention. All three of them were staring at him now, Wukong included, his expressions unreadable but expectant.

For a moment, Macaque considered offering some snarky answer, something to deflect the focus away from himself. But instead, he simply shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended. “Maybe Wukong is unbeatable.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been, and for a brief second, something flickered in Wukong’s eyes - something Macaque couldn’t quite name. Macaque internally cursed, knowing he probably just inflated Wukong’s ego by ten folds.

“Well,” Wukong said after a beat, his tone deliberately light. “Glad someone here recognizes greatness when they see it.”

The others laughed, and the moment passed, but Macaque couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d said too much - or maybe not enough.

The laughter from MK and Mei hadn’t fully died down when Mei, ever the troublemaker, smirked slyly at Macaque. ”You know,” she began, leaning forward in her saddle. “I bet Macaque could beat Wukong in a fight.”

The comment hit like a stray arrow, sharp and unexpected. MK gasped, almost dropping his journal, while Wukong’s head whipped around to stare at her in mock disbelief.

“Excuse me?” Wukong said, his voice caught between incredulity and amusement. “You think him-” he gestured dramatically at Macaque, “-could take me?”

Macaque raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the faintest smirk creep onto his face. He had a feeling where this was going and wasn’t sure if he was entertained or annoyed.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mei said with exaggerated confidence, clearly enjoying herself. “Macaque strikes me as the quick, quiet, and cunning type. Meanwhile, you’re all flash and ego. My money’s on the guy who doesn’t spend his fights monologuing.”

“I do not monologue!” Wukong protested looking to MK for backup.

MK, loyal as ever, immediately jumped in. “Of course not, Monkey King! Mei’s just joking.” But then he hesitated, glancing at Macaque. “Although… Macaque is kind of scary when he wants to be.”

Mei laughed, the sound light and ringing through the forest. “See? Even your number-one fan agrees.”

Wukong crossed his arms, shifting in his saddle with a huff. “This is ridiculous. Macaque couldn’t take me down in his wildest dreams.”

“Actually,” Macaque said, finally breaking his silence. “I probably could.”

The casual delivery of his words seemed to slap the noise out of the air. Mei stopped laughing, MK froze mid-note in his journal, and Wukong blinked at him like he’d just been hit over the head with a fish. 

“What?” Wukong said, narrowing his eyes.

Macaque shrugged, his tone clam but deliberately provoking. “I said I could probably beat you in a fight. Nothing personal. You’re strong, but strength isn’t everything.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Mei let out a low whistle, breaking the tension. “Oh, this is going to be good.” She muttered, her grin growing wider by the second.

Wukong tilted his head, studying Macaque with an intensity that made Macaque’s skin prickle. “You really think so?” Wukong asked, his voice quieter now, but no less challenging.

“I know so,” Macaque replied, holding his gaze steady. He actually didn’t know so. He had seen Wukong fight two demons, and based on that, he knew a lot, if not all, Wukong’s victory stories were true. The sage was incredibly powerful, and he had every right to fluant it cause he could back up his claims. But… Macaque really wanted to damage his ego a little bit. Maybe humble him. He probably should have thought twice though, knowing what this would escalate into.

MK looked back and forth between them, his excitement mounting. “Wait, are you two seriously going to fight? Like right now?”

“No one said anything about fighting,” Macaque tried, hoping this would water down the growing tension. 

“Actually, I think we should.,” Wukong said, his tone deceptively casual. He straightened in his saddle, the spark of competition already lighting his features. “I mean, if you’re so confident, Macaque, why not prove it?”

Macaque glanced at him, suprised by how quickly Wukong had turned the teasing into a challenge. Still, he kept his expression neutral. “You want me to prove I can beat you?”

“Yes,” Wukong said, flashing a grin that was half-taunt, half-dare. “Unless you’re all talk.”

Mei clapped her hand together. “Oh, this is happening! We’re stopping right now.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until camp?” MK asked, frowning slightly.

“No,” Mei said, already tugging their horse to the side of the trail. “This is perfect. Open space, no distractions, and plenty of time to watch Monkey King eat dirt before sundown.”

“I’m not eating dirt,” Wukong muttered under his breath, dismounting with practiced ease.

Macaque sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He should’ve seen this coming. “Fine,” he said, sliding off Bianhua. “But don’t blame me when your pride gets bruised.”

Mei and MK scrabbled to find a good vantage point as the two squared off in the clearing, the forest growing quieter as the tension between them built.

MK’s journal was already out again, his pen poised. “This is going to be legendary,” he whispered to Mei.

Macaque shifted on his feet as Wukong brushed dirt off his palms, still grinning from the idea of getting to show off. Around them, the forest clearing was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the light breeze. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the uneven ground. It wasn’t a bad spot for a spar - wide enough for movement but dotted with enough obstacles to make things interesting.

Macaque’s gaze swept over the clearing, cataloging every uneven patch of earth, the small rocks scattered near the edge, the roots that could trip someone up if they weren’t paying attention. The trees around them provided cover, but not too much - a well-timed dodge could easily put him out of Wukong’s line of sight, at least momentarily. He’d need every advantage he could get.

He wasn’t oblivious to how absurd this was - agreeing to spar with someone like Wukong. The man was raw power and prescision, the kind of fighter who’d been trained to perfection and tempered by countless battles. Even without seeing all of them, Macaque had heard enough to piece together what the sage was capable of. He fought like he lived: bold, head-on, and unapologetically confident.

But confidence could be a weakness.

Macaque’s lips twitched into a faint smirk as he watched Wukong stretch lazily, his arms lifting above his head as though ths were nothing more than a warm-up. Wukong didn’t take him seriously. Not yet. And that gave Macaque an edge.

He could feel the anticipation buzzing in the air, the weight of MK and Mei’s expectant stares pressing down on him. His own nerves simmered beneath the surface, steady but undeniable. This wasn’t just about the fight - it was about proving something. To Wukong and himself.

Still, the idea of sparring with Wukong didn’t come without it’s risks. Macaque knew how easily this could go wrong. There was a reason Wukong was named a celestial hero, after all. And if WUkong ever figured out that Macaque had been lying to him from the very start - if he put two and two together and realized Macaque wasn’t just some opportunistic thief but something else entirely…

Macaque’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t afford to think about that now.

“Ready yet?” Wukong’s voice broke through his thoughts, light and teasing. He was standing across the clearing now, his hands resting casually on his hips, his golden eyes gleaming with excitment.

Macaque took a slow breath, forcing himself to focus. He could worry about Wukong’s reaction later. For now, he had a fight to win.

He let his gaze sweep over Wukong again, this time studying him with a more analytical eye. Wukong was relaxed, his stance was loose but balanced. He was fast - Macaque had seen firsthand - and his strikes were precise, aimed to overwhelm and disable rather than prolong a fight. But there was a pattern to the way Wukong moved, a rhythm that Macaque had started to pick up on. Wukong’s confidence wasn’t just in his strength; it was his ability to predict his opponet’s moves, to force them into reacting the way he wanted.

“I won’t let him control the pace,“ Macaque thought, flexing his fingers.

Wukong tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong, Macaque? Getting cold feet?”

“Just wondering if I should take it easy on you,” Macaque replied smoothly, his smirk returning.

That earned a laugh from Wukong, full and unrestrained. “Oh, you’re funny. I like that.”

Macaque didn’t respond, his focus already shifting to the clearing again. He took note of the space between them, calculating the distance and how quickly Wukong could close it. The shadows stirred faintly around him, almost instinctively, as if they could sense his growing tension.

This wasn’t going to be easy. Even if Wukong was holding back - and Macaque was certain he would be - it didn’t change the fact that Wukong was stronger, faster, and more experienced. Macaque’s only real advantage was his unpredictability.

And his powers.

The thought made him hesitate, just for a moment. He hadn’t meant to use his shadows at all. Not back then, and certainty not here in front of others. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he might not have a choice. Wukong was too good, too overwhelming. If Macaque wanted even a chance at winning, he’d have to rely on everything he had.

“But what if he reacts badly?“

The question lingered in the back of his mind, sharp and unwelcome. Wukong killed demons for less, and while Macaque knew he wasn’t exactly defenseless, he wasn’t stupid either. If Wukong decided he was a threat… well the outcome wouldn’t be hard to predict. 

This spar could quickly become an execution.

Macaque pushed the thought aside. He’d made his choice the moment he agreed to this fight. Wukong might suspect something after this, but Macaque would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, all that mattered was proving he wasn’t someone to be underestimated.

“Macaque.”

He looked up to see Wukong watching him, his head tilted again. The playful grin was still there, but it was softer now, less mocking. “You sure about this?” Wukong asked, his tone surprisingly earnest.

Macaque straightened, his expression unreadable. “What’s the matter, Wukong?” He asked coolly. “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

That did the trick. Wukong’s grin widened, his earlier concern vanished as he dropped into a fighting stance. “All right, then,” he said, his voice practically buzzing with excitment. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Macaque didn’t reply. 

Instead, he let the feeling of shadows beneath his feet seep into him, aknowledging them as he sank into a defensive stance. He could feel MK and Mei watching from the sidelines, their enthusiasm palpable, but he tuned them out.

Macaque held Wukong’s gaze as they slowly shifted around one another. They slowly circled one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. Clearly Wukong got impatient.

The moment Wukong lunged, Macaque gulped.

Wukong moved like a storm - fast, powerful, and utterly relentless. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his fists flying in perfect presision. Macaque barely ducked the first strike, the force of it cutting through the air just above his head. The second came just as quickly, a sharp jab towards his ribs that Macaque only narrowly sidestepped.

“You’re not bad,” Wukong said, his tone light and controversial, like they weren’t in the middle of trying to knock each other flat. “For someone who’s about to lose.”

Macaque refused to respond, his focus locked on the rhythm of Wukong’s movements. There was a pattern there, buried beneath the raw force - every punch and kick flowed seamlessly into the next, like a well-rehearsed dance. But there was an arrogance to it too. Wukong fought like someone who knew he was stronger, faster, better. And it pissed Macaque off.

He slid back, letting Wukong’s next blow glance harmlessly past him, and shifted his stance. Where Wukong was all speed and strength, Macaque was calculated and fluidity. He didn’t waste his energy on unnecessary movements, instead letting Wukong come to him, waiting for an opening.

“You’re awfully quiet, Macaque,” Wukong continued, circling him with a grin that was equal parts cocky and amused. “What’s the matter? Trying to figure out how you’re gonna lose gracefully?”

Macaque’s lips twitched. “I was just thinking,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “You talk too much.”

That wiped the grin off of Wukong’s face - just for a second. Then he lunged again, this time faster, feinting high before sweeping low. Macaque saw it coming but misjudged the speed, and Wukong’s leg caught him in a sharp kick to the shin, throwing him off balance.

“Gotcha,” Wukong said, triumph lighting up his face.

Macaque didn’t fall. Instead, he twisted with the momentum, dropping into a crouch and striking out with his leg in one smooth motion. The sweep forced Wukong to leap back, his balance faltering just enough for Macaque to regain his footing.

“You were saying?” Macaque asked, his smirk returning.

Wukong laughed, brushing dirt off his hands. “Not bad. Guess I’ll have to take you seriously now.”

Macaque didn’t reply, but frowned slightly at the mocking, sarcastic tone. His muscles tensed as Wukong charged at him again. This time, the blows came faster, harder, each one aimed to test his limits. Macaque blocked the first two strikes but couldn’t dodge the third - a sharp hook that skimmed his shoulder, the impact jarring.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused. Wukong was relentless, his attacks designed to keep him on the defensive. But Macaque wasn’t just defending. He was watching, studying the way Wukong moved, the slight shifts in his stance that telegraphed his next move.

“He’s too confident,” Macaque thought, dodging another punch by a hair. “He thinks I can’t keep up.“

And maybe he couldn’t; not for long. But he didn’t need to. He just needed one opening.

“Is this the best you’ve got?” Wukong taunted, his voice laced with mock disappointment. “Come on, Macaque. You can do better than that.”

Macaque’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, he considered snapping back. But he knew, Wukong was trying to throw him off balance, to get under his skin. And the worst part? It was working.

When Wukong feinted again, Macaque reacted a beat too late. Wukong’s fist caught him square in the side, knocking the wind out of him and sending him stumbling back.

“Yeild yet?” Wukong asked, closing in with a bright smile that didn’t fit the situation.

His side hurt like hell, but he wasn’t done yet.

Ignoring the ache in his ribs, he shifted his weight and lunged forward, catching Wukong off guard. His movements were quick, calculated - one strike aimed at Wukong’s shoulder, another at his stomach. Wukong blocked the first but missed the second, and Macaque felt a surge of satisfaction as his palm connected, driving Wukong back a step.

“Not yet,” Macaque told him, his voice low.

Wukong’s grin widened, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. “Now we’re talking.”

The fight shifted after that. Something about WUkong’s mannerism in the fight was completely different. He was a lot more loose, making his much quicker, not pulling his punches as much. Macaque could barely keep up, each block and dodge pushing him closer to his limits.

But he didn’t panic.

He could see the end now, the way Wukong’s confidence boardered on recklessness. It was a weakness - a small one, but enough. All Macaque needed was a distraction, something to tip the scales in his favor.

And he had just the thing.

The shadows stirred at his feet, curling around him like smoke. He hesitated just for a moment, his mind racing. “Is this a good idea?” The risk was obvious. If Wukong reacted badly - if he saw the shadows as a threat - it could ruin everything.

But he didn’t have time to second-guess himself.

The next time Wukong lunged, Macaque let the shadows rise. They surged forward in a wave, wrapping around Wukong’s legs and yanking him off balance. Wukong stumbled, his eyes widening in surprise as the shadows pinned him to the ground.

Macaque moved quickly, closing the distance and pinning Wukong down before he could recover. His knee pressed into Wukong’s sternum, and his hands gripped Wukong’s wrists, holding him firmly in place.

For a moment, neither of them moved. 

Wukong stared up at him, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. His golden eyes were wide, but not with fear. If anything, he looked… amazed.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Wukong admitted, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Macaque didn’t respond right away. He was too aware of how close they were, of the way Wukong’s skin was warm beneath his fingers, the faint scent of peach and sunlight clinging to him.

For just a moment, he let himself stay there, caught in the moment, his heart pounding in his chest.

And then he snapped out of it. 

Macaque released Wukong abruptly, stepping back and letting the shadows dissipate. “Guess I win,” he said, his voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline still coursing through him.

Wukong sat up, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to you head.”

But the grin he gave Macaque was anything but bitter. If anything, he looked… proud.

Wukong pushed himself up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the loss. His golden eyes flickered back to Macaque, assessing him in a way that made Macaque’s skin prickle with unease. Not in a bad way. Just… too much attention.

“You know,” Wukong said, wiping a bit of dirt off his arms, “for a guy who acts like he doesn’t care about fighting, you’re pretty damn good at it.”

Macaque scoffed, crossing him arms. “I don’t care about fighting. I just care about not losing.”

Wukong grinned. “Same thing.”

Macaque rolled his eyes and turned away, trying to rein in the lingering adrenaline in his veins. His muscles still felt coiled, ready to move, to strike again if necessary. But it wasn’t. The fight was over. He had won.

And yet, that flicker of heat from earlier - when he had Wukong pinned beneath him, their faces inches apart - still clung to the edges of his mind like a stubborn ember refusing to go out. He hated that.

Wukong steeped beside him, nudging his arm with his elbow. “So, about those shadow tricks.”

Macaque stiffened but didn’t look at him. “What about them?”

Wukong’s voice was lighter than Macaque expected when he answered. “Didn’t know you had them. Makes sense though. You’re sneaky as hell.”

Macaque risked a glance at him. Wukong wasn’t frowning. He wasn’t tensed, or wary, or even cautious. If anything, he looked curious.

Macaque exhaled quietly. He had built up this moment in his head - Wukong seeing his powers, realizing he wasn’t just a normal monkey demon. 

But Wukong was still standing there, hands on his hips, looking at Macaque like he was an interesting puzzle rather than a threat.

“Doesn’t freak you out?” Macaque asked before he could stop himself.

Wukong blinked. “Why would it?”

Macaque hesitated. “You kill demons.”

Wukong raised a brow, looking almost unimpressed. “I don’t kill every demon I come across, Macaque. Only the ones causing problems that the Jade Court assigns to me.”

There was something unspoken beneath those words, something that made Macaque’s chest feel strangely tight. He had spent so much time worrying about how Wukong would react, convinced it would change things between them. But Wukong was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Macaque wasn’t a big deal.

The thought should have comforted him. Instead, it unsettled him.

Wukong tilted his head, studying him. “You really thought I’d freak out, huh?”

Macaque forced a shrug, trying to seem more relaxed about the situation than he truly was. “I’m not sure what to think when it comes to you.”

Wukong was quiet for a moment. Then, with an easy grin, he threw an arm over Macaque’s shoulder and pulled him in like they were old friends. “Relax, bud. It’s going to take more than some shadow-powers for you to freak me out.”

Macaque snorted, shoving him off. “Okay, okay, you really do manage to ruin everything with that ego of yours.”

WUkong laughed. “Hey, I’m just saying- you’re not the worst demon I’ve met.”

Macaque’s smirk was sharp. “High praise.”

WUkong gave a half-shrug. Then, quieter, he added, “Thanks, for showing me that.”

Macaque blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He frowned slightly, a small blush blooming on his cheeks, more from embarrassment than anything else. “I didn’t show you anything. I used them to win.”

The sage huffed a laugh. “Same thing.” His voice was still light, but there was something genuine underneath. “You don’t talk about yourself, don’t let anyone know much about you. But you let me see this. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Macaque didn’t have an answer to that. He hated how much those words lingered.

They stood there for a beat, the tension between them shifted into something lighter. Macaque found himself watching the way the late afternoon light caught in Wukong’s hair, how easy he looked standing there, despite the dirt on his clothes and the fight still fresh in his muscles.

Wukong caught him looked. He didn’t say anything about it, just smirked and leaned in slightly. “You wanna go again?”

Macaque scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Wukong hummed in amusement, stretching his arms over his head before heading back towards where their things were and the two kids waited excitedly. “Suit yourself.”

Macaque hesitated a moment before following. As they walked, he rolled his wrist, feeling the phantom warmth of Wukong’s skin against his, the weight of the sage beneath him.

He told himself it didn’t mean anything.

That it shouldn’t mean anything.

But it was getting harder to believe that.

MK and Mei were practically vibrating with excitement by the time Wukong and Macaque made their way back. Mei was bouncing on her toes, grinning like she had just won a bet, while MK looked like he was about to explode from sheer enthusiasm.

“That was amazing,” MK gushed, barely giving them time to breathe before launching into rapid fire praise. “Macaque, I knew you were good, but damn! And Monkey King, you were so fast- but Macaque with those cool tricks-” He mimed some exaggerated dodging motions, nearly smacking Mei in the face in the process.

Mei dodged him effortlessly, rolling her eyes. “MK, we all saw the fight.” But even she looked impressed. She pointed at Macaque. “I’ll admit, I was kind of joking when I said you could beat monkey man here. Thought he would wipe the floor with you.”

Macaque’s lips drew into a line. “Thanks.”

Mei smirked, then looked over to Wukong. “You were holding back.”

He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offense. “I don’t hold back.”

Macaque snorted. “You absolutely did.”

Wukong huffed but didn’t argue. MK, meanwhile, had begun scribbling in that journal of his again.

Macaque raised a brow. “You’re really writing this down?”

MK gave him a look, like the question itself was ridiculous. “Of course I am. This was a legendary fight! Future generations need to know about it.”

Mei crossed her arms. “You should title it ‘How Macaque kicked Monkey King’s Ass’.”

MK hummed. “I was thinking something more dramatic, like ‘The Clash of Light and Shadow’.”

Wukong groaned again, climbing onto Jínàn. “I hate both of those.”

Macaque mounted his own dragon-horse, adjusting the reins. “I don’t. Maybe a bit too flashy but they give it something.”

Wukong shot him a glare, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

With one last exaggerated sigh, Wukong swung his horse around. “Alright, let’s get moving before you two start drafting an epic poem about this.”

Mei smirked. “Too late.”

MK snickered as they nudged their horses forward, the four of them setting off down the road once more. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape, but the air between them was lighter than it had been before.

Macaque let himself relax slightly, listening to the back-and-forth chatter between Wukong, Mei, and MK. He wasn’t entirely sure what had changed - whether it was the fight, Wukong’s easy acceptance of his powers, or just the passing of time - but something in him felt a little less guarded.

Not completely. 

Not yet.

But it was a start.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the night as the four of them rode onward. The sun had barely risen, its golden light filtering through the dense canopy of trees lining the winding dirt path. The forest around them was quieter than the Jade Forest had been, less mystical in its beauty but still rich with the sounds of nature - birdsong, rustling leaves, the occasional distant snap of a branch. Their horses’ hooves thudded against the earth in a steady rythh, broken only by the occasional snort of flick of a tail.

Macaque sat in his saddle, his posture relaxed but his mind restless. He had always found traveling tedious. It was why he normally stuck to one city, moving very rarely, and always traveling through the shadows. It was necessary, of course, but something about the long stretches of empty road, the passing landscapes, and the endless cycle of days felt… uncomfortably reflective. Too much time to think. Too much time to notice things he had no business noticing.

His gaze flickered to Wukong without thinking.

Wukong, who rode just ahead, talking loudly with MK and Mei. Wukong, who sat atop his horse with an easy, natural confidence, like he belonged anywhere he went. Wukong, whose golden hair caught the light just right, whose voice carried warmth even when he was being insufferable.

Macaque clicked his tongue and looked away, scowling at himself.

This was getting ridiculous.

He was hyperaware of Wukong in a way that had nothing to do with strategy or survival. That was the problem. At first, he had been cautious - watching Wukong, learning how to manipulate him, how he fought, how he thought. All necessary. But at some point, his awareness had shifted. Now it wasn’t just about gauging Wukong’s strength or predicting his reactions. Now it was becoming something else entirely, something that made his skin itch with frustration.

He had spent so much time studying Wukong, figuring out his strengths and weaknesses, that he had begun to learn him in a way that felt dangerous. He could hear the shifts in his tone when he was truly irritated versus just being dramatic. Could tell when Wukong was genuinely pleased versus putting on a show.

And worst of all, he found himself caring about those little details.

But it wasn’t real, he reminded himself. It was just proximity, just the fact that they had been traveling together for weeks now, constantly in each other’s space. The tension between them - the way his pulse stuttered when Wukong grinned at him or shoved at his shoulder - it wasn’t real. Just some twisted byproduct of being around him too much. It would fade once the mission was over.

It had to.

Shaking the thought from his mind, Macaque exhaled sharply and refocused on the road ahead. This was just another journey. Nothing more. He should be thinking about the mission. About the Samadhi Fire. About the Lady Bone Demon. Anything but the monkey riding just a few paces ahead of him.

Luckily, before his thoughts could spiral further, Wukong spoke up.

“So,” he said, turning in his saddle to look at them with that signature confident grin. “We should be arriving in Yuè Chéng Shuǐ in about four days.”

Mei perked up immediately. “Really? Man, we covered more ground than I thought. So what’s it like there?”

Wukong puffed up a little, clearly eager to talk about it. “It’s beautiful - lots of canals, bridges, and lanterns. The whole city is built around the water, so boats are the main way to get around. You’ll love it.”

MK clapped his hands together. “Sounds amazing! Are you familiar with the city?”

Wukong’s grin widened. “You could say that. It’s run by an old friend of mine, so we should have no trouble there.”

Macaque arched a brow, finally dragging his attention fully into the conversation. “A friend?”

“Oh, like an old war buddy?” MK asked excitedly.

“Not exactly. She’s not much of a fighter,” Wukong admitted, though there was no hint of disappointment in his tone - it anything, there was admiration. “She’s more of a ruler. Runs Yuè Chéng Shuǐ with an iron fist but makes sure everyone is taken care of. Probably the hardest worker I know.” He thought for a second more before continuing, a sparkle in his eyes. “She’s a pain sometimes, though. Loves to micromanage, but she’s got a good heart. She cares about her people more than anything.”

Macaque listened, something tensing in his chest before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure what he expected Wukong’s ‘dear friend’ to be like, but he hadn’t imagined someone like that. Wukong spoke about her with such ease, such familiarity - like she was a fixture in his life. The way his eyes softened at the thought of her, the clear affection in his voice… it was enough to make something unpleasant twist in Macaque’s stomach.

Macaque stayed quiet for a few moments longer, processing the way Wukong spoke about his friend with such warmth. It was a feeling Macaque didn’t understand, something foreign to him. As much as he tried to dismiss it, the gnawing sensation in his chest wouldn’t leave.

Macaque exhaled slowly, schooling his expression into neutrality. It wasn’t like it mattered to him anyway.

His mind turned to their goal - the Samadhi Fire, the first key, the Bone Demon. He had a purpose, a clear path ahead. But something about Wukong’s tone kept tugging at him, as if it was drawing him in despite his best efforts. “Why does it matter that he cares so much about this friend of his?” Macaque wondered, frowning. “It’s not like I should care. It’s just…“

Finally, Macaque cleared his throat, trying to redirect his focus. “Do you think she’d have, or know where, the first key is?”

Wukong gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even at her city yet, Macaque. Can’t you just… wait until we get there? It’s not like we don’t have time.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “I’m not interesting in waiting. This mission’s time-sensitive, and you’ve been dragging your feet for days now.” His tone was sharp, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I just want to know if your friend can help or not. This isn’t some leisurely trip, Wukong.”

Wukong’s face darkened in response, his lips curling into a tight line. “You think I’m wasting time? We can figure it out once we get there. She’s not someone who can just be used as a tool to get what we want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Macaque snapped back, his hands clenching tightly around the reins. “I just want to know if she can help or not. I don’t have time for small talk and useless delays.”

Wukong’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “You’re not the only one with something to lose here. I know what’s at stake. But she’s my friend, not some means to an end.”

Macaque leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper but full of venom. “Oh, now you’re geting all sentimental on me? Don’t forget, this mission’s more important than just one of your many friendships, Wukong.”

Wukong’s jaw clenched, his voice growing colder. “Don’t tell me what’s important, Macaque. I’m the one who’s been living this life longer than you, and I’ve had to watch everything fall apart around me. I’m trying to get something done. You can’t just rush through this like its a damn race.”

“Maybe I’d get more done if I didn’t have to babysit someone who keeps stalling every step of the way,” Macaque muttered, his patience running thin. 

“Babysit?” Wukong’s tone was low, dangerous. “You think you’re the only one who’s serious about this? You don’t know anything about me, Macaque. And frankly, I’m getting tired of acting like I don’t see through you.”

MK and Mei exchanged concerned glances, both instinctively pushing their horse forward to look at the two simians as the agitation grew. “Hey, come on, guys. We’re supposed to be a team,” MK interjected, trying to break the rising hostility.

But Macaque and Wukong didn’t acknowledge them, both locked in their own world of frustration.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you, and I know how to play the game,” Wukong growled. “Maybe you’re so used to doing everything alone that you don’t realize that not everyone’s just a tool to be used for your benefit.”

The words hit harder than Macaque expected. For a moment, all he could do was stare at Wukong, a bitter taste rising in his throat. “Fine,” he bit out. “If you’re so protective of your precious friend, we can postpone asking her. But don’t expect me to keep waiting around while you’re making yourself feel better about it.”

Wukong’s eyes flared, but instead of responding, he turned his horse ahead, muttering under his breath.

“Good,” Macaque spat, his tone equally bitter as he followed, the silence hanging heavily between them.

MK and Mei looked between the two, both unsure of how to intervene without making it worse. They stayed quiet as the rest of the journey stretched out before them, the atmosphere tense and suffocating.

Macaque felt his heart squeeze, something bitter pooling inside of him. He couldn’t understand it. Why was he so bothered by Wukong’s words? Why did it matter to him at all?

It shouldn’t have. They were just… traveling together.

But he couldn't help feeling like the distance between them was growing, like Wukong was slipping further away, and Macaque wasn’t sure how to stop it.

This was for the better. It kept them at a safe distance from one another. The tension was a needed safeguard for Macaque. So he wouldn’t do anything foolish.

As the day wore on, he kept his gaze fixed ahead, the pounding rhythem of Bianhua’s hooves matching the chaotic beat of his heart. He was getting too comfortable with Wukong. The sooner he stopped caring, the better.

Macaque’s hands tightened around the reins as if that could steady the simmering frustration in his chest. The air between him and Wukong was heavy, thick with the words they had and hadn’t said- but Macaque pushed it away, refusing to think about it.

“Enough of him and this pointless bickering.” He thought.

His mind drifted elsewhere, latching onto the thing that had brought him on this journey in the first place, the thing his focus should have always been set on.

The Lady Bone Demon had been clear about what she wanted. Find the keys. Unlock the weapon. Deliver it to her. A straightforward job with an unbelievable payout. But the more Macaque thought about it, the more something didn’t sit right.

The first question was why did she even need Macaque.

She already had her own follower, one that seemed ready to live and die for her. That was made abundantly clear the time he had come to check on Macaque.

So why him?

Macaque had a reputation in the mortal realm, sure, but he wasn’t the only thief or mercenary out there. Was it because he worked alone? Because he didn’t ask questions?

A pit formed in his stomach, though he ignored it. It wasn’t any of his business. He did the job, recieves his payment, and lives in blissful ignorance of the consequenses that follow. That’s how he got to walk away.

Still, the thought lingered. The Samadhi Fire was a weapon of unfathomable destruction. If it was a flame, how was he supposed to deliever it? Better yet, what did the Bone Demon plan to do with it? 

A quiet voice in the back of his head whispered that he already knew the answer.

And he did. He had known from the beginning that whatever she wanted it for, it wouldn’t be good. But that wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t some noble hero like Wukong.

His eyes instinctively flickered to the celestial hero and wondered. Wukong would probably be sent to deal with the issue once it takes place. Would he come out victorious like every other time? Or would this be his first and last tragedy?

He shook the thoughts from his head. He wasn’t here to stop anything - he was here to get paid.

His fingers twitched slightly as he imagined it - the weight of the gold, the things he could do with it. He could finally stop running, finally stop living from one job to the next. No more scaping by, no more gambling his life for coin.

He could disappear.

The thought was startling in its clarity. It honestly had always been his dream ever since he was a child. Most of the other kids wished for families, shelter, food. Macaque hadn’t wanted any of that. He wanted to live. It was always a bittersweet thing to dream of for him.

No matter how much the world had evolved, there was always prejudice against demons. He had been shown to many families and they all turned him away. No one wanted a demon to raise. Or one with unusal features. So, he ran from the orphanage and began his own life.

He stole food, found shelter in abandoned buildings on the outskirts of cities, trained his abilities both in physical combat and magical combat. He liked the thrill, liked the feeling of not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Sure, he was alone, but others held him back.

And now, he had a choice. He could vanish, slip away from all of this, start fresh somewhere no one knew his name. No Lady Bone Demon, no Celestial Warriors, no threat of Heaven. Just peace.

But where?

Macaque frowned, the fantasy already unraveling. He had spent so long drifting from place to place, never settling, never calling anywhere home. Would he even know how to live without the chase, without the next job hanging over his head?

He sighed. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he’d be free.

His gaze flickered to the side, landing on Wukong before he caught himself and looked away.

That wasn’t his problem anymore. It never should have been.

Macaque exhaled, forcing him mind back to the road ahead. He would get the keys, retrieve the fire, and take his gold. That was the plan. That had always been the plan.

- 

The night was thick with silence, save for the occasional crackle or the dying campfire and the soft murmurs of MK and Mei. They lay close together, half-awake, whispering in hushed voices about something Macaque didn’t bother to listen to. Their words were barely audible, blending with the rustling leaves and the distant chirping of insects.

Macaque sat with his back to a tree, one knee bent, fingers idly tracing the hilt of his dagger. It had been two days since his fight with Wukong, and the tension between them hadn’t faded. If anything, it had hardened into something worse - an unspoken coldness that stretched between them like an invisible barrier.

Wukong had barely spoken to him since, only addressing him when absolutely necessary. He didn’t snap or bark at him, didn’t shove his way into Macaque’s space like he usually did. Instead, he kept his distance.

And Macaque hated how much he noticed.

Wukong lay a few feet away from the rest of them, his back to the group, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked asleep, his breaths slow and even, his tail only lazily flicking every once in a while when the fire cracked just a little too loud.

Macaque exhaled and leaned his head back against the tree. He should sleep. They were only a day from the city, and if things went well, they’d be rid of each other soon enough.

But his body was tense, mind alert even as exhaustion weighted heavy in his limbs. Something about the night didn’t sit right with him.

Then he heard it.

A shift in the underbush. The snap of a twig.

Macaque’s hand tightened around his dagger, eyes flicking toward the sound. Shadows loomed in the distance, moving with careful precision. He counted at least five - maybe more, lingering just beyond the tree line.

Bandits.

Macaque inhaled slowly, adjusting his grip. He could take them - at least a few before they could react. He moved to rise-

And then, just as he tensed to attack, a shadow moved beside him.

Wukong.

He was already on his feet, awake, eyes locked on the intruders.

Macaque froze. He had figured Wukong would be deep within the depths of sleep, not poised and ready to fight like he had never let his guard down.

There was no time to dwell on it. The bandits emerged from the shadows, weapons glinting under the moonlight.

“Look at that,” one of them drawled, a smirk curling his lips. “Seems we’ve got some travelers who don’t know how to watch their backs.”

Wukong bared his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And it seems we’ve got some idiots who don’t know when to walk away.”

The man laughed. “Oh, we’ll be walking away, alright. Just not empty handed.”

Macaque’s muscles coiled, ready to strike. He sensed Wukong shifting beside him, equally prepared.

The moment the first bandit lunged, they both moved at once - Macaque slipped to the side to flank, Wukong charged forward to strike. But instead of working in tandem, they cut each other off. Macaque sidestepped at the same time Wukong swung, causing him to miss his mark.

Wukong snarled. “Get out of my way!”

Macaque scoffed, blocking a bandit’s knife with his forearm. “You get out of my way!”

Another attacker came from behind, and both of them turned at once - to nearly collide into each other.

The two quickly recovered, not before glaring at one another, and jumped back into the fight. Macaque barely dodged a swing from one of the bandits, twisting his body just in time to avoid the blade slicing through the air. He went low, sweeping his leg out to knock the man off balance, but before he could follow through, Wukong barreled forward and took the man down with a single, brutal strike.

Macaque stumbled back to avoid the clash, scowling. “Watch it!”

“Then keep up,” Wukong shot back, his voice sharp as he pivoted to deflect another attack. His movements were aggressive - precise but unrelenting. He wasn’t fighting to create openings. He was fighting to end it.

It was frustrating.

Macaque was calculating in his approach, always looking for weak spots, waiting for the right moment to strike. Wukong, on the other hand, was a bull - direct, fast, and unyielding. There was no rhythm between them.

And it was costing them.

Another bandit lunged from the side, and Macaque twisted to intercept. He landed a well-placed kick to the man’s ribs, sending him stumbling back. But just as he turned to handle the next threat, he caught a flash of movement- 

Too late.

A fist slammed into his side, knocking the air from his lungs. Macaque barely had time to register the pain before another hit landed, forcing him back a step. He hissed through gritted teeth, hand flying to where the strike had caught him - his ribs, probably bruised but nothing serious. Still, it stung, and worse, it left him open.

The bandit reared back for another blow, a finishing strike based on the knife clutched in his hand-

And then Wukong was there.

He moved like a force of nature, faster than Macaque had thought possible, yanking the man away and slamming him into the ground with a sickening thud. Macaque looked around and saw all the bandits laying on the ground, either groaning in pain or unmoving in a disturbing manner.

Silence filled the air for just a moment. Macaque looked to Wukong who was still standing over the bandit and went rigid. 

Wukong looked pissed.

He turned to Macaque, eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury. “Are you kidding me?” He snapped.

Macaque, still catching his breath, scowled. “What?”

Wukong stalked toward him, ignoring the the bandits that were standing and collecting their allies in an attempt to retreat. His shoulders were taut, jaw clentched tightly. “You should’ve let me handle it.”

Macaque blinked. “Are you seriously mad at me for trying to help?”

“Yes!” Wukong threw his arms up. “You keep jumping in, messing up my strikes, and now look- you got hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” Macaque straightened, rolling his shoulders as it to prove the point. “You’re the one getting in my way.”

“I’m the one-?” Wukong cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. “Damn it, Macaque, you don’t have to fight like this. I could’ve ended this before they even touched you.”

Macaque’s annoyance flared. “Oh, so I’m just supposed to stand back and let you handle everything?”

“Yes!” Wukong snapped again, then immediately scowled as if realizing how it sounded. He exhaled sharply, fists tightening. “That’s- That’s how it should be.”

Macaque opened his mouth to argue, but Wukong’s next words came out before he could stop them.

“That’s what I do.” Wukong’s voice was raw now, filled with something Macaque didn’t quite understand. “I fight. I take care of it. That’s my job. That’s-” He stopped himself, shaking his head sharply. His hands were still clenched, knuckles white.

Macaque hesitated, taken aback. “Wukong-”

But Wukong turned away, his jaw tight. “Just- go to sleep,” he muttered, stalking off towards the edge of the camp, away from Macaque.

Macaque watched him go, something unsettled curling in his chest.

Mk and Mei, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange, glanced at one another before Mei hesitantly whispered, “So… does this mean we’re not going to sleep tonight?”

Macaque shot her a glare before sighing and dropping onto the ground.

The fire crackled softly, the only sound filling the tense silence left in the aftermath. Wukong had returned to his spot, back to the group, as if pretending the world didn’t exist would make it so. Macaque scoffed under his breath. Fine, let the sage sulk.

MK kept looking between the two monkeys, biting his lip as if debating something.

Eventually, he scooted closer to Macaque.

“You okay?” MK asked, voice softer than usual.

Macaque glanced at him, raising a brow. “I’m fine.”

MK’s gaze flickered to Macaque’s arm. “You’re bleeding.”

Macaque followed MK’s eyes and was surprised to see the kid was right. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“It’s nothing.”

MK frowned but didn’t push. Instead, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Monkey King didn’t mean it, you know.”

Macaque let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Seemed pretty intentional to me.”

MK hesitated. “…He just gets like that sometimes. When he’s upset. He says things he doesn’t really mean.”

“What, you’ve been on the receiving end before?” He mocked. MK fell silent and looked away, a distant and pained look in his eyes. Macaque searched him for a second before realizing. “Oh.”

“In his defense, I did deserve the lecture. I was being dumb and almost got myself killed.” MK rushed to defend, like always. “Believe me, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just worried.”

Macaque didn’t respond right away. He didn’t doubt that MK was right - Wukong had been particularly on edge since their earlier fight. But that didn’t explain why. And it didn’t change the fact that Macaque had felt genuine anger behind Wukong’s words.

Mei sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over he head. “You two are impossible,” she muttered. “I swear, if you weren’t so busy glaring at each other all the time, you’d realize you’re more alike than you think.”

Macaque shot her an unimpressed look. “We are nothing alike.”

Mei snorted. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

MK nudged Macaque slightly with his shoulder. “You really don’t know why he’s mad?”

Macaque exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “If I did, I wouldn’t still be thinking about it.”

MK hummed, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about the fight. Maybe it’s about what it meant to him."

Macaque glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

MK tilted his head, looking towards Wukong. “I dunno. Just seemed like he’s not mad at you. He’s mad about… something else.”

Macaque followed MK’s gaze, watching Wukong’s unmoving form in the dim firelight. His jaw clenched.

Whatever it is, it wasn’t his problem.

He shifted, pulling his blanket around himself. “You should sleep,” he whispered.

MK studied him for a moment longer before sighing. “Okay.” He paused, then offered a small smile. “But.. I do think you guys are friends. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

Macaque scoffed. “Go to sleep, MK.”

MK chuckled before settling back down next to Mei. Even after they both drifted off, Macaque stayed awake, staring into the fire.

Friends?

He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.

He doubted it.

But he wasn’t sure why the thought didn’t bother him as much as it should.

Chapter Text

The first glimpse of Yuè Chéng Shuǐ came with the dawn.

The city unfurled beneath the golden morning light, rooftops glowing like embers, streets stirring with the slow pulse of early activity. From a distance, it looked like something out of a dream - lanterns from the night before still flickering against the pale sky, their soft glow resisting the sun’s encroaching warmth. The canals that wove through the city shimmered, catching light like liquid gold.

Wukong’s breath hitched.

It was still the same.

While he had been to Megapolis a few times, mostly for MK, Yuè Chéng Shuǐ was the city he would normally seek when taking a trip to the mortal realm. No matter how much time passed, it always welcomed him back as if he had never left.

The city had once been his refuge - a place where he wasn’t just a celestial hero, where he wasn’t defined by orders or expectations. He used to slip away from Heaven under the pretense of duties, lingering here longer than he should, basking in the city’s life. He could still remember the laughter of its people, the warmth of shared meals, the light that wasn’t divine but human - the lanterns in windows, candles on shopfronts, the glow of trust and familiarity.

He had spent years memorizing these streets, walking them when his mind felt too heavy with divine purpose. Unlike Heaven, where light was untouchable, distant, above - here, it was woven into the city itself, settling into the stones, reflecting off the water, resting in the hands of the people who lived here.

Wukong exhaled slowly, gripping the reins of his horse a little tighter.

The closer they rode, the louder the city became. Voices carried on the wind, merchants setting up their stalls, water sloshing against the canal walls as boats drifted through the streets. The smell of fresh bread and sweet red bean pastries curled through the air, mingling with the sharper scents of ink and parchment from nearby scribes.

He felt at ease until he caught sight of Macaque taking in the city.

They hadn’t spoken much since the fight. Not really. And Macaque- well, Macaque had acted as though that suited him just fine.

Wukong scowled, looking away.

He wouldn’t let Macaque’s attitude ruin this. Not here.

In this city, he wasn’t the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

He was just Wukong.

And if there was anyone in the world who could remind him of that, it was her.

MK let out an audible gasp as they crossed the outer gates of Yuè Chéng Shuǐ, eyes wide as he took in the streets bustling with life. “This place is amazing!” He breathed, practically bouncing in his saddle. “Look at all the lanterns! And the boats! And- oh! That smells like fresh egg tarts-”

Mei laughed beside him, craning her neck to see everything at once. “It’s even prettier than I imagined,” she said. “I thought monkey man was exaggerating.”

Wukong huffed, feigning offense. “When have I ever exaggerated?”

MK and Mei gave him identical, unimpressed stares.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But this time, I wasn’t lying, was I?” He gestured grandly to the city around them, smugness slipping into his tone. “Yuè Chéng Shuǐ is the most beautiful city in the realm, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

“It is beautiful,” MK admitted, still awestruck. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Macaque, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say. Wukong didn’t even bother glancing his way.

The streets guided them foreward, the sound of hooves softened by the stone paths worn smooth by years of travel. The deeper they went, the more the city revealed itself - grand bridges arching over canals, soft silk banners catching the wind, the laughter of children darting between the stalls. The people here weren’t just surviving; they were living, moving with the rhythm of a city that belonged to them as much as they belonged to it.

And then, as they turned a final corner, the palace came into view.

It rose above the city like a dream made real, a masterpiece of color and light. Unlike the solemn grandeur of Heaven’s structures, this place was alive with warmth - brilliant reds, deep blues, and rich golds adorning its rooftops. Moon motifs were woven into the architecture, from the cresent-shaped windows to the delicate engravings on the doors. White jade bunny statues lined the outer gardens, their little ears perked as if listening to the city’s stories.

Mei actually squeaked. “Bunnies!”

Wukong couldn’t help but grin. “Wait till you meet the woman who runs this place. She’s ten times scarier than I am.”

MK blinked. “But there are bunnies everywhere.”

“Exactly.”

As they approached the palace steps, Wukong could already feel the shift in energy - the way the air seemed to hum.

She would be inside. The thought made him smile.

The palace guards barely spared them a glance before stepping aside, allowing them passage through the towering doors. Wukong smirked, glad that he was still memorable to them.

As they stepped into the grand halls, the scent of incense and fresh flowers lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hum of conversation. Servants bustled past, dressed in deep blues and silvers, their footsteps soft agaiinst polished floors.

They were guided swiftly to the throne room, the grand doors pushed open with ease. Inside, the woman they had come to see stood with an advisor, her silken robes shimmered in the warm glow of lantern light.

She was radiant - dark hair swept over her slim shoulders, her golden accessories catching the light with every movement. But more than that, there was an energy to her, an undeniable presence that filled the room.

Then she turned.

Her sharp eyes landed on Wukong.

And in an instant, her entire face lit up.

“Wukong!”

Before anyone could react, she launched across the room.

Wukong barely had time to brace himself before her fist collided with his face.

A solid, well-aimed punch that sent his head snapping to the side.

MK and Mei gasped.

Macaque, to his credit, looked taken aback and blinked a few times.

Wukong groaned, rubbing his jaw. “Ow. What the hell was that for?”

“For disappearing on me, you ass!” She snapped, standing over him with her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long it’s been? And the last time you were here-” She scowled. “I was worried about you!”

Wukong blinked at her, still rubbing his jaw. “That’s how you show your concern? By trying to break my face?”

She sniffed. “If I really wanted to break it, I would have.”

Mei let out a low whistle. “Damn. I like her.”

MK, stilling looking horrified, whispered, “She punched him.”

Macaque just huffed a quiet laugh. “Someone needed to.”

Wukong shot him a glare before sighing and turning back to her. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re mad. But come on- aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

She narrowed her eyes.

Then, before he could react, she grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Of course I’m happy to see you, idiot.”

Wukong stiffened, caught off guard, before sighing and returning the embrace. “…Yeah. Missed you too.”

Wukong held onto her a little longer than necessary, but he didn’t care. He missed this. Missed her. There weren’t many people he truly trusted, but she had alway been one of them. For a brief moment, he let himself relax in a way he hadn’t been able to in months. Maybe longer.

Of course, the moment had to be ruined.

“Are you going to introduce us, or should we just stand here all day watching you two?”

Wukong sighed, rolling his shoulders back as he turned.

Macaque stood rigid, arms crossed, jaw tight.

His face was perfectly blank, but the sharpness in his tone - and the way his fingers tapped just slightly against his sleeve, like he was holding back the urge to do something else - made something stir in Wukong’s gut.

He didn’t dwell on it.

“Oh, right,” Wukong said, waving vaguely at his companions. “The two cute kids are MK and Mei. The grumpy one is Macaque.” He looked at the three and gestured to the woman next to him. “And this, is Chang’e. She’s one of my oldest friends.”

MK, still looking a little wide-eyed from seeing Wukong get punched, quickly composed himself and gave an enthusiastic bow. “It’s an honor to meet you! Wukong’s told us a little about you.”

Mei grinned. “Yeah, he made you sound way less terrifying.”

Chang’e smirked. “Good. I like to keep them on their toes.”

She clasped her hands behind her head, taking a moment to study them. Her gaze lingered on Macaque just a beat too long. 

Macaque, for his part, refused to meet it. Instead, he stared down at some very interesting floor tiles.

Chang’e’s lips curled, and amused glint in her eyes.

“Ohhh,” she murmured.

Wukong blinked. “Oh what?”

Macaque’s jaw tightened. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Positive.”

Chang’e hummed, tapping her chin as she observed Macaque. “Hmm.”

Macaque’s fingers twitched. “Can we move on?” He finally lifted his gaze, looking to Chang’e with a tense expression. “We came here because-”

But she wasn’t listening.

“Oh! That’s right!” She gasped, clapping her hands together. “You all must have come for the Moon Festival!”

That immediately grabbed everyone’s attention.

MK frowned. “The what festival?”

Mei looked equally confused. “I’ve never heard of that.”

Chang’e gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. “Never heard-? Wukong, how could you not tell them?”

Wukong blinked. “I… forgot?”

She rolled her eyes before turning back to the group, suddenly brimming with excitement. “The Moon Festival is only the greatest event of the year! It lasts an entire week, celebrating the full moon’s arrival. There are performances, food stalls, street bands, games, parades - and on the final night, there’s a lantern ceremony to bring good fortune for the coming year.”

MK’s face lit up. “Wait, that actually sounds amazing.”

Mei practically vibrated. “No way!”

Wukong, despite himself, grinned. He had almost forgotten about it. He had celebrated plenty of Moon Festivals with Chang’e, hell he’d even helped plan a few, and he remembered how fun they were. Every year was better than the last.

“Oh, you have to stay for it.” Chang’e continued, linking her arm through Wukong’s as she started leading him forward. “This year is supposed to be incredible!”

Macaque scowled. “We didn’t come here for a festival.”

MK and Mei’s excitement dimmed just slightly.

Wukong, sensing where this was going, sighed. “We do have something important to do here.”

Chang’e waved a hand. “Yes, yes, important things. I’m sure. But what’s the harm in staying for a little fun? You all must be exhausted from traveling.”

MK and Mei were both looking at Macaque with big, pleading eyes.

Wukong considered momentarily jumping in and saving him, but decided the better of it.

“Oh, don’t look so crabby,” she teased, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll warm up to it.”

Macaque jerked away from her touch like she was a live flame.

Chang’e’s smirk widened.

Wukong, watching the exchange, suddenly felt like he was missing something very important.

“Come! At the very least you all should rest!” Chang’e waved for them to follow. Macaque trailed slightly behind the group as Chang’e led them down one of the hallways, lined with lanterns. His arms were crossed, his expression locked in a deep scowl.

MK and Mei were whispering excitedly about everything they saw, completely ignoring the way Macaque radiated irritation like a fire radiated heat.

Wukong, however, noticed.

And despite everything - the earlier fight, Macaque’s refusal to drop his sour mood - he couldn’t help himself.

He slowed his pace until he was walking beside him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” he said, keeping his voice light, “for someone who acts like they don’t care about things, you sure looked upset about a festival.”

Macaque didn’t even look at him. “I’m not upset.”

Wukong smirked. “No, of course not. You’re thrilled. I can tell by the way you’re pouting.”

Macaque’s eye twitched.

“Maybe I should get you a festival mask,” Wukong continued, voice teasing. “One with a big smile, since you refuse to make one yourself-”

“I swear to the gods,” Macaque muttered, voice clipped, “if you don’t shut up-”

Wukong sighed dramatically, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Macaque’s frown deepened. “Then try harder.”

Wukong rolled his eyes and decided to leave him to his sulking.

Chang’e, who had clearly been listening, turned slightly and flashed Wukong an amused look before stopping in front of a large set of wooden doors.

She pushed them open, revealing a spacious room with plush floor mats, delicate silk curtains, and a beautiful carved moon motif along the far wall.

MK and Mei wasted no time marveling at the room’s lavish comfort, but Wukong stayed back as Chang’e caught his sleeve.

“So,” she mused, tilting her head, “what exactly have you been up to?”

Wukong huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”

Chang’e smiled. “I like long stories.”

He gave her a dry look. “I’ve been traveling. Helping people. The usual.”

Chang’e hummed. “Mm. You know, it reminds me of that one time you came here covered in scratches, smelling like river water, and claimed you were ‘just helping‘ then too.”

Wukong winced.

“That was different.”

MK, who had been listening in from the side, perked up. “Wait, what happened?”

Chang’e beamed. “Oh, its a great story. He tried to help a fisherman whose boat was sinking, but he was the one who ended up into the river instead.”

MK burst into laugher.

Mei grinned. “Please tell me you at least saved the boat.

Wukong groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Chang’e turned her gaze toward Macaque, who had been pretending not to listen, arms still crossed tightly.

“You should’ve seen him,” she said, her voice all innocent amusement. “Absolutely drenched. Looked like a miserable, wet cat.”

Macaque’s lips twitched - almost like he was about to smirk - but he forced his scowl to remain. “Sounds about right.”

Wukong glared at him this time. “You weren’t even there.”

Macaque finally looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “I didn’t need to be.”

Chang’e hid her laugh behind her sleeve, watching their exchange with clear delight.

Wukong suddenly had the distinct feeling he was being studied. Before he could think more on it, Chang’e was speaking again.

“Well, Mei and MK, you two can share this room. I hope it is to your liking.” Mei and MK were both quick to nod their heads enthusiastically. “As for you two,” she turned to the two monkeys. “Your rooms are just a bit further down the hall.”

Chang’e led Wukong and Macaque down the corridor, the palace hallways were quieter now, their steps echoing softly against the polished floors.

Macaque walked a step behind the two of them, his mood still sour. Chang’e, ever perceptive, seemed to notice too. “So,” she said, glancing at Wukong with a knowing smile, “you found yourself a travel companion. Normally you’re alone, how’d you two meet?”

Wukong shrugged. “We ran into each other in some no-where village, then he asked for my help.”

Chang’e lifted a brow. “That simple, huh?”

There was something in her voice that made Wukong glance at her warily. He knew that tone. It was the same one she used when she smelled something interesting, something worth digging into.

“Mm,” she hummed, before shifting her gaze to Macaque. “And what exactly is it that you do?”

Macaque didn’t even hesitate. “I travel.”

“That’s vague.”

“That’s intentional.”

Wukong sighed. “He’s like this all the time.”

Chang’e, of course, only seemed more entertained. “So mysterious. No family name? No grand tales to tell?”

Macaque’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening.

Wukong caught the way his fingers twitched at his side, the subtle shift in his aura.

Ah.

So that was the weak spot.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Macaque said flatly. “I won’t be here long enough for it to.”

Wukong groaned. “Do you always have to be so hostile?”

Macaque ignored him, eye locked onto Chang’e. “I don’t owe you my life story.”

Chang’e only smiled. “No, but I like knowing who’s traveling with my dear friend. And you, so far, are very good at avoid questions.”

Macaque seemed to bristle at that, his tail lashing out behind him and his glare murderous. Wukong scrunched his brow, not understanding this little invisible comeptition happening between the two. Before he could think too hard about it, Macaque exhaled sharply and schooled his face, visibly restraining himself.

Chang’e, for her part, still looked amused.

Finally, they stopped in front of two doors across from each other. Chang’e gestured at one. “Wukong, this one is yours.” Then she turned to Macaque, still grinning. “And this one’s yours, oh mysterious traveler.”

Wukong winced the second he saw Macaque’s eye twitch.

“Chang’e,” he warned.

“What?” She asked innocently.

He gave her a pointed look, but let it go. Macaque stood with them for a second longer before turning sharply and entering his room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

Chang’e let her amusement show fully now, watching Wukong with a smug look. “He’s fun.”

Wukong dragged a hand down his face. “You’re going to make him kill you.”

“Eh, I like him. He’s just so easy to rile up.”

Wukong rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that fought its way onto his face. “And yet I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with him.”

Chang’e patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You can handle it, you’ve faced worse than a single bad-tempered monkey.”

He just sighed but nodded.

“Alright, well I have some things I need to take care of for the festival, but I’ll see you all at dinner! Bye Sunni!” Chang’e waved as she walked back down the hall, leaving Wukong by himself.

He glanced at the door Macaque had disappeared into and considered bothering the ebony monkey, but thought better of it. He stepped into his own room, shutting the door behind him. 

It was the same one he would always use when he stayed here. The room was spacious, but simple, bathed in warm light from the large window that overlooked the city. 

He sighed, leaning against the door for a moment.

He really had missed this place. The warmth of it, the familiarity. Though it was strange being left alone by Chang’e. Normally they would be attatched at the hip whenever he was here. Even when the Moon Festival rolled around, Chang’e always let him help with preparations. 

Thinking about it now, this was the first time he had really been left alone since beginning this journey. The feeling was weird, not having at least one of them within reach of him. He slightly frowned, knowing he’d have to smuther that feeling sooner or later. After this mission, things would go back to normal, such as him working for Heaven alone.

The thought sent a strange feeling coursing through him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He could deal with that later. He was here on a mission, one tangled up in far more complications that he wanted to think about tight now.

And Macaque…

Wukong shut his eyes as if to ease a headache, before looking at the window.

Something about him was off - not just the secrecy, but the way re reacted to things. The way he fluffed up at certain questions, the way his irritation seemed deeper than just annoyance.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his mane. He thought for a second longer before turning on his heel, walking out of his room.

A little walk wouldn’t hurt. In fact, it’s exactly what he needed right now.

Outside, the city buzzed with life.

The streets stretched wide, lined with banners and lanterns being strung up for the festival. Every color imaginable wove through the crowd - humans and demons alike bustling together, exchanging goods, laughter, and conversation. The scent of sizzling meat skewers mingled with the sweetness of fresh pastries, and the air thrummed with the lively calls of vendors.

A woman with horns curling from her temples haggled over silk fabric with a merchance, her tail flicking in irritation. An elderly man, his beard long enough to nearly brush his chest, sat cross-legged on the street corner, playing a flute while two children - one with pointed ears and sharp teeth, the other fully human - danced in delight. Further down, a group of demons, all dressed in vibrant colors, chattered excitedly as they admired festival charms.

It was always like this here. A harmony like no other. 

Wukong let himself sink into it, moving unhurriedly through the crowd.

He turned his head and saw a cluster of children watching him from behind a fruit stand, whispering among themselves. The eldest - a boy with green skin and bright eyes - pushed a younger girl forward. She hesitated, wide-eyes, before gathering the courage to run up to him, gripping something tightly in her hands.

“Mister Monkey King!” She blurted out, cheeks flushed.

Wukong blinked. Then, he grinned.

“That’s me,” he said easily, resting his hands on his hips. “Though just ‘Wukong’ is fine.”

The girl gasped loudly, whirling around to the other children. “I told you it was him!“

The group exploded into hushed excitement, some of them ducking behind the fruit stand, others peeking over baskets of oranges to get a better look.

 The girl turned back to him, holding out a small, hand-woven charm. “I made this for the festival,” she said quickly. “But - um - you can have it if you want!”

Wukong took it carefully. The charm was simple, the knots a little uneven, but the effort shone through. A tiny silver rabbit charm dangled from the thread, catching the light.

He crouched down slightly, giving the girl a mock-serious look. “You made this?”

She nodded furiously.

“Hm,” He looked at it a moment longer, before cupping it in his hands and blowing on it. He looked at her with a grin. “How about you keep it? I just enchanted it so you have unimaginable luck and protection.” He held it back out to her with a smile.

The girl’s jaw dropped and took it back quickly, starring at it as if the charm had changed completely. Behind her, the other children gasped and whispered louder, emboldened now. A small boy with cat-like eyes suddenly darted forward, tugging Wukong’s sleeve.

“Is it true you fought a dragon?” He asked breathlessly.

Wukong grinned. “Which one?”

The boy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

A moment later, a dozen voices clamored at once.

“Did you really slay a thousand demons?”

“Can you fly?”

“Are you really a monkey?”

“What’s Heaven like? Is it made of gold?”

Wukong threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright - one at a time! I’d love to tell you all about my many, many victories-” He ignored the amused snort from a passing merchant. “-but only if you promise to finish helping your parents with the festival.”

The kids groaned but nodded eagerly, some of them rushing off to return to their chores, while others lingered a little longer, looking at him like he was some kind of legend come to life.

Which, to be fair, he was.

As the crowd thinned, Wukong strightened, rolling his shoulders. He caught a few lingering gazes from adults, all recognizing him in some sort of way. He nodded at a few of them before turning and wandering toward a quieter street he used to frequent. His steps slowed as the path led him closer to the harbour.

The view was as breathtaking as he remembered.

Beyond the streets and roofttops, the water stretched endlessly, shimmering beneath the afternoon light. Gentle waves lapped against the stone embankments, carrying the soft scent of salt and lotus blooms. Small boats drifted lazily across the surface, their sails catching the breeze, while further in the distance, a bridge arched gracefully over the water, connecting to the grand palace that sat at the heart of it all.

Wukong leaned against the railing, exhaling deeply.

The city had always been a place of solace for him - a brief escape from the rigidty of Heaven, from the endless orders and expectations. here, he could simply exist, blending into the lively streets without the weight of duty pressing down on him.

But even as he tried to soak in the peace, his thoughts refused to settle.

His gaze drifted to the horizon. To the sky.

To Heaven.

Heaven, which had shaped him. Which had hurt him.

Heaven, which he still couldn’t bring himself to resent.

He let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. That was a useless thought to entertain.

Instead, his mind turned elsewhere.

To Macaque.

Wukong frowned, tapping his fingers idly against the stone railing.

Macaque had been distant - more than usual. The irritation, the barely contained bristling, the way he had been so quick to snap at him. It was almost amusing how easily Macaque got riled up, but the tension between them had only thickened as the day went on.

Then there was that moment in the hall. 

Chang’e had prodded at something in Macaque, struck something sensitive. He had covered it quickly, but Wukong had noticed.

Wukong should let it go - Macaque clearly didn’t want to talk about it - but the knowledge lingered, tugging at something in his chest.

Had he gone too far earlier?

“No,“ he reasoned. “Macaque was the one being insufferable. He doesn’t get to be mad for what happened when all I did was stop him from being reckless.“

And yet…

His grip tightened slightly on the railing.

Despite himself, he thought about apologizing.

For what, though? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

Wukong sighed, rubbing his palms to his eyes.

Maybe an apology would smooth things over, even if he still felt justified in what he’d said. He didn’t want thing to stay tense between them - not when they had begun getting along.

He noticed the placement of the sun and figured he should slowly make his way back. Leaving Macaque alone with Chang’e at dinner was just another way of spelling out disaster.

As he wove through the streets, occastionally stopping when someone spoke to him, his eye caught on something at a merchant’s booth. He made his way over and stopped in front of it, looking at all the wares.

There was a lot of jewlery -  thin silver chains, carved jade pendants, beaded bracelts in a variety of colors - all glinting in the afternoon light.

He hadn’t intended to buy anything, but now that he was here, an idea had taken root in his mind.

Something for Macaque.

Mostly because he thought it would be funny, gifting something like that to the dark monkey. He clearly wasn’t one for trinkets or useless, meaningless possessions, so Wukong saw the amusement in handing him something and getting one of Macaque’s signature glares.

But another part of him liked the idea of giving something to the other and him liking.

He pushed that thought away.

His fingers drifted over the selection before he spotted something that caught his eye - a pendant shaped like a cresent moon with a single star connected to the point, made of dark metal that stood out against all the other necklaces. It was simple, not overly flashy.

He picked it up, feeling the weight oh it in his palm.

Yeah. This would suit Macaque.

Wukong smirked to himself, imagining the look on Macaque’s face when he handed it to him. The sheer disbelief, the inevitable glare, the way he’d grumble about how pointless it was - only to begrduingly keep it anyway.

That was the goal.

“See something you like?” The merchant, an older man with long hair, asked with an amused tilt to his voice.

Wukong slipped the pendant between his fingers. “Something like that.”

“Good eye. That one’s protective - it wards off bad luck.”

Wukong snorted. He didn’t believe in the mortal superstition of enchanted pendants for things like luck. They didn’t really exist; which some might argue makes him a jackass for telling that to the child, but it was worth the look on her face. “Heh, he’ll need it.”

The merchant gave him a look but said nothing as Wukong pulled out some coins, tossing them over with little care for haggling. The man wrapped the pendant in a soft cloth before handing it over.

“Hope your friend likes it.”

Wukong ignored the tone in his voice and just waved them off, tucking the pendant into his belt.

Now all that was left was figuring out how to give it to Macaque without making it weird.

Or, even better - making it as annoying as possible.

Wukong grinned to himself and turned back toward the palace.

Chapter Text

The sun had begun to set, casting warm hues of orange and violet across the sky as Wukong made his way to the dining hall. The palace was alive with movement - servants flitting between rooms, preperations for the festival continuing in full force, the scent of roasted duck and sweet pastries lingering in the air.

By the time he arrived. Chang’e, MK, and Mei were already seated at the long, low table, chatting animatedly over bowls of soup and fresh dumplings. Macaque sat a chair away from their host, silent as ever, fingers tapping against the rim of his cup.

Wukong dropped into the empty seat beside Chang’e, stretching his arms behind  his head. “Miss me?”

Chang’e rolled her eyes. “Not even a little.”

Dinner was lively, filled with conversation and laughter - at least for most of them.

“So what kind of things will be shown throughout the festival? We’ve heard about the lantern release and the food, but what else is there?” MK asked excitedly, Mei nodding along.

At that, Chang’e’s eyes lit up. “Oh, where do I even start?”

Wukong, equally enthused, grinned. “The performances!”

“Yes! The performances!” Chang’e turned to MK and Mei with dramatic flair. “They’re legendary. Dancers, musicians, acrobats - everything is infused with celestial magic. The story telling performances are my personal favorite.”

“Mine too,” Wukong said, nodding. “They bring the best performers from all over.”

Chang’e pointed at him. “Remember that fire dancer last time?”

Wukong laughed. “How could I forget? He nearly set the stage on fire.”

MK and Mei listened with wide-eyed wonder as the two continued their excited rant, bouncing from one topic to the next. They talked about the elaborate parade, the contests held in the city square, the night market filled with rare goods, and the grand final performance on the last night.

“The fireworks are unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” Chang’e declared. “They paint entire stories in the sky!”

Mei gasped. “That sounds amazing!”

Just as the conversation was at its warmest-

“What do you know about the keys to the Samadhi Fire?”

The words dropped like a stone in a lake.

The table fell silent.

Wukong nearly choked on his drink. He whipped his head over to the ebony simian.

Macaque, completely unfazed, looked at Chang’e expectantly.

Chang’e, who had been sipping her tea, blinked at him. “The what now?”

“The keys,” Macaque repeated. “The map said there’s one here.”

Chang’e stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Wukong. “This one always like this?”

“Worse,” Wukong muttered, rubbing his temples.

Chang’e hummed, tapping her fingers against the table. “So, you’re after the Samadhi Fire? That’s interesting.”

Macaque tensed slightly next to Wukong. “…You don’t seem surprised.”

“On the contrary,” Chang’e said, looking bored with the conversation. “I am curious. Why do you want it?

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“Touchy.” Chang’e smirked. 

Wukong coughed awkwardly. “Look, it’s not as shady as he’s making it sound.”

Chang’e shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter to me. If you want the key, you can have it.”

Macaque frowned and Wukong sputtered. “Just like that?” Macaque asked.

“Sure. That old thing doesn’t mean anything to me. But,” She said, getting a mischievous smile on her face, “only after the festival.”

Macaque’s expression twitched. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.”

Wukong sighed in relief, slumping back in his chair. Honestly, this had gone way better than he expected. 

“Now that the boring stuff has been address, where were we?” Chang’e asked, clapping her hands together.

Macaque looked like he wanted to argue, but shut his mouth, turning back to his barely touched plate. Wukong wanted to reach out, reassure Macaque that it was fine. Chang’e had the key and was going to give it to them without any resitanst. But he didn’t. He could envision the fight that would break out, and he didn’t want Chang’e to see that.

The pendant seemed to burn against his side, a reminder that it was there and he needed to smooth things over with Macaque soon. 

“-and I got some immortal friends coming to help this year!”

Wukong’s attention was regrabbed at that. He turned to Chang’e with a look of confusion. “Really?” He asked, dubiously.

Don’t get him wrong, Chang’e’s Moon Festival was a big deal on this side of the continent, even immortals knew about it, but it wasn’t the kind of thing any of them indulged in. They all believed it was a waste of time and resources. Wukong and Chang’e had been the only immortals to join in the festivities. Maybe every once in a while one would drop by, but it was never with the intent to have any fun.

Thinking about it now, this was the only week the Jade Emperor would grant him freedom from his duties. He was always allowed to come down and celebrate, but he would have to return right after. He just hadn’t felt like coming in recent years.

“Well,” She glanced to the side with a laugh. “I invited a few. I’m not sure if any will show.” She admitted.

Wukong felt himself relax slightly. The last thing he needed right now was to be running into Erlang at a festival right now. He wanted to avoid all Heaven Officials as best as he could for the next while.

Dinner wrapped up surprisingly nicely. MK and Mei got along great with Chang’e. Mei was telling her all about her family’s dragon-horses and how they used to be used in battles, and MK was telling her about his dad and how he made the best food ever. The conversation floated easily, and Wukong hadn’t felt the need to step in to keep the atmosphere light.

Wukong watched Chang’e compliment MK’s journal (that Mei had slipped to her, much to MK’s embarressment), and ask about the entries. He had nearly forgotten about Macaque who had been dead silent the rest of the meal, mostly picking at his food. When Wukong turned to spark conversation, maybe slip in an apologie, Macaque had slipped from his chair and begun to retreat.

Wukong’s eyes widened before quickly following after him.

“Where are you going? Dinner’s not over.” Wukong asked.

Macaque leaned back slightly to look at all the other empty plates before raising a brow at Wukong. “I think it is. Dinner is normally finished when people are done eating.”

Wukong sputtered a bit before trying to guide Macaque back to the table. “But you barely touched your food! C’mon, just finish your plate and you can go do whatever it is you do when you’re all alone to brood and mope.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes and side-stepped Wukong’s effort, taking another step back towards the hallway. 

“Wukong. I know you think you’re so great and entitled to everything, but newsflash, you aren’t. So keep your nose out of my business and let me go back to my room. I’m tried.” Macaque snapped, his voice coming out a little too loud.

Wukong stared at Macaque in shock, a lot of different emotions rolling through him at once. The words hurt. He found himself straightening his back and freezing.

“How could one forget how reckless and entitled the Monkey King is.”

The sentance seemed to boom in the back of his mind. It wasn’t Macaque’s, but it was…

He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to be anywhere. Everywhere would remind Wukong of him.

The sage didn’t notice that Macaque had turned and left, didn’t notice MK calling out to him, didn’t notice Chang’e coming over until she put a hand on his shoulder.

He craned his neck to look at her, and she gave a knowing look. Her words escaped his ears, but she told MK and Mei they they should head to bed and she would take care of Wukong.

“I don’t need anyone taking care of me.” He thought bitterly.

He let himself be guided through the halls by his friend, until they entered her room.

“Put these on.” 

Wukong snapped out of his trance when he caught a bundle of silk clothing tossed by Chang’e. He looked down at them before looking at her with an unimpressed look.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now go.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him with a look that left no room for argument.

A few minutes later, Wukong emerged from the washroom, the soft, silk pajamas were a familiar luxary that should have eased him - but his mind was tangled in knots.

He sighed and stepped back into the dimly lit bedroom, only to pause at the sight before him.

Chang’e sat cross-legged on the bed, dressed in a similar set of soft, silken sleepwear. A brush rested in her hands, and as soon as she spotted him, she patted the space in front of her with an expectant smile. “Come here.”

Wukong blinked at her, confused for a beat, until realization settled in.

This was how it had always been between them. Back when he used to come here to escape the pressures of Heaven, when he sought comfort in the simplicity of their friendship. It was a past routine - Chang’e brushing and braiding his hair while they gossiped about anything and everything. No weight of duty, no expectations. Just them.

The tightness in his chest loosened. With a quiet exhale, he moved toward the bed and sat in front of her, folding his legs beneath him. 

Chang’e wasted no time, pulling the band from his fur and regathering his hair with practiced ease. “Alright,” she said, as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t been on the verge of spiraling. “What should we talk about first? Oh! I heard the Western Celestials had a whole scandal recently-”

Wukong huffed a short laugh. “You’re still keeping up with celestial gossip?”

“Obviously,” she said, running the brush through his hair with slow, gentle strokes. “Just because I’m not in Heaven doesn’t mean I don’t hear things. And believe me, this one is good.”

She launched into the story, her tone playful and dramatic, weaving absurd details into her retelling. It was fun for a while, letting himself lean into the sound of Chang’e’s voice and relax against the gentle strokes of the brush.

He almost believed that he was back in simplier times, where nothing had changed. But it got harder the longer time dragged on. He tried to focus on her voice, on the easy rhythm of her words and the way she exaggerated every detail just for effect. He wanted to laugh with her, to lean into the warmth of familiarity, but his mind kept pulling him elsewhere.

The brush moved through his hair in slow, careful strokes.

“I mean, can you believe it?” Chang’e said, her tone somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Heavenly Lords and their egos. You’d think they’d learn by now that secret love affairs never stay secret.”

Wukong made a sound of acknowledgement, but he barely processed her words. His thoughts had drifted again, looping back to too many different thoughts, the loudest being Macaque’s words.

“I know you think you’re so great”

He used to.

Once, he had believe in his own strength without hesitation. Had trusted in his purpose, in the role he had been given. He had been a hero of Heaven, a protector, a symbol of power and victory.

But somewhere along the way, that confidence had cracked.

Now, all he saw were the fractures.

The failures.

His failure to be the weapon Heaven had wanted him to be. His failure to hold onto the things he cared about. His failure to be what he had needed him to be.

The brush passed through his hair again, gentle and steady.

“I can hear you thinking, you know,” Chang’e said lightly. She tugged a strand of his hair, just enough to pull him out of his thoughts. “Whatever’s going on in that overstuffed head of yours, stop. This is our time.”

Wukong swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “That bad, huh?”

“You’re worse than usual,” she said, and though she kept her tone teasing, there was something softer beneath it.

Wukong exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if he could physically shake off the thoughts clinging to him. He didn’t want to be this person with her - the one weighted down by everything he couldn’t change.

So he leaned back, tilting his head against her knee and flashing her a grin. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. You can continue.”

Chang’e gave him a long look before huffing and flicking his forehead. “Okay, just no more zoning out on me. You know I hate that.”

Wukong chuckled, closing his eyes as she resumed brushing.

For a moment, there was only the quiet rhythem of the brush moving through his hair. Then, Chang’e hummed thoughtfully.

“I was going to wait til you said something, but seeing as you still haven’t,” she mused, her tone far too casual to be innocent, “I was watching you and Macaque earlier.”

Wukong cracked an eye open, suspisious. “Okay, and?”

“And I have to say… I think you two make a rather handsome pair.”

His face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Chang’e sighed dramatically. “Honestly, you’re a hero of Heaven and yet so oblivious to the battlefield of romance.” She tapped his forehead with the brush. “I thought you two had the hots for each other.”

Wukong sat up, blinking at her like she’d just spoken in some ancient, forgotten tongue. “…What?” Wukong furrowed his brow, trying to process Chang’e’s words. “The hots for each other?” He echoed, like saying it out loud would somehow help make sense of it.

“Yes, Wukong.” Chang’e sighed, shaking her head. “You know, when two people spend too much time glaring at each other but also can’t stop hovering around one another? When one gets all sulky and bitter while the other keeps trying to get their attention?”

“That’s not what’s happening,” he scoffed. “Macaque barely tolerates me.”

“And yet he’s always watching you.”

Wukong frowned, crossing his arms. “Because he doesn’t trust me.”

“And you keep trying to get his attention,” she pointed out, voice light, but her gaze was piercing.

“That’s just because-” Wukong started, but stopped short.

Because what?

Because he wanted Macaque to respect him? To like him?

Because it bothered him when Macaque ignored him?

Because despite all the glares and bitter remarks and fights, there was something about Macaque that pulled him in?

“…That doesn’t mean I like him.”

Chang’e grinned. “Oh, I know,” She rested her chin on her hand. “You barely like the guy, after all.”

“Exactly.” Wukong gestured vaguley, as if that proved his point. “He’s sarcastic, mean, and always acting like he’s the smartest person in the room. He’s secretive, stubborn, and doesn’t listen to reason. He’s-”

Chang’e raised an eyebrow.

Wukong exhaled sharply, dropping his head back. “-he’s witty, and annoyingly clever, and when he’s not insulting me, he can actually hold a decent conversation. And-” He groaned, pressing his palms into his face. “He’s… he’s got nice eyes. And his voice isn’t terrible to listen to. And-”

“Wukong.”

He peeked through his fingers.

“You like him.”

Wukong jerked back like she’s struck him. “No.”

Chang’e gave him a knowing look.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, heart picking up speed. “That’s not- no. I can’t. I don’t.”

“But you do.”

He shot to his feet, pacing across the room. “That’s ridiculous. That’s insane. I barely know him!”

“You know enough,” Chang’e said simply.

“No,” Wukong muttered, gripping his hair. “No, I can’t like him.”

Not again.

Not after what happened last time.

Not after he let someone pass all his walls, let himself love, only for it to end in ruin.

“I can’t,” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Chang’e watched him, her playful grin fading into something softer. She knew where this was going before he even said it.

“Sunni…“ Her voice was gentle, almost cautious, as she swung her legs over the bed and stood.

He didn’t stop pacing. His movements were frantic, restless energy rolling off him in waves. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered.

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He turned sharply to face her, frustration flashing in his golden eyes. “You weren’t there. You didn’t-” His voice caught, and he shook his head. “I can’t do that again. I won’t.”

Chang’e sighed, stepping forward. “Sunni-”

“I barely survived it last time,” he went on, voice strained. “You know that. I- I was ruined.” His fists curled tight. “And now you think I should just- what? Try again? Act like I’m not completely incapable of-” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth.

“Of loving someone?” Chang’e finished for him.

Wukong flinched.

She sighed, reaching out to gently take his arm. “You aren’t incapable of it,” she murmured. “You loved before. Just because it ended the way it did doesn’t mean you can’t love again.”

Wukong scoffed, pulling away. “You say that like I have any business trying.”

“You do,” she insisted, crossing her arms. “You act like you’re doomed to be alone forever.”

“Maybe I am.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t that be fitting? A perfect little punishment for someone like me.”

Chang’e frowned. “Don’t start that.” 

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I ruin things, Chang’e. That’s what I do.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said, voice firm.

Wukong scoffed.

“You didn’t.” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Things ended badly, yes, but that wasn’t your fault.”

“It was though.”

“Wukong.”

He clenched his jaw, looking away.

“You can’t let one heartbreak define you forever.” She softened again, reaching down to take his hand. “He wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I liked him, you know,” she said after a pause. “I thought he was good for you.”

A bitter smile tugged Wukong’s lips. “Yeah, well. Turns out I wasn’t good for him.”

Chang’e frowned, but didn’t argue.

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he muttered. “Macaque doesn’t even like me.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Oh my Gods, are you dense?”

Wukong blinked. “Excuse me?”

Chang’e groaned, draggiing a hand down her face. “I swear, you’re the biggest idiot I know.”

“Rude,” he muttered.

She ignored him. “Macaque likes you. I noticed the moment I saw him! He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Wukong frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She raised an eyebrow. “Think about it. Really think about it. The way he gets under your skin, the way he’s always watching you, the way he bothers you - it clearly goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

Wukong opened his mouth, then closed it.

His mind reeling, recalling every glare, every snide remark, every moment Macaque hovered on the edge of his space, watching.

The way Macaque always seemed annoyed but never truly left.

The way he never dismissed Wukong outright, even when he had every reason to.

The way he’d felt after their fight, when it was just the two of them in the field, when Macaque had bested him, had him pinned to the ground and they stared at each other as he had ignored his heart skipping a beat.

Wukong swallowed hard. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

He shook his head. “Even if you’re not, it doesn’t matter.”

Chnag’e sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Because it is difficult,” Wukong snapped. “Because I’m not supposed to- because I can’t-“

His voice cracked, and he bit down on his tongue.

Chang’e gaze softened again.

She reached out, pressing her hand over his. “You’re allowed to care about people, Sunni,” she murmured. “You’re allowed to be loved.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, staring at the floor.

Chang’e gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You just have to let yourself.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, Wukong’s thoughts racing. He hadn’t thought about things like this is eons. And because of Macaque?

He exhaled slowly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Even if I wanted to, even if I-” He hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Even if he wanted to… it wouldn’t work.”

Chang’e sighed. “And why not?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Because he’s mortal, Chang’e.”

She stilled. “Oh… right.”

He ran a hand through his hair, forcing out a bitter laugh. “I’d have to watch him grow old. Watch him die.” His voice wavered. “And I’d still be here. Like I always am. Like I always will be.”

Chang’e didn’t respond right away.

Wukong clenched his jaw. “He deserves something real. Something lasting, something that isn’t me.” His gaze darkened.

Silence stretched between them.

Then, quieter, he added, “I don’t know much about him. Not really. But I know he’s been hurt.” His fingers flattened against his thighs and he tried to rub the clamminess off. “And I know I don’t want to be another thing that hurts him.”

Chang’e studied him, her expression unreadable.

After a long pause, she murmured, “Nothing lasts forever, Wukong.”

His breath hitched.

“Every fire burns out eventually. That’s why you enjoy all the warmth you can get before it does.”

He inhaled sharply, shoving down the uneasy feeling rising in his throat. He straightened, plastering on a smirk. “Anyway, this was a fun little talk, but I should go back to my room.”

Chang’e frowned slightly. “You can stay here, you know. Like we used to.”

“I know,” he said, forcing his voice to stay light. “But I’m fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. “Alright,” she murmured.

Wukong bid her a goodnight and turned toward the door, exhaling as he stepping into the hall. He pressed his back against the door, letting his head fall against it with a dull thud. His body ached - not from battle, but from exhaustion, the kind that settled deep in his bones, the kind he couldn’t shake no matter how much he laughed or pretended it wasn’t there. He lifted a hand, pressing his palm to his face, letting it drag down slowly.

Sometimes, he wished he was just a weapon. A mindless, thoughtless thing meant only to be weilded. It would be easier that way. No expecations, no failures, no aching reminders of something he wasn’t. Just steel, cold and unfeeling. No past lovers to think about, no guilt weighing him down, no-

Movement down the hall caught his eye.

Wukong dropped his hand, blinking as he spotted a familiar figure wandering, looking almost lost. It took him a second to register it was Macaque.

Wukong hesitated before pushing himself off the door and making his way over. They met each other halfway, macaque slowing to a stop when he noticed him.

“What are you doing?” Wukong asked first, raising a brow.

Macaque let out a sharp breath, crossing his arms. “What am I doing?” His voice was clipped with irritation. “What the hell are you doing?

Wukong blinked at the unexpected hostility. “Uh… existing?”

Macaque scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, existing. Is that what you celestials call it?”

Wukong frowned. “…What is that supposed to mean?”

Macaque rolled his eyes, tiliting his head slightly as he looked over Wukong - his tousled hair, the loose fit of his clothes, the unmistakable silk of Chang’e’s spare pajamas. His frown deepened.

“You were with her all this time,” he said flatly.

Wukong stared. “Yeah?”

Macaque let out a sharp breath through his nose, looking away as if this was the most frustrating thing he’d heard. “Unbelievable.”

Wukong squinted. “Unbelievable what?”

Macaque clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath that Wukong couldn’t quite catch. His arms crossed even tighter, his jaw tight.

Wukong stared at him, the slowly, suspisiously, asked, “Macaque. What, exactly, do you think I was doing?”

Macaque’s fingers twitched against his arm. He looked away. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Wukong stepped forward. “No, no, no- hold on.” He narrowed his eyes. “Because you’re acting weird and you keep saying things that don’t make sense.”

Macaque let out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, it makes perfect sense.”

“Then explain it!”

Macaque shot him a look, sharp and exasperated. “You spent the night with her-“

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re wearing her clothes-”

“Actually these are mine since I always keep a pair in there, what does that have to do with anything-”

“And you expect me to believe nothing happened?”

Wukong opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it again.

And then, realization finally struck.

His eyes went wide in absolute horror. “Wait. Do you think I-? That we-?” He made a vague but wildly distressed gesture between himself and an imaginary Chang’e.

Macaque stared at him, unimpressed.

Wukong made a choked noise, somewhere between a laugh and a gag. “Macaque!“

Macaque’s expression didn’t change.

Wukong let out an exasperated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “That is- that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Macaque scoffed. “Oh, is it?”

Wukong’s hands dropped from his face, his patience wearing thin. “Yes! Gods, why the hell would I even-?”

Macaque clicked his tongue, shifting his weight. “Because it’s what people like you do.”

Wukong blinked. “…People like me?”

Macaque’s gaze flicked over him, guarded and unimpressed. “The kind who take what they want when they want it. The kind who don’t think past the moment.”

Wukong’s jaw tightened.

Macaque exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Wukong scowled. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Macaque huffed, turning away. “Fine. But just remember,” He shot him a look, something tired and bitter creeping into his expression. “We’re not at a brothel for you to pass the time, Wukong. We’re on a mission. Try to remember that.”

Wukong’s expression darkened. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stood there, staring at Macaque with something unreadable in his gaze.

Then he let out a short breath, sharp and mirthless. “Yeah,” he said, his voice void of any warmth. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

With that, he turned and the two walked off in different directions.

Wukong’s steps were quick, stiff, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His teeth grinding against each other, his head buzzing with residual irritation, but most of all - most of all - his chest ached.

“Yeah, he definitely likes me.” Wukong thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

The pendant in his pocket felt heavier than before.

He sighed slowly, trying to push away the urge to turn back.

Not tonight.

Chapter Text

Macaque lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, exhausted but wide awake. His limbs felt heavy, his mind sluggish, but rest refused to come. He should have stayed in bed. Should have ignored the restless pull that had dragged him into the halls last night. Should have kept walking when he saw Wukong, or at the very least, kept his mouth shut. Instead, he had let irritation get the better of him. Said things he could no longer take back

And for what?

It wasn’t as if Wukong had denied it. He had just looked at him - stared at him, mouth half open, eyes wide with something caught between offense and disbelief. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t the one who should have looked so shocked. It wasn’t his reputation that suggested he’d do something like that. It wasn’t his fualt the entire situation had been so easy to assume-

Macaque exhaled sharply and pressed a hand over his face, his fingers digging into his temple. His mind wouldn’t shut up. It had been doing this all night, spinning through the same useless cycle. Over and over, replaying words he wished he hadn’t said, expressions he wished he hadn’t seen, thoughts he wished he hadn’t had. He regretted it. A little. Not because he thought he was wrong, but because it would have been easier to not care.

But he did care. And that was the problem.

His fingers curled into his forehead, pressing hard as if he could physically force the thought out of his skull. It didn’t work.

It was an ugly thing, the image forming in his head, unwelcome but persistant. He pictured Wukong in her room, sprawled on her silken sheets, his voice lower than usual, laughter rumbling between hushed words. Chang’e’s fingers brushing through his hair, her lips against his skin, skin against skin, warmth shared beneath dim candlelight-

Macaque gritted his teeth, rolling onto his side like he could shove the thought away. But the worst part wasn’t picturingit. The worst part was what he thought of after.

For just a second, he had the same setting take form in his mind, but it wasn’t Chang’e with Wukong. It was him.

His breath cut through the silence, sharp and sudden like he had been struck. He sat up too fast, the world tiliting slightly around him, but he barely noticed. His pulse hammered in his throat, his own thoughts suffocating.

No.

He shoved the idea away, buried it before it could fully take form. Whatever was happening in his head was nothing more than a passing impulse, a fleeting, meaningless thought. It had no bearing on reality. It had no place in this mission. It had no place in his life.

His hands curled into fists, gripping the sheets beneath him, grounding himself in their solid, physical presense. He exhaled, slow and deliberate, and forced his mind elsewhere.

Unfortunately, his mind was more than willing to provide.

Macaque clenched his jaw as the memory rose, unbidden and unwanted. He had been here, in this very room, getting ready to sleep when it happened. A flicker in the mirror. A glimpse of something that shouldn’t have been there.

He hadn’t wanted to look. Every nerve in his body had screamed at him to ignore it, to walk away, to not see-

But he had.

And for a moment, he had not been himself.

The reflections staring back at him had not belonged to him. Yes, it had been him - his face, his body - but not him. The thing in the mirror had been wrong. Wrong in ways he couldn’t describe, wrong in ways that sank into his bones and settled there like ice. His skin had been pale, his features void of all expression, his eyes dull and lifeless. 

Frost covered his body like a cruel hug. It crawled up his throat like veins of crystal, spreading over his jaw, consuming his face. His hands, rigid and unnatural, had been coated in it, his fingered turning to jagged shards of ice.

There had been no emotion. No humanity, No soul.

Just emptiness.

Macaque swallowed, pushing the memory down, but it stayed lodged in his chest like a stone. It was just another warning. Another reminder.

His stomach twisted. He had left the room after that, unable to stay, unable to breathe in that space where his own reflection had become something else. He told himself he had been fine, that he hadn’t been scared. That he had simply needed fresh air. But he knew better.

It was too late.

Even if he wanted to, even if he tried - there was no leaving now. He had let himself get tangled in something far greater than he understood. And if he so much as thought about running, he knew she would erase him before he could take a single step.

Macaque exhaled slowly, his fingers pressing into his palms. He had made a deal with something ancient, something that seemed bigger than Heaven itself. And now, she had her claws in him.

He had the steady himself, panic wouldn’t help. Thinking too much wouldn’t help. What he could do- what he had to do- was act.

He had wasted enough time waiting around. Chang’e already agreed to give the key to them, now she was just stalling. He wasn’t about to sit here and twiddle his thumbs like a fool while she had her fun with Wukong. If he found it first, then this entire problem would be solved.

And no, this decision had absolutely nothing to do with impatience. Or frustration. Or the lingering burn of last night’s argument with Wukong. He wasn’t keeping himself busy with hopes of avoiding him. He just-

The door to his room slammed open.

Macaque barely had time to react before MK and Mei burst in, far too awake, far too loud, and carrying plates stacked high with food.

“Rise and shine!” MK grinned, setting a dish down on the small table by the bed. “We brought breakfast!”

Macaque pressed his fingers against his temples. “Why are you in my room?”

“Because we missed you,” MK said, dragging a chair closer and plopping down in it. “You disappeared on us last night, and then you weren’t at breakfast, so we figured we’d track you down before you actually went missing.”

“No one is going missing,” Macaque muttered. “I was sleeping.”

“You look like hell.” Mei pointed out, already helping herself to the food she had brought for Macaque. “If that’s what you call sleeping, you did it wrong.”

Macaque ignored her, eyeing the plates warily. 

“Chang’e was up before dawn cooking everything herself,” MK said, noticing how Macaque was inspecting the food.

“All of it?” He asked cautiously.

Mei nodded. “Yeah, and you should try some. It’s so good.” She said with her mouthful.

Macaque hesitated. He’d barely spoken to Chang’e, and after last night, he wanted to keep it that way. But seeing all the food, and feeling his stomach cry out for it, she was really making it hard to hold onto his irritation.

He shook his head. No, he had more important things to do.

“I can’t eat with you,” he said, shifting his attention back to the plan forming in his mind. “I have things to do today.”

MK gasped dramatically. “What? But the festival starts today!”

“Yeah, come with us to the festival. You’ve been traveling for a while, take a break.” Mei said, leaning back with a smirk.

Macaque glared. “This entire trip has practically been a break. We still haven’t achieved anything. Not a single key is in our possession.”

“Yeah, well…“ MK glanced to the side, as if he was looking for a good reason for that. “Chang’e said she’d give us a key at the end of the week. So just wait a few more days, and we’ll have achieved something.” 

“I’m tired of waiting.” Macaque said simply.

Mei groaned, flopping onto the bed. “Come on, Macaque, you never want to do anything fun!”

“I do plenty of fun things,” Macaque said dryly.

“Name one,” she challenged.

Macaque opened his mouth, then shut it.

Mei grinned. “Exactly.”

Macaque crossed his arms. “I’m busy. I have something important to do today.”

“Okay, what is it?” The kids looked at him expectantly, an air of suspicion resting over both their expressions.

“It doesn’t matter-”

“It does matter if it’s stopping you from hanging out with us,” Mei cut in. “So, what is it?”

Macaque hesitated. He wasn’t about to tell them the truth. The less they knew, the better. “It’s - research.”

MK squinted. “Research.”

“Yes,” Macaque said. “For the keys.”

Mei and MK exchanged a glance. “I thought we already did that?” MK asked.

“And yet we only found the location of a single key.” Macaque pointed out less than kindly.

“Alright, well, we’re helping.” Mei said casually, throwing a piece of fruit into her mouth.

Macaque blinked. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are,” Mei said.

“Absolutely,” MK agreed.

Macaque rubbed the palm of his hand to his eye as he asked irritatedly. “Why would either of you need to help? You don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“Exactly,” MK said. “Which is why you need us!”

Macaque frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. I said you don’t- oh never mind.” He gave up. He should’ve known by now that it was impossible to argue with these two. “Do whatever you want.”

MK reached for another bun and said, “Alright, so we eat, then grab Monkey King and head out-”

“No,” Macaque said immediately.

MK paused mid-bite. “No, what?”

“No one is grabbing Wukong,” Macaque clarified. “No one is telling Wukong what we’re doing. No one is mentioning Wukong at all. In fact, I don’t want to hear his name for the rest of the day.”

MK and Mei shared a look, then slowly turned back to Macaque with identical smirks.

“Ohh,” Mei said knowingly. “You are avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” Macaque snapped.

“You totally are.” MK grinned. “Which is fine, but if you want my advice-”

“I don’t.”

“-I think you should talk things out with him.”

“I should throw you out of my room.”

MK ignored him, waving a hand. “I’m just saying, bottling things up like this, isn’t good for you. Monkey King isn’t a bad guy, if you two would just talk-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

Mei gave him an exaggerated pitying look. “Aw. Macaque’s got feelings and doesn’t know what to do with them.”

Macaque shot her a glare. “I do know what to do with them. I ignore them until they go away.”

MK winced. “That’s not healthy.”

“Hasn’t failed me yet.”

Mei snorted. “That’s because you have the emotional intelligence of a rock.”

“And yet I still have more than Wukong,” Macaque shot back.

MK muttered under his breath, “For someone who doesn’t want to talk about him, you bring him up a lot.” Macaque gave him a sharp look, shutting the kid up.

Luckily, after that remark, they finally let the subject drop. They prompted and got Macaque to eat, all of them enjoying their own plates. Macaque hated to admit it, but Chang’e was a really good cook. The kids talked about simpler things while they had breakfast, MK discussing the festival decorations he had seen and Mei planning the most effective way to haggle prices.

Once the plates were empty and the morning sun climbed higher, they all stood.

“Meet back here in an hour?” MK asked.

“Works for me,” Mei said.

Macaque just nodded, already thinking of where to start in the palace. He had wanted to search for the key, but with they kids tagging along, he couldn’t exactly do that now. But he could try to find something on a certain employer. 

Chang’e was immortal, and so was the Lady Bone Demon. This castle had to have some kind of library or archives that he could look through and find something. 

Giving a more firm nod for himself, he began to get ready for the day, refusing to admit that he was scared of what he might find.

-

The three of them stood outside the entrance to the archives, tucked away in one of the quieter halls of the palace. The door was large and imposing, flanked by stone colums and carved with intricate celestial designs. 

MK shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed. He glanced up and down the hallway, as if expecting someone to come around the corner any second and catch them. “I don’t know about this.”

Mei smiled brightly and slapped him on the back. “Toughen up. What, are you scared we’re gonna get in trouble?” She laughed, her statement clearly not comforting MK in any way. “We’ll be in and out before anyone even notices.”

Macaque, standing a step ahead of them, barely paid attention. His eyes were locked on the door, scanning for any obvious traps or divine enchantments that would make getting inside more complicated. He didn’t except a celestial’s archives to be unguarded, but there was no harm in hoping.

“Though,” Mei added, tilting her head at him, “when I asked Chang’e where the archives were, she said we weren’t allowed in there.”

That caught Macaque’s attnetion. He turned to her sharply. “You what?”

Mei raised an eyebrow at his reaction. “Relax. She didn’t say we couldn’t go in, just that we weren’t allowed,” she said, flashing an infuriating smug grin.

MK squeaked, beginning to figit. “That’s the same thing, Mei.”

Mei ignored him. “But she was kinda weird about it,” she added, this time more thoughtful.

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “Weird how?”

Mei shrugged, arms crossed now. “I dunno. It just felt like she really wanted to make sure I didn’t go looking for it. But she still told me where it was. Why would she tell me exactly where it was, if she was also going to make a point to tell me not to go in?”

That was interesting. Macaque had assumed the archives would be difficult to access, but if Chang’e had gone out of her way to warn Mei off, there might be something worth finding after all.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking off the thought. “We just need to be quick, quiet, and not spotted.”

MK sighed heavily. “I hate that those are your three rules.”

Mei grinned. “They’re good rules.”

Macaque ignored both of them and stepped closer to the door, pressing a hand against it. He let his energy seep into the cracks between the wood and stone. No alrams, no barriers, nothing forcing him back. Good. That meant he didn’t have to do this the hard way.

He turned to MK and Mei. “Stay calm, stay close to me, and please don’t freak out. It will only make things harder.”

Mk and Mei exchanged a look.

“That’s a suspicious thing to say,” MK muttered.

“Yeah, you definitely can’t say that and then not explain,” Mei added.

Macaque didn’t bother explaining. Instead, he exhaled slowly, feeling the cool pull of the shadows beneath him, and let himself sink. The darkness rose to meet him, tendrils of black curling up his legs, pulling him down - not consuming, but guiding. In an instant, the floor beneath them wasn’t solid anymore.

Mei yelped as she plummeted into the darkness. MK barely had time to react before the shadows swallowed him too.

The world shifted, soundless and cold. The solid walls of the palace gave way to a murky, shapeless void. This was the space between light - the places where shadows stretched, when Macaque lived unseen. The faintest outlines of the archives flickered in the distance, distorted, like looking through dark, warped glass.

Macaque dragged them along, his grip firm as he scanned the room ahead. He didn’t know what sort of defenses the archives had, but if there were any magical barriers, he’d feel them before stepping back into the physical world. He moved quickly, slipping past rows of scrolls and shelves, looking for a place to emerge unseen.

The moment they reached a safe enough corner, he pulled them back into reality.

MK stumbled forward the second his feet hit the ground bracing himself against a nearby pillar. “Oh, I hate that. I absolutely hate that.“ His face had gone pale, and he looked like he was two seconds from throwing up.

Mei, on the other hand, stood stiffly in place, her arms covered in goosbumps. She shivered. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever felt. I feel like something touched me.”

Macaque dusted himself off like nothing happened. “You get used to it.”

MK shot him a glare, still bent over like he was recovering from motion sickness. “I don’t want to get used to it.”

Mei hugged herself, rubbing her arms as she glanced around the dimly lit archives. “Why was it so cold? I thought I was gonna suffocate in there.”

Macaque barely spared them a glance. “You didn’t. You’re fine.”

Mei narrowed her eyes. “Emotionally? No. Physically? Also no.”

Macaque rolled his eyes and turned to take in the archives, feeling his heart drop a little.

The archieves weren’t just large. They were massive.

Towering shelves stretched endlessly, packed so tightly with scrolls and books that the sheer number made his stomach twist. They climbed toward the high-domed ceiling, disappearing into the misty glow of enchanted lanterns hovering above. From where they stood, it almost looked like the shelves never truly ended - just spiraling higher and higher, vanishing into the sky itself.

The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and ink, laced with something faintly floral, like dried lotus petals. Despite its age, the place gleamed with a kind of untouched perfection. Polished stone floors reflected the golden light from the lanters, and intricately carved colums framed the ailes like silent guardians.It was both grand and suffocating, a place designed to make mortals feel small beneath the weight of its knowledge.

And then there were the rabbits.

Tiny, etheral creatures, all ranging in sizes no bigger than a teapot, floated lazily through the air. Their soft, round bodies shimmered like pearls, long ears twitching as they carried scrolls twice their size from one shelf to another. Some perched atop stacks of books, flipping through pages with tiny paws, while others inspected labels on scrolls with an air of serious importance.

Mei nudged MK, pointing at one particularly fluffy rabbit that was balancing an ink brush between its paws. “Okay, but I kind of love them.”

MK, still looking queasy from their trip through the shadows, muttered, “I’d love them more if they weren’t witnesses to our crime.”

Macaque barely heard them. His mind was stuck on one fact: they were never going to find anything in here.

He exhaled sharply, forcing his thoughts back to the present. “Don’t let the rabbits see you,” he muttered, already slipping between two towering shelves. “And get looking.”

“For what?” Mei hissed, still keeping an eye on the floating creatures above them.

“Anything about the keys or ancient demons.”

MK frowned. “How would ancient demons help us find the keys?”

Macaque turned, fixing him with a look that made it painfully clear he was not going to answer anymore questions.

MK raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. No questions. Got it.”

With that, they scattered, moving cautiously through the labyrinth of shelves.

The weight of the archives settled over them - silent, heavy, watching.

The vast room smelled of ole parchment and ink, a lingering scent of history preserved too well. The air was thick with dust, disturbed only by the faint, methodical movements of the floatiing rabbits as they checked over scrolls and books. The creatures drifted with an eerie grace, their soft glowing forms the only true light in the massive space, illuminating the records in gentle waves. Their presence only made the archives feel even larger, like the three of them had just stumbled into a secret, living organism.

At first, it felt promising. The shelves were filled with records so old their edges had curled with time, scrolls stacked neatly in labeled compartments, and books bound in materials none of them could identify. Macaque ran his fingers aling the spine of one, feeling the strange, smooth leather beneath his touch. Some of these texts had probably been here for centuries. Maybe longer.

But after what felt like ages of searching, their enthusiasm drained.

“None of this makes sense,” Mei grumbled, flipping open a book filled with dense archaic script. “I can’t even read this.”

MK pulled out a scroll, unrolling it carefully, only to find a detailed account of rice taxation from a dynasty long forgotten. “This is just junk,” he groaned, stuffing it back.

Macaque, on the other hand, kept his frustration to himself, though his jaw tightened with every passing moment.He had expected this to be difficult, but the sheer uselessness of what they were finding was wearing on him.

He grabbed a nearby scroll at random and skimmed through the delicate characters. Something about celestial migration patterns. Worthless.

Mei let out a huff, stretching her arms as she leaned against a nearby shelf. “So what, are we just gonna comb through centuries of history until we die of boredom?”

MK shot her a look. “You’re the one who insisted we come.”

“Yeah, and I also thought we would have found something useful by now,” she shot back.

Macaque ignored them, narrowing his eyes at a particularly ancient-looking tome. He reached for it, brushing away the thin layer of dust that coated its surface. The cover was blank, the spine cracked with age. He flipped it open and frowned. It was written in celestial script, delicate and precise, the kind of writing used by scholars in the highest ranks of Heaven. The problem? Macaque obviously had never learned to real celestial.

He resisted the urge to snap the book shut and toss it aside. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and tucked it back where he found it. Maybe a little harder than necessary.

His gaze drifted up to the towering shelves, the way they stretched so high. There was no telling what else lay hidden in this place, locked away where only those who knew what to search for could ever hope to find it.

And that was the real problem - he didn’t know what he was looking for. Not really.

Mei shoved a scroll back onto the shelf with an unimpressed huff. “I don’t get it. Why was Chang’e so weird about us coming in here? It’s just boring records and history. What’s the big deal?”

Macaque barely paid her any mind, too focused on scanning the rows upon rows of the shelves. None of this was useful. None of this was leading his any closer to answers. His patience was already running thin when MK muttered, “Well, I’m sure Monkey King would know where to look.”

Macaque went still.

A sharp, cold sort of silence followed.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked deeper into the archives, shoving past shelves and rows without so much as a glance back.

Behind him, MK hesitated. “Uh-”

“Ohh, you pissed him off,” Mei whispered, clearly amused.

Macaque didn’t pay attention to Mk’s response. He didn’t care. His fingers curled inward and uncurled. He wasn’t angry. Not at all.

It wasn’t anger clawing up his throat, twisting in his gut like a sickness.

Because MK was right.

And Macaque hated that.

-

Macaque had been searching for hours.

At least it felt like hours. He hadn’t kept track of time, too caught up in weaving through the endless rows of shelves, scanning spines, unraveling scrolls, only to come up with nothing. Even with the archives’ pristine organization, even with all the knowledge hoarded in this place, there was nothing he could use.

Nothing about the keys. Nothing about the Lady Bone Demon. Nothing but useless scraps of history that did him no good.

He gritted his teeth and snapped a book shut. His irritation only grew when he realized - he didn’t know where he was.

His stomach turned. No. That’s not possible. He was careful. He paid attention. He always knew his surroundings.

But the looming shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, each pathway identical to the last. There was no sound except for his own footsteps. The quiet pressed in, suffocating. He considered letting all his ears out and listening, but didn’t want anyone seeing that.

That thought sent a chill down his spine when he realized another thing. There was no movement around him.

The rabbits were gone.

Macaque’s fingers twitched. He turned sharply, scanning the ailes, expecting to see the soft glow of the floating creatures hopping between shelves, tending to their duties. But there was nothing.

Just cold, empty silence.

He exhaled slowly. “Find the kids first. Worry about the creepy atmosphere later.”

Macaque pivitoed, heading back the way he came - except he had no idea if it was the way he came. The paths all blurred together. He could’ve scorn there had been a lantern glowing at the last intersection, but now there wasn’t. He moved faster.

Then he heard voices.

Macaque stopped short, pressing himself against the nearest shelf. Around the corner, he caught the soft cadence of Chang’e’s voice.

“-need to find him.”

He held his breath.

A soft chittering noise responded to her. One of the rabbits. It sounded like nothing more than a normal rabbit’s chips and squeaks to Macaque, but Chang’e clearly understood.

“Yes, I know. We pulled the other two out before they could cause any trouble.”

Macaque’s stomach twisted. “Pulled them out?“

“But that other one is still in here somewhere, and I don’t like that.”

Macaque clentched his jaw. Just great. MK and Mei had been caught by the sounds of it. He had no idea where they were or what kind of trouble they were in. And now he was alone with Chang’e herself hunting him down.

Of course, he could just portal out, call it a day, and deny that he was ever here. But then he would be leaving empty handed and he wasn’t dumb enough to think that Chang’e wouldn’t reenforce this place so he could just come back in.

With that thought, he slipped away, moving swiftly and silently between the towering shelves. His pulse pounded in his ears, but his movements were sharp. Years of survival had trained him well - getting caught wasn’t an option.

His pace quickened, weaving through the maze of books and scrolls. The vastness of the archives was suffocating, the endless corridors of towering shelves amking it easy to get turned around. He took sharp turns, his eyes straining for any sign of pursuit. No voices, no footsteps - only the sound of his own breathing.

Then-

A chill brushed the back of his neck.

Macaque stiffened.

It wasn’t the normal kind of cold. Not like a draft, not like the bite of winter. This was something else entirely - unnatural, sinking into his bones like a whisper of something unseen.

And then, he did hear whispers.

Soft.

Distorted.

It was right at the edge of his hearing, curling around him like smoke. At first, he thought it was Chang’e again, but this wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t any voice he recognized. The murmurs bled into the air, layering and shifting, as though spoken from multiple mouths at once.

Something about it called to him.

The whispering didn’t stop. It curled around his mind, pulling, beckoning.

His fingers twitched.

Every instinct told him to turn away, to ignore it, to leave.

But his feet were already moving.

He followed.

Macaque’s steps were slow, cautious as he followed the whispering deeper into the archives. The pristine shelves gave way to something different—the air grew stale, thick with dust, and the lanterns that floated around the rest of the library barely reached this place. It was darker here, abandoned.

The bunnies didn’t come here.

That alone should have been a reason to turn back.

But he didn’t.

His gaze flicked across the neglected shelves, the books and scrolls worn, their covers frayed with time. Some were nearly crumbling, untouched for what had to be centuries, if not longer. This part of the archives felt ancient, wrong, as though it had been left to rot on purpose.

The whispers pressed in.

Macaque exhaled sharply through his nose, steadying himself. His fingers trailed along the edge of a shelf as he walked, eyes scanning the decayed tomes. It wasn’t until his hand hovered over one particular book that the voices swelled into a chorus.

Macaque hesitated.

The book was wrong.

Everything about it screamed for him to leave it alone. The leather binding was dark and warped, like something had burned it and left it barely holding together. The edges were jagged, the symbols carved into the cover so faded they could hardly be read. It reeked of something forbidden.

And yet—

His fingers closed around it.

The moment he touched it, the whispers stopped.

Silence pressed against his ears, suffocating, as though the very air in the room had frozen. The weight of the book in his hands was heavier than it should have been. His heartbeat echoed in the quiet.

He opened it.

The pages were brittle but intact. At first, it was a collection of war records, documented battles between Heaven and various demon clans. Macaque flipped through, scanning past skirmishes that no longer mattered. Then—

He stopped.

A war unlike the others.

His eyes darted over the ink, drinking in the details. A demoness - one who sought to purify the world, to reshape it in her vision. She had risen in an age long past, her power shaking the very foundations of Heaven and Earth. Celestial heroes had been sent to stop her - one after another, the strongest warriors of Heaven’s ranks.

None returned.

The battles raged for years, and still, she remained unchallenged, her power only growing.

Macaque’s grip on the book tightened.

Then came the final battle. The one that changed everything.

Erlang Shen.

The scroll detailed how he had faced the demoness, how their battle had shaken mountains and split the skies. He hadn’t defeated her - no, that wasn’t the right word. He had sealed her away, locked her in a prison meant to last for eternity.

Macaque’s stomach twisted.

There was no name recorded for the demoness.

But he knew.

He knew.

This was her.

The Lady Bone Demon.

The whispers didn’t return. But Macaque didn’t need them anymore. The truth was laid bare in his hands.

His eyes scanned the words over and over and it only grew his fear. He really had picked the worst client. 

He shut the book and tucked it under his arm, prepared to return to his chambers and continue reading the old thing when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He whipped around to see Chang’e standing there, arms crossed, hip jutted out, and eyebrow raised. She looked less than pleased.

“I can explain-” He tried.

She just shook her head and walked up to him, stopping in front with a disappointed look on her face.

“You just love to make things difficult.” She sighed.

Before he could question, she punched him square in the nose, causing him to stumble back. He blinked a few times until he hit the floor and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Macaque’s head was pounding. A dull, pulsing ache pressed against the inside of his skull, and his nose throbbed like it had been stomped on. He groaned as he pushed himself upright, blinking away the haze of sleep. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the open windows, bright and golden, stretching long beams across the wooden floor. It had to be past noon by now.

That was his first realization.

The second was that he wasn’t alone.

Macaque stiffened when he noticed Chang’e calmly seated at the corner of the bed, flipping through the very book he had tried - and failed - to steal. The sight of it in her hands sent a sharp jolt of panic through his chest, but he forced himself to stay outwardly composed.

“You’re awake,” Chang’e remarked, not even looking up. “Took you long enough.”

Macaque swallowed his irritation, but the situation was already pressing down on him from all sides. His gaze flickered around the room. The air smelled faintly of incense and something floral. His mind reeled with everything that had happened before he’d blacked out.

The book. The Lady Bone Demon. The kids.

His stomach twisted. He sat up straighter, ignoring the ache in his muscles. “Where are the kids?” His voice was hoarse, but he kept his tone sharp, watching for any flicker of guilt or hesitation on Chang’s’s face.

She finally lifted her eyes from the book, blinking at him as if he’d asked something absurd. “Out enjoying the festival. Where else would they be?”

Macaque wasn’t convinced. His fingers dug into the sheets, but Chang’e only rolled her eyes. “I pulled them out of the archives before you could rope them into any more trouble,” she said, tone pointed. “They’re find, Macaque. Better than you, honestly.”

His jaw tightened. He still didn’t trust her word, but he also wasn’t in a position to argue.

Chang’e let the silence settle for a moment before shutting the book with a quiet thud. “So,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. “Want to tell me why you were sneaking around my archives looking for this?” She tapped the book’s cover with her nail. “Ancient wars, forbidden demons- seems like an odd reading choice for a casual traveler.”

Macaque feigned indifference. “I like history,” he muttered. “Or something.”

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it.

Chang’e’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air did. It became heavier, sharper. A barely perceptible shift. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if reigning herself in. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, but there was a bite beneath it.

“Macaque,” she said, “I suggest you stop lying to me.”

Macaque bit his tongue. He knew that tone. It wasn’t anger - not exactly. It was the kind of controlled, measured disappointment that made you feel like a misbehaving child. Like someone who should know better.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

She ignored that. “You weren’t looking for just any history,” she continued. “You were looking for her.” She tapped the book again, and this time, her voice carried weight. “The Lady Bone Demon.“

Macaque froze. He didn’t mean to, but his fingers curled ever so slightly into the fabric of his sheets, a tell he couldn’t fully suppress.

Chang’e caught it.

“Why?” She pressed. “Why are you so interested in a demon who’s been locked away for millenia?”

Macaque swallowed. He had prepared for a lot of things, but not this. He thought he’d have more time. More space to maneuver.

He needed to redirect. Fast.

So he reached for the one topic he knew would shift the conversation- Wukong.

“You tell me,” he said smoothly, forcing a smirk. “I mean, if the Bone Demon was such a threat, I’m guessing Heaven would send their best, right? So that means Wukong would’ve been the first in line to take her down, being their golden champion and all.”

The shift in Chang’e’s expression was subtle. Not shock. Not concern. Just… consideration. She watched him, gaze calculating, as if she was assessing something beyond what he was saying.

Then she shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “Wukong wasn’t there.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because it happened before either of us even existed.”

That was not the answer he was expecting. 

Macaque stared at her, trying to process that information. “Before?” He frowned. “But- Wukong’s Heaven’s strongest celestial. If a demon like that was ever a real threat, wouldn’t they have-”

“Macaque.” Chang’e cut him off gently. “The Bone Demon was sealed long before Wukong was even born.”

That revelation sent something cold crawling down Macaque’s spine.

Before Wukong’s time. Before Chang’e’s time. That means Heaven had fought her without Wukong. Without their strongest hero.

And if they had needed someone like Erlang Shen to stop her…

He didn’t like what that implied.

But before he could dwell on it, Chang’e shifted again. The scrutiny in her gaze softened - not gone, but different. It was no longer the look of someone interrogating him. It was the look of someone studying him. Testing him.

She leaned back, tiliting her head. “You keep bringing Wukong up,” she mused. “Should I be worried?”

Macaque tensed. “What?”

“You tell me,” she said, smiling slightly. “You’re awfully interested in him. Enough so to have this.” She grabbed a leather bound book that he hadn’t noticed was on the bed and felt heat rise to his face. It was Sanzang’s journal that he had stolen from the library. 

Macaque had taken it to read and learn about Wukong - his weaknesses, his strengths, anything the black monkey could use against him - but every time he picked up the book to read it, he couldn’t bring himself to actually open it.

Macaque looked away, scoffing. “He’s just - He’s annoying. He never shuts up. And I took that journal for the same reasons I was reading your book. History, information.”

“Mhmm.”

“He’s a show-off.”

“Sure.”

“He’s-” Macaque faltered, scowling. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Chang’e’s smile widened, knowing and amused. “Like what?”

Macaque glared. “Like you know something.”

She laughed, and it was light, almost teasing. “Oh, I do know something. I just think you don’t.”

Macaque crossed his arms. “Whatever you’re implying, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” She hummed. “Because you sure got defensive fast.”

He hated this. Hated that she was smirking like she had him completely figured out. He wanted to argue, but before he could, she tilted her head again, eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Then she asked, “What are you really planning, Macaque?”

His stomach dropped.

“Why do you really want the keys?“ She pressed, her voice returning to that quiet, measured sharpness. “Why were you really looking for the Bone Demon?”

Macaque’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His brain scrambled for something convincing - something that would get her off his back - but before he could open his mouth, she cut him off.

“Does Wukong know what you’re really doing?”

Silence.

Macaque swallowed, and for a moment, he had no words.

She just watched him, patient and unrelenting. Then, softly, she said, “I don’t want to see him hurt.”

Macaque’s fingers twitched. Something deep inside him didn’t want to see that either.

She sighed, shaking her head. “But I won’t say anything. That’s your problem to deal with.”

Something inside Macaque twisted at that. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like that she had this over him. He scowled. “Oh, how noble,” he sneered. “You’re just doing this to protect your lover, is that it?”

Chang’e blinked.

Then, to his utter bewilderment, she burst out laughing.

Macaque stared. “What?”

She laughed harder, clutching her stomach. “You think- oh, that’s what you thought? That Wukong and I-?” She had to take a deep breath, wiping at the corner of her eye. “Macaque, please. That is hilarious.”

Macaque’s face burned. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Chang’e grinned. “It’s funny because it’s wrong. Wukong and I have always been like siblings. Nothing more.”

The revilation hit him like a punch to the face - ironic since it was also Chang’e informing him of this. Before he could respond, Chang’e leaned in, voice suddenly turning mischievious. “Besides,” she added slyly, “I’m not his type.”

Macaque’s breath caught.

Chang’e smirked. “But you might be.”

Macaque had no response to that.

And Chang’e looked far too pleased. She leaned back, propping herself up on one hand. “You know,” she said, her tone turning light, “if you were actually interested, I could give you some advice.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “Please don’t.”

“Wukong’s not complicated,” she continued, completely ignoring him. “People always assume he likes flattery, but he doesn’t care much for empty praise. It’s actions he values. Showing up. Sticking around. Quality time means more to him than any offering or title.”

Macaque scoffed. “And you think I care about that why?”

Chang’e smirked. “You don’t.” A beat. “But I bet you’ll remember it anyway.”

Macaque tensed.

She wasn’t wrong.

Annoyed, he pushed himself off the bed and smoothed down his robes. He wasn’t about to sit her and let her analyze him like some sort of lovesick fool.

Chang’e watched him pull his sleeves down, her smile fading into something more knowing. “He’s in his room, by the way,” she said. “You two should talk.”

Macaque faltered. Just for a second.

Then he scowled, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “I don’t need your matchmaking, thanks.”

“I’m not matchmaking,” she said simply. “I’m telling you to clean up your mess before it turns into something worse.”

Macaque’s jaw tightened. He left without another word.

-

The hallway was quiter than he expected. 

The rest of the city still hummed with festival life, but here, behind closed doors, it was different. Still. Almost suffocatingly so.

Macaque stopped just outside Wukong’s room, fingers curling into a loose fist before he could bring himself to knock.

His heart was beating too fast. It was stupid. He had no reason to be this tense. It was just Wukong. Just another conversation.

But then again - no, that wasn’t true.

This wasn’t just another conversation.

Macaque exhaled through his nose, pressing his knuckles against the wood. He didn’t knock yet. Just stood there.

How did he want this to go?

Not like before. Not like all their other arguments where sharp words turned to snapping teeth, where they wound each other up until someone finally stormed off. He didn’t have the energy for that right now. And he knew he was in the wrong, at least partly. He wasn’t about to say it outright, but he knew it.

Wukong deserved an explination. A real one.

But-

His stomach twisted.

He didn’t know how to give one.

Macaque swallowed. His fingers tapped once against the door. Then again. Light, hesitating.

He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at talking, at admitting things. He didn’t know how to take the tension sitting in his chest and turn in into something that made sense.

But he did know one thing.

He didn’t want this to be another fight. He exhaled slowly. Then, finally, he knocked.

A pause.

No response.

Macaque frowned. He knocked again, firmer this time. 

Still nothing.

That was… odd. Wukong wasn’t the type to ignore him, not like this. If he was still angry, he’s say something snarky, tell Macaque to leave him alone. But silence? That wasn’t like him.

“I’m coming in.” Unease prickled at the back of Macaque’s neck as he pushed open the door.

The room was dim, lit only by the sun pooling in from the windows. His eyes flicked around - messy bed, discarded jewlry, half-finished bottle of wine on the table. But no Wukong.

Then, movement.

Macaque’s gaze snapped toward the balcony.

And there he was

Wukong stood at the railing, back to the door, shoulders loose in a way that felt wrong. Off. The way he held himself - too still, too quiet - it wasn’t the Wukong Macaque was used to.

And in his hand, the light caught against glass.

Macaque didn't have to see his face to know.

Drunk.

Of course he was.

Macaque let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair.

Well.

This was going to be something.

Macaque hesitated at the threshold, staring at Wukong’s back.

The way he nursed the glass in his hand - it was clear he wasn’t just drinking for fun. The colorful festival decorations brought attention to the town below, laughter and music drifting through the open air, but up here, the atmosphere felt starkly different.

Macaque didn’t like it.

He wasn’t used to seeing Wukong like this - quiet, withdrawn. Wukong was loud by nature, a force of energy that filled every space he occupied. Even when he was being insufferable, it was still him. This? This was something else. Something that sat wrong in Macaque’s chest.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much.

Or maybe he was.

Macaque sighed through his nose before stepping forward, leaning against the balcony railing beside him. “…Didn’t take you for the type to get drunk this early.”

Wukong didn’t acknowledge him right away, just swirled the wine in his hand before taking another sip. “Chang’e wanted to have lunch,” he finally said, voice even. “She has the best.”

That was all. No teasing remark, no cocky grin. Just a simple, detached statement.

Macaque’s fingers curled against the stone railing. He wasn’t sure how to navigate this side of Wukong. If it had been anger, frustration - anything volatile - he could’ve worked with that. But this silence? The way Wukong felt far away, even though he was right there? Macaque  didn’t know what to do with that.

So, he tried again. “Thought you’d be an energetic drunk.”

Wukong let out a quiet huff. Not quite amusement. Not quite anything. “You caught me on one of the times I’m not.”

The silence stretched longer this time.

Macaque frowned. He wasn’t good at talking. He wasn’t good at fixing things. And yet, here he was, trying to figure out what to say, where to even begin, when Wukong suddenly broke the silence himself.

“…What do you think it’d be like?” His voice was quieter now, the words slipping out like he hadn’t really meant to say them at all.

Macaque turned to look at him, brow furrowing. “What?”

Wukong still didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the city below, on the banners fluttering in the wind, the people celebrating in the streets. “To just be… nothing.”

Macaque felt something shift in his chest.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure if there was a right thing to say.

Then, just as quickly, Wukong let out a low breath. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes. “No. You don’t get to just say something like that and move on.”

Wukong exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening around the glass. “…To Heaven, I’m not what mortals think I am.”

Macaque stayed silent.

Wukong tilted his head back slightly, looking up at the sky. “I’m not some hero. I never have been.” He gave a hollow sort of laugh. “I’m a weapon. They aim, I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head before looking down again. “It’s never been my choice. It’s just what I am.”

Macaque clenched his jaw.

He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. Maybe because, despite everything, despite how irritating Wukong could be, Macaque had never once thought of him as a weapon. He was infuriating, arrogant, reckless—but he was alive. He was someone.

“…Why are you telling me this?” Macaque asked, quieter this time.

Wukong shrugged. “Could be the wine.” He finally turned his head, meeting Macaque’s gaze. There was something sharp in his eyes, something guarded. “Could be because you don’t seem like the type to care.” He smirked, but there was no real amusement in it. “And that’s easier.”

Macaque didn’t hesitate. “I do care.”

Silence.

Wukong blinked at him, like he hadn’t expected that response. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking away with a quiet, almost nervous chuckle. “Careful,” he murmured. “I might get the wrong idea.”

Macaque let the words settle between them before speaking again.

“…I wanted to say sorry.” His voice was rougher now, like the words didn’t come easily. Because they didn’t. He wasn’t good at this - at admitting things, at making things right. But he had to try. “For what I said. After the bandits. And for how I’ve been acting since we got here.”

He swallowed, staring down at the city below. “I know I’m difficult. I know I push people away. I just—” He exhaled sharply. “I’ve never had to rely on anyone before. I don’t know how to. And I don’t expect people to… stick around.” His grip on the railing tightened slightly. “But I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

Wukong didn’t answer right away.

Macaque glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watching the way his expression shifted—surprise, something softer, something more understanding.

“...I get it,” Wukong finally said.

Macaque turned his head slightly.

Wukong sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. I just…” He shook his head. “I’m used to being the one to fight. Having someone else have my back—it’s weird.” He let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “But I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for it.”

Macaque frowned. “That’s not weird.”

Wukong let out a breath. “Maybe not to you.” His voice was softer now, thoughtful. “But fighting’s the only thing I’ve ever been good for. And if I can’t do that… then what’s the point of Sun Wukong, Great Sage, Equal to Heaven?”

Macaque looked at him for a long moment before finally saying, “You’re more than that.”

Wukong stared at him, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It wasn’t tense. It just… was.

Finally, Wukong huffed, setting the glass down on the railing. “We should stop this.”

Macaque raised a brow. “Stop what?”

Wukong gestured between them. “The fighting. The pointless arguments.” He hesitated, then added, “It’s getting old.”

Macaque smirked. “So now you’re tired of me?”

Wukong rolled his eyes. “I never said that.” He glanced away, rubbing a hand over his face before muttering, “I just think… maybe we work better when we’re not trying to kill each other.”

Macaque let that sit for a moment, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Guess that means we’re partners again.”

Wukong turned his head, giving him a sideways look. Then, slowly, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “We were always partners.”

Macaque tilted his head, considering him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess we were.”

And just like that, the weight between them settled. Not gone, but different. No more anger, no more unnecessary walls - just understanding.

For the first time in days, they stood together as something steadier, something solid.

Something real.

Macaque didn’t know how long they sat there. The sky shifted above them, the sun easing toward the horizon, painting the city in warmer golds and oranges. The wind carried the sounds of the streets below - faint chatter, the occasional laugh, the rhythmic hum of life moving forward.

Neither of them spoke much after that.

Wukong leaned against the railing, his expression unreadable, fingers lazily tracing the rim of his empty cup. His shoulders were looser than they’d been in days, his usual performative energy dulled by the wine. Macaque had expected that to make him more vulnerable, but Wukong had simply gone quiet instead, letting the weight of their conversation settle between them.

Macaque let himself settle too.

He stretched his legs out, leaning back against the cool stone of the balcony floor. The warmth of the afternoon pressed against his skin, and for once, he didn’t mind it. He wasn’t thinking about his job, or the Bone Demon, or what would happen when this was all over.

He was thinking about this.

This strange, infuriating, easy thing between them.

He’d spent so much time convincing himself that Wukong was a means to an end. That whatever connection they had was just a necessity - something to be used, something he’d eventually walk away from. But right now, sitting here with Wukong, just existing together, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

He wanted this.

Not in a way he was ready to name. Not in the way Chang’e had so boldly hinted at earlier. But he wanted this - Wukong’s company, his presence, this quiet, unspoken understanding.

He wasn’t sure what that meant. He just knew that if he lost it, it would hurt.

The thought made his stomach twist. He forced himself to push it aside, like he had with everything else.

Wukong exhaled a slow, content sigh, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “You gonna sit there in silence all evening?” He murmured, not looking at Macaque.

Macaque huffed, rolling his eyes. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”

Wukong gave a lazy, lopsided smirk. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I want you getting too comfortable.”

Macaque smirked back, but the words didn’t hold the same bite they used to. Not after everything. He let the silence stretch again, only breaking it when he noticed the way Wukong’s head had started to dip, his breathing slowing.

“Don’t pass out here,” Macaque said, nudging Wukong’s arm lightly with his foot. “I’m not dragging you back inside.”

Wukong grumbled something incoherent but didn’t open his eyes.

Macaque just watched him for a moment.

Then, before he could think better of it, he spoke. “Hey.”

Wukong made a vague noise of acknowledgment.

“This thing - this partnership.” Macaque hesitated. “I’m not gonna mess it up again.”

Wukong didn’t answer immediately, just let the words settle between them. Then, finally, he huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re awfully confident about that.”

Macaque smirked. “Someone’s got to be.”

Wukong gave him a sidelong glance, considering him for a moment before his smirk softened into something quieter. “Then don’t.”

The words were simple, but they settled deep.

Macaque didn’t reply, not right away. He just sat there, the warmth of the setting sun on his skin, the quiet presence of the man beside him. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he let himself believe in the possibility of something steady. Something worth staying for.

He glanced at Wukong again, at the way his eyes had fallen half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion and drink. Macaque shook his head, amused despite himself.

“…Seriously, you’re going to fall asleep out here.”

Wukong didn’t deny it, only hummed in response.

Macaque sighed. “C’mon, let’s get inside before you pass out.”

Wukong grumbled but didn’t argue. And as Macaque stood to follow, something in him settled.

They were going to be fine.

Chapter Text

Macaque leaned against the cool stone wall outside Wukong’s door, arms crossed as he idly listened to the distant hum of morning activity. The castle stirred with life - servents hurrying through hallds, the faint clang of dishes from the kitchen, the muffled chatter of guards posted around. Normally, Macaque wouldn’t have paid much attention to the world waking up around him, but today felt different.

Maybe it was because he had woken up earlier than usual, without the usual grogginess weighing him down. Maybe it was because, for the first time since ariving in Yuè Chéng Shuǐ, he wasn’t actively dreading seeing Wukong. In fact, quite the opposite. He had gone to bed last night with a strange lightness in his chest, excited to see the celestial monkey the following day.

It was… nice.

Annoyingly nice.

Macaque sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking off whatever sentimental nonsense was trying to creep up on him. But still- he wouldn’t deny that he was relieved. The tension between them had been unbearable, thick enough to cut with a blade. Now, for the first time in days, he didn’t have to brace himself for an argument.

Instead, he was waiting for Wukong so they could walk to breakfast together.

The thought almost made him laugh.

Shifting his weight against the wall, Macaque exhaled slowly and glanced toward the door. He debated knocking but decided against it. Just as he conjured that thought, the door creaked open.

Wukong stepped out, his hair slightly tousled from sleep, his golden fur sticking out in odd directions. He blinked at Macaque, then at the empty hallway, as if his mind was still catching up with reality.

“You’re up early,” Wukong muttered, voice rough with sleep.

Macaque shrugged. “Figured I’d wait for you.”

Wukong blinked again, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Guess I should feel honored.”

Macaque smirked at that, amusement bubbling in the pits of his stomach. It was strange, standing here, just talking, without tension curling at the edges of their words. They’d spent so long snapping at each other that this eay silence felt almost foreign. Macaque wasn’t used to it - but he found he didn’t mind.

Wukong stretched, rolling his shoulders, before his eyes snapped open in relization. “Oh, hang on.” He turned on his heel and disappeared into his room before almsot immediately reamerging. “Here.” He held up a relatively small pendant, letting it dangle between his fingers, holding it out to Macaque.

Macaque furrowed his brows. “…What is that?”

“A gift. Er- or maybe a peace offering?” Wukong replied. “Try not to look so disgusted.”

“I’m not-” Macaque huffed but took the pendant anyway, turning it over in his palm. It was a simple, dark metal chain with a cresent moon charm and a single star on the end. His fingers brushed over the smooth surface, a strange warmth settling in his chest.

“You got this for me?” He asked, glancing at Wukong.

Wukong rubbed the back of his neck, looking off to the side. “Yeah. When we first got here.”

Macaque had never been given a gift before. Not really. He was a thief, someone who took things, not someone people gave things to. Growing up, the orphanage had been a place of survival, not sentimentality. No one had ever looked at him and thought, I want him to have this. And yet, here was Wukong, an immortal celestial hero, offering him something with no strings attached. 

It was strange.

It was one thing to travel together, to fight together, to banter and argue and stumble into something that vaguely resembled friendship. But a gift? That felt… different. Personal. 

Keeping his expression neutral, he tilted his head slightly. “Put it on me.”

Wukong’s gaze snapped back to him, brows raising in surprise. “…You’re actually going to wear it?”

Macaque shrugged, feigning indifference. “Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Wukong blinked at him, then, without another word, stepped forward. Macaque stilled as Wukong moved behind him, the weight of his presence suddenly very close. He felt Wukong’s fingers brush against the back of his neck, warm against his skin as he fumbled briefly with the clasp. The touch was fleeting, barely, even there, but it sent a strange shiver down Macaque’s back.

He swallowed.

The clasp clicked into place, and Wukong let his hands linger for just a second longer than necessary before stepping back. 

“There,” Wukong said, voice lighter than before. “Now you have a lucky charm.”

Macaque reached up, running his fingers over the cool metal now resting against his sternum. Lucky charm. Huh.

Wukong started walking, and Macaque fell into step beside him. His fingers brushed over the pendant once more before tucking it beneath his robes.

As they walked through the quiet halls, the early morning light cast a soft glow against the palace walls. The air was crisp, fresh, and far too peaceful - at least, it was until Macaque glanced at Wukong and broke the silence.

“So, how bad’s the hangover?”

Wukong scoffed. “Hangover? Please. I don’t get hangovers.”

Macaque gave him a flat look. “Oh, right. Of course, A legendary celestial hero like you is immune to the mortal plight of consequences.”

Wukong grinned. “Exactly. See, you’re catching on.”

Macaque hummed, unconvinced. 

They continued down the hall, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The scent of morning dishes drifted towards them, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cool air outside the castle walls.

Wukong stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Gotta admit, I’m looking forward to breakfast.”

Macaque raised an eyebrow. “After you just downed half a bottle of wine yesterday?”

“That was yesterday,” Wukong said with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Today, I’m a man of refined tastes and high expectations.”

Macaque snorted. “I give it five minutes before you start stealing food off of others’ plates.”

Wukong gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Macaque deadpanned.

Wukong grinned. “I’ll only steal from your plate.”

Macaque rolled his eyes but chuckled, choosing not to dignify that with a response as they neared the entrance of the dining hall.

The room was already alive with the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversation. The smell of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filled the air, a comforting warmth settling over the space.

As they stepped inside, Wukong nudged Macaque lightly with his elbow. “Try to keep up today, partner.”

Macaque shot him a sidelong glance, but there was no real irritation in it. Just something quieter, something almost fond.

He scoffed. “Don’t slow me down, then.”

Together, they entered, side by side. The dining hall was already lively with a morning rush, filled with the rich aroma of frsh cognee and fragrant tea. The large wooden table stretched across the room, the surface gleaming under the golden light filtering through the high windows. A few attendants wove through the space, refilling teapots and setting down baskets of steaming buns, while conversations melded together in a warm, comfortable hum.

The noise washed over the two simians. Macaque spotted MK and Mei stacking their plates high with the food presented on the table.At the head sat Chang’e, poised and elegant, lift a glass to her lips and she listened to MK and Mei talk over each other.

MK was the first to notice them. He perked up immediately, waving to them. “Hey! Took you two long enough.”

Mei smirked, leaning her chin into her hand. “You two came together. That’s interesting.”

Macaque slid into a seat across from Mei, giving her a look. “There is nothing interesting about us walking together.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mei shared a look with Chang’e.

“Well,” Chang’e began, setting her glass down, “I am just glad to see Sunni not dead to the world.”

Wukong huffed, grabbing a roll and tearing it in half with unnecessary force. “It takes more than a couple bottles of wine to get me incapacitated.”

Macaque smiled at that, but didn’t jab. He let those two bicker while he turned his attention to MK and Mei, a flicker of unease settling over his chest. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Hey. About yesterday.”

MK and Mei both turned to him, interested expressions already in place.

Macaque exhaled through his nose. He had no idea why this was so difficult. He’d lied, manipulated, and talked his way out of far worse situations. But somehow, just saying sorry felt more unnatural than all of that combined.

Still. He owed them.

His fingers tapped idly against the rim of his plate before he finally said, “I shouldn’t have dragged you into that mess. That was on me.”

Mei raised a brow, lips twitching. “Was that a rare ‘Macaque apology’?”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

MK exchanged a glance with Mei before smiling in amusement. “Its fine, we were never mad at you. Besides, we’re the ones that tagged along. Chang’e wasn’t even mad with us.”

Mei nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, there was no harm, therefore no foul.”

Macaque smiled at that, a feeling a joy rising within his chest. Next to him, Wukong looked increasingly suspisious. “Wait. What happened yesterday?”

The four of them all looked at the celestial monkey, each exchanging a glance before responding together, “Nothing.”

Wukong narroweed his eyes. “That’s not suspisious.”

Macaque simply shrugged, entirely uninterested in explaining.

Chang’e, ever amused, turned to the two monkies. “In any case, today should be far less eventful. You have a few more days here so enjoy the festival, please!”

“Yeah, we should all go out into town today!” Mei said excitedly. “You two missed it, yesterday there were a bunch of people dancing with fire and swallowing swords- It was the coolest thing ever!”

MK nodded enthusiastically next to her. “Yeah! You should have seen some of the performances!”

“Heh, yes, each day has a theme,” Chang’e told them, looking happy to talk about her festival. “Today is going to be a lot of art and plants. At night, people get with their friend, family, lovers, and all go down to the river. There, they place a lotus flower and let it float off. It’s kinda like the Qixi Festival, but with flowers. It’s gorgeous!”

“Woah,” The two kids gapped in unison, before Mei turned to the Macaque and Wukong, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You two should release a lotus together.”

Macaque choked on his drink slightly, heat rising to his face. Wukong looked taken aback by the statement, glancing to the side awkwardly.

Chang’e watched the two with keen interest, giving Macaque a pointed look when their eyes met. “I think that’s a great idea. You two should do it as a symbol of you new friendship.”

Macaque glared at her and Wukong seemed to be silently communicating with his friend through an intense stare of his own. 

“How about we just finish our food and go enjoy the festival as a group.” Wukong said, turning his attention to his untouched plate. Everyone agreed and kept conversation civil for the rest of the meal.

Wukong was true to his word and stole a few bites off of Macaque plate, getting some annoyed looks but nothing worth starting a fight over. If anything, Macaque found the obnoxious act endearing. Then again, he could see himself finding anything endearing as long as it involved Wukong. After their talk last night, Macaque really couldn’t lie to himself anymore. 

He’d tried so hard to remind himself that the golden monkey was a celestial. A hero. Someone above him. Someone who knew he was above Macaque. But Wukong didn’t see it like that at all. Yes, he bragged and his ego was insufferable, but he was as alive as anyone else Macaque had met. Just as emotional and capable of feeling and hurting as anyone else.

Looking over, Wukong had the biggest smile as MK told a terrible joke, ripping a laugh from him. He said something in return, getting the two girls to laugh along. His eyes gravitated towards Macaque and his smile softened ever so slightly when they met. Macaque’s heart picked up speed, knocking against his chest.

He was fucked. He knew that. He’d known that. He can’t remember when he first learned that, but it wasn’t something he was ever going to forget. He liked Wukong in a delicate was that was never going to work out, given his situation. But by the gods did he want it to.

Maybe there was a way.

“Does Wukong know what you’re really doing?”

Chang’e’s words ghosted over his mind. He could tell Wukong. Tell him what this mission had really been about. Let him hear Macaque’s side of the story. He could apologize, really apologize. 

Wukong would forgive him. He knew it. Wukong was just that kind of person. He would be angry with Macaque, fuming. He would need space, time away from the black simian. But he’d come back. He had to. Macaque was willing to risk it. 

A touch to his nose broke him out of his racing thoughts.

“You okay there, bud?” Wukong was looking at his with a mix of amusement and concern.

Macaque’s nose twitched, processing that Wukong had just booped him.

“We’re all going to get ready and then head to the festival. You coming?” Wukong tried again, standing up but not leaving the other yet.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m coming.” Macaque stood and smiled, heart still beating faster and harder than it should. Wukong smiled and grabbed his wrist, pulling the taller along behind him, back towards their rooms.

Today, Macaque would just linger around Wukong and have some fun. Tonight, he’d think about telling the celestial what this mission was really about. And maybe, tomorrow, he’ll have enough courage to actually do it.

-

Enjoying the festival as a group had been a nice idea in theory. But when it came to putting it into practice, it fell flat almost immediately. 

By the time they reached the square, Mei had begun complaining about her stomach, begging for them to all get food.

In the long run, Mei dragged MK off to get some steamed dumplings and told Macaque and Wukong they could meet up later. Whenever later was.

It didn’t take long for Wukong to start moving. The festival moved around them in a blur of color and warmth. The scent of lotus flowers and incense drifting through the air, mingling with the rich aroma of roasted chestnuts and sweet pastries. Banners gently wave above the crowd of people, all sorts of colors with all sorts of symbols, most having moons on them though. Everywhere, the world hums with life - children darting between stalls, lovers walking hand in hand, performers spinning in graceful arcs as ribbions of silk trail behind them.

Macaque never cared for festivals. Too many people, too much noise. He only indulged in them for easy pickpocketing. But today, with Wukong at his side, he feels… at ease. He doesn’t have to think about where they’re going or what they’ll do next. Wukong takes the lead without question, and Macaque lets him.

Wukong tugs him forward by the wrist, his grip warm and firm but not insistent. It would be easy to pull away, but Macaque doesn’t. He lets himself be guided, following Wukong through the crowd as they slip between stalls and under handing decorations. Occasionally, Wukong glances back at him, and there’s something so open in his expression - so unguarded - that Macaque finds himself holding his breath.

At one stall, Wukong slows down, nodding toward a game booth. Macaque glances at him, and WUkong raises an eyebrow in silent challenge. Macaque scoffs but steps forward. No words are exchanged, but Wukong’s smug grin says enough. They take turns at the game, and when Wukong wins, he laughs and gloats, nudging Macaque in the ribs in a way that lingers, his touch trailing off slower than necessary.

They move on, slipping between groups of people, occationally bumping into one another - Macaque’s shoulder brushing Wukong’s arm, Wukong’s hand briefly resting at the small of Macaque’s back to steer him through the thickest part of the crowd. The black simian barely notices the contact at first, but then he does. And once he does, he can’t stop noticing.

They pause at a vendor selling sweets, where Wukong drags Macaque over and hands him a skewer of candied lotus root before taking one for himself. Macaque hesitates for only a second before taking it. It’s too sweet, but he eats it anyway. Wukong grins, clearly pleased with himself. Macaque doesn’t have the energy to feign annoyance.

It’s strange, he thinks. How easy this is. How natural.

Somewhere along the way, they pass a table lined with thin slips of paper. People sit around it, heads bowed, ink brushes in hand. Wishes, Macaque realizes. They’re writing wishes.

It was a common thing to see at festivals like these. People writing of things they want in the coming year, slipping the paper into a box where your wish is supposed to remain until it comes true. Macaque never had taken part in it, knowing wishes never really came true. If they did, his lift would be very different.

He’s surprised to see Wukong’s face light up and settle at a spot, selecting a piece of paper and grabbing a brush. Macaque joins him, following his lead.

The sun shines brightly down on them as Macaque stares at his blank piece of paper. He picks up a brush and rolls it between his fingers before dipping it into ink. He knows what he should write. He should wish for money, for the job to go smoothly, for survival. That’s what he always wishes for.

But instead, his brush hovers, uncertain.

Next to him, Wukong has already begun writing, his strokes confident, effortless. Macaque watches him for a moment, taking in the relaxed slope of. his shoulders, the way his hair catches the sun's light, the quiet focus in his expression.

Macaque exhales, dipping his brush again, and writes the first thing that comes to mind.

It’s a small wish. A selfish one. But he lets it sit on the table, ink drying in the warm festival air. 

When they finish, they don’t share what they wrote. There’s no need to. Wukong simply nudges Macaque’s wrist with his knuckles, a silent come on, and Macaque follows.

As the day stretched on, more exciting sights and calm moments were spent with Wukong. The sky was just beginning to dip beneath it’s peak when Macaque and Wukong realized they were hungry. The crowd had grown in size, pushing and pulling the two like ocean waves.

“You stay here, I’ll go grab us some food. Get ready to try the best vender food ever!” Wukong looked determined as he walked, drawing a chuckle from Macaque, shaking his head as the sage backed away.

He watched the golden monkey disappear and looked around, watching people walk happily together. This was such a mundane thing for him, to stand at a festival. He never thought he’d be enjoying one with someone, let alone a celestial. The irony of it made him smile, bringing a hand up to pull out his pendant and admire it.

He leaned casually against the brick wall of a buildiing, running his thumb over the warm metal, tracing the shape repeatedly. He looked up and watched the colorful sea of decor and people. Despite all the noise, it was a peaceful scene to him. Something so simple.

Until it wasn’t. 

He blinked and it seemed like the world slowed until it froze. The noise of the crowd mutated into an unnerving hum. The colors of the world dulled into a cold, almost unnatural blue, and the bustling laughter and chatter vanished, replaced by an eerie silence. His heart skipped a beat, and he straightened, trying to steady himself.

He blinks rapidly, but the world remains still, every movement around him suspened in some unseen moment. The thick scent of food stalls, the laughter of children, the cries of vendors - all gone, leaving Macaque alone in this frozen version of the festival.

Then he feels it. The hair on the back of his neck stands, a presence lurking just beyond the veil of this strange, warped reality.

“You know,” a voice breaks the stillness, cruel and soft, like the slither of a snake. “I had expected better.”

Macaque’s chest tightens, his body stiffening as his eyes flicker towards the voice. Seeming to step out from the shadows of the alley was the damn lacky of the Lady Bone Demon. He still wore that infuriating smile as he looked Macaque up and down.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he takes slow, deliberate steps towards Macaque, like a wolf circling its prey. “You’ve been taking your sweet time, haven’t you?”

Macaque grits his teeth but doesn’t let his discomfort show. His eyes remain narrow, his posture relaxed despite the cold chill creeping in. “I’m getting it done,” he snaps back, though even to himself, his voice doesn’t sound convincing. He isn’t getting it done - not really.

The henchman clearly sees through his fuax confidence, his smirk getting impossibly bigger. “Getting it done, hmm?” He continues to circle Macaque, inspecting him, eyes shining with a sadistic satisfication. “You’re close, aren’t you? Surely it shouldn’t be taking this long. How many keys do you have now, hm? Tell me.”

Macaque clentches his jaw. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is,” the man hums, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “My lady is growing impatient. And I wouldn’t want to be around when she’s displeased.” His smile widens unnervingly. “Tell me, how is it going with your little celestial pet? You’ve spent enough time with him, haven’t you? Has he been of any help? Or has he been too busy impressing you with his charm?” 

Macaque’s hands curl into fists, but he refuses to let the rising frustration take hold of him. He takes a breath, his gaze hardening. “Actually, he has been tremendious help. A very useful tool. Your lady must agree, concidering I haven’t heard any gripes from you two.” He sneered, trying to get a rise out of the other man. It worked.

The henchman looked thoroughly annoyed but huffed a small laugh. “When I informed my Lady of your… companion, she said that destiny is all falling into place. The Monkey King will be an important piece for her plans to succeed.”

Macaque reeled at that information. Wukong being a piece of the demon’s plans? That didn’t sit well with him. In fact, it made his insides burn. Like they were twisting together and squeezing. 

“You disagree?” The henchman’s words snapped his full attention back up to him. “I wonder, has that celestial hero weaseled his way in? You seem to be exhibiting traits of… compassion for him. How interesting.”

“No! He’s…“ Macaque’s brain scrambled for an explination, his head and heart wanting two very different things. “He’s just a tool, as I’ve said. Do whatever you want with him, just leave me out of it.” His heart ripped slightly as the words left his mouth. That logical, self-presevation part of him meant it, but everything else was fighting against it. His stomach churnned at the idea of pain being inflicked on Wukong. To see the sage withering on the ground almost physically hurt him.

“But… just out of curiosity, what does the Lady have planned for him?” Macaque asked hesitantly.

The demon watched him for a moment, that obnoxious smile not faltering for a second. “I hate to inform you, but that information is beyond your pay grade. You were hired for a job, not to ask questions.” He said simply, stepping back into the shadows.

“My Lady is watching you, Six-Earred Macaque. Her patience runs thinner by the day. You should be less concerned with the plans for your tool and more concerned for yourself, if you fail.”

The words hit Macaque like a physical blow. Before he can react, the air around him suddenly turns ice-cold, and with a flick of the henchman’s wrist, blue chains materialize, snaking around his arms, constricting with an almost painful intensity. Macaque struggles against them, but the cold deepens - sharp, suffocating, as if something is draining the warmth from his very soul.

“You do remember what happens if you fail, don’t you?” The man asks it as if its a joke, as if Macaque isn’t currently fighting for freedom in front of him. “You will be sent to Diyu. Forever. Forgotten. And no one, not even your little celestial hero, will remember you.”

Macaque’s breath catches in his throat as the weight of the chains tightens, pulliing him into a deeper cold. He can feel it now - the emptiness, the void it promises. The very essence of being erased, of becoming nothing. The idea of it makes him sick to his core.

“I won’t fail,” he says, voice low and cold as steel.

The demon chuckles darkly. “We’ll see.”

Then, just as suddenly as the chill overtakes him, it recedes. The chains vanish and Macaque sees he’s finally been left alone. His heart pounds in his chest as the coldness lingers, creeping up his spine, the weight of the henchman’s words baring down on him. His hands tramble as he exhales, not being able to feel the tips of them.

He needs warmth. He needs to find Wukong.

Without thinking, he starts moving, stumbling through the crowd with a quiet urgancy. His steps quicken as his mind races, the need to be close to the sage almost overwhelming. Wukong’s warmth called to him with the promise of comfort, a kind of sheild against everything - against the Bone Demon’s lacky, against the threat of failure.

As eh makes his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for the golden monkey, he vaguely aware of everything else around him. The bright colors, the distant calls of vendors, the hum of music, but none of it mattered. None of it was enough to erase the gnawing cold inside him.

“Gods, where is he?”

Then, he spots him. Wukong, standing near one of the stalls, speaking to someone - a man Macaque doesn’t recognize. The man’s back is turned, but Macaque can pick up on the confident posture. And the annoyance coming off him.

Wukong’s posture on the other hand was relaxed as even but as Macaque watched him shift, he noticed the subtle tension behind it, like he’s on alert but trying to keep his composure.

Without much more thought, Macaque takes a step forward, a jagged shiver being ripped from his body. He needs Wukong.

He needs to get to him. He needs to pull him away from this stranger, from whatever conversation they’re having. He needs Wukong to take his hands and warm them. Or wrap his arms around the darker monkey and act like a blanket. He needs something from Wukong.

The moment Wukong’s eyes met Macaque’s, he was completely different. His face brightened immediately and he was beckoning Macaque over with more enthusiasm than he needed.

The man’s eyes turned on Macaque and there was this aura of authority that hit the simian in the face. The man was taller than Wukong (not that that was hard to achieve, the sage was pretty short, but you didn’t hear that from him), about the same height as Macaque. Looking at his face, he was a lot younger than Macaque would have guessed. His hair was long and dark, two buns keeping his locks from falling in his face. The outfit he wore was made up of expensive robes and practical armour pieces, all in the shade of a gentle pink. His eyes were sharp and narrowed, and if someone told Macaque that he had never smiled a day in his life, Macaque would believe it.

“Macaque! Sorry, you must have gotten bored waiting for me!” Wukong smiled, wrapping an arm around the other. Warmth filled his body the moment they made contact. His instincts wanted him to push the other away, but everything else leaned into him, obsorbing as much warmth as he could in that moment. “This is one of my good friends from Heaven. We ran into each other, and started talking. Nezha, this is Macaque; Macaque, Nezha.”

That’s when it hit Macaque and his body tensed. Of course. Another celestial hero. And a prince at that. He remembered Wukong mentioning the other long ago, something about books, but to see these two talking was strange. Scratch that, to be standing before a well-known lotus prince was more strange, if not terrifying.

Nezha stared at Macaque, as if trying to decide if he deserved acknowledgement. He clearly decided Macaque wasn’t worthy of it, since his eyes snapped back to Wukong. “Your absense is drawing more attention by the day, Sun Wukong. Your duties are in Heaven, not here."

“Relax, Nezha. I normally get this week off anyway, so there’s no harm!” Wukong waved his hand in dismissle, still keeping one arm wrapped around Macaque and slightly pulling him closer. “And if we’re going to talk about duties, then what are you doing here? This isn’t exactly your kind of setting.”

Nezha sighed, but tucked his arms behind his back. “Chang’e sent out some invites. She included in mine that she would be ‘over the moon‘ if I could attend specifically today. I had time and thought I would come see for myself.”

Wukong smiled at that, but Macaque could feel the tension in his muscles. “Well, that’s nice. I hope you have a fun time here, but my buddy and I gotta be going-”

“Sun Wukong. You really should be heading back to Heaven. You know what happens when you stray from your directive.” Wukong went rigid against Macaque. “If you don’t, I’ll have to report your whereabouts to the court. And I will have to include your… company.”

Wukong pulled away from Macaque at that, putting noticable distance between the two. He looked annoyed at Nezha’s comment, but unable to find words. Nezha took this as a sign to continue. 

“Honestly,” he sighed, bringing a hand to his temple. “You are so reckless.” His eyes flickered to Macaque, who felt a sudden pang of unease. “Is this another ‘friend’ of yours?”

Wukong smiles, but it was ugly in Macaque’s eyes. Crooked and wobbly. Not that smooth and bright smile that looked best on Wukong. Macaque’s brows furrowed, finally sensing the full weight of the tension not just on Wukong, but between the two. “Jealous? Don’t worry Nezha, I’ll still make time for you.”

Nezha raised a brow and looked unimpressed with the deflection. “I wasn’t going to pry, but your response makes me curious. Sun Wukong. Is this one just a friend? Or something more?”

Macaque shifted, unsure of what to make of the conversation. The way the prince spoke about him - about them - made him feel like an object, something for discussion. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like being the subject of their words when he was standing right that and wasn’t even being included in the exchange.

Wukong chuckled, shrugging. “You’re reading too much into things. You know me- nothing serious.”

“Is that so?” Nezha’s voice dropped, a trace of something darker creeping into his tone. “The last time you said that, it didn’t end so well. I’m sure you don’t want a repeat of that, do you?”

Those seemed to be the magic words for Wukong. That ugly smile was gone in an instant, replaced by a deep frown. His hands clentched at his sides, and the teasing had left the sage’s body. That warmth in his eyes was replaced with a cold edge that Macaque wasn’t used to seeing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His words were clipped, almost threatening. “it’s not the same.”

Nezha didn’t flinch, his face as neutral as ever. “It’s always the same with you, Wukong. You get too close, and it all falls apart. Just be honest with yourself - this one’s no different.”

Macaque watched Wukong’s composure crack. The playful mask he often wore had slipped and shattered. Wukong’s voice rose slightly, strained and defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wukong repeated. “You don’t know anything. Macaque has nothing to do with that. So leave it.”

Nezha didn’t react at first, just watched the anger bubble within Wukong. Then, ever so slightly, his face relaxed in an ounce of pity. “Maybe I am wrong,” he said, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “But you’re the one who’s going to learn the hard way.”

Without waiting for a response, Nezha turned on his heel and walked away, vanishing into the crowd. The quiet that followed felt thick and suffocating.

Macaque looked to Wukong, and hesitated. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Wukong so rattled. His mind raced, questions bubbling up, but he held back. He wanted to ask, wanted to know Nezha had meant, but something about Wukong’s tension kept him at a distance.

Then, without thinking, Macaque reached out and gently took one of Wukong’s hands, threading their fingers together. “C’mon,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Let’s go get some food. You’re hungry, right?”

Wukong paused for a moment, sucking in a small breath before nodding his head. Macaque didn’t miss the way Wukong avoided his gaze, but he didn’t push. Not right now.

So instead, he lead the sage to the first stall that caught his nose’s attention and picked out the most appatizing thing on the menu. Wukong still stood stiff next to him and wouldn’t meet his eyes, but that was okay. 

Macaque would make it okay. And the words of Nezha would melt away like Wukong melted away the chill of the Lady Bone Demon.

Chapter Text

The festival’s hum had faded behind them, replaced by the soft murmur of the river and the distant echo of laughter carried on the wind. The bridge stretched over the dark water, its wooden planks cool beneath them as they sat down, their legs dangling just over the egde. The city’s glow flickered in the distance, lanterns bobbing like fireflies, but here- away from the celebration - the world felt smaller, quieter.

Macaque exhaled slowly, tilting his head back to watch the sky shift from deep blue to black. The first stars blinked into existance, their reflections trembling on the water’s surface. The air smelled of river mist and the faintest trace of incense, the overwhelming festival scents finally beginning to fade.

Wukong hadn’t spoken a word since Nezha left.

Macaque didn’t break the silence, not at first. He could feel the tension still lingering in Wukong’s posture, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on him. The celestial sat with an arm draped over his knees, his free hand still wrapped around Macaque’s - loosely, absentmindedly, like he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. 

Macaque glanced at him, studying his face in the dim light. Wukong’s usual brightness was muted, his golden eyes reflecting the dark water below instead of their usual fire. His thumb brushed idly against Macaque’s skin - not intentional, just a thoughtless movement - but the warmth of it still sent a strange, welcomed shiver up Macaque’s spine.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Macaque finally murmured, his voice soft enough not to shatter the moment entirely. “Didn’t know you could be so silent.”

Wukong didn’t immediately respond. He blinked, as if remembering where he was, then exhaled a slow breath through his nose. “That’s a lie. You’ve seen me quiet.” Macaque wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Unfortunately, Wukong was right. He had seen him this quiet. He had seen him this distant. He had seen him this guarded.

He hated how this wasn’t a foreign sight to him anymore. Maybe he could count all the times he’d seen Wukong like this on a single hand, but even that was still going to be too many times for the shadow.

“Even I run out of things to say sometimes.” Wukong whispers after a beat. His grip tightened ever to slightly around Macaque’s hand - enough for Macaque to notice.

The silence stretched again. 

“How about you tell me another one of your victories?” Macaque tried. His voice carried enough amusement in it to get Wukong to finally look at him. The sage stared at the other, the moment drawn out. Then a smile pulled at his lips and he huffed a laugh, elbowing Macaque.

“Shut up,” He chuckled lightly.

“I’m serious! Have you ever fought a two headed cow with three arms?”

“Are you kidding me?” Wukong deadpanned.

Macaque shrugged, letting a comfortable smirk settle on his features. “You fight some of the weirdest shit, is that really out there for you?”

Wukong laughed and shook his head, but he didn’t respond. The two sat together in a lighter silence now, both very aware of the hand they were holding. The river lapped softly against the bridge’s supports, the stars above multiplying.

Macaque let them sit with the silence a little longer before sighing a bit more dramatically than needed and shifting. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Suspision flickered in Wukong’s expression, though curiosity was apparent too. “Why?”

“Because this silence is unbearable,” Macaque said, his voice just a little teasing. “I propose twenty questions. I ask, you answer. You ask, I answer.” He shot the celestial a knowing look. “You can handle something that simple, can’t you?”

Wukong’s lips twitched, amusement creeping into his features. “Okay, fine. Do we each get twenty questions or do we split them?”

Macaque thought for a second. He knew how he wanted this to go. He wanted to get to know Wukong better, figure some things out, and then…

He was going to ask about the Lady Bone Demon.

He was going to ask about her, and then tell Wukong the truth. The henchamn’s words were already haunting him. The demoness had plans for Wukong, she said he was part of this scheme. Macaque couldn’t stand that thought.

Wukong didn’t deserve that.

“We each can get twenty.” Macaque finally said, smiling at the golden monkey. “And we have to answer honestly.”

Wukong rolled his eyes. “Well duh. I wouldn’t be worried about me. You on the other hand?” Macaque shoved Wukong lightly but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to get off topic.

“What’s your favorite color?” Macaque asked.

Wukong seemed shocked they were starting and then pondered the question for a moment. “I like aquamarine.” He finally said, giving a little nod as if he were locking in an answer.

“Really?” Macaque asked, a bit surprised. He would have pictured Wukong to say a type of red or gold.

“Is that your second question?” Wukong joked.

The next few questions were like that. Simple. Followed by light hearted jabs and comments. Stories flew from the both of them. Macaque learned that Wukong had once tried keeping a celestial tiger as a pet, only to be scolded by the Jade Court for sneaking it in. Wukong learned that Macaque had quite the sweet tooth, stealing a large box of mooncakes when he was much younger. The topics drifted from childhood stories to passing preferences, from light teasing to quiet admissions.

“So what do you really do for a living?” Wukong asked, a tone of mischeivousness. Macaque paused at that. A fleeting moment went through him, where he wanted to come up with something and lie to impress the sage. But he had set the honesty rule.

“I, uh, I’m-” He took a deep breath, looking towards the water so he wouldn’t have to see the negative reaction in Wukong’s eyes. “I’m just a thief. I steal.”

There was a pregnant silence. Macaque wanted to shrink in on himself and disappear. “Oh.” Wukong said. Macaque couldn’t figure out what kind of tone that was. “I’m sorry.”

His head snapped up and over to Wukong, shocked. There wasn’t any type of expression on the other’s face. In fact, it was like he was just watching Macaque, seeing him in a new way. Not in a new bad way, just a different way.

“You’re sorry?”

“Your life must be hard,” Wukong explained, still watching him. There was this sad look in his eyes, but Macaque couldn’t tell if it was pity. He hoped it wasn’t pity.

“I mean, I guess. But it’s fine. You might be the greatest celestial hero, but I’m the greatest mortal thief.” He gloated, trying to lighten the mood. It worked.

Wukong huffed a laugh and smiled. “That so? Should I be worried?”

“Only thing you need to worry about is your wallet.” Macaque joked. 

“Yeah, okay, greatest mortal thief,” Wukong teased, “Your turn.”

Macaque thought for a second. He could go ahead and ask about Nezha, but he was worried that if he asked that right now, he wouldn’t get to use his other questions. And boy, did he have a lot. He took another minute, before remembering something he had wondered about for a while. 

“That time you fought that demon in the woods, and got hurt. Why did you glamour your blood?”

He let the rising silence settle, giving Wukong space to answer. But when no response came, he finally turned his head to look at him. Wukong was leaning back on his free hand, gazing at the water below.

“You don’t have to answer,” Macaque said, breaking the silence. “It was just a question.”

Wukong hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said. His thumb began to brush absently over Macaque’s knuckles again, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “I just didn’t think anyone would ever notice.”

Macaque lifted a brow. “You didn’t do that great of a job hiding it.”

Wukong let out a short, humorless laugh. He was quiet for another long moment, then, softly he said, “I changed it because I wanted to.”

Macaque frowned slightly. “That’s not much of an answer.”

Wukong’s fingers twitched around Macaque’s. “What do you want me to say? That it was some grand decision?”

Macaque just waited.

Wukong sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “It was never really about the color. Golden blood is divine. It’s what sets us apart. Makes us special.” He gave a hallow smile, the corners not quite reaching his eyes. “But honestly, I just see it, and I feel disgusting.”

“I used to blame it on them. Say they made me like this. But I did this. I made myself, they just applied expextations and limits.” His voice was quiet, a heaviness behind it. “But even so, I hate the reminder that I belong to them now. So I change it. Make it more… mortal.”

Macaque studied him, watching the way his jaw tensed. Then, without thinking-

“Do you regret it? Becoming immortal?”

Wukong stiffened and his breathe hitched. He sat there, still as a statue. Macaque watched him, starting to worry that he crossed a line with the older. 

“No.” Wukong said. He sounded almost unsure for a second, before he looked determined. “No,” he said with more confidence and turned to Macaque. “Because then I never would have met you.”

It was Macaque’s turn to freeze. 

How was he supposed to respond to that? His heart picked up, he could feel the warmth spread to his cheeks then to the tips of his ears. He had never been so glad that his face mask was a deep red. Wukong looked at him with such determination, that Macaque actually started to believe the sage meant it.

He opened his mouth to say something, he isn’t sure what, probably something stupid like “I think I love you”, when Wukong beat him to it.

“That was two questions, by the way.”

Okay. Moment over.

Macaque looked away quickly, a slight frown pulling at his lips. 

“Do you have any glamours?” Wukong asked carefully, clearly trying to change the topic, maybe ask him something equally personal. 

Macaque glanced at him and nodded. “Yeah, for a few scars and things like that.”

Wukong sighed. “Things like that? You’re worse than me.”

Macaque didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he finally asked one of the things he had been postponing for the last hour or so. 

“What was Nezha talking about?”

Wukong frowned at Macaque like he had expected that question to come sooner or later, but was still disappointed that it happened. He pondered for just a moment, hesitating before responding. “I had someone before. A long time ago. They were really important to me.” He explained, but the way he spoke sounded as if he was tasting the words. Deciding if he liked them or not.

“What happened to them?”

“That’s a question.”

“Oh c’mon, that goes along with the one I just asked!” Macaque groaned.

Wukong laughed, but it didn’t last long. “Fine, whatever.” He mulled over the next words. “Heaven found out about us and they… didn’t like it. There were a lot more politics than I would have liked at play, but to sum it up, my partner wasn’t as powerful as me, according to the court, and they…” He hesitated, glancing at Macaque as if scared to finish his thought. Macaque gave a reasuring squeeze to his hand, prompting him to continue. “They didn’t like that I was with another man.”

Macaque paused at that and then made a face, scrunching his nose. “Wait, seriously? The almighty Jade Court, that literally watches over the very balance of our world, was concerned about who you let in your bed?”

Wukong coughed into his hand and nodded.

“That’s fucking stupid.”

Wukong looked up at him, and then a little light began to shine in his eyes. A smile broke out across his face and he chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess it is.”

They continued the game, asking more personal questions and shared some awkward moments as they let themselves talk and be vulnerable for the first time in a long time. Macaque made it to his last two questions, Wukong having only one left. 

Macaque thought hard about what he was going to ask the sage. He knew what his last questions would be. It would lead into him finally telling Wukong the truth. And once he had done that, he’d ask Wukong to help him. Really help him this time. He figured he should test the waters though.

“Alright,” he hummed, “what’s one thing you can’t stand about people?”

Wukong tilited his head back, considering. “Hmm… arrogant bastards.”

Macaque snorted. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Wukong grinned but didn’t deny it. “What else… Oh, people who chew too loudly.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Wukong’s smile lingered for a second before he had a final answer. “And liars,” he said, voice becoming just a bit more serious. “I can’t stand liars.”

Macaque’s breath caught in his throat.

“Lying takes trust and twists it into something ugly,” Wukong continued, unaware of the way Macaque’s grip subtly tensed. “I’ve seen what it does to people. What it does to me.” His jaw clenched slightly. “I only lie if absolutely necessary, but it’s just… the worst kind of batrayal.”

Macaque swallowed. His last question sat heavy on his tongue, and it felt impossible to say. He knew he would recieve some minor backlast from Wukong, but now? Minor wasn’t the word. He’d be facing far more than he can chew.

He’d ruin everything. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. 

“Hey, you okay?” Wukong nudged his knee with his own.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m good. It’s your turn.” Macaque nervously said.

“Hm…“ Wukong took his sweet time coming up with his last question. Macaque sat patiently and sweated. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t risk what they had built. It took forever to build in the first place. 

“Promise you won’t lie to me?” Wukong asked hopefully, almost like a child. It was a punch to Macaque’s gut. It hurt to see that hope in Wukong’s eyes, knowing he’d answer this with the very thing he was promising to never do.

“I’m not sure those are the questions we can ask in this game,” Macaque said, hoping Wukong would pick another. He didn’t.

“Well I say we can. I’m making the rules now.” Macaque dragged a hand down his face. He really didn’t want to lie, but any other answer would break his heart. Both of their hearts.

“Yeah,” he said, confidence low. “I can promise that.”

Wukong looked estatic, eyes widening with a new found light. “You have your last question.”

Macaque didn’t need to think much about it. It was his last desperate attempt to make things still go his way. 

“Can you promise that you won’t leave?”

Wukong looked surprised, but then he smiled, a brow raised. “What, can’t stand the thought of me not being by your side? Where’d this come from? I’m sure a week ago you would have been elated if I was away for more than five minutes.”

Macaque was pretty sure of that too. But everything has changed now. The thought of Wukong not being in his line of sight was suffocating. If Wukong were to just disappear some day, he’s sure he’d feel broken.

“Are you going to promise or not?” Macaque asked, feeling a bit embarrassed now.

Wukong sighed but leaned into Macaque, their shoulders touching. “Yeah,” he said a lot more serious. “I can promise that.” He parrotted.

They sat like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, hands still entertwined, just watching the stars reflect off the water. Then, a new light caught Macaque’s attention.

Flowing in the water was a lantern. He watched it for a moment in curiosity until more and more appeared. They floated calmly, drifting aimlessly. Then he saw the flowers. Hundreds were flowing alongside the lanterns. It was gorgeous.

Wukong gasped, “I totally forgot it’s time to release the flowers,” He sat up, giving the water his full attention.

“Do you want to go release one?” Macaque asked, a little sad this moment would come to an end.

Wukong thought for a second and then shook his head. “Nah, the whole point is to make a wish for the new year. I don’t need to do that, I think mines already going to come true.” Macaque felt the barest of a squeeze to his hand.

He just nodded and turned back to the water. The two sat there for the remainder of the night, exchanging light conversation and watching the lotus flowers glide against the lit water. Macaque had lost track of time, until he felt a weight hit him.

Looking down, Wukong rested against him, his eyes shut and soft breaths coming from his parted lips. Macaque sat there and just admired the celestial for a bit, too scared to move and wake the other. From this close, he could see Wukong’s long lashes that brushed against his round cheeks. There were the lightest speckle of dots on the sage’s nose bridge that Macaque had never noticed, but he found them adorable. 

Those eye bags were still there, becoming more aparent to Macaque when Wukong slept opposed to when he was awake. He wondered if Wukong used a glamour for those too and it dropped when he became unconcious. He hesitantly brought a hand up and ran his fingers through the other’s hair, feeling how silky it was. Wukong shifted ever so slightly and let more of his weight onto Macaque.

He froze and sat still until he was sure Wukong wasn’t going to stir awake. Was he being creepy? Maybe. But like hell if he wasn’t going to take advantage of this moment. He sat and watched Wukong for a while until the smaller monkey shivered slightly. Macaque took that as a sign to head back to the palace.

He wrapped an arm around Wukong to brace him and then opened a portal. The two fell through and landed on Wukong’s bed. The celestial grumbled but didn’t open his eyes, turning slightly away from Macaque and into the warmth of the sheets. Macaque huffed a laugh and went to get up, only to be pulled back down. He looked and saw Wukong still had an iron grip on his hand. 

He pondered what to do before deciding to just stay there. Wukong can just suck it up if he’s got an issue with that come morning.

Sleep hit Macaque hard in that moment and he moved to get more comfortable, moving around Wukong. He spared one last long look at the sage before letting his eyes slide shut.

- 

The next day, they didn’t talk about it. Macaque had woken up to Wukong sitting up in the bed, face flushed, and not looking at the younger. They continued their day as if they hadn’t just shared a bed. 

MK and Mei had teased them at breakfast, saying they must have had a fun time together. Wukong didn’t get the implication, or maybe he was just playing dumb to it, but he agreed, saying they did have fun.

Mei said they could have the day to themselves again.

Great.

So here they were, sitting on the edge of a fountain, trying to figure out what to do. Based on the decore, Macaque could only assume that today was themed on the sun. The stalls were selling an assortment of sun themed items, the banners that once had lotus flowers on them were now replaced with suns, and the citizens were dressed in warm colors. 

Wukong looked around, trying to find something they hadn’t done yet. They got through a lot of the daily activities yesterday, not leaving much for them to explore today.

“Most of the events for today happen at night, so they can use lights to make shows and plays,” Wukong offhandedly explained, trying to fine something to cure his growing boredom.

The streets were calmer right now, people still setting up their booths. Wukong plopped down beside Macaque and sighed.  They sat there and just watched people pass by. Macaque noticed some of the children pointing and getting excited to see Wukong, while the parents looked surprised or maybe even annoyed that he was sitting so casually in their city. 

Thankfully no one approached them though. Macaque continued to look around,  until Wukong groaning pulled his attention. “I have no idea how to kill time. Usually there's never a low moment at these festivals but that's because I'm always busy helping Chang’e organize and make sure they're moving smoothly during the early hours.”

“I never would have taken you for the party planner.” Macaque only half joked. 

Wukong shrugged, smug smile forming on his face. “Don't worry, I'm not. I would normally just help move things or give my opinion. Otherwise, I would just be bothering Chang’e or entertaining the locals.”

Macaque hummed and the two sat in some more silence. He listened to the running water of the fountain and the chaotic chatter of the locals. In all honesty, Macaque would have been just as content with sitting around the castle all day with Wukong. Maybe that sounded boring to the celestial, but simple moments like that were very enticing for the dark simian. To live a much more mundane life with someone he cared about.

He glanced at Wukong and saw the other still looking around, but he seemed to just be people watch now. Macaque searched his face for a second, letting his thoughts drift. It was a stupid thought really, to have a mundane life style with Wukong. Everyone would think he was a fool. Hell, he thought he was a fool for humoring the idea. But to have a house with the other, one where they spend their days just existing, sounded so sweet to him.

He would take them far away, maybe far enough where no one knew who the great Sun Wukong was, where the Lady Bone Demon couldn’t find them, and they could just be. 

He paused at that thought and huffed out a laugh. He had never wanted something so cheesy before. His last partner was a stark contrast to Wukong. Yes, they both are overly confident and cocky, but there was a soft naiveness to Wukong. Innocent and untained. They, on the other hand, had been rough and crude. Maybe at the time Macaque had been the naive one, thinking he and his lover would stay together and one day crave a simple life like he currently wanted with Wukong. But then again, maybe not. 

Macaque shook those thoughts from his mind, hating when his mind reminded him of those times. He subconciously brough a hand up and rubbed his palm to his right eye, frowning slightly.

“You okay?”

Wukong’s voice pulled his attention back, and he looked at the celestial. There was that confused yet innocent smile on his face that Macaque was growing to love. 

“Yeah, light just caught in my eye,” he lied, cringing internally as the words left his lips. He sucked at keeping promises.

“Yeah,” Wukong said, looking up at the sky. “The sun is really bright today, huh? Should we find somewhere else to sit?”

Macaque shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Figure out what we could do?”

Wukong groaned again, flopping dramatically against Macaque, causing a blush to spring onto his cheeks. “No, this is so boring. We have to wait all day until all the cool plays start.”

Macaque thought for a second, before nudging Wukong off of him. “Y’know what? I have an idea, c’mon.”

He stood and motioned for Wukong to follow. The golden monkey looked confused but followed him anyway. The two walked for a few minutes before Macaque found a clearer area and sat down on the ground. Wukong peered at him curiously. Macaque sighed and raised a hand lightly. He hadn’t done this in a long time, and honestly he had sworn he’d never do it again. But here he was, breaking another promise. 

He pulled the shadows from around him and watched as they pooled infront, twisting and forming shapes against the ground. Simple figures at first - just silhouettes - but then they moved, bending and flowing like ink brought to life. Wukong looked at the little figures in awe before his sparkling eyes met Macaque’s. A bright smile formed on his face as he watched the character dance for a moment.

As Macaque wove his fingers through the air, the shadows stretched, sharpened. He added details with the flick of his wrist: the curve of a blade, the sweep of a cloak, the determined stance of a warrior squaring off against a hero.

A few passersby slowed, drawn in by the impossible sight. Shadows shouldn’t move like that - not with such purpose, not as though they were alive. But in Macaque’s hands, they danced.

The warrior struck first, blade flashing as they lunged forward. The hero ducked, rolling aside before countering with a strike of their own. The figures moved fluidly, as if they had weight, as if they existed beyond the flat surface of the ground. The duel grew fiercer, faster, each clash of blades silent yet striking.

More people stopped to watch, murmuring among themselves. A child gasped as Macaque shifted the stage, expanding the battlefield with a wave of his hand. The two figures fought atop towering cliffs, their movements just as crisp, just as precise, as if gravity itself had no hold on them. The hero leapt, flipping through the air before landing in a low stance, ready to strike again. The warrior did not hesitate to meet them.

It had been a long time since Macaque had done this. A long time since he’d let himself enjoy it.

His mind drifted - memories surfacing unbidden. Late nights beneath lantern-lit rooftops, laughter ringing in his ears. A voice, warm and teasing, asking for another story. Just one more. Always just one more.

His fingers faltered for the briefest second, the hero missing their mark.

Macaque caught himself before anyone else noticed. He forced the memory back, burying it beneath layers of practiced indifference. That was a different time. A different person. Wukong wasn’t them.

But that didn’t make this moment any less jarring.

And yet, as he lifted his gaze, something anchored him in the present.

Wukong now stood near the back of a gathered crowd, arms crossed, his weight shifted lazily to one side. But his eyes were sharp, watching Macaque with that knowing, smug amusement. He had caught something Macaque hadn’t meant to reveal.

Macaque scowled, flicking his fingers sharply to bring the story to a close. The hero and warrior clashed one final time, their blades slicing through each other in equal aggression. They stood still for a second before the warrior fell. The hero came from behind the warrior and lifted his blade, before thrusting it down. The crowd gasped, expecting fake blood to spray, but Macaque was mindful to make this story family-friendly. Instead, the sword plunged into the ground and the hero held a hand out for the warrior, who took it hesitantly. The hero helped the warrior stand, and they stood there, hand in hand, as equals. With a subtle wave of his hand, they dissolved, melting back into the ground like mist.

The crowd clapped - some enthusiastic, others simply pleased by the unexpected entertainment. A few kids tugged at their parents’ sleeves, begging to see another story. Macaque ignored them.

Instead, he strode toward Wukong, stopping just short of him. “Was that exciting enough for you, your majesty?”

Wukong only grinned, and maybe Macaque imagined it, but he thought he saw a blush bloom on the other’s cheeks. “I can’t tell if I was entertained more by the show, or the look on your face.”

Macaque looked to the side and huffed, shoving past him, but Wukong only fell into step beside him, his tone far too pleased. “You looked happy,” he teased. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

Macaque clicked his tongue, feigning irritation. “Shut up.”

Wukong elbowed him. “Have you always been able to do that with your powers?”

“Pretty much,” Macaque shrugged. “It was something I learned to do when I wanted to pass the time. Or needed a distraction for a shopkeeper.”

Wukong made an ‘oh’, and they walked for a moment, before he smiled at the taller. “They’re incredible.”

Macaque’s steps stuttered, not expecting that confession. He shouldn’t be surprised. Wukong had basically already admitted how he felt about Macaque’s abilities when they sparred. But it was still strang to hear someone speak so fondly of them. He had been the only one in the orphanage that had abilities, so the other kids had been pretty scared of him. 

And after he began using them to steal, most saw them as bad luck or a curse. He’d only had one other person look at them as a good thing, but even then, they had alterier motives.

“…Thanks.” He finally responded, hoping Wukong didn’t catch the shift in his tone.

The rest of the day was spent pretty uneventful. The two walked around and shopped for a bit, before going back to the castle to meet up with the others for the evening activities. The moment Wukong was gone to fetch Chang’e, Mei and MK were on his ass.

“So,” Mei started, leaning forward with a grin that practically dripped mischief. “How was the festival?”

Macaque didn’t answer. He had seen enough traps in his life to know when he was walking into one.

MK, unfortunately, had no such reservations. “Yeah, you and Monkey King have been glued at the hip since yesterday.” He said, eyes glinting. “What exactly were you two doing?”

Macaque gave him a flat look. “Looking around.”

Mei gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “How romantic.”

MK nodded profoundly. “Spending so much time together, just the two of you… The tension must’ve been unbearable.”

“Did you hold hands? Mei added, barely containing her laughter.

Macaque tensed. His silence must have given something away, because their teasing only grew worse.

MK’s jaw dropped. “Wait - did you?”

Macaque scowled, thinking back on last night. “It wasn’t like that.”

Mei gave MK a triumphant look. “Oh, it totally was.”

Macaque pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about dealing with children.

MK and Mei snickered, but then Mei tilted her head, studying him. “But seriously,” she said, her voice softer now, less teasing. “Did you have fun?”

Macaque hesitated. He could brush it off, say it was nothing, that it was just another day. But… the truth settled in his chest before he could push it away.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, quiter than before. “It was fun.”

Mk and Mei exchanged a look, their grins shifting into something more knowing.

Mei bumped his shoulder. “You like him.”

Macaque exhaled sharply through his nose. “Obviously.”

MK blinked. “Wait, really?”

Mei, for once, was actually speechless.

Macaque leaned back agaisnt the wall, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. I—” He hesitated, then let the words tumble out before he could stop them. “I like him. And it’s - it’s stupid, because I keep thinking about what it’d be like if things were different. If I wasn’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “If I could just… stay. Just be normal. Live some boring, simple life with him. No running. No missions. No-.”

Lying.

He let out a humorless laugh. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” He looked between them, as if waiting for them to confirm it. Tell him he was being a fool so he could shove these thoughts away and never look back.

But neither of them laughed.

MK’s teasing grin had softened, and Mei, who was always quick to chime in, looked hesitant, like she didn’t know what to say.

“…It’s not ridiculous,” MK said, voice quieter now. “Wanting something good? That’s not ridiculous.”

Macaque clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”

Mei frowned. “Too late for what?”

Macaque let out a breath, pressing his palms against his face before dragging them down. “I’ve already-” He bit back the words before they could slip out. I’ve already ruined it.

Mei and MK exchanged a glance, clearly not understanding.

“What did you do?” MK asked, his voice more confused than accusatory. “Why would Monkey King not like you?”

Macaque didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Because he knew. No matter how much he wanted this, no matter how much he tried to pretend… When the truth came out, when Wukong found out what he was really doing, what he had been lying about this entire time-

It wouldn’t matter how much he wanted to stay.

Wukong wouldn’t want him anymore. And that was the truth Macaque couldn’t outrun.

MK opened his mouth, and Macaque could see it coming - the words of comfort, the attempt at wisdom that MK always managed to pull out of nowhere when it actually mattered. And maybe Macaque would have let him say it. Maybe he would have listened.

But then—

“We’re back!”

Chang’e’s voice rang through the air, light and full of excitement, and just like that, the moment was gone.

Mei and MK straightened immediately, schooling their expressions, and Macaque - Macaque shoved every lingering thought deep, deep down where it belonged. He turned, mask firmly in place, as Wukong and Chang’e strode toward them.

Wukong looked entirely too pleased with himself, grinning like he had just personally arranged the entire festival. Chang’e, equally enthusiastic, clapped her hands together. “We need to go now if we want the best seats for the fireworks.”

Macaque let himself relax at the sight of Wukong, at the familiarity of his presence. Even if the weight in his chest hadn’t lifted, even if the words he’d almost said still lingered on the tip of his tongue - Wukong was here. And for now, that was enough.

Chang’e, however, was a different matter.

She turned to him, smiling in a way that felt entirely too knowing. “Macaque.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Chang’e.”

She arched a brow, her smile widening just a fraction, and he wasn’t sure if she was amused or suspicious - or both. Either way, it made him want to get moving fast.

“Right,” Wukong clapped his hands together, looking around at them. “Let’s go. This is my favorite part of the week, and I’ll be damned if I miss it.”

MK and Mei exchanged a glance, hesitation flickering in their eyes, but they said nothing.

Macaque saw it. Knew exactly what they weren’t saying.

They’re still worried.

But he ignored it. He had already said too much tonight.

So instead, he fell into step beside Wukong, keeping his mask in place, pushing down everything else.

The five of them moved toward the festival’s main square, the hum of the crowd growing louder, the promise of fireworks just on the horizon.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Bonus

“So, like, how old are you?”

“Oh, okay, so we’re getting into the offensive questions.” Wukong laughed. “Let’s see… I’m like four thousand…. three hundred? Six hundred? I stopped counting by the time I reached my two thousands.”

“Oh my gods.” Macaque thought. “I’m crushing on an old man.”

“What’s that look for?” Wukong asked.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Okay then, how old are you?”

Macaque awkwardly coughed. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Oh my gods, you’re a baby.” Wukong cooed.

“Hardly,” Macaque responded, looking annoyed.

They stared at one another, and then began to laugh. “Alright, alright, next question,” Wukong said, calming down. “Let’s see… are you still a virgin?”

“Wukong!“

Chapter Text

Macaque walked through the palace halls, his footsteps near silent against the polished floors. The morning air was crisp, the corridors bathed in the soft glow of dawn. Today was the day. The last day. And tomorrow? They’d finally get the first key.

He should’ve been relieved. The mission was moving forward, and soon, he’d be one step closer to finishing what he started. And yet, there was something heavy in his chest. A weight that hadn’t been there before.

Because, despite everything - despite his purpose, despite the looming deadline of his own deception - he had enjoyed his time here. More than he ever should have. More than he could afford to.

His fingers curled into his palm as he walked, trying to chase away the unwanted thoughts, but they lingered, drifting back to last night.

The fireworks had been breathtaking. Explosions of gold, silver, and red had illuminated the sky, painting the world in lights for fleeting moments before vanishing into darkness again. The crowd had been mesmerized, but Macaque had struggled to enjoy it. The sharp bursts of sound cut through him like a blade, rattling in his skull, too much all at once.

He had tried to focus on the colors, on the way they reflected in Wukong’s wide, admiring eyes. But even that had been dificult when each explosion made his ears ring.

Then, amidst the noise and chaos, he had felt it - something soft, something deliberate.

A pinky hooking around his own.

He had blinked, startled, and turned just slightly to find Wukong beside him, gaze still fixed upward, expression unbothered, as if he hadn’t just casually reached for him.

Macaque swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “What are you doing?” He had muttered, keeping his voice low.

Wukong didn’t look at him. “You’re tense,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Macaque scoffed. “I have sensative ears,” he admitted, not sure why he even bothered explaining.

Wukong hummed, and then, without a word, he took off his sash and tossed it over Macaque’s head. The sage quickly tied it so the fabric fit snuggly against the side of his head, then turned back to the fireworks when he was satisfied.

Macaque stood there dumbfounded for a moment, confused, until the muffled sound of a firework grabbed his attention. Granted, it was still way too loud, but the clothing helped.

Wukong never acknowledged it. He just stood there, watching the fireworks as if nothing had changed, as if his finger weren’t still loosely curled around Macaque’s, grounding him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Even now, as Macaque walked these empty halls, he could still feel the ghost of that touch, the warmth of it lingering on his skin.

He exhaled, rubbing his fingers together absently, as if trying to shake off the feeling. 

Wukong was making it harder and harder for Macaque to turn his back on him.

Macaque rounded a corner, still lost in his thoughts, only to nearly collide with a familiar figure.

Chang’e blinked at him, head tilting slightly. “Well hello to you too. What do you think you’re doing?”

Macaque exhaled, already weary. “I wasn’t sneaking around,” he said dryly.

That made her laugh. “I should hope not. I would hate to have to knock you out again and drag your ass back to the guest room.” She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. “Where are you off to?”

Macaque hesitated. He could tell her to leave him alone. But telling her that would probably make him look suspisious and he really was only walking around the halls for something to do. “Walking.”

Chang’e smiled, taking that as an invitation. “Mind if I join you?”

He did, but saying no felt like more effort than it was worth. “This is your home.”

She saddled up next to him and they walked side by side, the early morning quiet settling around them. The palace was calmer than usual, the festival winding down, attendants moving at an easier pace.

Then, Chang’e spoke, voice soft but sure. “I know about what happened with Nezha.”

Macaque’s steps slowed for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to keep moving. His expression didn’t change, but he felt the instinct to guard himself rise all the same. “And?”

She glanced at him. “And I wanted to thank you.”

That really made him falter. He looked at her fully now, complete shock. “For what?”

“For staying with him afterwards,” she said, her gaze warm, no hint of judgement. “Wukong doesn’t always know how to process things when that subject comes up. He shuts down. Pretends it doesn’t bother him, even when it does.”

Macaque shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It is to him,” Chang’e said simply.

Macaque looked away. He hadn’t done much - they just sat together and talked. It felt like the least he could do after see how rattled the celestial monkey had been.

After a beat, he huffed and asked, carefully, “Why did Heaven care so much?”

Chang’e sighed, her steps slowing. “Because we’re expendable to Heaven.”

Macaque frowned, glancing at her. “What do you mean?”

Chang’e hesitated for only a second before sitting down on a bench that faced her city. Macaque paused before taking a seat next to her. “Most celestials reside in Heaven, carrying out duties when it’s asked of them. Only a few have permanent jobs, so the rest of us are free to do as we please.” She glanced at Macaque, before motioning to the city below and the vast ocean. “Heaven wasn’t really for me, and I didn’t have any important duties, so I came down here and made a home for myself.”

“Wukong didn’t get that luxary. He started out as just any other monkey demon, but with a lot more ambition. He got stronger, and soon he was a force to reckon with. Every celestial knew of him. He was a thorn in the court’s side.”

Macaque pictured a younger Wukong running around rampant, causing issue after issue. It was a bit weird to hear a story of the sage that didn’t have to do with him slaying a demon, but it brought the mist of a smile to his face.

“So they sent celestial generals to deal with him,” Chang’e continued. “Only the best of the best were sent to apprehend the great Monkey King. Azure was among them.”

“Azure?” Macaque asked, never hearing that name before.

Chang’e had a sad smile on her face. “One of the most noble warriors I had ever met. He had the biggest heart. Which is what drew Wukong to him.”

‘…drew Wukong to him.’ Macaque sat with those words for a second before he realized what she was implying. His lips formed a silent oh as he let that sink in.

“Wukong’s schinanigans didn’t last forever and soon he was brough into Heaven’s ranks as a weapon. He was to remain in Heaven until the court sent him on a mission. So he had plenty of time to bother Azure. Their relationship bloomed until it reached a new status and they fell in love.”

Macaque felt a zap of heat spark in his chest, his hands curling and uncurling in fists. He knew she and Wukong spoke of Azure in the past tense, but he could still feel jealousy pooling in the pits of his stomach. The silence stretched between the two, and Macaque was beginning to wonder if she had finished. 

“So what happened? If they were so in love, then why aren’t they together?”

Chang’e sighed deeply. “Azure had made a name for himself in Heaven as one of the top generals. He was just a few ranks below Erlang Shen. Everyone respected him, and everyone trusted him. But the court was beginning to notice his absents more and more, as he snuck off to be with Wukong. Their relationship was their biggest priority and it began to get in the way of them committing to their duties. Out of the two of them, Wukong far surpassed Azure in power, therefore surpassed him in usefulness to the court.”

Chang’e brought a hand up and rubbed at her face in annoyance. “I warned them. I told them they needed to be more careful, but they wouldn’t listen. They were too caught up in their own love story to realize it was too late. All it took was one mistake, one attendant catching them, and…“

Macaque felt himself lean forward slightly. Part of him already knew what she was going to say, but he asked anyway. “What happened to him?”

The goddess paused, the words seemed to make her sick. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before ripping the bandaid off. “They held a public execution for him.”

Macaque reeled, and sat back, letting the words wash over him. “They killed him.“ He thought, horrified.

“Wukong blamed himself for it.” Chang’e said after a moment. “He never forgave himself for Azure’s death.”

Macaque felt gross. Uncomfortable. Like he just heard something he wasn’t supposed to. All of it. His thoughts ran in different directions. Thinking back on the conversation Wukong was having Nezha, it made him feel… Wukong was practically begging Nezha to believe that they were just friends. And they were. As much as that thought shook Macaque, they were, but Nezha thought otherwise. Was he going to be another ‘public execution’ for Heaven? A regret for Wukong? Would Wukong look back on these past few months, in the next hundred something years and just be disgusted?

“How did you even find out about that?” Macaque asked after a moment. “The run in with Nezha, I mean. Did Wukong tell you?”

Chang’e sighed, a bit more dramatically, and casually leaned back, like she hadn’t just told Macaque something emotionally draining. “No, actually Nezha came and talked to me. I invited him since it was the day of the lotus and I thought he’d enjoy it. He told me he ran into Wukong and his ‘moody counterpart‘,” She chuckled. “He then told me about the conversation. I gave him a long lecture, don’t worry. Nezha means well, but he’s not the best at knowing when to shut his mouth.”

Macaque just nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. His mind was still racing. Not only was the Bone Demon going to take his life, but he was on Heaven’s hit list too. 

Chang’e watched him for a second before nudging him with her foot. “Hey. I told him you guys were just working together on a mission. He doesn’t think anything more is going on with you two. I promise.” 

Macaque nodded his head once more, his throat dry. 

Mortals grew up learning about Heaven and the order they up held. Children were taught about the balance and they were made to believe that celestials were these kind saints, that would lay their lives down to protect the order. Macaque had once believed that when he was a child, praying every night and going to temples to make offerings in exchange for good fortune or a healthy life. As he got older he figured that Heaven didn’t truly have time to feed the insects under their feet.

Turns out he was kind of right. 

His stomach churned thinking about what happened to this Azure guy. What happened to Wukong. Did lives mean that little to Heaven? Did they really see those even within their ranks as that disposable?

He felt sick, wondering if one day, far, far into the future, if someone would come along and surpass Wukong. Would Heaven dispose of him too? 

He bit down on his tongue and pressed his nails into his palms, trying to ground himself and not let his thoughts consume him. But it was just…

“It’s disgusting.” He muttered, barely contained rage seeping through his voice.

Chang’e looked at him, her face neutral. She watched him for a moment, before her lips quirked upwards. “It is.” She replied, looking back towards the horizon.

They sat in silence for a second, before Chang’e sat up, stretching her arms. “Okay, enough depressing talk. It’s the last day of the festival, which means everyone should be having fun.”

She stood infront of Macaque and reached for his hand, gripping his wrist and pulling him up. He let out a surprised noise as he was yanked up, stumbling before planting his feet correctly. “And we have a lot of work to do.” She said, looking him up and down.

“Excuse me?”

-

Macaque stared at himself in the floor-length mirror, perplexed. He looked good but he  felt like a doll as Chang’e adjusted his sleeves. 

He had on some navy blue pants that felt much softer than his usual maroon ones. The robes were a bit annoying, being three pieces, but it was confortable and looked far more elegant that anything he should be allowed to wear. Half of it was a dark cyan color, the other half being a maroon with cresent moons embrordered into the fabric with golden thread. He pulled at the puffy white sleeves, glaring at Chang’e when she swatted at his hands.

He ran a hand through his damp, slicked back hair and shifted, allowing himself a moment to admire Chang’e’s work.

“I think I’ve out done myself.” She said, stepping back and checking Macaque over once more. “Now you look like you can stand proudly next to Sunni.”

“Jeez, thanks.” He deadpanned, but didn’t take his eyes off his reflection. 

“Okay, okay, out with you. I need to get Wukong ready now.” She said, shooing him.

“Wait, what?” He said, stumbling towards the doors to avoid her hands.

She rolled her eyes and popped out her hip, looking unimpressed. “I have to get Wukong ready now. We always do this, dressing each other up for the last night. Now go bother those kids and make sure they look decent.”

He sputtered as he was shoved out of her room and left alone in the halls. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before awkwardly walking towards MK and Mei’s room. It probably would be a good idea to check on the two, he hadn’t seen those two much since the archives incident.

He found their room after wandering for a few and rapped his knuckles against the door, waiting. A muffled voice called out from inside, “Come in!” - though it was unclear whether they actually knew who was on the other side.

Pushing the door open, Macaque stepped in, only to be met with a chaotic scene.

MK was half-dressed, his robe hanging off one shoulder as he dramatically flailed away from an increasingly frustrated attendant. Mei, on the other hand, had her arms held out stiffly as another attendant tried to tighten the sash around her waist, except she kept twisting and squirming every time they got close.

“I can’t breathe!” she declared, spinning in an exaggerated fashion. “I can’t move! How do nobles wear this all the time? This is a trap!”

“You’re being dramatic,” MK laughed, though his own sleeves were currently tangled around his wrists. “Wait- don’t tie it like that, I won’t be able to raise my arms properly!”

The attendants looked about two seconds away from giving up entirely.

Macaque crossed his arms, amused. “Are you two always this insufferable, or am I just lucky enough to witness it?”

Mei turned to him, her expression brightening. “Macaque! Look at you! You clean up nice!” She gestured at his outfit - Chang’e’s careful selection. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you almost look elegant.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah, you ruin it with your usual broody expression.”

MK finally managed to get his sleeves in order and beamed at Macaque. “I agree! You look really good. I’d almost think you belonged here.”

Macaque snorted. “What, in a palace?”

“No, just in clothes that aren’t falling apart,” MK teased.

Macaque rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the nearest seat, watching as the attendants desperately tried to get Mei and MK properly dressed. They looked nice, he had to admit—even if Mei was grumbling about the length of her sleeves and MK kept fidgeting like a restless child.

“Just let them do their job,” Macaque drawled.

“I am,” MK protested. “It’s just- this robe is a little stiff. And Mei’s right, it’s hard to move in.”

“I told you,” Mei chimed in triumphantly. “Nobles must have to train just to walk properly in these.” She sighed, looking at herself in the mirror. “At least we look good, though.”

MK grinned. “We do, don’t we?”

Mei’s outfit was comprised of a jade green and white color pallette, intricate designs threaded into the sleeves and the ends. MK was in an outfit similar to Macaque, except it was mostly orange and reds. Needless to say, they really did look like a couple of nobles.

Macaque leaned back against the chair, arms crossed. “So what exactly is this whole event about?”

MK, who had been fixing his sleeves in the mirror, turned with a grin. “The last night of the festival! We’re going into town - there’s food, games, performances. It’s supposed to be the best part.”

“And at the end of the night,” Mei added, balancing on one foot as an attendant struggled to secure the sash around her waist, “everyone lights a lantern and sends it into the sky. The whole city does it at once.”

Macaque raised a brow. “Lanterns?”

MK nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, everyone makes one, and then they all get released together. It’s fun.”

Mei huffed, finally getting both feet on the ground. “They let us decorate our own, too. I’m thinking of putting something ridiculous on mine.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a drawing of MK crying after he tried that spicy soup.”

MK groaned. “Can we not bring that up again?”

Mei smirked. “Nope.”

Macaque snorted but said nothing. He could already picture it - Mei hunched over her lantern, painstakingly sketching something just to make MK suffer.

“You gonna make one too?” MK asked, glancing at Macaque.

“I don’t really see the point.”

Mei gasped dramatically. “No lantern? No fun? No joy in your soul?”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll survive.”

MK shrugged. “Suit yourself. But when you see how cool it looks, don’t come crying to us.”

Mei gave him a sly look. “Yeah, don’t think we won’t rub it in.”

Macaque huffed but didn’t argue. He still wasn’t sold on the lantern thing, but at the very least, food and games didn’t sound like the worst way to spend the night.

Plus Wukong would be there. 

The thought brought a light blush to his cheeks, imagining Wukong in overly dramatic silks that would draw too much attention. Reguardless, Macaque would think he looks good.

“Thinking of Wukong?” Mei teased, drawing his eyes back to her, who looked far too smug.

He rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Don’t worry,” MK continued, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just cause we’re there doesn’t mean you can’t hold hands or whatever it is you’re doing these days.”

Macaque groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I hate both of you.”

One of the attendants - who had been enduring this entire conversation in suffering silence - finally cleared their throat, interruoting the conversation. “You two are finished,” they said, gesturing towards Mk and Mei.

“Damn, we look great,” Mei said, moving next to MK and slinging an arm over his shoulder.

MK nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to keep Wukong waiting.”

Macaque shot him a glare that promised retubution, but he followed them out all the same. 

They made their way through the palace halls, the chatter between Mei and MK never ceasing. Macaque stayed quiet, but his mind was already somewhere else - thinking about a certain celestial hero and pretending he wasn’t anticipating seeing him.

They stopped in the foyer, where they had agreed hours prior to meet up before moving into the city. Macaque lingered by the kids and just offhandedly listened to them speak animatedly to one another.

Macaque’s ears flicked at the sound of soft footsteps pattering towards them, then Chang’e and Wukong walked in, happily speaking to one another.

Macaque really expected something dramatic from Wukong. Gold threads, bold colors, a halo of divine arrogance in physical form. Instead, Wukong wore a peach-pink robe that softened the sharpness of his precense, paired with a teal sash tied neatly from his shoulder to his waist. A navy undershirt peeked from beneath the fabric, wore in the most Wukong natural way, and his red pants were a subtle but grounding contrast. It wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, but elegant in a way that felt almost… personal.

Macaque’s eyes drifted to the design that lined the bottom of the robes - a simple motif of the sun with a cresent moon interwined, stitched carefully into the fabric. He blinked. His own shirt had a similar pattern. Not identical, but unmistakably complementary.

His gaze flickered to Chang’e. That sneaky, smug-

Of course she did.

He wasn’t sure whether to feel betrayed or grateful.

Wukong’s eyes found him a beat later, and something shifted in his expression. It was subtle - just the faintest pause, a softening around the eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth - but Macaque caught it. Wukong was looking at him the way someone looked at a work of art in a museum: quietly, openly, without apology.

Macaque looked away first.

His ears were hot.

“Are we ready?” Chang’e asked, her voice sweet and innocent as ever.

Macaque muttered something noncommittal, refusing to acknowledge the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

MK, blissfully oblivious to the silent exchange, bounced on his heels. “Let’s go! I wanna get to the food before the lines get ridiculous.”

As they headed out, Macaque walked beside Wukong in silence for a few steps.

“…You look fine,” he said at last, still looking forward. 

Wukong tilited his head. “Just fine?”

“Don’t get greedy.”

But Wukong stepped a little closer, his voice dropped just enough to make it feel private. “Thanks. You look pretty fine yourself. The outfit-” his eyes drift lower, then back up with a faint smile- “you wear it like it was made just for you.”

Macaque stiffened, caught off guard. His ears went warm immediately. “…You don’t have to flirt with me just because I complimented you.”

“Who says I’m flirting?” Wukong asks, a little too innocently. “I’m just being honest.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes, but the heat in his face betrayed him. “You’re dangerous when you’re honest.”

That clearly wasn’t the response Wukong expected - he blinked, surprise flickered across his face before a flush crept into his cheeks. “Dangerous?”

“Mm,” Macaque said, just to savor the moment. “absolutely lethal.”

Wukong turned away with a cough, pretending to be very interested in something on the ground.

Macaque smirked to himself, satisfied.

And with the tension quietly humming between them, they stepped out into the golden-lit city.

-

Lanterns floated overhead in warm waves of gold and red, and the scent of grilled buns and sweet tanghulu lingered in the air like incense. Music spilled from street performers stationed along the road, their guzheng and flute melodies twining around the laughter of children and the chatter of the crowd.

Macaque walked just behind Mei and MK, who were too busy dragging each other toward every stall that caught their attention to notice anyone else. Wukong strolled at his side, their sleeves occasionally brushing in the shifting crowd. Macaque didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t move away either.

They passed a vendor juggling fire, another spinning plates on long rods while balancing on a tightrope. Mei clapped excitedly at each one.

They ended up at a street food stall, where Wukong casually paid for skewers of sizzling roasted meat. He handed one to Macaque without comment, then offered the others to Mei and MK. Macaque stared at his skewer for a moment before taking a bite.

It was good. Spicy and sweet, like everything tonight had been.

“You always this generous?” Macaque asked, chewing. “Or just trying to buy my affection?”

“Both,” Wukong said, without missing a beat.

Macaque choked. The celestial handed him a cup of plum tea with a faint smirk but didn’t press the joke further.

Later, they stopped at a stand selling trinkets - lucky charms, paper fans, and little silver rings shaped like animals. Mei picked out a dragon ring and proudly slid it onto her finger. MK got a monkey one and immediately lost it in his sleeve.

Macaque looked at all the finds and saw a similar pendant to his own. He glanced over to Wukong who was admiring MK and Mei’s find, before looking to see if the vendor was around. He didn't exactly have any money on him to spend on things like this, so with that said…

He casually swiped it and joined the others. 

Children darted between adults with toy swords and glowing lanterns shaped like rabbits. The music was louder now, more rhythmic-drums and cymbals calling people toward the open square ahead. Couples and friends gathered there, laughing as they moved in time with the festival music, pulling each other into loose, celebratory dances.

The lights blurred into one golden haze. Macaque paused at the edge of the square, watching the dancers, the way joy filled the space without hesitation. His fingers curled slightly at his side, uncertain.

Then Wukong stepped beside him, his voice low. “Dance with me?”

Macaque turned, surprised.

Wukong wasn’t teasing this time. There was no joke in his voice, no dare in his eyes. Just a quiet, sincere question.

And something in Macaque’s chest skipped.

“I don’t dance,” Macaque protested, immediately digging in his heels.

Wukong grabbed his wrist with a shit-eating grin. “Then it’s a good thing I do.”

“That’s not how- wait- Wukong-!”

His words were swallowed by the music as Wukong pulled him into the motion of the crowd, spinning him clumsily once before they found a rhythm of their own. The world blurred for a moment—color, light, heat - and then sharpened into just this: Wukong’s hand on his, his other hand settling briefly at Macaque’s waist before they shifted again.

“You’re awful at this,” Macaque muttered under his breath.

“Correct,” Wukong beamed. “But you look like a natural.”

“Flattery won’t save you if you step on me.”

“Worth the risk.”

They moved in loose, easy circles, neither trying to keep time with the crowd anymore—just with each other. Macaque found himself smiling before he could stop it. The music filled his chest, his limbs, lifted something in him that had sat heavy for far too long.

Wukong’s hand caught his again, spun him once, twice.

“I thought you said you don’t dance,” Wukong said, voice pitched low over the music, warm against his ear.

“I’m a fast learner,” Macaque said, breathless. “It’s in my nature.”

“Learning or dancing?”

“Both.”

Wukong laughed, head tipping back in that unguarded way that made Macaque’s heart lurch.

The lights flickered gold across Wukong’s fur. His eyes sparkled when they met Macaque’s, and there it was again - just a flicker - Macaque let himself forget the mission, the Bone Demon, the guilt that weighed in the pit of his stomach. All he could feel was Wukong’s fingers laced with his, their shoulders brushing, his pulse fluttering like a bird’s wing.

Macaque drew closer, just slightly, and murmured, “You’re enjoying this.”

“I like seeing you loosen up,” Wukong replied, then paused- his voice softening. “You’re…beautiful when you’re not frowning.”

Macaque blinked.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then Macaque cleared his throat, rolling his eyes, though a flush bloomed hot across his cheeks. “Careful, if you keep complimenting me like that, I might get used to it.”

Wukong leaned in with a grin. “Maybe that’s the point.”

And Macaque - gods help him - smiled again.

The music picked up - drums faster now, the pace infectious.

Macaque barely had time to adjust before Wukong spun him again, and suddenly they were both laughing, stumbling over each other’s feet as the crowd around them blurred into color and movement. Their hands clung tighter, balance found and lost in a beat.

Wukong’s robe flared with motion, catching moonlight, and Macaque felt the rhythm in his chest more than his ears - like the music had decided his heartbeat.

Then someone’s foot caught the other’s - neither was sure whose- and they both staggered.

Macaque’s arms flew out on instinct, catching Wukong before he could hit the ground. Their bodies collided. Not rough, not awkward. Just…close. Too close.

And suddenly everything else fell away.

The square was still spinning with light and laughter, but Macaque couldn’t hear it anymore. He couldn’t feel anything but Wukong - his breath hitching, his fingers curled into the fabric of Macaque’s sleeves. His golden eyes, wide and locked onto Macaque’s like he didn’t know how to look away.

Macaque didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

His eyes dropped to Wukong’s lips.

And he swore - he swore he saw Wukong glance at his.

The space between them was nothing. Barely a breath.

One movement. That’s all it would take. One selfish, foolish movement—

Macaque started to lean in.

Then—

Fear.

Just a flicker in Wukong’s eyes.

Barely there, but Macaque saw it. Felt it like a cold slap.

Wukong pushed him back.

Not hard. But fast.

He laughed, too loud, like it could cover what just happened. “You really don’t know how to keep your footing, do you?”

Macaque stood where he’d been left, hands still slightly raised.

He could’ve let it go. Played along. Pretended the moment hadn’t meant anything.

But he felt it.

And now it was gone.

The crowd kept dancing.

Wukong was smiling again. That same easy smile. But his eyes were still wide, just a little too bright. Like a shield had been thrown back up at full force.

Macaque straightened, his heart a slow, heavy thud in his chest.

He’d been ready to throw it all away. For a kiss. For him.

And Wukong had looked afraid.

Not of Macaque. 

Of what loving him might cost.

Macaque looked down at his hands, then over at Wukong - still watching him from just a step too far away.

He knew why Wukong looked afraid. Fuck, this morning he’d been afraid for the same reasons. 

But in that moment, actually having Wukong in his arms, so close, he wanted that. This. Whatever this fucked up love story was. He’s wanted things all his life: food, friends, wealth, a home, a family. It spanned over the course of his life. But standing here, with too much space between him and Wukong to the point it was painful, he knows for a fact he has never wanted anything more. 

Wukong just needed to want it as bad too. 

A flicker of warm light danced across Macaque’s face.

He blinked, head lifting, and realized the crowd had shifted. The music was quieter now, less of a pulse and more of a hum. Around them, people had turned toward the sky.

Lanterns floated above the city - hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Glowing softly like fireflies adrift on the wind. Red and gold, soft oranges, pale blues. Some rose in twos, tangled together by ribbons or strings. Others swirled in slow spirals, rising higher with every breath of air.

Macaque hadn’t even noticed when they’d started. He’d been too focused. On him.

Wukong looked up too, expression unreadable in the glow. His face bathed in warm gold, but there was a distance in his eyes now. A wall back in place. A step away Macaque hadn’t noticed he’d taken until he felt it.

Before either of them could speak, MK and Mei came bounding up through the crowd.

“You missed it!” Mei cried, out of breath but grinning. “You missed the launch!”

MK laughed. “We tried to find you earlier, but you two disappeared!”

Macaque opened his mouth, but Wukong beat him to it.

“Guess we were too busy making fools of ourselves in public,” he said, tossing an arm casually over MK’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. “Macaque here tried to lead the dance and nearly took us both out.“

“I told you I don’t dance,” Macaque muttered, but it came out quieter than intended.

Wukong just chuckled, nudging Mei’s shoulder as they started walking again. “Let this be a lesson to you both. If Macaque ever offers you his hand, run.”

They laughed. All of them.

Except Macaque. 

He managed a smile. Even said something dry in return that earned a grin from MK. But his eyes kept flicking sideways.

Wukong was walking with the kids.

Macaque walked behind.

An arm’s length away. Always an arm’s length.

Even as the night wore on - through games and street food, through Mei dragging them all to try candied lotus, and MK trying to win Macaque a paper sun charm - Wukong never once drifted too close. He laughed easily. Teased freely. But he never reached out again. Never brushed against Macaque’s side. Never looked too long.

And Macaque?

Macaque didn’t try either.

Because he knew the line now. The limit. The wall that wasn’t his to break.

But gods, it ached.

Every time Wukong smiled and didn’t look at him.

Every time their hands didn’t touch.

Every time he remembered just how close they’d come to something that couldn’t be.

The lanterns drifted higher. The sky was full of them.

And still, Macaque walked alone.

Two love-struck idiots dancing. I imagined this scene giving "Tangled - Kingdom Dance" vibes.

(Not my typical style but this is my first time drawing these two, and they don't really look that great in my art style so yeah...)

Chapter Text

Macaque didn’t mean to watch him.

Not again.

But it was like trying not to notice a fire. You could tell yourself it was under control, that you weren’t cold enough to need the warmth - but the moment it crackled, you looked. And there he was again: laughing. Casual. Golden. Like nothing had happened the night before.

Wukong stood at the center of the foyer with Mei and MK on either side, animatedly recounting some story that had them both half-doubled with laughter. Macaque leaned against one of the columns near the back of the room, half-shadowed, half-trying to melt into it.

He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—how easily Wukong seemed to have shrugged off last night, or how much Macaque hadn’t.

The almost-kiss. The sudden distance. The way Wukong had looked at him - like he might’ve wanted something. Like they could’ve had something.

And then that wall. That flicker of fear in Wukong’s eyes before he pulled away.

Macaque hadn’t slept well.

Not that he was unused to guilt gnawing on the inside of his ribs like a rat, but this was different. This guilt was sour and soft. The kind that clung. He hated it.

He crossed his arms tighter, gaze locked on Wukong like he might make sense if Macaque just stared long enough. He didn’t. He just kept laughing. Like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t deliberately keeping a full step of space between them every time they’d crossed paths this morning.

They hadn’t exchanged a single word.

Macaque hadn’t forced it. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said.

So he stood there. Waiting. Stewing. Trying not to wonder if maybe Wukong had regretted all of it—the festival, the dancing, the almost.

Then came the sound of heels clicking softly across the polished stone.

“I see everyone is here.”

Chang’e’s voice was light and amused, but carried that subtle force that made people stop and turn. Macaque looked up as she entered, Mei and MK immediately straightening and grinning.

She looked more regal than usual this morning, wrapped in pale silks that shimmered like frost, her hair pulled into an intricate style pinned with delicate pearls and moonstones.

But it was the box in her hands that caught Macaque’s eye.

Rather large. Ornate. Lacquered black with a silver clasp that glinted when the sun caught it. It looked unassuming, almost delicate, but the moment Macaque saw it, his stomach turned.

“This,” Chang’e said, holding it between both hands with surprising care, “is for you.”

No buildup. No riddle. No ceremonial speech. Just that calm declaration.

The key.

Macaque didn’t even realize he was moving until he was in front of her. His fingers brushed against the wood, and for a second, it felt colder than it should’ve.

He took the box.

It was light—but not in a comforting way. The kind of light that made you think of hollow things. Quiet graves. Half-truths.

When he opened it, a strange hush settled over him.

The key was round and not key shaped, made from gold - with three taiji symbols on the inside.. It shimmered faintly, like it was catching a light that wasn’t there.

And for some reason, looking at it made him feel small. Not like a person dwarfed by greatness—but like a piece being moved on a board he hadn’t agreed to play on.

He swallowed. He hated that feeling.

He’d come here for this, hadn’t he?

The Bone Demon’s voice echoed faintly in his head. Three keys. The Samadhi Fire. Power enough to reshape the world. And all you have to do… is take it.

But power was never just power.

“Are you alright?”

Macaque blinked, startled by the voice. Chang’e was watching him, her expression unreadable.

He shut the box quickly and stepped back, masking the moment with a shrug. “This is the key?”

Chang’e huffed a laugh and placed a hand on her hip. “What, not impressed? You’re holding part of one of the most powerful weapons in all of the realms. Try to sound a little humbled.”

Macaque looked back down at the object in his hands, rubbing his thumb against the warm, smooth surface.

“Do you know where the next one is?” Mei asked, sliding up beside him now that the mystery box had lost its immediate sparkle.

There was a pause. One that made Macaque glance up.

Chang’e’s gaze had flicked briefly to Wukong. Not in a casual way. Not in a glance-between-friends way. Something passed between them in that look - quiet, weighty.

Then she turned back to the group and smiled. “I do. But only one more. The third key has… unfortunately slipped from even Heaven’s grasp.”

“Of course it has,” Macaque muttered.

“But the second…” Chang’e’s eyes fell on him again. “That one you’ll find in the north. In the court of the Demon Bull King.”

Macaque tensed. Just slightly.

He had heard the name.

And he knew enough to know that the Demon Bull King was not the kind of man you asked favors from.

“Why does a demon king have a key to the fire?” He found himself asking, looking between Chang’e and Wukong. 

The two celestials shared a look, Chang’e’s being a bit more reproachful than Wukong’s. But the celestial monkey merely shrugged and Chang’e sighed. “The key I am giving to you was gifted to me. The original owner was one of the individuals that took part in the ritual to diverge the flame, along with Bull King and a few other celestials. He kept one of the rings.” She explained.

“But I thought he was a bad guy? Monkey King fought him and everything!” MK exclaimed, looking to the golden monkey for comfirmation.

“Yeah, we fought but he’s not a bad guy per se,” Wukong said, scratching the back of his neck. “At least not anymore. He just doesn’t agree with Heaven.”

The three mortals watched Wukong, trying to piece together what any of that had to do with each other, but decided to leave it alone for now. Macaque wanted to get on the road and retrieve the second key.

“Well then...” He started, “I guess we should be on our way. I can’t imagine it's just a day trip.” 

-

He tightened the last strap on Bianhua’s saddle, pulling it a little harder than necessary.

Macaque had lost count of how many times his eyes had flickered toward Wukong, hoping their eyes would meet. It wasn’t intentional - it never was - but his gaze kept drifting anyway, like a compass needle caught in a magnetic pull. Wukong stood near the palace gates with Mei and MK, all three lit gold by the early morning light, laughter tangled between them as they said their goodbyes.

Chang’e was there too, smiling happily as they exchanged farewells. She patted MK’s head and tucked hair behind Mei’s ear, wishing them luck on their journey. Then she turned to Wukong, giving him a long hug that was wrapped in something heavier than affection. A quiet goodbye that spoke of things unsaid, of years they’d shared and may never get back.

He looked away before the moment could pull too much out of him, checking his saddle again as if something might’ve come loose in the last ten seconds.

“Macaque.”

He blinked, straightening. Chang’e stood just behind him, her voice low, private. Her expression unreadable. He hadn’t expected her to speak to him - had assumed she’d given him all she cared to already.

She stepped closer, just enough so the others wouldn’t hear. “I won’t pretend to know what’s passed between you two,” she said. “But I can see the way you look at him - and I know the way he looks at you.”

Macaque opened him mouth, then closed it.

She didn’t wait for him to speak. “If you care about him, truly,” she continued, quiter now, “then be honest with him. Maybe you think you’re protecting him. Maybe you’re protecting yourself. Either way - I trust you’ll do the right thing.”

Her tone held steel. But underneath it - Macaque heard something gentler. Not warmth, exactly, but soemthing close to concern. 

“I’m not asking for you,” she added “You’re clever. You’ll survive.” Her gaze flickered toward Wukong. “But he won’t let himself be fine if something happens to you. You understand that, don’t you?”

The words hit with more weight than he expected.

His eyes followed Chang’e’s and he looked to Wukong again - now hoisting his pack onto his shoulder, laughing at something Mei had said. That smile still hadn’t reached his eyes.

Macaque’s voice was rough when he finally replied. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Chang’e agreed. Then she stepped back. “But neither is grief.”

They stood there in silece side by side, watching Wukong. “He’s radiant,” is the only thought that came to Macaque. Standing there for a moment longer, he finally decided to break that growing stillness. “Y’know,” he started, looking to Chang’e, “I really can’t tell if you like me or not.”

She huffed a laugh and gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, I could care less about you. But I know it’s a different story for Wukong. You’re good for him, I can see it. So despite how I feel about you, as long as Sunni likes you, you’re okay in my book.”

They fully faced one another and smiled, sharing their own type of affection for the celestial hero. Another beat of silence passed. “I don’t like you either.” Macaque responded. She looked taken aback by that, but then laughed.

“Fair enough,” She stepped back, “Keep him out of trouble, yeah?” And with that, she left to give one final goodbye to Wukong.

Macaque watched the way Wukong let himself be completely unguarded in her presence and wondered if he could ever be that person to the golen monkey. Probably not, that was made clear last night, but it was a nice daydream. He heaved himself onto Bianhua, adjusting the reins, before clicking his heels lightly and trotting over to the group.

The sun had only just begun to peak over distant hills when they left the city behind, hooves clacking steadily against the stone-paved road before it gave way to packed earth.

MK and Mei rode a little ahead, chatting about something Macaque couldn’t make out.  Their laughter floated back on the breeze, bright ad unaware.

Macaque kept his eyes on the road but could feel Wukong’s presence beside him. It wasn’t like before. That warmth - the careless jokes, the subtle nudges, the glances that lingered just long enough to mean something - was gone. Wukong was quiter now. Polite. Measured.

Macaque hated it.

He shifted slightly in his saddle, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. They were headed north, deeper into the lands Macaque had only heard horror stories of. The border between mortal territory and demon domination grew thinner with every step. The Demon Bull King’s palace was caved into the mountains that split the continent like a scar. A kingdom of stone and smoke.

Macaque had heard of it from tales. That had been enough to keep him away.

“How far do you think it is?” Wukong asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Macaque glanced at him. “A few days, if the road stays clear. Maybe less if Mei stops trying to fight everything that breaths.”

Ahead, Mei shouted, “I heard that!” but didn’t bother turning around.

The corners of Wukong’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

Macaque looked away.

The Bull King wasn’t like Chang’e. He wasn’t going to offer up the next key with a cryptic riddle and a blessing. Macaque didn’t know what kind of relationship the Bull King had with the celestial realm - or if he even cared about heaven’s games. What he did know was that demons rarely gave anything without a price.

Macaque tightened his grip on the reins, eyes narrowing as the wind picked up, carrying the scent of dust and something darker.

The landscape began to change in quiet ways.

The road was still smooth beneath the hooves of their horses, but the grass on either side had thinned, fading from a lush, summer green to a brittle, sun-dried yellow. The trees grew more spaced out, their leaves less dense, letting in more of the pale sky. The air had a different weight now, drier, with a lingering scent of ash and something sharper beneath it - like citrus gone sour.

Macaque noticed, but didn’t say anything. He doubted anyone else would care. Chang’e had called it beautiful in the spring, and maybe it was, before the winds had scorched it bare. Now, it just looked like a place that had once been full of life and had long since been burned out.

MK broke the silence by humming off-key, a tune that may have once been a lullaby but now sounded like a threat. Mei swatted at him from the front of their shared saddle, nearly losing her balance in the process.

“You sound like you’re summoning something,” she said. “A curse. A ghost. A banshee, maybe.”

“A banshee?” MK turned to her with mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I have an incredible sense of pitch.”

Macaque arched an eyebrow. “For what? Alarms?”

That got a laugh out of Mei - and, to Macaque’s surprise, Wukong too. It was small, brief, and genuine. Not the performative grin he’d been wearing since they left. Macaque didn’t look directly at him, but the sound curled something stupid and warm into his chest anyway.

They rode a while longer until MK declared that his legs were going numb and he would definitely fall off the horse if they didn’t stop soon. Mei chimed in with dramatic agreement. Macaque rolled his eyes, but Wukong reined in his horse without protest, pointing to a flat clearing off the side of the road.

It was nothing special - just a patch of dirt and rocks with a single crooked tree - but once the horses were tethered and the bags dropped, it felt like a camp.

MK tried to start a fire with two sticks and what could generously be called determination. It didn’t work.

“Maybe it needs a song,” Mei suggested, biting down a grin.

“Macaque,” MK said, “can you do better?”

Macaque sat back against the tree and looked up at him. “With my eyes closed.”

Wukong knelt beside the pile of sticks and snapped his fingers a few times, sparks flying from his fingertips. A small blaze came to life. “Show-offs,” MK muttered.

And just like that, they settled into a rhythm again. Mei pulled out a handful of dried fruit and tossed some to each of them. MK stretched his legs like an old man, groaning the whole time. Wukong leaned back on his palms, watching the fire flicker like it held secrets. And Macaque… let himself breathe.

For a while, it was quiet in a good way. No talk of keys, no shifting glances or impossible choices. Just space. Just air.

Just this.

By nightfall, the wind had mellowed and the air turned soft. The fire crackled steady, small embers flicking upward like stars that didn’t quite make it. The four of them gathered close, legs crossed or sprawled, faces lit in orange glow.

MK and Mei had taken full control of the conversation hours ago. Wukong - usually the one steering with big stories and bigger flourishes - sat back with his hands folded behind his head, a soft, tired smile tugging at his mouth. He looked like he was listening just for the sake of it, not preparing a quip, not waiting for his turn. Just… resting.

It was rare to see him that way.

“So,” Mei said, pointing a half-eaten date at MK, “you were going to tell the story of the Mountain Bandit Queen.”

“Our version,” MK corrected. “The official version is too boring.”

Mei nodded solemnly. “Too many morals. Not enough explosions.”

Macaque snorted quietly, and immediately regretted making a sound.

Mei turned to him with a gleam in her eyes. “Oh, you’re not getting away from this.”

“From what?”

MK beamed. “Monkey King told us about your trick. When you put a show on at the festival.”

Macaque’s gaze slid sideways. Wukong was still reclined, chin tipped back, watching the firelight dance along Mei’s hair. When he caught Macaque looking, he only shrugged and offered the faintest grin. “Just mentioned it once.”

“You bring shadows to life, right?” Mei asked. “Like… puppet theater?”

“I’m not a performer.”

“You don’t have to be one,” MK said. “Just make the shapes while we narrate!”

Macaque raised a brow. “So you want me to be the puppet.”

“Yes!” they chorused.

He sighed through his nose. But truthfully, he didn’t mind that much. Not when the fire was low and they weren’t asking him to explain himself, or open up, or smile when he didn’t want to. Just… use what he could do. Let it fill the air in a way that felt harmless.

“Fine,” he muttered, lifting a hand.

His fingers curled in the firelight, and the shadows of the campfire sharpened—twisting, rising, reshaping. The first figure that formed was tall, regal, crowned in thorns and fury.

“No, no,” Mei said, waving her hands. “She’s a queen, not a demon. Take off the scary stuff.”

Macaque narrowed the shadow’s features. The thorns melted into a crown of branches. The fury stayed.

“Better,” MK said. “Now make her horse. The one made of smoke and wild dreams.”

Macaque blinked at him.

“It was your idea last time!” Mei said, nudging MK. “You said the horse could fly and speak five languages.”

“And breathed fire,” MK added.

Macaque sighed, but a second figure bloomed beside the queen—a curling, wispy thing with flaming hooves and a swishing tail. Its mouth opened and closed dramatically, muttering gibberish.

Mei gasped. “Did it just say something rude?”

“It told you to stop talking,” Macaque said dryly.

They both laughed, loud and bright.

As the story spiraled - into kidnapped princes, haunted ravines, and sky battles involving knives made of moonlight - Macaque kept weaving shadows to match. He didn’t try too hard to make them perfect, and that seemed to make MK and Mei love it even more. Every mistake was met with outrage.

“That’s not what the bandit queen looks like! She had a scar across one eye!”

Moon had to pause the story and explain how shadows work, how he couldn't add details like that. 

“Her horse is left-hoofed! You’ve got the lead hoof wrong!”

Macaque grit his teeth. “How would you even know—?”

“Fix it!”

He fixed it.

They howled with laughter.

And through it all, Wukong didn’t move much. He stayed back, half-laying in the grass, hands folded across his stomach now, eyes flicking between the story and the sky. Every so often he smiled—lazy, fond, tired in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. Macaque could see it in the way his shoulders stayed loose, the lack of armor in his posture.

He watched interest bloom in Wukong’s eyes as he created a dragon, swirling it around and having it dance around the fire. The dragon flew around MK and Mei, who giggled, and then it crawled on Wukong’s shoulder and behind his neck, slinking around like a cat on the sage. Wukong huffed a laugh of what Macaque thinks is a amazement as Wukong holds his arm out for the shadow creature to crawl on him more before leaping off and dancing in the sky once more. 

Macaque let the dragon spiral upward, disappearing into the canopy.

“And then,” Mei declared dramatically, “the bandit queen threw the prince over her shoulder, screamed ‘we ride at dawn!’ and—”

MK interrupted, “—forgot the horse can’t run in dreams because dreams aren’t real terrain, so they all fell off a cliff!”

“MK!”

They bickered for another minute, while Macaque let the shadows settle, watching the last of the smoke curl into the stars.

Eventually, things quieted. Mei stretched out on the grass, using her rolled-up cloak as a pillow. MK lay beside her, still telling an epilogue that no one was listening to. The fire crackled lower. The shadows faded to ordinary ones.

Macaque looked over to Wukong and saw his eyes had fallen shut and his breathing became more shallow. He let his eyes wander over his face again, trying to memorize every subtle curve and sharp edge of his features. The murmurs of MK, the warmth from the fire, and the sight of Wukong lulled him to sleep.

-

The next day brought cooler air and a gentler sky. Macaque rode near the back, a bit apart from the rest at first, as usual. But eventually, Mei and MK fell behind to ride beside him, MK finally getting the chance to steer the stallion.

“You looked like you were having fun last night,” she said, stetching the word like it was some rare ailment.

Macaque gave her a sideways look. “i was tolerating it.”

“Mmhm,” she said. “Tolerating it so hard you needed that dragon to make a move on monkey man.”

His face flushed but he didn’t reply.

“It’s okay Macaque, we can keep your love of puppetry a secret.” Mei cheered.

“It’s not a secret,” macaque muttered.

MK lit up. “We have to do another story tonight! I’ve been working on an epic sequal-”

“Don’t push your luck.”

They shared a laugh, the kind that felt light enough to float off into the sky. Macaque wasn’t used to this kind of easy rhythm, especially not on the road. Every time he traveled in the past, it was either a job or an escape and always alone. Never… this.

“Hey,” MK said, “what do you think Demon Bull King’s palace looks like?”

Macaque gave a noncommittal shrug. “Probably dark. Dangerous.”

MK leaned dramatically into Mei. “That means he has no idea either.”

“I didn’t say I did,” Macaque argued childishly.

“I heard he carved it into a cliffside,” Mei said, lifting a hand towards the hills ahead. “All obsidian and brimstone. And there’s lava pouring down the sides.”

“Sounds like something from a kids’ storybook,” Macaque huffed.

MK nodded. “That’s because I read it in one.”

“Oh no,” Macaque grumbled.

“But! That book also said the king is a tall as a mountain and had horns made of molten iron, so…“

“That part might be true,” Mei added. “I’ve seen portaits of what this guy is supposed to look like.”

Macaque made a thoughtful sound. “Sounds like we’re in for a warm welcome.”

MK winced. “Monkey King said it might be tricky. Bull King isn’t really the diplomatic type.”

Macaque hummed again. “Demon usually aren’t.”

MK and Mei went quiet at that, and for a moment Macaque regretted the dryness in his tone. He wasn’t trying to be grim. But the truth was, he had no idea what kind of demon Bull King really was. And Macaque had met enough over the years to know there was no single mold. Some were like fire and blade. Others were smoke and silence. Some hid behind civility, while others wore brutality openly like a crown.

Whatever kind Bull King was, Macaque doubted he’d be cooperative.

Still, he didn’t feel the need to say that aloud. Not when the road was still long and the sun was warm on their backs.

“You think he’ll hand over the key just because we ask?” MK asked after a while.

“No,” Macaque said.

“Cool, cool,” Mei muttered. “So what’s our plan?”

Macaque looked at her. “Hope Wukong does something heroic and stupid?”

That made them both laugh again, the tension diffusing into something more bearable.

“You know,” Mei said, “you’ve gotten a lot more tolerable lately.”

“Wow,” Macaque deadpanned. “High praise.”

“You still brood like it’s your job,” MK offered, “but now you’re, like, funny about it.”

“I’m hilarious,” Macaque said. “You’re just finally catching up.”

“See?” Mei nudged their horse closer. “I knew you had a personality under all that edge.”

Macaque didn’t say anything. But he didn’t fall behind either. He let his horse keep pace with theirs, let their chatter carry on without stepping away from it.

The road ahead stretched into the hills, the faint shape of mountains barely visible through the haze. Bull King’s domain still sat days away, somewhere tucked in that horizon of rock and flame.

Macaque squinted toward it.

Something heavy stirred in his chest. Not dread exactly. Just… knowing. That this next step wouldn’t be easy. That the peace of last night wouldn’t last.

He looked to Wukong and stared at the back of his head. He was an unusual pace away from the group and his shoulders were tense. He hadn't spoke the last few hours Macaque noticed, but he hadn't said anything to the celestial about it. He seemed stressed. 

His posture was too rigid, too still, and something about the way his hand curled tight on the reins set off a quiet alarm in Macaque’s gut.

He’d noticed it earlier, somewhere between one conversation and the next, but had chalked it up to Wukong being tired. They all were. But now, as he stared longer and longer that the sage, Wukong’s silence stood out like a cut against skin.

Macaque let out a breath and nudged his horse forward.

It took only a minute to catch up, hooves kicking up light dust as he drew even beside the other man. “You planning to leave us behind?” he said, trying to keep it casual.

Wukong glanced at him. His smile came too quick. Too hollow. “What? Never.”

Macaque didn’t smile back. “You’ve gone quiet again.”

“Didn’t realize I had a quota.”

Macaque tilted his head. “You okay?”

Wukong’s grip tightened subtly on the reins. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how Mei’s probably going to make us act out two stories tonight instead of one.”

It was a decent dodge. Almost convincing. But Macaque heard it—something frayed at the edges of his voice, a strain too thinly masked. He studied Wukong for a beat longer.

The armor was back. Not the kind he wore into battle, but the other kind—the practiced brightness, the easy jokes, the distance. Macaque had seen it before. At the beginning. And now, here it was again.

He could push. Say something. Call out the lie.

But instead, he eased back in his saddle and let the silence settle between them.

“All right,” he said simply.

Wukong gave him another quick smile. “Told you. I’m fine.”

Macaque didn’t believe it. But he didn’t press.

The road stretched on ahead, glowing faintly gold under the last of the light. Behind them, the others’ laughter still carried faintly on the breeze, warm and alive. But here, just a few paces ahead, it felt like the world had thinned.

They rode like that for a while—quiet, side by side, not saying anything more.

And Macaque couldn’t help but think how easy it had been, just the night before, to believe they were all moving forward together.

Chapter Text

The fire crackled.

It was the only sound for a long while - soft pops and hisses as the wood splintered in its heat. The others were somewhere behind him with the fire, far enough that their laughter and chatter had dulled to a low murmur. The sky above had slipped into a deep, starless navy, and the cold crept in at the edges of his robe, but Wukong didn’t move. He sat cross-legged with his palms on his knees, eyes closed, pretending to meditate.

The fire cracked again. Too sharp. Too sudden. Like it was cutting through the quiet on purpose.

He exhaled slowly, tried again to sink into that place of stillness. The one he always told others he could reach easily, like it was second nature. But tonight, the silence wasn’t kind. It curled around his thoughts and gave them space to grow teeth.

Macaque hadn’t said much to him since yesterday. He couldn’t blame him, he hadn’t been reaching out. Not since-

No. Not going there.

Wukong shifted slightly. The rock underneath him pressed into his ankle. The fire cracked again.

He wondered if Macaque was asleep. Or if he was still awake, somewhere by the others, pretending everything was fine. He was good at that. Too good. Like none of it - none of that - had rattled him. Like he hadn’t almost kissed Wukong in the middle of a crowded square. Like Wukong hadn’t wanted to kiss him back so badly he could still feel the shape of it hovering in the space between them.

His chest tightened.

He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? That Macaque hadn’t pushed. That Wukong had stopped it in time. He should be proud of that restraint. Responsible. Wise. Celestial, even. 

But all he felt was… cold.

Wukong scrubbed a hand down his face. The fire flared and spit, casting long, shifting shadows on the trees around him. He didn’t like the shapes they made. They looked like figures creeping in from the dark. Like memories he’d stuffed down and locked away were finally crawling back out.

He let his gaze drift to the flames behind him. 

Macaque’s shadows had danced the night before, pulled into story-shapes for MK and Mei’s laughter. It had been light. Easy. Macaque had even let that vulnerable part of him show. And Wukong had watched him, pretending he wasn’t doing exactly that. Pretending he hadn’t almost reached out just to touch him.

He felt stupid. He was stupid. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it. Macaque wasn’t supposed to be-

The fire cracked again. Loud this time. Harsh.

Wukong’s jaw clenched. He tried to breath through it, push it down. The ache. The want. The fear. All of it, shoved back behind that old familiar wall.

But it was harder now.

Because Macaque had seen through it once. And now the wall felt thinner.

The flames danced, but Wukong couldn’t follow.

He tried again - deep breath in, hold, slow breath out. That was how it was supposed to go. That was what all the old scrolls said, what his teacher said. Count your breaths, quiet your mind. Return to center.

He was on breath twenty-three and his mind still hadn’t shut up.

Macaque.

Bull King.

Macaque.

That stupid almost-kiss.

The way Bull King looked the last time they saw each other.

Macaque’s voice when he’d said Wukong’s name like it meant something.

Bull king’s laughter, cruel and echoing.

Wukong gritted his teeth, breath stalling in his throat. He opened his eyes and stared hard into the darkness.

“Get it together,” he whispered to himself, but the crackle of the flames behind him swallowed the words.

His shoulders were tight. His chest wouldn’t relax. He felt like someone had pulled him taut like a bowstring, and he was one sharp breath away from snapping.

He exhaled shakily and closed his eyes again.

Macaque.

It wasn’t just attraction. That was the problem. If it had been, he could’ve brushed it off. He was a celestial, not a monk - desire was expected, forgivable. But this wasn’t just desire. It was want. It was need. And it was dangerous.

He couldn’t afford this. He knew better.

The snap of a branch behind him broke the moment like glass.

Wukong startled so hard he nearly fell forward, his hand flying to the side of his head out of habit. He whipped around - and found MK standing there mid-step, frozen like a rabbit caught in a snare.

“Oh crap,” MK said, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to-! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t think you’d - I thought you’d hear me!”

Wukong blinked, heart still hammering, then let out a breathy laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I really didn’t mean to,” MK said again, wincing as he came closer. “You were just so still. I figured you were meditating or… maybe sleeping with your eyes open. I don’t know, I’ve heard celestial types can do weird things.”

Wukong gave him a look, but his smile lingered. “You’re digging yourself into a hole, you know.”

MK plopped down next to him anyway, arms looped around his knees. “I dig fast. I can dig out.”

They sat in silence for a few beats, the firelight glowing against MK’s back and creating this golden outline for him. For once, he wasn’t buzzing with nervous energy or trying too hard to be helpful. He just looked… comfortable. Like he wanted to be there.

Wukong glanced sideways. “Something on your mind?”

MK shrugged. “Kinda. I guess I just realized… we’ve been traveling together for a while now, but I haven’t really gotten to hang out with you. Like, you know, just us.”

“I am hanging out,” Wukong said with a shrug, glancing over his should to look at the fire. “This is how I do it.”

MK made a face. “You need a better hobby.”

That earned a soft snort from Wukong. Silence settled between them again, but it felt easier this time. Familiar.

“…You used to talk more when I was little,” MK said after a while. “Not by a lot, but still.”

Wukong glanced at him, brow lifting. “Did I?”

“You did,” MK confirmed. “Mostly when you thought I was asleep. I used to fake snore so you’d keep talking.”

Wukong huffed a quiet laugh. “Sneaky.”

“Pigsy says I learned from the best.”

That made Wukong smile - really smile, just for a second, soft and lopsided and warm. He looked down at the edge of his foot, nudging a loose stone with it. “You were always a good listener.”

“You always seemed like you needed someone to hear you.” MK’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, but steady.

Wukong didn’t respond right away. The fire crackled. Somewhere behind them, the wind stirred the leaves.

Finally, he said, “I don’t always know how to talk to you now.”

MK turned toward him a little more. “Why not?”

Wukong ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “You grew up when I wasn’t paying attention. I keep thinking you’re still that wide-eyed kid who followed me around asking about staffs and hero stuff. But now you’re here. Grown. You can take care of yourself.”

MK gave a half-smile. “Still ask about hero stuff.”

Wukong nudged him with his elbow. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re worse.”

They both laughed, and this time it lingered. Easy. Familiar. It didn’t need to be deep or confessional. It just needed to be.

“I really am proud of you, you know,” Wukong said after a moment. His voice was quieter. Not uncertain - just careful. “Even if I’m bad at saying it.”

MK looked surprised for a beat, then he ducked his head, smile shy and genuine. “You don’t have to say it. I always knew.”

But Wukong shook his head. “No. You deserve to hear it.”

MK nudged him back, softer this time. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The fire popped and flared. The night held still around them.

“…You okay?” MK asked gently. “You’ve been off today.”

Wukong hesitated, then gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just… thinking.”

“About DBK?”

Wukong didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it either.

MK nodded like he understood anyway, then leaned forward to pick up a stick and start poking at the dirt. “You don’t have to deal with everything alone, you know.”

Wukong’s jaw tightened. That familiar ache returned- the one that sat behind his ribs and whispered you do.

But MK’s presence was steady. Like gravity.

“I know,” Wukong said. And he meant it. Even if it was hard to believe.

They say in silence now, no more words being needed. MK leaned against Wukong’s side without warning, resting his head lightly on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe it had always been.

Wukong blinked, a little startled at first, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a slow breath, reached up, and ruffled MK’s hair with a fondness that felt like muscle memory, while his tail gently wrapped around his waist. MK grumbled at the gesture but didn’t move.

They stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, the fire painting soft light across their backs. And for a little while, the world could wait.

-

The morning was still ink-dark when they set out again. Crickets whispered in the grass beneath their feet, and a handful of brave birds sang tentative notes from the trees above. Mist clung low to the road, curling around hooves and feet like it didn’t want to let them leave.

Wukong rode at the head of the group, but not alone. MK was beside him, tucked into a thick cloak and rubbing his eyes sleepily while Mei slept against his back. Wukong didn’t say anything about it. He just kept his pace beside him, quiet and watchful, guilt twitsting low in his chest.

He’d barely slept.

MK’s words from the night before had stuck- soft and sincere in a way that hit harder than they should have. Of course they were still close. Of course he still cared. But it was easy to forget sometimes that MK was growing up, that he saw more than Wukong gave him credit for. That he still looked up to him, even now.

So he stuck close. Because maybe that was the one thing he could do right.

But even as the road stretched out in front of them, Wukong could feel the weight of eyes on his back. Not MK’s.

Macaque’s.

He didn’t have to look back to know. The awareness prickled along the back of his neck like static, sharp and unrelenting. He could imagine exactly how Macaque was sitting - shoulders tense, hands loose on the reins, jaw tight from holding back whatever he wanted to say.

Wukong stared ahead harder, unflinching.

He hadn’t meant to retreat so suddenly. But distance was safety. Silence was mercy.

Whatever thread pulled between them - woven of shadow and light - it was crooked and trembling, fraying at the edges where it shouldn’t. It didn’t lie flat. It didn’t knot cleanly. And Wukong… Wukong was terrified of what might happen if it ever did.

Because some threads don’t bind- they burn.

So he let it stretch. He let it strain.

For Macaque’s sake, he told himself.

Even if every part of him ached to look back.

He tightened his grip on the reins like it would hold him together. It didn’t.

But he rode on anyway, the thread tugging softly behind him, never breaking.

It was noon when someone finally spoke, Mei sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are we there yet?”

“Not even close,” Wukong chuckled, glancing back at her. 

“Ugh,” she moaned louder. “How far is not even close?”

“Let’s just say,” Wukong said, glancing back at her with a smirk, “if we stopped now, we’d still be in the middle of nowhere.”

MK gave a sleepy chuckle beside her. “I vote we rename the mission. Instead of collecting magical keys, let’s go find a warm bed.”

“And a hot meal,” Mei added with feeling.

“You’re already riding a horse,” Macaque said dryly, “and you still want to be carried.”

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. “You look like you haven’t slept in five years.”

Macaque didn’t argue. Just let the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly, eyes lingering for a moment on Wukong before sliding away again.

The road dipped, and they passed beneath a canopy of trees that filtered the light into soft dapples. It was peaceful, the kind of silence that felt safe instead of heavy. Wukong relaxed into it, letting their chatter wash around him like a river. For a moment, things felt almost normal.

Macaque eased his horse a little closer. “Hey,” he said, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear. “You okay?”

“Why is everyone asking that?”

Wukong didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“I mean it,” Macaque said. “You’ve been quiet since we left.”

Wukong gave a breath of a laugh - too sharp to be real. “You say that like I’m usually bursting with insight.”

“You usually don’t avoid me.”

That landed heavier than Macaque probably meant it to. Wukong tightened his grip on the reins, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead.

“I’m just focused on what’s coming,” he said finally, tone light, dismissive. “Can’t afford distractions right now.”

Macaque didn’t answer, but the air between them shifted - Wukong could feel it. Thicker. Sharper.

Before anything else could settle in, MK rode up beside them, holding a leaf like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Do you guys think this is poisonous? It looks poisonous.”

“It’s a leaf,” Macaque said flatly.

“Yeah but like, a suspicious leaf.”

“Don’t eat it,” Macaque muttered. “Problem solved.”

Their conversation derailed into ridiculous theories about what the leaf could do - turn you invisible, grant eternal wisdom, make you hiccup for a week. Mei joined in gleefully. Wukong took a breath, let himself fall into it. He threw out a joke or two. Forced a grin when they laughed.

He never once looked at Macaque.

And Macaque, quietly, noticed.

-

The world had blurred into a rhythm. Hooves striking earth. The creak of saddle leather. Wind whispering through trees.

And then again.

And again.

Wukong didn’t remember how many days had passed. He only knew that they kept moving.

They rode through forests that bled gold in the afternnon light, past winding rivers, quiet villages, and long stretches of emptiness that left too much space for thought. When they stopped, it was only to let the horses rest or resupply - eat, sleep, wake, continue. A pattern that dulled the edges of things.

The kind of quiet that made it easy to pretend everything was fine.

At some point, sleep began to evade him.

Not entirely. Just enough that the wear caught up with him in strange ways. Now, his body leaned too easily into the stillness, his eyes slipping closed on horseback for a moment too long before snapping open again. He’d jerk upright with a quiet gasp and scan his surroundings, heart hammering, unsure if he’d dreamed something or if it was real.

This morning, it happened again.

The early sun was soft and low behind the trees, and the warmth of it against his back had lulled him into a haze. One moment he was watching the road, and the next he was somewhere else - some memory, maybe, or something that hadn’t happened yet. He couldn’t be sure.

His horse stumbled slightly, snapping him back.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, sitting straighter in the saddle. MK was a few paces ahead, humming a tune off-key, Mei was steering their horse now with her head down, hair blown across her face. Macaque was behind them. Always a step behind these days.

The silence between them had thickened into something heavy and difficult to name.

Wukong didn’t look back.

Instead, he let his gaze drift skyward.

The clouds were thin today. Wisps curling across a pale blue sky. High above them all, past the canopy of this world, was Heaven. Its gates. Its throne. Its judgment.

Heaven would not wait forever.

They hadn’t summoned him yet - but they would. There was no escaping it. No amount of delayed letters or unfinished reports would hold them off. He was still one of theirs, and they never forgot what they owned.

And what they owned, they punished.

He could already feel the weight of it pressing in at the edges of this journey, waiting. The trial, the consequences. He’d been gone too long. Broken too many rules. Traveled with a demon, defied command, disobeyed protocol. Felt too much.

But for now, the road stretched forward, and he hadn’t reached the palace yet. There were still miles to go.

Still space.

Still time.

And maybe, just maybe, if he let the days slip past like this - quiet, slow, formless - he could keep pretending there was no end.

That they’d never reach DBK.

That Heaven wouldn’t come for him.

That Macaque wouldn’t look at him the way he did.

Wukong exhaled slowly. His hands were shaking again.

He clenched the reins tighter.

And kept riding.

-

The land changed without warning.

It didn’t crumble beneath their feet or split open with fanfare. It just… stopped being what it was.

Grass gave way to brittle scrub. The trees - once tall, alive, green - turned skeletal, gnarled things, their bark blackened as if scorched by an old fire. The scent of ash hung faint in the air, even though no smoke rose from the distance. The sky dulled to a dim gray, overcast but not quite cloudy, like the heavens themselves had turned their gaze elsewhere.

They hadn’t seen a living thing in hours.

Even the birds had quieted.

No one said it aloud, but they all felt it. 

Wukong’s horse slowed instinctively. So did the others. No one had to give the order - they simply clung tighter together, falling into a close formation without thinking.

MK glanced around with wide eyes, the usual bounce gone from his posture. Mei leaned into MK, lips pressed in a tight line. Macaque was quiet too, but not in the usual way. He kept looking to the horizon like he was tracking something none of them could see.

“This is it, right?” Mei’s voice finally broke the silence. She didn’t speak loudly, like she was afraid of waking something.

“Yeah,” Wukong said, his own voice lower than usual. “This is Bull King’s territory.”

Mei glanced around again. “It’s dead.”

“Not dead,” Macaque muttered. “Claimed.”

Wukong nodded once. “Same difference.”

No one argued. The wind moved through the scorched fields, kicking up small bursts of ash and dust that swirled around their feet before settling again.

They continued forward.

The hours stretched. The silence settled like dust on their shoulders. There was no conversation now, only the rhythmic clop of hooves and the soft crunch of charred earth beneath their boots. At times, Wukong would catch movement in the distance - a shift of shadow, a flicker of something between the jagged remains of trees - but it always vanished before he could focus on it.

Still, they kept going.

Each step deeper into this land pulled the temperature down. Not in the way snow or wind might—it was something colder, deeper, like the kind of chill that lived inside bones.

DBK wasn’t just a king. He was a force. One that made his presence known without needing to be seen.

The charred plains stretched out for miles, silent and empty but for the soft crunch of hooves over dead earth. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath here.

Then, the silence cracked.

A distant shriek tore through the haze - a sound no animal made.

Wukong was already reaching for his staff when the first shadow lunged from a fissure in the ground. It hit the path hard, a twisted demon with horns that resembld a bull and jagged armor that covered its body. 

He didn’t have time to shout before two more followed.

“Off the horses!” he barked, swinging down. “Now!”

MK yelped but obeyed, dragging Mei down with him. Macaque was already off, sliding into position like he’d sensed the ambush seconds before it happened.

Wukong blocked the first strike, metal sparking as it met chitin. The force of it rattled up his arm.

Three more demons burst from the ruined landscape, one slamming into the group’s flank. MK screamed. Mei tried to shield him with her cheap sword, but it wasn’t enough.

Macaque’s shadows exploded outward, sharp and sudden, slamming the demon away before it could get close. His hand twitched, another shadow striking out like a whip to trip another beast as it lunged for Wukong’s back.

They moved better than before. Not in sync - far from it - but they weren’t tripping over each other either.

Wukong was grateful. He didn’t have time to think.

The battlefield was smoke and noise. The smell of ash. The ache in his limbs building like thunder.

He was burning through too much energy. Too fast. Every swing cost him more. He was parrying with the speed of muscle memory, not clarity. There was no room to breathe, no rhythm to fall into.

He dodged a claw swipe - too slow.

Blood bloomed across his ribs. He gritted his teeth and kept going.

Macaque was shouting something behind him - an instruction, maybe a warning - but the ringing in Wukong’s ears drowned it out.

He charged forward anyway.

The next demon shrieked and blocked his path, and he rammed into it with brute force, driving his staff upward into its gut. It screamed, flailed. Wukong ducked just in time, rolled over the corpse, and—

His legs buckled.

He caught himself, barely, but it cost him. A heavy blow slammed into his shoulder, spinning him to the ground.

His staff skidded across the earth.

He blinked against the dust, breath coming short and fast. The sky spun above him, too bright and too dull all at once.

A shadow fell over him. One of the demons - big, armored, cruel-eyes - raised a jagged blade.

He tried to reach for his own weapon. His hand wouldn’t move fast enough.

He was too slow.

The blade came down.

Macaque’s shadows intercepted it with a screech of smoke and steel, forcing the demon back. Wukong heard his name - Macaque’s voice, sharp and panicked - but he couldn’t respond. Could barely get his knees under him.

He forced himself to his feet anyway.

Another demon charged him. He dodged, stumbled. The world felt distant. Heavy.

He’d gone too far. Pushed too hard.

He wasn’t going to win.

He knew it in his bones.

And then-

“Enough.”

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

Everything stopped.

The demons halted mid-attack. Macaque’s shadows froze, uncertain. Even the wind seemed to draw in a breath and hold it.

She stood at the edge of the battle, framed by the dull gray sky. He armor was matte black, trimmed in gold, and her expression was colder than the plains around them

Tall. Severe. Eyes like knifes.

The demons bowed immediatly.

“Commander.“

Wukong recognized her instantly, even before she spoke.

“Tieshan Gongzhu-”

The name came out more like a shocked gasp than a statement. It wasn’t that he forgot about her, it was more he hadn’t expected her to intervene. Her gaze fixed on Wukong in a hard glare. She said no words as she held out her hand and summoned her large golden fan.

He went to say something, anything, but words failed him. She gripped her weapon in her hands and swung.

Without thinking, Wukong dove for MK and gripped him tightly, hoping his body would take the brute of the attack. Instead, the air around them swirled in a tornado, the horses screeching and the kids holding onto the celestial tightly as to not be blown away.

He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the blowing dust from blinding him, and when everything finally went still, he opened his eyes.

He blinked hard, eyes adjusting to the sudden dim lighting. The ground beneath his feet was obsidian, black and smooth and veined with deep glowing lines like molten scars. Pillars of brimstone loomed, spitting smoke into a high ceiling that pulsed faintly with red light. Lava bubbled through channels cut into the stone floor, winding like veins around the chamber.

A throne room.

Wukong’s heart slammed once against his ribs.

He inhaled sharply, trying to collect himself, to ground the scattered pieces of his brain. His body still ached - shoulder throbbing, ribs burning - and sweat clung to his skin like oil under his clothes. But his first instinct wasn’t survival.

It was the others.

His head snapped around.

MK and Mei stood close together behind him, looking pale and wide-eyed. Macaque was to the side, arms crossed defensively, looking ready to jump back into battle. Good. Everyone was here. Everyone was-

Wukong took a step forward and something yanked him back.

His arms jerked behind him, the movement sharp enough to make him stagger. 

What-?

His gaze dropped.

Chains.

Thick shackles bound his wrists, etched with celestial marks he knew too well. Old ones. The kind designed to suppress divine magic, not just trap the body but sever the soul from the wellspring of power it called on.

He tried to summon his magic, to feel the warmth in his chest.

Nothing answered.

A hollow silence echoed where light should have been.

Wukong blinked slowly, once, and he looked up.

Tieshan stood ahead of them, her posture a soldier’s - calm, imposing, precise. Her eyes didn’t even glance at him.

And beside her, lounging like a flame fed by its own arrogance, was Bull King.

He sat atop the throne carved from jagged volcanic stone, his posture stiff as he sat upright, hands gripping each of the arms of the large chair. He was adorned in shimmering armor fit for a king, his horns polished and sporting rings. His gaze was set in a deep glare as he stared down at Wukong.

The sage’s jaw tensed.

Wukong didn’t speak. Not yet. Not while the chains still hummed against his skin, feeding that dull ache into his bones. Not while he could still feel his friends behind him - quiet, uncertain, waiting for his lead.

He stood a little taller.

Staightened his spin.

If they were going to drag him in like a prisoner, he’d still meet Bull King like a soldier.

Even if the burn behind his ribs said otherwise.

DBK didn’t speak right away.

He simply looked at Wukong with a quiet, palpable disgust, the kind that had fermented for centuries into something sharp and sour. Wukong didn’t lower his gaze, but he didn’t raise his chin either. He stood still, shackled and silent, with the others gathered behind him.

Bull King’s voice, when it came, was flat. “So they let you off the leash again.”

The insult didn’t sting so much as settle in his ribs, like something long expected. Wukong didn’t rise to it.

“I’m not here on Heaven’s orders.”

“Of course not.” Bull King stood, desending the steps with the kind of measured calm that made each step feel like a closing door. “You only come when it’s personal.”

Wukong glanced back at the group, instinctual, but still didn’t move from where the chains held him in place. “They have nothing to do with this.”

Bull King stopped a few feel away, close enough for the heat of his presence to smother. “They’re here, aren’t they? That’s enough.”

There was silence.

Then a faint hum of amusement from the ex celestial maiden, seated beside the throne like a warden beside a cell. “Still dragging others into your messes,” she murmured. “Some things never change.”

“I came to speak with you,” Wukong said, voice steady despite the pressure building behind his ribs. “Not to start a war.”

DBK’s jaw tightened. “Strange words from someone who once thought burying me alive counted as mercy.”

Wukong didn’t look away, but something in his face faltered - just a moment of guilt catching in his throat.

“C’mon,“ He thought, gritting his teeth slightly. “Where is that cocky attitude of yours?“

It had always been easier to hide behind that, but in this moment, he couldn’t seem to muster the energy. His side was still oozing blood from the earlier attack, and his old sworn brother’s gaze was like being put under a microscope. 

“I spared you,” Wukong said quietly.

“You imprisioned me.” Bull King’s tone hardened, the first crack of real fury beneath the words. “Spared me only long enough to ensure I’d never be a threat again. That’s not mercy, brother. That’s cowardice in silk robes.”

“I know,” Wukong whispered.

That stopped Bull King for a beat. Then he turned, dismissing Wukong like smoke.

“Take them to the dungeons,” he told his wife.

He didn’t even galnce back.

Only Tieshan lingered. Her eyes remained on Wukong’s chains. Not with sympathy - just cold evaluation, the way one might look at a sword dulled with rust.

“This time,” she said softly, “no one’s going to let you run.”

And then she was gone, footsteps echoing down the molten halls.

The walk to the dungeons was long and silent. Each footstep echoed against obsidian walls, as if the palace itself were whispering threats they couldn’t hear yet. Torches flickered with red-orange light, casting warped shadows across the stone.

They stopped outside a barred chamber first.

“Toss them in,” one of the guards grunted, shoving the door open.

MK flinched as it scraped along the ground, but didn’t say much else. Mei was spitting cuss word after cuss word, insult after insult, as they managed to wrangle her into the cell with MK.

Wukong’s brow furrowed. “Wait-”

Before he could speak further, heavy hands grabbed his arms.

“Move.”

“Where are you taking us?” Wukong demanded, twisting in their grip. “They’re just kids. Let me-”

He tried to pull back, tried to dig his heels in, but the guards didn’t falter. Another pair of hands gripped his shoulders.

“Monkey King!” MK’s voice followed him, sharp with worry. Mei was on her feet, fingers gripping the bars.

“They’ll be safe,” a voice drawled, unbothered. Tieshan stood near the corridor wall, arms crossed. “It’s you I’m concerned about.”

Wukong struggled once more, instinct burning in his chest. He didn’t like not knowing. Didn’t like being forced to turn his back. But there was no choice. They dragged him farther down the corridor, away from the echo of MK and Mei’s voices, until he was plunged into deeper darkness.

A door screeched open.

They shoved Macaque into a cell first, the clang of iron echoing loud as it locked behind him.

Then came another door.

Another lock.

He stumbled into the darkness of the cell, catching himself on the wall. Wukong looked over his shoulder to see Tieshan give him one last nasty look before taking off. Glancing down, the shackles were cold against his wrists. He gave the slightest yank against them and sighed when they didn't budge. He slid to the ground and pressed the back of his head against the wall. The air was thick with smoke and something old.

He was separated form MK. He wasn’t with Mei.

What if they weren’t okay? What if they were scared?

And Macaque-

He was still close enough to here Macaque’s breathe. But still far enough to feel alone.

He didn’t speak. Neither did Macaque.

But the silence between them said plenty.

Chapter Text

The stone beneath him was warm - not comforting warm, but the kind that came from deep, buried fire, like the castle itself was alive and breathing just beneath the surface. Macaque leaned against the wall that divided his cell from Wukong’s, back pressed to the rough rock, shoulder grazing the bars. There wasn’t any way for him to see into the other cell, but he could hear the soft, almost imperceptible sound of breathing on the other side.

Hours had passed. No footsteps. No visitors. Just firelight flickering through the corridor and the occastional distant rumble, like the castle itself shifted in its sleep.

Macaque closed his eyes and tried to focus. He needed to be planning. Calculating. Getting ready for whatever was coming next. But the quiet was making it too easy to notice how off everything felt.

Wukong hadn’t said a word since they were locked up. Not a curse, not a complaint, not even a tired joke.

He tilited his head back against the stone and let the silence stretch a little longer, then said, quietly, “Y’know… if I wanted to, I could get out of here.”

It took a moment. But eventually, Wukong replied - his voice low, muffled slightly by the wall, but close enough that Macaque knew his back was pressed to the same stone.

“You shouldn’t.”

Macaque’s brows knit. “You’re telling me not to use the one card we’ve got that they don’t know about?”

“We don’t know that they don’t know. Iron Fan might have seen your abilities but not take it as a threat,” Wukong murmured. “That makes it valuable. If things go south… we’ll need a wildcard.”

Wukong sounded… off. Not just tired - hollow. As if something in him has been quietly unraveling for a while, and no one had noticed until now.

Macaque stared ahead, eyes catching the flicker of torchlight as it warped and danced across the floor. 

“…You sound like shit,” he said, not unkindly.

There was a pause. Then a faint, humorless breath of a laugh.

“Yeah,” Wukong chuckled. “I know.”

Macaque let that sit for a moment longer. Then quietly, “What’s wrong?”

No answer.

He didn't expect one right away, but the silence dragged on too long. Too heavy. He was about to press again when something shifted - an intake of a breath, soft but strained.

Macaque’s eyes narrowed. He sat up straighter, fingers curling around the cold bars between them. “Wukong?”

Still nothing.

But now that he was listening for it, he heard it - the subtle, uneven rhythm of the other’s breathing. Like every inhale was a little harder than the last. His ears twitched beneath the glamour, straining to hear what was wrong with him. And then, just barely, the sound of something wet hitting the stone floor.

“…You’re bleeding.”

Another silence. Then finally, Wukong’s voice, distant and dull: “Yeah.”

Macaque was on his feet in an instant. “I thought you said celestials healed fast - what the hell happened?”

“Yeah, they do, it’s woven into the fabric of their being. But I wasn’t born a celestial,” Wukong slurred. “I became one. The thing that makes me celestial is my magic. The shackles are- keeping it down. So…“

“So you can’t heal,” Macaque finished, voice sharp now. “And you’ve just been sitting there bleeding out?”

“It’s fine,” Wukong said, though his words were sluggish. “I’m still immortal. Little blood loss won’t kill me.”

Macaque’s hand slammed against the wall between them, rattlinng the rusted bars that kept him caged. “That’s not the point!”

Wukong didn’t answer.

“You’re- your voice is already fading,” Macaque hissed. “You sound like your drunk on your own blood.”

“Being drunk sounds ideal right now,”

“I’m not joking, Wukong.”

A beat. Then Macaque dragged in a breath, pressing his forehead to the warm stone, palms pressing into the wall. “What’s the plan, then?”

Another pause. Then, weakly: “I’ll try to talk to DBK. Reason with him. Get us out of the cells. Once I can move around… we figure out where the key is.”

Macaque pulled back like Wukong had just spat in his face. “That’s your plan?”

“Well… yeah.”

“That’s a terrible plan.”

A tired, near-silent laugh from the other side. “I know.”

Macaque’s heart dropped at the sound. It wasn’t even a real laugh - just air shaped into something like it.

Then Wukong said, so faintly it was almost like he was talking to himself, “I hate that it’s gold.”

Macaque blinked “…What?”

“My blood,” Wukong murmured, the words sliding loose from his mouth. “I hate that it’s gold. Looks stupid.”

And then - silence.

“…Wukong?”

Nothing.

“Wukong.”

His ears flicked when the sound of something sliding against the stone hit him, followed by the thud of a body.

“Wukong!” Macaque turned to the bars and pressed his face against them, searching for someone. “Hey! Someone- he needs help!”

No response. Just flickering firelight and the echos of his own voice bouncing off stone.

His breath hitched. One hand shifted toward the shadows curling near the floor. Just one whisper - he could slip through the bars, get to him.

But Wukong’s voice rang faintly in his head. We’ll need a wildcard.

Macaque clenched his jaw. Shadows hissed, licking up his arms like they wanted to act for him.

“Don’t you dare die,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the wall between them. “You said it wouldn’t kill you. So prove it.”

-

Macaque paced.

He didn’t know how long it had been. An hour? Two? Time felt stretched and warped in this place, like the air itself didn’t want to move. He kept listening - not for voices or footsteps this time, but for the steady thud of a heartbeat on the other side of the wall. It was still there. Still strong.

But not strong enough.

Every so often, he shouted for help. His voice would echo down the stone corridors and vanish like it never existed.

No one came.

He’d just turned again when footsteps broke the stillness - light, purposeful ones, accompanied by the heavier clank of armored boots. Macaque darted to the bars, heart racing. Finally.

A boy stood there.

Young. Maybe around MK’s age, maybe a bit older. Early twenties, but there was nothing soft about him. His posture was perfect, his expression stern - eyebrows drawn slightly in like the world was already a disappointment. He only spared Macaque a glance before looking toward the other cell.

His face twisted in open disgust.

Macaque bristled. “He needs help,” he snapped, jabbing a finger through the bars. “He’s bleeding out in there.”

The boy rolled his eyes, like Macaque was asking for a luxary and not basic survival. “Guards,” he said, gesturing lazily. “Drag him to the medics. Mother will blame me if he dies before she gets to play with him.”

Two soldiers moves forward and unlocked Wukong’s cell without a word. They didn’t seem particularly concerned as they hualed his unconcious body between them and carried him out, arms dangling, shackles still in place.

Macaque gripped the bars. “What’s going on? What happens to us now?”

The boy smirked - sharp and smug. “Oh, you’ll find out. It will be fun… well, maybe not for you.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. “But if you’re lucky, you’ll get to keep your limbs. Unless Mother changes her mind.”

Macaque stared, unimpressed. “You don’t really know, do you?”

The boy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re bluffing. You don’t know what they’re gonna do with us. You’re just here to act important.”

The smirk faltered, just a flicker. “I don’t need to know,” he said. “You’re in my parents’ dungeon. That’s bad enough.”

Macaque huffed under his breath. “Parents, huh? What’s your name?”

The boy’s eye twitched. He straightened like he was standing for inspection. “I am Redson, heir to the Bull family name, son of the great Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.”

Macaque raised a brow and slowly nodded. “Right. Should’ve guess.”

He looked away from the self-centered boy and back towards where Wukong had been dragged. He wondered if they were truly going to treat him. What if they weren’t? What if they were going to make the wound worse? Wukong said he wouldn’t bleed out and part of Macaque knew he was telling the truth, but another part of him wondered to what extent those cuffs did to celestial magic. 

“You look worried. Don’t be. The medics will patch him up.” Redson said, breaking Macaque from his thoughts. He looked back to the prince and searched his face. There wasn’t concern in his eyes, but an innocent curiosity as he watched Macaque. He didn’t say anything, choosing to be stubborn and not give the demon what he wanted.

Redson continued to stare before a look of annoyance crossed his face when realizing he was being ignored. “The nerve. You’re definitely at lot less talkative than those kids with you.”

That got a reaction out of Macaque, who jerked his head back to look at Redson with a  flare in his eyes. “If anything happens to them, you better beg the heavens that Wukong stays in those chains. He will rip you apart if I don’t first.” He seethed, bringing his hands back up to grip the bars.

That overly cocky smirk that reminded Macaque of Wukong, returned to the boy. “They are safe. For now. But you better beg that they behave. Wouldn’t want any accidents.”

Macaque’s tail lashed behind him like a whip, bristling. It wasn’t hard to read the threat tucked under those arrogant words.

Redson turned his back to the simian, clearly pleased with himself. “Anyway. Welcome to Bull King Castle,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Hope you like it here. You might be staying a while.”

His boots echoed as he sauntered off down the corridor. Macaque stayed frozen for a long moment, jaw tight. Then he turned and resumed pacing, because there was nothing else to do - nothing except wait for whatever came next.

He didn’t know how long he paced, how many times he circled the cramped cell, hands shoved into his pockets to stop from punching the stone walls. The damp chill clung to his skin like a second layer. Every breath he took felt heavy, stale. Somewhere beyond the stone walls, water dripped in a slow, arrhythmic beat. No other sounds. No footsteps. No guards.

Only his own pulse thudding steadily in his ears.

He’s only found himself behind bars maybe three times in his life, two of which lasted maybe an hour since his powers allowed for him to slip out of confinement like child’s play. The first time he was put in jail, he hadn’t learned to walk through shadows yet but he was released that same day since authorities couldn’t keep a twelve year old in jail for a misdemeanor. Not that any of that was relevant to his current predicament.

He sighed and placed his forehead against the stone, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel a headache trying to form in the back of his mind. 

When footsteps finally did come, they were so soft he almost missed them. He turned toward the bars, muscles tense, just as Princess Iron Fan appeared at the end of the corridor.

She walked with easy authority, her dress dragging behind her like a pool of crimson blood. Without a word, she motioned for a guard to unlock Macaque’s cell. Once it creaked open, she signaled for him to come out.

“Walk,” she said.

The two guards moved to follow, but she raised a hand. They stopped without protest.

Macaque stepped out, his body stiff, every nerve alight. He followed her, their steps tapping lightly against the uneven stone as they moved deeper into the castle.

The halls were warmer than the dungeon, if that was even possible. Walls of dark brick stretched endlessly in every direction, only broken by the occasional high, narrow window that let in slivers of moonlight. Heavy iron sconces lined the corridors, their torches sputtering low, casting jittery shadows that made the place feel even more deserted.

It wasn’t an ornate castle - not like the gilded one that belonged to Chang’e or even some of the mortal kingdoms. This place was made to be practical. Fortified. Unwelcoming.

Every turn they took felt like it could be a dead end. Like the walls themselves would close in if the demoness willed it.

Macaque kept his head up, his steps measured. But inside, he was already cataloging every hallway, every sconce, every crack in the walls. Planning.

Iron Fan walked a half step ahead of him. She moved like she belonged to this place - straight-backed, sharp-eyed, her presence heavy enough to fill the entire corridor. She was a woman who didn’t just give orders; she expected them to be followed.

She reminded him of himself in a way he didn’t like admitting - steady, cool, coiled with a quiet sort of anger that never quite went away.

As they turned another corner, Macaque finally spoke, voice low. “Where’s Wukong?”

The princess didn’t answer. Her gaze stayed forward, unreadable.

Macaque let the silence stretch a few steps before trying again. “The kids?” he asked, a bit sharper now. “MK and Mei.”

No reaction.

Frustration flared hotter under his skin, but he clamped down on it. Losing his temper wouldn’t help.

“You’re not much of a host,” he muttered.

That earned him a sideways glance - the barest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth, quickly smothered.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Iron Fan said, her voice as flat and bland as the stone walls around them.

Macaque forced himself to stay calm, matching her pace, matching her energy. Calculating. Watching for any crack in her armor.

Because there had to be one. And if he found it, maybe they’d get out of this place alive. 

The corridor twisted deeper into the castle, the air growing hotter with each step. The torches on the walls offered little comfort - burning with a blue-tinged flame that made the stones look slick and wet, like they had been carved from the belly of a drowned cave.

Macaque said nothing, his footsteps echoing lightly beside Iron Fan’s heavier tread. She didn’t look at him as they walked, and he took the chance to study her. She was taller than most, broad-shouldered beneath her armor, her face set in a hard, unreadable line. She moved like someone who was used to clearing a path without asking for permission.

Iron Fan slowed her pace just slightly, a calculated gesture.

“You don’t seem like the reckless type,” she said, conversational but sharp-edged. “Yet here you are. Locked up. Being blamed for someone else’s mistakes.”

Macaque lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

She hummed, unimpressed. “Why are you here?”

It was a question without any clear answer. Macaque let the silence stretch long enough to become uncomfortable before replying, voice low and even.

“Everyone wants something,” he said. “I’m no different.”

“And what is it you want?” The demoness pressed.

Macaque gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “Enough to survive.”

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth either.

Iron Fan glanced sideways at him, and there that glint was again - amusement maybe - flickering in her eyes. “Practical. Sensible. Almost believable.” She tilted her head. “But not quite.”

They walked another few steps before she said, more sharply, “You’re not practical. You’re reckless. You’re emotional. That’s why you’re being punished for a golden-eyed fool you barely know.”

Macaque’s jaw tightened.

Iron Fan smiled without humor. “You think he’s better than he is. It’s a nice fantasy.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

“You see the bright parts,” The princess continued, her voice dropping into something softer - almost sympathetic. “The smiles. The bravado. The way he makes you feel like you matter.”

She stopped, turning to face him fully now. The torchlight caught her face in harsh angles.

“But you haven’t seen what he’ll become when things get ugly enough,” she said. “When he’s cornered. When it’s his life or yours.”

Macaque stared at her, and despite himself - despite everything - a flicker of doubt stirred somewhere low in his chest.

He thought, just for a moment, of Wukong’s face not lit by firelight or laughter, but by something colder. By survival. By necessity. By duty to a world that had never really let him choose anything else.

He shoved the thought aside.

“I’m not that easy to break,” Macaque said simply.

Iron Fan’s smile sharpened into something close to fondness, regretful. Like she’d already decided he was a lost cause.

“We’ll see,” she murmured.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and shoved open the blackened doors ahead, the groan of the hinges echoing down the hall behind them.

Macaque squared his shoulders and followed her. The hallway widened, opening into a vast chamber. The ceiling arched high overhead, so far up that the torchlight barely touched it. The air was hotter here, thick with smoke and the pungent bite of blood. Demons crowded along railings overlooking a massive pit sunken into the ground - an arena.

Without a word, Iron Fan moved toward the railing. Macaque hesitated, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes as he followed her. He came to stand beside her, wrapping his arms loosely over his chest, feigning a disinterest he didn’t feel.

Below, two demons fought.

It wasn’t a fight, really - it was a slaughter. One was clearly stronger, faster, more vicious. Macaque watched as the larger demon grabbed the other by the throat, lifted him off his feet, and slammed him into the dirt hard enough that the ground cracked. There was a sickening crunch, and the crowd roared its approval.

Macaque’s stomach twisted, but he kept his face blank.

Across the arena, seated on a carved obsidian throne, was Demon Bull King. Even from here, Macaque could see the way his burning eyes tracked every movement in the pit; hungry, unblinking.

A wet, ragged scream pulled Macaque’s attention back to the fight. The weaker demon tried to crawl away, only for the victor to seize him by the arm - and in one swift, brutal motion, rip it free from the socket. Blood sprayed across the sand. The crowd howled with laughter.

Macaque’s jaw clenched.

Iron Fan said nothing. She simply watched, arms folded, as if this were as mundane as a morning walk.

After a moment, her voice cut through the roar of the crowd. “They were brothers.”

Macaque’s head whipped toward her. For a heartbeat, he thought he misheard.

“They were?”

The princess didn’t look at him. “They were raised together. Fought together. Bled for each other. Until they were called to prove who was worthy to serve the kingdom.”

Macaque’s mouth was dry. He forced himself to look back at the pit.

“Why?” he asked, voice low. “Why would anyone…”

“For honor,” Iron Fan said simply.

Macaque barked a hollow laugh. “Honor? That’s not honor. That’s cruelty.”

For the first time, Iron Fan turned her eyes fully on him. Her gaze was not angry. It was something worse - pitying.

“You’re a mortal with no code of conduct. You wouldn’t understand.” She shifted, folding her hands behind her back. “To serve something greater than yourself… to kill, to die, to sacrifice - those are the highest honors among our kind. Sun Wukong always understood that.”

Macaque felt the words like a slap. His fingers dug into his arms. He opened his mouth - he wasn’t sure to say what - but Princess Iron Fan was already pushing away from the railing.

“Come,” she said.

Macaque followed stiffly. As they moved down a side corridor, a pair of demons dragged the mangled body of the defeated brother past them, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. 

Silence stretched between him and the demoness like a drawn bowstring. Finally, Macaque broke it, his voice low and sharp. “You talk about honor, about sacrifice, like it means something. But you’re still furious at Wukong for wronging your husband.” He shot her a glance. “What happened to sacrifice then?”

Iron Fan slowed, just slightly. She didn’t look at him. “Do you even know,” she said, voice cold, “what he did to us?”

Macaque hesitated. His throat tightened.

No. He didn’t.

Not really.

All he knew was what DBK had said earlier and the bitterness in his voice when Wukong’s name passed his lips.

Yet… the Wukong he knew - the bumbling, arrogant, stubborn, kind-hearted idiot - didn’t match the monster she was hinting at.

“I know enough,” Macaque said finally. His voice didn’t waver. “Enough to know I’ll find out the truth myself.”

Iron Fan glanced at him sidelong, something like grim amusement flickering across her face. “Good luck,” she said. “You’ll need it.”

They walked on, deeper into the fortress.

The air grew heavier the deeper they went, thick with the metallic tang of blood and something older, fouler - like the ground itself was rotting beneath their feet.

Moon kept close but not too close, instinctively wary. He could feel the castle’s pulse now, a low, thrumming beat that wasn’t sound so much as pressure against his ribs. The demons watching from the shadows didn’t bother to hide their stares anymore.

Princess iron Fan didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

She led him through a set of double doors carved from bone and into another chamber. This one was quieter than the arena - no roaring crowd, no bloodstained sand. Instead, it was a long hall lined with medical beds. Some empty. Most not.

On the beds, demons sat or crouched or lay sprawled in their own blood and grim, their eyes hollow, their bodies broken. Warriors stripped of pride and purpose, tossed aside like garbage.

Macaque’s stomach twisted again, but he kept his face still. This wasn’t new. He’d seen cruelty before. Suffered it. That didn’t make it easier to watch.

Iron Fan walked slowly between the rows of cots, and Macaque followed, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing back at them.

She stopped once, in front of a bed where a demon barely older than a boy lay with his head turned to the side. His horns were broken and nearly the entirety of his body was wrapped in bloodied bandages.

Macaque stared at the boy a moment longer, then looked at the princess. “Why show me this? What happened?”

She didn’t answer right away. She stood there, studying the boy with an expression Macaque couldn’t read.

Finally, she said, “Our world demands strength to survive. You think we are the only demonic kindgom on the plains? Our best fight day and night to keep our territory safe. Honor is not kind. It doesn’t reward the weak. It asks for everything - and sometimes gives nothing back.”

She turned her head just enough to catch Macaque’s eye. “You still want to fight for him?” she asked, voice light, almost curious. “For someone who’ll leave you behind the moment you’re no longer useful?”

Macaque stiffened, the words scraping raw against old wounds.

He thought of the Bone Demon’s offer. Of the deal he’d made, using Wukong like a pawn.

He thought of Wukong’s stupid grin. Of the way he had, without hesitation, shielded MK’s body with his own during the attack.

Of the way he apologized when he stumbled, even when Macaque had insulted him.

Of the way he kept fighting even when he was tired.

Macaque met Iron Fan’s gaze, steady and sharp. “If he leaves me behind,” he said, voice low, “then I’ll deal with it.”

“But until then,” he added, his mouth twisting into something almost like a smile, “he’s stuck with me.”

For the first time, something flickered across the domoness’ face - not pity. Not disdain. Respect, maybe. Or something close enough.

“Stubborn little mortal,” she muttered under her breath. Not angry. Almost fond. Their stares were challenging, Macaque refusing to look away, meeting her cold gaze with a heated one. 

Then she simply turned and walked, leaving Macaque to trail after her in silence.

The halls were no less suffocating on the way back. The torches barely lit the corridors, throwing more shadows than light, and the guards they passed watched him with the kind of interest reserved for prey already caught.

They reached the cells, and Iron Fan stopped in front of his. Macaque’s heart seized at the sight of the figure slumped in the next one over. He rushed forward, gripping the bars tight.

Wukong.

Still shackled, still bruised and battered, but alive.

He was slumped against the wall that separated their cells, sitting low, head tipped back against the cold stone. His skin looked paler than usual, hair a mess, blood crusted along the side of his jaw. But he was there. He was alive.

Macaque didn’t hesitate. He dropped to the ground, grabbing onto the bars and lower his head to get a better look at the celestial. One of his hands slid from the bars and into the cell, fingertips brushing rough skin.

Wukong flinched at the touch, then stilled. Slowly, he turned his head, and a smile - crooked and thin - pulled at his lips.

“Hey,” Wukong rasped, voice rough but bright, “you look worse than me.”

Macaque gave him a flat look, not fully appriciating the joke at the moment.

“Yeah? You feel like bragging about that?”

Wukong huffed a soft laugh. It was weak, but it was real. The sound alone punched some of the air back into Macaque’s lungs.

“You worry too much,” Wukong said, squeezing Macaque’s fingers lightly. His grip was weaker than normal. Cold. It made Macaque’s stomach knot tighter.

“You fake it like shit,” Macaque muttered, barely hiding the raw edge in his voice.

Wukong laughed again, low and rougher this time, but there was real warmth in it. As if, somehow, everything could still be okay.

Macaque closed his eyes, just for a second, and let that sound settle into the cracks of him.

“Put me in there.” He said after a moment, glancing at the demoness.

She made a small, dismissive noise. “You’re where you belong.”

Macaque tightened his grip instinctively, but a guard stepped forward and pulled him back. He let go, reluctantly, watching Wukong’s hand drop heavily back to his side.

He was harshly pushed back into his cell and tensed at the loud clang of the metal shutting behind him. Iron Fan lingered outside the bars, gaze sharp.

“You don’t have to die for his mistakes,” she said. “Think about it.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Macaque stayed silent, then slid his back against the wall, exactly where he knew Wukong’s was. He shut his eyes and pretended that the stone wasn’t between them, that the solid warmth of the rocks was just Wukong’s back supporting him.

Neither spoke.

But between the shared wall, their breathing slowly found the same rhythm.

Chapter Text

Stillness filled the cell.

A warmth - faint but steady - pressed against the skin, sinking into bone, curling inside the chest like the first light of morning. Breakth moved in and out in an easy, weightless rhythm. 

There was no hunger here. No fear. No damp stone floors or thick iron bars. Only a quiet hum, a golden thread winding through the darkness, pulling everything into something soft and whole.

Maybe this was what Wukong had always found in meditation - that small, quiet place untouched by the world. Maybe it wasn’t so impossible after all.

He sat motionless, legs crossed, hands resting loosely on bent knees. His heartbeat slowed to match the rhythm of their breathing. Even the gnawing worry - the one that had refused to leave since the moment they’d been captured - loosened its grip.

If he could just stay here, in this small, perfect stillness-

“You’re all cowards!”

The peace shattered like glass.

The boy flinched so hard they nearly toppled over, eyes snapping open just in time to see Mei stomping toward the bars of the cell, fury radiating from every inch of her.

“I said,” Mei howled, kicking the iron with her heel, “when I get out of here, I’m taking your horns as trophies!”

MK groaned and dropped his forehead into his palms. So much for enlightenment.

Mei rattled the bars for good measure, throwing her weight into them with all the menace her small frame could muster. MK stayed folded over, hands in his hair, as if trying to diappear into the floor.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he mumbled into his sleeves.

“Good!” Mei barked back. “Then maybe they’ll feel guilty and let us out.”

MK peeked up at her. “I really don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Whatever,” she grunted, backing away from the bars and starting to pace. “At least I’m doing something. You’re just sitting there like a lump.”

“I was meditating,” MK muttered defensively. “Monkey King says it’s good for clearing your mind.”

“Yeah? And did you get a divine revelation about how we’re getting out of here?”

MK hesitated. “Sort of?”

Mei stopped pacing, eyeing him skeptically. “Define sort of.”

MK pressed his lips together, thinking. “I had this feeling. Like maybe… we’re not completely doomed?”

Mei stared. Then burst out laughing - a loud, bright sound that bounced off the stone walls.

MK flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “It was more profound than it sounds,” he insisted.

Mei clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock him over. “You’re adorable,” she said, grinning. “Delusional. But adorable.”

MK sighed heavily and slumped against the wall. “I don’t see you coming up with a better plan.”

“My plan,” Mei said proudly, “is to keep yelling until they either open the door or get so annoyed they come in here - and then we jump them.”

MK gave her a long, deadpan stare. Mei wagggled her eyebrows at him, as is daring him to come up with anything smarter. “…Okay,” MK said, throwing his hands up. “But if we die, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” She said cheerfully.

MK refocused, turning his head away from Mei and closing his eyes again. He repositioned, trying to get as comfortable as one could get in a prison and took slow, even breaths.

The air smelled faintly damp, the stones beneath him rough but grounding. Somewhere beyond the barred window, he could hear the distant sounds of the metal and bubbling lava - the low hum of wind, the muted clatter of armor, the occasional rumble of faraway voices.

In his mind, MK pictured light. He imagined it blooming from his chest, warm and steady, the way Monkey King once described it. A little star, tucked inside.

If he could just focus…just breathe…

Something thumped nearby.

MK’s eyes snapped open.

Mei was trying to balance on one foot in the middle of the cell, her arms out like a tightrope walker. She wobbled dramatically, then collapsed onto the ground with an exaggerated groan.

MK stared at her.

She grinned up at him, entirely unrepentant.

“Did I achieve enlightenment?”

MK closed his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re the opposite of enlightenment.”

“Rude,” Mei said with a smile, rolling onto her stomach. “You think you’re the only one allowed to have spiritual awakenings?”

MK muttered something under his breath and tried - valiantly - to refocus.

Mei didn’t make it easy.

First, she tried humming. When that didn’t get a reaction, she began lightly drumming on the floor with her fingertips, tapping out an increasingly elaborate rhythm.

MK refused to open his eyes. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“So,” Mei said after a moment, too casually, “how long before you think we start talking to the rats?”

“No rats,” MK said without moving.

“You don’t know that.”

“I looked. There’s no rats.”

“Maybe they’re shy.”

“Maybe you’re losing it,” MK muttered.

Mei flopped onto her back and kicked her legs into the air. “Well, someone’s gotta keep morale up in here.” She paused thoughtfully. “Pretty sure it’s not you.”

Despite himself, MK smiled faintly.

They drifted into a strange kind of peace after that - Mei tapping out rhythms on the stone floor, MK breathing quietly beside her. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t terrible either. For a little while, it almost felt like when they were kids again - trapped somewhere boring, making up stupid games to pass the time.

But the feeling couldn’t last.

Eventually, MK’s hands curled into fists against his knees. The humor faded from his face, leaving behind something rawer.

“I’m not helping,” he said, more to the floor than to Mei. His voice was so soft she almost missed it. 

Mei shifted, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him properly.

“You kidding?” she said. “You’re keeping me from losing my mind.”

MK shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve, gaze dropping.

“Monkey King keeps getting hurt,” he said, each word heavier than the last. “He keeps putting himself between us and danger. And I just—”

He exhaled, frustrated with himself. “I just stand there. Watching.”

Mei sat up fully now, serious in a way she rarely was.

“You’re not supposed to throw yourself in front of danger,” she said. “That’s Monkey Man’s job.”

“That’s not fair,” MK said, voice tight. “It shouldn’t have to be all he does for us. It’s supposed to be—” He bit the words off, jaw clenched.

Mei was quiet for a moment. Then she nudged his knee lightly with hers.

“MK,” she said. “You being here matters. Even if you don’t see it. It matters.”

MK didn’t look convinced. He stared at the floor like it had betrayed him somehow.

“You think Monkey King wants you getting hurt?” Mei added, softer now. “You think he wants you beating yourself up over this?”

MK didn’t answer.

Mei leaned her head lightly against his shoulder - just for a second, just long enough for him to feel the support there - before pulling back with a crooked smile.

“You’re not useless,” she said. “You’re MK. That’s, like, your superpower.”

MK finally let out a shaky breath - half-laugh, half-sigh - and, after a moment, bumped her shoulder back.

“You’re the worst cheerleader ever,” he said, voice hoarse but warm.

“And yet,” Mei said, “you’re smiling again.”

MK didn’t deny it.

The humor between them fades slowly, like a candle flickering out in a breeze neither had noticed sneaking in. Mei leans back against the warm stone wall, one leg stretched out, her boot tapping lightly against the ground. She watches MK quietly now, her grin softening at the edges as he curls his legs beneath him and lowers his gaze to his hands.

“I know it’s not really my fault,” MK says at last, his voice quieter, more careful. “I mean - I know that. But every time something goes wrong, every time Monkey King gets hurt trying to shield us, or Macaque throws himself into danger like it’s nothing… I just-” He breaks off, exhaling hard through his nose. “I feel like I’m the dead weight.”

Mei turns to face him fully. “MK…”

“It’s not like I wanted to be the hero,” he goes on, picking at that thread on his robe harder now, “but I always thought - if I was ever in a situation like this - I’d do something. I’d figure it out. I wouldn’t just sit around in a cell like a useless idiot while everyone else bleeds for me.”

His voice cracks at the end, just enough for it to sound like a confession.

Mei watches him for a moment, then reaches over and places a hand on his knee - solid, steady.

“Hey,” she says gently, “if you’re useless, then what am I? The only thing I’ve contributed to this mission so far is loud commentary and trying to fight Macaque with a spoon that one time.”

MK lets out a choked laugh, despite himself. “That spoon thing was brave, though.”

“Thank you. Finally, someone sees my potential.”

There’s a silence after that, more comfortable this time. Then Mei adds, quieter, “You don’t have to do everything, MK. That’s not your job. We’ve all got our roles, and just being here - just caring - counts for more than you think.”

MK leans his head back against the wall, eyes closing.

“I just wish I could help.”

“You do,” Mei says. “Even if it’s not the way you imagined.”

They sat there a little longer. The dungeon is still, except for the distant, ominous echo of a door slamming far away, like a warning shot across the heart.

MK’s head snapped up. He didn’t move right away, but Mei was already on her feet and grinning like she’d been expecting this exact thing.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our favorite visitor,” she said, grinning toward the bars.

Redson appeared on the other side, fists clenched at his sides and that permanent scowl still present. “I see you peasants are still breathing.” He said. 

Mei’s face only seemed to brighten. “Aw, don’t tell us you were worried? That's so sweet! Look MK, we’re already best friends with the local prince!”

Redson seemed to fume at that, his eyebrows knitting impossibly closer. “We are not friends. You are prisoners to my parents. I don't have time to get attached to life forms that are lower than the dirt I stand on.”

“You always know just what to say to make a girl feel welcome,” Mei replied, leaning against the bars. “Come on, admit it. You missed us.”

“I was hoping to return to some human corpses I could dissect for my experiments.” The demon responded, looking to the side, genuinely disappointed. 

MK pushed himself away from the wall, stars in his eyes. “Wait, you know how to dissect things? Wow, I've only done a frog but that was a long time ago.”

Redson stumbled back slightly from the excitement coming off the two mortals. His face pinched into a look of disgust. “You two have got to be the most repulsive mortals I have ever met.”

Mei and MK shared a look before Mei was shrugging. “Eh, I'll take it. At least MK and I made it to the top of one of your lists.”

“Speaking of which,” MK said, grabbing onto the bars. He glanced at the two bull soldiers that stood just a bit down the hall, a few feet from their prince. “I've got a list of questions. Like for starters, where are Monkey King and Macaque? Are they okay?”

Redson watched MK with an unreadable expression. The boy thought for a moment that maybe Redson wasn't going to answer and just leave, like yesterday when he had asked, but instead, the prince crossed his arms and looked to the side. “You friend and that deplorable simian are alive. Though his presence is bringing great rage to my father, so I can't say for how much longer I can promise he’ll remain alive.”

MK wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or not. On one hand, he was elated to hear Monkey King and Macaque were alive. Especially with how the celestial hero had last looked. But on the other, it didn't sound like they were going to be giving him much time to heal his wounds. 

His hands tightened around the bars, his knuckles becoming white. His jaw clenched as he thought of Monkey King being left helpless. He had noticed a while ago that something was going on with the older. Something he wasn't opening up about to anyone, even Macaque, despite how close it looked like they had gotten over the past few days. He wanted to talk to the other about it, but also knew how he was when he didn't want to share. 

It was a fools errand to try and get information out of the monkey when he didn't want to tell others something. MK had really believed he had a breakthrough the other night though. It was like the old days all over again, when he heard of Monkey King protecting a town over from his current location and running there as quick as possible. Monkey King always looked shocked to see him but his face found this fond expression everytime. 

He’d sit with MK for hours, telling him whatever story the mortal child asked about. He'd ruffle the kids hair and wrap his tail around his waist. There were moments that MK wondered if it was to comfort the mortal, or the celestial. But he never asked. Never complained. Never saw a crack in Monkey Kings perfect facade. 

But now, it was like looking at a broken vase glued messily back together with a thick paste. And he knew, at least for a time, he was the only one that saw it. Macaque seemed to have noticed it too, and maybe MK should have taken a more direct approach to it like the dark furred simian, but he didn't want to push the golden monkey. 

“What's going to happen to him?” His voice came out weaker than he meant, but he could feel the slight tremor in his hands. Mei edged closer to him, ready to pull him flush against her side for comfort. Reason looked between them before shutting his eyes in an annoyed sigh. 

“Unfortunately, your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps they will just lock him under a mountain like he did with my father, but then again, he's already faced that punishment so I imagine my parents will try to get at least a bit more creative.”

“No!” MK cried, shocking Mei and Redson. “You can't lock him away! We have a mission! Who will protect the mortal realm if he's imprisoned?”

“A mission? You mean stealing the keys to the samadhi fire? Yes, a very noble mission. I would have expected nothing less from the great Monkey King.”

“How do you know about that?” Mei asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes almost comedically. 

Redson rolled his eyes like she asked the dumbest question. “We went through your bags to see if your little group was hiding anything. And sure enough we found one of the keys.”

Mei and MK gapped for a second. Could they lie their way out of this? Surely this is not how Monkey King or Macaque would have wanted to go about this, MK thought.

“Did you truly think that we would just hand over our key? I'm sure the Goddess Chang’e will when you ask it of her, considering her relationship with Sun Wukong, but the Bull family?”

Mk raised a brow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah, she did already give us her key. We just need the other two. And we were gonna ask really nicely!” He defended. 

That seemed to get Redson’s full attention, who snapped his head back over to them. “You only have one key?”

“Yes?” Mei asked. 

“You only have… one key? Sun Wukong asked Chang’e for her key and you still only have one in your possession?”

“Yes?” Mei said again, both her and MK growing confused. “Does she have two? Cause the trip here took a couple weeks and I don't want to have to go all the way back.” 

Redson searched their faces as if to tell if they were lying or not. “No… Chang’e does not possess two keys. Only one immortal is allowed a key.”

MK and Mei shared another look, trying to understand what the prince was getting at. If MK was being totally honest, he was getting really tired of people saying vague things and not filling the rest in. He was about to ask, but Redson turned on his heel and started walking away. 

“Hey!” Mei shouted after him. He stopped and turned over his shoulder to look at them. “What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

“You two are a lot more foolish than I gave you credit for. Trusting Sun Wukong, the one who is self proclaimed to be equal to that of Heaven.”

“Yeah? Well at least he hasn't led us astray yet!” Mei argued. 

Redson fully turned to them now, eyes narrowed. “He’s led you astray from the moment you joined this journey. And now, you’re trapped in a cell because of him.”

“That's not fair,” MK argued, pushing his face against the bars. “Yeah, maybe he's lied about some things along the way, but I know Monkey King. He would never do anything to cause us harm!”

“You truly are a stupid mortal.” Reason muttered turning away. 

“And you’re a stupid demon!” Mei called. “You're trying to put this tough guy act on, well I see through it! Stop trying to act so heartless! I can see you care about what is right. And I know you know that it's right that we have the keys.”

The prince stood there for a second, back to them. He didn't reply for a long moment, and the words hung heavy in the air. “You dont have a clue what I care about.”

And then he was gone. Mei and MK stood there staring after him for a moment longer before both fell back from the bars like they were exhausted. 

MK rubbed his face with both hands. “I think we made it worse.”

“Or better,” Mei said. “Hard to tell.”

- 

Macaque sat with his back pressed against the shared wall of their adjacent cells, its rough stone a constant, grounding presence. The cell was warm in a way that almost felt too intimate - like the heat from a nearby fire had seeped in through every crack. All around him, silence stretched, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of Wukong’s breathing on the other side.

Macaque closed his eyes and listened. Each slow, measured inhale and exhale seemed to echo an unspoken worry he wasn’t sure he could put into words. He tried to lose himself in the soft cadence, letting the quiet anchor his scattered thoughts. But beneath that stillness, his mind churned with memories of yesterday, the harsh words from Princess Iron Fan, and the weight of being forced into a situation that made every breath feel like a bargain.

Then - suddenly - he sensed a change. Wukong’s breathing grew ragged for just a moment, a hard, heavy breath that cut through the silence. Macaque’s heart clenched. He leaned forward as if his concern might cross the stone barrier.

“Wukong?” Macaque called softly, but no answer came immediately. The silence that followed felt heavy.

After a long pause, Wukong exhaled - then, with a rough, self-deprecating chuckle, he spoke. “I’m fine. Just … taking in a deep breath,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Macaque wasn’t convinced, but he let the moment pass. The silence came back, a comfortable yet charged quiet that seemed to say more than words ever could.

After several minutes, Wukong broke the stillness again, his voice a little quieter this time: “You know… I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who worries about me this much.” The words held a curious mix of gratitude and incredulity, as if he couldn’t quite believe the intensity of Macaque’s concern. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but… well …”

Macaque’s throat tightened with a mix of affection and exasperation. “Someone has to,” he replied curtly. “I can’t let you run yourself into the ground, can I?”

“Please, I’m the great Sun Wukong. Equal to Heaven, remember?”

“More like a great concern. You sound like shit. Are the stitches holding up?” He asked, looking to his hands and playing with his fingers. 

“I think so. I haven't been in this much pain in forever. Mortal healing processes sure do suck.”

Macaque let out an airy laugh and the two fell silent again. Macaque listened to the heartbeat of the celestial, the strong rhythm it beat to being a nice lullaby for him. He closed his eyes and soaked in the quiet before finally gathering enough courage to speak again, this time more directly. “Can we talk?” he asked softly, his voice revealing both his need and his hesitation. “I mean - about everything… since we left Chang’e’s.”

There was a long pause in the quiet, and then Wukong spoke, voice low and steady as if he’d been holding onto these words for far too long. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Let’s talk.”

The silence returned, but this time it was heavier - weighted with expectation, thick with all the things left unsaid between them. Neither of them knew how to start this conversation. Words gathered on the edge of Macaque’s tongue, but he didn’t know which ones to trust yet, which ones would be too much or not enough.

Finally, Macaque broke the stillness. “I grew up in an orphanage,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t the worst place. I got fed. Had a bed. But people came and went like seasons, and none of them stuck around long enough to mean anything.”

Wukong didn’t interrupt. Macaque took it as permission to keep going.

“When I grew tired of it all, I ran away and fended for myself. I was alone for a while, until this one kid came along. They were someone I thought would stay.” His voice wavered slightly. “We were close - closer than anyone else I’d known. But then things got hard. Really hard. And they left.”

A beat. Then Wukong said softly, “I’m sorry.”

But Macaque shook his head, even though he knew the other couldn’t see it. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel bad. I’m telling you because… back at the festival, when we were on that bridge, you made a promise to me.”

Silence. Macaque could almost hear the memory breathing between them. The lanterns, the river, the quiet weight of that night.

“You told me you wouldn’t leave,” Macaque said. “And I believed you. I really did.”

“I meant it,” Wukong replied, instantly, voice firmer now. “I still do. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Macaque let out a breath, part laugh, part disbelief. “Yeah, but it’s like you’re not. You’re here, but you’re pulling away. You won’t look at me, won’t talk unless I push you. You laugh like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He leaned his head against the wall, voice gentler now. “And I get it. I do. You’re scared. Or tired. Or something worse. But you can’t promise to stay and then keep shutting me out. That’s not what staying means.”

Silence fell again, stretching long and uncertain between them.

Then Wukong said, quietly, “It’s complicated.”

Macaque didn’t push. He just asked, voice low enough to feel like a breath, “Does it have to do with Azure?”

There was a beat of stillness before Wukong turned his head slightly against the wall. “Azure?”

“Chang’e told me,” Macaque replied. “Not a lot. Just… enough. I hate what they did to you. To him.”

But before he could comtinue, Wukong cut in - his voice was still gentle, but firmer now. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Macaque nodded. “Okay,” he murmured. Another moment passed, and Macaque thought that was the end of it. But then:

“I loved him.” Wukong's voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t stop. “More than anything. More than I thought I could love someone. He was… righteous. And loyal. He looked at me like I was more than a weapon. And for a while, I really believed it.”

Macaque felt a sharp twist in his chest. He didn’t want to name it - didn’t have to. Jealousy had a bitter taste.

But he stayed quiet. Listening.

Wukong exhaled shakily. “I’m scared. Not just because of what happened to Azure. That hurt - still does. But with you…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “It’s not the same. It’s not even close. And that’s what scares me.”

Moon blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”

Wukong hesitated, then said, “You’re different from him. You always have been. You argue with me. Call me out. You don’t try to fix me - you just… see me. All of me. And I feel like if I let myself fall, it’s not going to be a gentle landing. It’s going to be something else entirely. Bigger. Messier. Real.”

He paused, voice barely audible now. “I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to not mess it up.”

Macaque’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected that - not the confession, not the weight behind it.

“Why do you think you’ll mess it up?”

There was a pause. A breath.

“Because that’s what weapons do,” Wukong said. His voice cracked halfway through. “They break things. Even when they don’t mean to.”

Another silence, longer this time. Then Wukong spoke again, rushed and almost panicked. “You almost kissed me. In public. Macaque - do you even realize what that means?”

Macaque’s brows furrowed. “I-”

“You don’t want me,” Wukong snapped, words tumbling out faster now. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

Macaque sat up straighter. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wukong’s voice was harsher than before. “You’re a mortal.”

Macaque felt the words like a slap. His mouth opened, then closed again.

“That’s all it takes to disqualify me?” he asked, voice sharp with disbelief. “Just because I’ll die one day?”

“You’ll age,” Wukong said, like it hurt to say it. “You’ll age and change and go, and I’ll still be here. The same. Still bound to Heaven, still answering to orders you’ll never understand. I can’t take you everywhere. I can’t keep you.”

Macaque’s jaw clenched. Anger flared hot in his chest - but deeper than that, something steadier, something certain.

Wukong’s voice dipped, quieter now. “Now just isn’t a good time.”

Macaque stared at the floor for a beat. Then he lifted his chin.

“Fine,” he said. “Then I’ll wait.”

Wukong choked. “What? Did you even hear anything I just said?”

“I did,” Macaque said. “Loud and clear.”

He pressed his cheek to the wall between them. “I’m not Azure. I’m not some righteous, and perfect immortal who knows the rules and plays by them. I’m selfish. I’m stubborn. And I’ll wait.”

There was a hitch in Wukong’s breathing, and Macaque could practically see him bracing for the worst.

“You could be waiting all your life,” Wukong whispered.

Macaque smiled faintly, eyes warm with something more than just defiance.

“Then you’ll live with the knowledge that wherever I end up - whatever happens to this soul - I’m still waiting for you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was thick. Full of weight and breath and all the things neither of them could say aloud.

Macaque let his eyes fall and noticed Wukong's tail was sticking out into the corridor. He didn't say anything as he let his own follow, intertwining it with the celestial’s. 

It was quite for a beat. And then longer. Macaque thought about speaking up, then felt the tremble in Wukong’s tail. He was about to ask if he was in pain, but then he heard it, just barely.

The softest sniffle.

He blinked, startled. He obviously had never seen Wukong cry, but he’d seen the aftermath of when he’s cried back at Pigsy’s. 

And now - through a stone wall, in the middle of nowhere - Macaque was hearing it. The smallest crack in all that steel.

He wanted to see it. Gods, he wanted to see it.

He wanted to see every expression Wukong had ever worn. Every version of that proud, radiant face - furious and elated and half-asleep and sun-drunk with laughter. He wanted to memorize the tilt of Wukong’s jaw when he smiled for real. He wanted to trace the shadows of his lashes when he looked at Macaque like he might be something holy.

And right now, more than anything, he wanted to see Wukong cry. Not because he liked the idea of the other in pain - but because it meant Wukong was real, and fragile, and human enough to be held.

It meant Wukong trusted him with the cracks.

Macaque let out a breath and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes, wishing it were skin instead of stone.

Then came Wukong's voice, quiet and wrecked.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Macaque smiled, gentle and unwavering.

“You haven’t,” he said. “And you won’t. I’ll be right here. Waiting.”

Chapter Text

The dirt path is warm beneath Wukong’s feet, sunbaked and familiar. Ferns brush his calves as he weaves through the jungle, ducking under thick banana leaves and low hanging papya branches.

Birds chattered in the canopy above, and somewhere in the distance, waves crashed in slow, even breaths agaisnt the shore. The scent of guava blossoms hangs in the air, mingling with salt and something sweet he can’t quite name. His shirt is loose, half- buttoned, already damp with heat. 

His island glows in the afternoon light. Bright flowers spill over one another in thick bundles. Mango trees droop heavy with fruit. The breeze dances through heavy tall palms, rustling like laughter.  

  He stops at the edge of the shade cast by the looming trees, staring out at the beach before him. He takes a step into the sand, letting his feet sink a little before continuing.

The tide rolled in with a hush, brushing against Wukong’s ankles as he stood where the sand met the sea. Warm water lapped over his feet, the sun casting his shadow long across the beach. He let his head tilt back, let the breeze tousle his hair. 

He stayed like that until the waves threatened to soak more of his pants and reach the hem of his shirt. Then he turned inland, trailing up a familiar, overgrown path.

The jungle welcomed him with dappled light and thick birdsong. He walked without needing to look - he could’ve done this blindfolded. The scents of ripe fruit and sun-warmed bark led him to the orchard tucked deep within the trees, a grove he’d planted for no reason but his own delight. Pale-pink petals scattered the path, crushed beneath his steps. Peaches hung low and heavy on the branches.

The air was still here, sacred in a way he never really talked about. He liked it best like this- quiet, sunlit, untouched.

Except today, it wasn’t

Another stood in the orchard. 

He wasn’t stealing anything or tearing through the trees like some passing demons had once done. No, he was standing perfectly still, watching the light filter through the canopy above, as if the orchard itself had pulled him into silence.

Wukong paused. The man’s armour gleamed faintly in the sun - Heaven-forged, no doubt. His sword, slung across his back, looked ceremonial until you noticed the grip was worn smooth from use.   

Another envoy, then.

Wukong sighed, brushing past a low-hanging branch and plucking a ripe peach from it. He bit into the fruit, letting the juice run down his hand. “You know,” he said lazily, “if Heaven wants to spy on me, the least you could do is actually watch me.”

The other turned toward him, no alarm, no startle - just a calm, steady gaze that didn’t waver.

“Apologies,” he replied. His voive was warm, deeper than Wukong expected, and effortlessly self-assured. “I was admiring. It’s beautiful here.”  

Wukong stopped in front of him, tiliting his head up. The other was much taller, being some sort of celestial lion with a body covered in blue fur and a mane that shimmered like strands of gold. “Yeah, I try my best.” Wukong gloats to the lion.

The taller hummed and glanced around but his eyes snapped back to the monkey when he started to walk past the Heaven sent. Wukong only stopped again when he heard that large sword being drawn from it’s sheath. He glanced over his should to see it leveled at him, not in a hostile manner, but deliberate. Formal.

“Heaven requests your surrender. You are to join the Celestial ranks in a show of your loyalty to the Jade Emperor. This is not meant to be another attack, but it is our final offer. 

Wukong blinked slowly, then gave a long, theatrical sigh. “Gods. You’re one of those.”

He turned, leaned slightly closer, licking the last of the peach juice from his thumb. “And who exactly do I have the pleasure of being threatened by today? Another glorified errand boy?”

The man didn’t flinch. Instead, he seemed to smile at the remark. “I am General Azure. One of the top ranking Generals in Heaven.”

Wukong straightened just a touch. That name he recognized, if just barely.   

“Huh,” Wukong said. His grin returned - wider now, amused and just slightly intrigued. “They sent a real one this time.”

He took a step back and fell into a lazy fighting stance, chucking the half eaten peach away. “Well, General Azure…“ he said, rolling his shoulders, “I’m flattered that Heaven is taking my defiance more serious, but my stance remains the same. I don’t make a habit of bowing to people who show up uninvited in my orchard. Or people that attack my home.”

He raised his hand to his ear and summoned his staff with a flash of golden light. He spun it once, lazily, before planting it against the ground with a casual flourish.

“You can go back and tell your gods that if they want my loyalty,” Wukong said, eyes gleaming, “they’ll have to pry it from me the hard way.”

  A beat of silence passed between them- charged, still.

Then Azure grinned.

“Then let’s dance.”

--

“You now belong to Heaven."  

The words echoed like iron against stone, heavy and cold. The Jade Emperor sat high above on his throne, draped in robes that shimmered like starlight - beautiful, untouchable, cruel. His voice held no malice. It didn’t need to. The authority in it alone suffocated.

Wukong knelt on the cold marble floor, his head bowed not out of respect, but because he knew the cost of resistance. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding behind lips pressed shut. Rage churned beneath his skin, burning, but he stayed still.

“You are an asset,” the Emperor continued. “Nothing more. You will serve us well. Or you will suffer.”

A pulse of heat flared in the crown pressed to Wukong’s head - not active, not yet, but a reminder. The Emperor didn’t need to explain further. He had already demonstrated what would happen if the monkey disobeyed.

“I trust I won’t need to repeat myself,” the Emperor added. “Dismissed.”

Wukong didn’t move at first. He saw himself from a distance, felt the weight of shame and fury swirl in his chest, too much to hold. Then, without a word, he pushed to his feet, turned, and walked out of the throne room.

The hall beyond was too bright. Gilded columns and polished stone reflected light that felt too clean for someone like him.

“Quite the audience,” came a voice to his right.

Azure stood there in full armor, golden and white, the brand of Heaven’s highest ranks resting proudly on his chest. He smiled warmly, as if they were old friends.

“I’m glad to see we’ve won you over.”

Wukong stopped. The old smirk curved his lips, an easy mask to hide the storm inside.

  “Won me over?” he echoed. “Please. I’m just giving your Emperor time to enjoy the illusion.”

He crossed his arms, tilting his head.

“Also, don’t sound so cocky like you’re the one that got me here. Pretty sure I had you on your back in that orchard, remember? I kicked your ass.”  

Azure laughed, genuine and unbothered. “It’s a good thing we’re allies now then, isn’t it?”

Wukong’s smile faltered - just a second, just enough. He looked away, eyes narrowing.  

“Allies,” he said softly. “Yeah…”

His voice trailed off. The crown itched faintly at the back of his skull, reminding him of the cage he lived in now.

“…sure.”

--

The training fields of Heaven were bathed in a constant, golden light - warm but distant, like the smile of someone who’d already made up their mind about you. Wukong hated them. Too clean, too quiet, too sharp-edged to ever feel real.  

But the ring wasn’t so bad when Azure was in it.

They moved in a steady rhythm, staff against sword, footwork weaving around each other like tide and shore. It wasn’t serious. It hadn’t been serious for the last ten bouts. And maybe that was the problem.

“Is this really your best?” Wukong asked, dodging the curve of Azure’s blade. He swung his staff low, just enough to make the other step back.

Azure adjusted his stance, not even winded. “You seem to think I’m trying.”

Wukong let his staff rest against his shoulders, his grin crooked. “If this is you holding back, maybe I need to commit more than one percent so you’ll take this seriously.”

Azure’s gaze flicked to him, quiet amusement in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d care so much about what I deem worth my time.”  

Wukong’s brows rose, but he didn’t reply - not in words. He lunged instead, their weapons locking with a sharp crack. They stayed like that, caught for a beat too long. Close. Breath mingling.  

Azure’s hand was steady on his sword. “You’re distracted.”

Wukong’s voice came soft, amused. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the view.”

A faint twitch of Azure’s mouth - something almost like a smile. Then he shoved forward, breaking the lock cleanly and putting space between them again.

They resumed their dance, no winner, no point.

It could’ve gone on like that, easy and endless, but a messenger’s voice cut across the field.

“Monkey King! The Emperor summons you.”

Wukong exhaled sharply through his nose and spun his staff once before slinging it over his shoulder. “Figures. Just when it was getting fun.”

Azure lowered his blade. “You’ll be back.”  

Wukong looked at him for a moment longer than needed, then nodded once. “Try not to miss me.”

Azure didn’t answer, but the way his eyes followed Wukong’s retreat said enough.

--

Azure’s fingers moved gently through Wukong’s hair, combing it back from his brow with a tenderness that didn’t quite belong in a place like this. They lay in the quiet of Azure’s chambers, far from the hum of court politics and celestial duties. The lamps burned low, casting a golden glow over bare fur and tangled robes.

“You were brilliant today,” Azure murmured, voice hushed in awe. “The way you moved- the fire, the control… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

Wukong let his head rest in Azure’s lap, eyes drifting up to the carved ceiling. “It’s just training.”

“No,” Azure said, brushing his thumb across Wukong’s cheek. “It’s something more. You’re something more. When you’re out there, you don’t look mortal. You look like you were carved from starlight.”

Wukong huffed a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Poetic.”

Azure smiled, undeterred. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Wukong’s brow, then to the curve of his cheek. “There are days I think Heaven doesn’t deserve you. That no one does.  

Wukong didn’t answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, still and unreadable.

Azure’s hand lingered at his jaw, reverent.

And Wukong let him. Because what else was there to do?

“My king,” Azure murmured, his voice coming out almost as a growl. “I love you,”

  Wukong’s heart lurched at the words. His throat went dry as emotions bubbled in him. His eyes peeled open and turned their attention to the gorgeous lion. He moved from below Azure to leaning against him. They stared at one another before Wukong kissed him. 

This was probably the only thing that felt right to him in Heaven. Azure’s sure hands as they traced his body, the way he confidently took Wukong’s mouth with his own. He pulled back just long enough to parrot those three powerful words before Azure pulled him in again.

Large clawed hands gently tugged at Wukong’s amber locks as he shifted them and put the smaller monkey beneath him. “My king,” Azure said again, his lips moving down to Wukong’s throat. “My love, my god,”

As those words reached Wukong, he stared up at the ceiling as Azure moved lower and lower. The golden simian really wanted to live in the moment with his love, but those words…

They played in his head over and over. He was Azure’s everything. Azure was his everything. He was Azure’s love just as much as Azure was his. But…

Wukong shut his eyes and when he opened them, he was tucked safely in the other’s arms, listening to the deep rumble in the lion’s chest.

Wukong remembered Nezha explaining the importance of temples. Of mortals worshipping the gods. It was a practice Wukong couldn’t wrap his head around. He asked Nezha if the mortals loved the gods, if that was why they worshipped them. Nezha had told him they worship gods for different reasons.

Sometimes it comes from a place of love, others a place of greed, or perhaps a place of fear. But they always worship to obtain something. Whether they admit it or not.

Wukong shifted in Azure’s arms, looking to the ceiling again. His eyes traced the patterns carved into it. After that conversation, Wukong came to his own conclusion that worship was not love. Not if it meant there were conditions. 

He turned again, leaning more into Azure.   

He loved Azure, and he had no doubt that the other loved him. But he didn’t want to be Azure’s god.  

He wanted to be his equal.

--

  The temple bells had long gone silent, leaving only the sound of cicadas and the low hush of night air as it moved through the training grounds.

  Wukong paced, shoulders tense, the hem of his robe dragging against the stone tiles. Azure stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms folded, watching him with a quiet patience that only made Wukong angrier.

  “They want us to confess,” Wukong said, whirling around. “Confess, beg forgiveness, and pretend none of this ever happened.”

  Azure nodded once. “It’s better than exile. Or worse.”

  Wukong scoffed. “So what? We roll over? Let them dictate who we can love like we’re children misbehaving?”

  “We knew the risks,” Azure said, not unkindly. “They’ve turned a blind eye for years, but now it’s different.”

  Wukong stepped closer, voice rising. “Why does it have to be? Why don’t we fight back?”

  Azure’s jaw tensed. “And say what, Wukong? That we’re in love and Heaven should bend for us? You know how that ends.”

  “It ends with us trying!” The celestial monkey shouted. “You’d rather lie down and take it?”

  Azure’s eyes flashed. “I’d rather we survive.”

  Wukong’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The silence stretched, brittle.

  Azure continued, softer now, “If we go along with it - just for a little while - they’ll forget. We can… we can find another way.”

  Wukong shook his head, jaw clenched. “That’s not living. That’s pretending.”

 " Then pretend with me,” The lion said. “Until it’s safe again.”

  Wukong’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you a coward?”

  The blow landed sharp. Azure’s expression didn’t change, but his hands curled into fists.

  “I’m trying to protect you,” he said, evenly.

“I don’t need protection,” Wukong snapped. “I’m the strongest celestial in Heaven.”

Azure exhaled like the fight had left him. “Right. How could one forget how reckless and entitled the Monkey King is.”

That stung more than it should have. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it was.

Wukong flinched. Azure didn’t apologize. He just stood there, tired and beautiful in the moonlight, and didn’t move.

Neither did Wukong.

“Look, Wukong,” Azure said carefully, giving the other that love filled look that made the golden simian’s knees buckle, “I love you, you know this. I would do anything for you. That is why we have to lie."  

“You’ll do anything but rebel with me.” He said bitterly, looking away. If he stared into Azure’s eyes any longer, he surely would cave. 

 “Rebelling will get us both killed. Please, my King. Just do this one thing. For me.”

  Wukong lifted his head and met his lover’s eyes. They were sad. Wukong didn't like that look. They were sad and dull. A stark contrast to his own, which were blazing with a fire of anger and determination. 

They would never see eye to eye on this matter, Wukong knew that. They never really had. Azure had always been admit about keeping their relationship a secret, which confused the monkey but he agreed. He, on the other hand, had wanted to make sure everyone knew he belonged to Azure and Azure belonged to him. 

Wukong got what he wanted, unfortunately.  

  His hands curled into fists, feeling backed into a corner. Of course he wanted to give Azure what he wanted, but why did it have to come at the cost of their love? It wasn't fair.  

He stared down the celestial general a moment longer before his raised his chin. “No,” he stated simply. “I would move mountains for you, I would kill the Jade Emperor for you, I would give everything I am for you. So no, I cannot kneel before the court and apologize for loving you as if it's something to be ashamed of.”

Azure looks taken aback by this statement. He moved forward and fell before Wukong, like a peasant being blessed with the presence of a holy god. He clutched Wukong’s hands, his larger pair shaking while the simian’s remained still. 

“My love, I know your pride gets in the way- but don't be reckless. Don't be-”

“I will be entitled to your love like you are entitled to mine.” Wukong pulled his hands from Azure’s grasp, and knelt with him, placing his palms on the lions cheeks and guiding his gaze to his own. 

“I will fight for you. I just need you to fight for me too.”

Azure’s head seemed to move on instinct, bobbing up and down as he nodded. He gripped Wukong's hands again and leaned his forehead against them. 

“How humbling it is to have a god kneel for you,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. Wukong frowned at that but said nothing more. 

If Azure needed a god tonight, then Wukong could be that for him. Just for one more night. 

But tomorrow, when they will be forced to stand before the court, they will stand as equals. They will face equal punishment and fight equally hard for one another. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they are equals, Wukong promised.  

--

The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight. A single bowl of untouched soup had gone cold by the door. Wukong lay curled on his side atop the silken bedding, face buried in his arms, body still trembling with the weight of his sobs.

Chang’e knelt beside him without saying a word. She placed a hand on his back, light and steady, and waited. He flinched at first, then leaned into the touch, as if he’d been holding himself still for too long.

“He told me we should be careful,” Wukong rasped, voice hoarse. “You told me too. I should’ve listened. I should’ve pretended.”

“Don’t do that,” Chang’e said softly.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Should’ve followed the rules for once in my godsdamn life.” He dragged a breath in and then choked on it. “If I’d just been smarter - if I’d just been less—”

“Wukong.”

He buried his face deeper into his sleeves. “I might as well have killed him myself.”

Chang’e’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like she had when he needed it, tight enough for him to feel it but loose enough he didn’t feel trapped. She didn’t try to tell him it wasn’t true. Not yet. Just stayed there, holding the broken pieces of him together.

“I won’t do it again,” Wukong whispered, voice splintering. “I won’t ever let myself love someone like that again. Not if it costs them their life. Not if it feels like this.”

Chang’e closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “That’s not fair to your heart,” she murmured.

But she didn’t argue. Not then.

She just stayed, her arms strong around him, as the memory burned itself into both their bones.

 -

The air hung heavey in the cell. Stale, humid, and unmoving. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped in slow, delibrate intervals - an echo swallowed by the stone walls until it felt like time itself had settled into a sluggish rhythm.

It was hot. Oppressively so. Heat clung to every surface, wrapping around fur like a second skin. The hard surface beneath Wukong’s back offered no comfort, only a reminder of how long he’d been still.

His eyes slid open, with the weight of exhaustion soaked into the motion. He didn’t move otherwise. His mind, for once, was quiet. No biting thoughts, no sharp regrets, no endless self-narration. It was like it had finally run out of things to say.

He hadn’t dreamed of Azure in a long time.

The thought wasn’t mournful, exactly. Just… there. A passing recognition of something once frequent that had faded. The kind of noticing one did for an old scar - the kind that had still held a phantom ache, never truly leaving.

He had let the silence hold it for a moment, as if examining the memory from a distance. They’d loved one another. He could still remember the way Azure had looked at him, like he was something divine. Untouchable. Revered.

There had been a comfort in it, once. Sweetness. But over time, it had became something else - something harder to hold. A pedestal was a lonely place to stand when you were in love. 

And then came Macaque.

It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to understand the difference. But now, lying in the heat and silence, the pieces had finally clicked into place. Macaque didn’t worship him. Macaque didn’t look at him with stars in his eyes or reverent silence. Macaque challenged him. Fought with him. Cared in ways that didn’t feel scripted or exaggerated.

He didn’t know exactly how Macaque saw him. But it wasn’t as a god.

And Wukong liked that.

He turned his head and leaned just enough to peer out of his cell to see his tail was still in the corridor, linked with Macaque’s. The ebony fur tangled with rust. Wukong wondered if he could tie their tails together so he would never lose this feeling.

He figured the other was asleep, with how still the tail was. Wukong had noticed Macaque was a rather twitchy individual by nature, even his appendage always flicking every so often.

He smiled lightly to himself at the thought. There was something calming about thinking of all the little things he’s noticed about the other. Like how Macaque never could hold eye contact when you complimented him. Or how his ears flicked when something was just a little too loud. Or how there was always this specific fire in his eyes when a challenge presented itself.

Wukong wanted to find out all there was to this broody demon. 

He was pulled out of his fantasy when the sound of footsteps echoed.

Slow, delibrate. More than one set. Leather soles and armor clinking, growing louder with every passing second. Wukong sat up as the footsteps reached his cell. Princess Iron Fan stood there, flanked by a handful of guards as one stepped forward to open the door.

“Good morning,” Wukong said, voice hoarse but steady. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Pif didn’t respond. Her expression was carved from stone, not even a flicker of amusement or annoyance.

From the next cell over, there was a sudden commotion - metal scraping, the slam of a door, and Macaque’s voice, rough with sleep and indignation. “What the hell—? Get your hands off me!”

A moment later, Wukong’s own guards were inside, yanking him up by the arms. He gritted his teeth, doing his best not to let a sound slip out. His side still throbbed, a deep, burning pain dulled only by stubborn pride.

Dragged out of his cell, he blinked as Macaque was shoved out of the one beside his. Their eyes met across the space between them. 

Iron Fan turned sharply and began walking.

The guards shoved them forward after her, steps echoing off the stone floor.

“What’s the occasion?” Macaque asked, voice sharp with suspicion. “Where are you taking us?”

No answer. Pif didn’t even glance back.

“Well, clearly they’re letting us go,” Wukong said breezily. “Thought it was about time we stretch our legs, maybe catch a show.”

Macaque shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re an idiot.”

Still, his eyes flicked toward Wukong’s side, just for a second. The concern there wasn’t hidden, though Macaque didn’t say anything.

Wukong caught the look and straightened. “I’m fine,” he said, quieter. But his jaw clenched as they rounded another corner.

The shackles dug into his wrists. Every step jostled the pain under his ribs. He hated how easy it was to read him right now. He hated how hard it was to breathe without flinching.

Then Pif stopped at a corridor. She turned sharply down it.

The guards didn’t slow. Instead, a few peeled off and grabbed Macaque by the arms, dragging him in the opposite direction to follow the princess.

“Hey!” Macaque twisted against their grip. “Where are you taking him?”

“I’ll be fine,” Wukong said quickly, voice too light to be believable. “Don’t worry about me.”

But he was worrying. His neck craned as long as he could still see Macaque, worried where they were taking the other. He tried to lighten the mood, asking the guards if they had anything cold for him to drink (part of him hoping one would say yes).

No one laughed.

The hallway darkened. The walls closed in.

Then - noise.

Distant at first. Then louder. A rising rumble of shouting, cheering. Boots scuffing against the stone floor. Something like drums.

Wukong’s smile faltered. His steps slowed as confusion replaced bravado.

And then - light.

It hit him like a wave, flooding his vision as he stepped out from the dark corridor into blinding brightness. He blinked against it, instinctively raising a shackled hand.

The roar of the crowd surged.

He lowered his arm slowly.

Sand beneath his feet. Dust swirling in the heat. High walls ringing him in.

An arena.

Wukong stood still.

Taking it all in.

The guards broke the chain between his shackles with a loud clang, freeing his arms - but not the cuffs. Wukong flexed his wrists as they shoved him forward, stumbling a step further into the arena. The heavy gate slammed shut behind him with a finality that echoed in his chest.

The crowd roared louder.

Wukong squinted up, the light stinging his tired eyes. The heat bore down on him, thick and unrelenting, stirring dust that clung to his skin.

And there, seated above it all, watching like a bored emperor: Demon Bull King.

His expression didn’t shift. That same cold, unreadable glare fixed on Wukong like he was just another creature to measure, not a person at all.

To the side, along a raised stone balcony, Wukong spotted Princess Iron Fan. She stood beside three familiar figures - MK, Mei, and Macaque.

MK looked frantic, already shouting something Wukong couldn’t hear. Mei had her hands clenched tight around the railing, eyes wide. Macaque, though - Macaque looked like someone had punched the breath from him. The shock was clear on his face. Then something worse: fear. Not for himself. For Wukong.

He didn’t have time to dwell.

A loud, mechanical groan rang out as a heavy door on the other side of the arena slid open.

A figure stepped out. Broad-shouldered, armored, and methodical in his gait. A demon soldier. Trained. Controlled.

Then - a gong.

The demon came fast, blade glinting.

Wukong barely pivoted in time. His body moved on instinct, but it wasn’t what it used to be. His muscles screamed, slower than he wanted them to be, dulled by the shackles and the deep ache still burrowed in his side. The blade grazed his arm - just a nick - but it was enough to tell him how real this was.

He backed up quickly, dodging another swipe, using the demon’s momentum to slam him sideways into the wall. But the soldier was strong - probably stronger than Wukong in his current state. He caught his balance quickly and landed a heavy punch in Wukong’s gut.

Wukong gasped, folding forward. Pain flared through his side. Stupid. He should have seen that coming. The healing suppression from the shackles meant the wound was barely closed, let alone sealed.

The demon came at him again.

Wukong rolled, ducked low, and swept the soldier’s legs out from under him. The hit landed, and the demon fell - but not for long. As he scrambled up, Wukong forced himself to move faster, ignoring the fire in his ribs.

He caught the demon’s wrist mid-swing and slammed his head into the demon’s nose. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. The crowd howled.

Still not enough.

The demon tackled him. They rolled, wrestling for control. Wukong took a punch to the jaw, the flash of pain blinding - but he returned it with a sharp elbow to the demon’s throat, then used the moment of breathlessness to flip him over.

Finally, he pinned him.

Wukong straddled the soldier’s chest, forearm braced against his throat, the demon’s own blade in Wukong’s hand and pressed against his neck.

Dust swirled around them. The celestial’s heart thundered. His breath was ragged, his limbs trembling with spent adrenaline.

He looked up.

DBK still hadn’t moved.

Then, he lifted a hand and called, clear enough to rise above the noise: “Finish it.”

Wukong froze.

He’d killed before. That wasn’t the problem. But this wasn’t an order from Heaven. This wasn’t a necessary kill. This was performance. This was show.

And the kids were watching.

MK was watching.

Macaque was watching.

He didn’t look at them.

He looked at Bull King.

They held each other’s gaze in silence. Wukong could feel what was expected of him. Could feel the eyes all around, waiting to see if the “celestial hero” would falter. The ghost of pain rang around his skull from the golden fillet.

With a breathless curse under, Wukong dropped the sword and twisted the demon’s neck. A sharp crack rang out. The body went still.

Cheers erupted, louder than before.

Wukong stood slowly, jaw clenched, breathing hard, golden blood drying on his temple.

He held DBK’s heated gaze as the demon’s body was lifted by a couple soldiers and hauled out.

Wukong went to follow, but a blade was aimed at his heart, poking him back into the arena. He put his hands up in surrender, glaring at the bull soldier as he backed up.

The crowd, once roaring, began to murmur, voices rippling in confusion. Wukong stood, tense and still.

Then another gate groaned open.

The thing that emerged was barely a demon by Wukong’s standards. Its body was warped and oversized, a grotesque fusion of horned beast and half-formed man. Bone jutted from its shoulders like jagged armor, its mouth too wide, eyes too small and burning red. It let out a snarl that shook the arena, chains dragging behind it from old bindings it had clearly broken.

It was a monster.

Wukong blinked, breath catching. “Oh. Shit.”

The crowd roared.

The beast charged.

Wukong barely dove aside in time, rolling across the sand with a pained grunt as the world spun around him. His side flared from the movement - his body was screaming from pain. 

He scrambled upright and spotted the abandoned sword the last soldier had dropped. He lunged for it, gripping the hilt just as the creature rounded on him again. It charged a second time, and Wukong swung, catching its shoulder. The blade barely sank in.

Too thick.

He twisted out of reach, heart thundering, sweat stinging his eyes. He darted low, landing a slice across the beast’s leg, but it kicked him back with a hind leg, sending him skidding across the dirt.

The crowd howled. More blood dripped from his mouth.

He pushed to his knees, chest heaving. “You’re… really not making this easy,” he muttered to no one.

The demon snarled and lunged. Wukong raised the sword, deflecting a blow just in time. The impact rattled down to his bones. He ducked under a swipe, rolled, and slammed the blade up beneath its ribs - this time sinking deeper.

It roared in pain, grabbing him by the arm and hurling him against the stone wall. Stars bloomed across his vision, he felt pain everywhere. Wukong barely had time to register the beast charging again when he dodged too slow - and the demon’s claws raked across his already-wounded side.

White-hot agony.

He screamed, collapsing to one knee, clutching his side as blood soaked through his clothes. The pain was staggering, dizzying. The sword slipped from his hand as he gasped for breath.

He looked up—

The demon had backed up and was pacing for a second, like a predator looking for the best angle to pounce on its prey. It didn’t take long for this monster to find it.

It charged at him.

He tried to stand but his knees buckled and he fell.

He shut his eyes.

Wukong expected pain to spread like wide fire, but instead, there was nothing.

When he opened his eyes, Macaque stood in front of him, one arm extended, power crackling around his fingertips. The demon snarled, but couldn’t push past the dark wall of shadows.

Wukong’s heart nearly stopped. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice broke from pain and panic. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Macaque didn’t look at him. “You’re a damn idiot.”

The shield held, standing firm under the beast’s force.

“I said I’d wait for you. It’s kind of hard to do that if you’re dead.”

The words hit harder than any blow. Wukong froze, breath caught, even as his vision swam with pain.

Macaque’s power surged. The shield flared, and the demon was blown backward, slamming into the wall. Macaque launched forward, shadows curling around him like smoke. He drove them into the beast’s chest, ripping through hide and bone, until the monster let out one last wheezing roar - and then crumbled into ash.

The arena fell silent.

Macaque turned, breathing hard, and knelt beside Wukong. His hand hovered over the wound, frowning. “Shit. You’re a mess.”

But Wukong didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He was just staring at Macaque. Wide-eyed. A million thoughts slamming into his chest. Macaque had saved him. 

Their moment shattered as the echoing sound of steel rang out.

They turned.

Pif stood on the raised platform, her fan pressed against MK’s throat. Mei stood behind him, a second guard with a dagger to her back. MK looked terrified. Mei tried to put on a brave face, but Wukong could see the tremble in her jaw.

Bull King stood now, towering over the arena with an infuriating amount of calm pride. His voice rang across the walls.

“You want them to live?” he asked.

Wukong’s blood ran cold.

“Prove they’re worth keeping.”

The air shifted. Wukong rose shakily to his feet, glaring up at him. Macaque was quick to grab his arm when Wukong’s legs tried to give out again. He kept his eyes locked on MK and Mei, scared that if he looked away, he’d lose them.

“How?”

DBK smiled - slow and cruel.

The world seemed to slow, Wukong felt like he was holding his breath as he watched the fear in MK’s eyes.

He dared to look away from the kid and meet Demon Bull King’s brutish glare. He did a single jab of his chin towards Macaque.

“Kill him.”

Chapter Text

Macaque has been betrayed before.

He could still feel the heat of that night pressed against his skin - that scalding air of a failed escape, the crackling of broken lanterns around them. He remembered the sting in his eye before he even felt the blade. His friend - his partner, his almost-something - had turned on him in a single, practiced movement. Macaque had thought the hesitation in his voice meant something. That they might run together, one last time.

Instead, he was on the floor, bleeding into the dirt. And his friend was gone.

He hadn’t died, but he thinks now that the intention had been there. The aim had been too precise. The silence too clean.

He learned then that even the people you trust most will weigh their survival against yours - and always choose themselves.

That memory hangs, cold and rusted, in the back of his mind as he looks to Wukong, the injured celestial’s arm still clutched in Macaque’s grasp.

Demon Bull King’s words are still ringing in the air. “Kill him.”

Wukong stumbles forward, out of Macaque’s hold, swaying slightly before steadying himself. He raises his head, blood smeared along his temple, and looks up at Bull King.

“…You can’t be serious.” Wukong says, his voice cracking and disbelieving.

Bull King smiles like someone who already knows the outcome. “You’ve never hesitated before,” he said smoothly. “Never questioned the price if it means getting what you want.”

Macaque takes a step forward but stops as his gaze flicks to Princess Iron Fan - her weapon drawn, pressed against MK’s throat. And their eyes meet.

Her words echo back to him, cruel and clear. “You haven’t seen what he’ll become when things get ugly. When he’s cornered.” Macaque clenched his jaw. “Someone who’ll leave you behind.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his tail lashing behind him. “You don’t have to die for his mistakes.”

Macaque’s stomach turns. This was just a sick game to them. Bull King was making a fool out of Wukong, and Iron Fan was humiliating Macaque now. Trying to prove she was right.

He looks back to Wukong.

Wukong is still staring up at Mei and MK, his jaw tense, his body taut with conflict. He’s not moving.

“…Wukong,” Macaque calls, cautious, uncertain.

Wukong turns to him, slow and heavy, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. Macaque feels it again - that old instinct, that old fear. But he stands firm.

“…Pigsy asked me to keep them safe,” Wukong murmurs.

Macaque nods, his voice caught in his throat. “I know.”

“They’re just kids.”

“I know.”

Wukong steps closer.

Macaque doesn’t move. His entire body tenses though - the way it always has, in those moments just before impact. The space between them narrows, and he still doesn’t flinch. He holds his ground not because he feels brave, but because something in him refuses to run from Wukong.

“They don’t deserve to get caught up in this.”

Macaque’s voice is quieter this time as he nods. “I know.”

That’s when Wukong stops. Just stops.

His brow furrows, his lips part, like he’s searching for breath. Or sense. Or an excuse to hold onto the rage he clearly doesn’t feel.

“Stop agreeing with me,” he says.

And then he hits him.

Macaque’s head snaps to the side, pain blooming across his jaw. His vision swims for a heartbeat, but he doesn’t go down. He knew if those cuff weren’t on Wukong, he would have gone flying across the arena, but instead he merely had to restabilize himself.

The taste of copper fills his mouth, but he barely notices it. He straightens slowly - steadily - as if rising from the weight of something heavier than the blow.

Wukong hits him again. Then again. The strikes come faster, but each lands weaker than the last.

“Fuck! Macaque, get mad!” Wukong says, his fist coming at the ebony monkey but missing this time and he stumbles. “Get scared! Do something! Don’t just let me-”

Another blow. Wild. Frustrated.

“Fight back!” He shouts, his voice cracking under the weight of something bigger than anger. “You’re supposed to fight me - I have to kill you, so fight back!”

Macaque doesn’t lift a hand. Doesn’t say a word. 

These weren’t killing blows. Not even angry ones. They felt like grief, like guilt with a fist behind it. Like Wukong was trying to hurt something he couldn’t reach - and Macaque had stepped into the crossfire.

Wukong goes to swing again, one final time  but this punch is soft, sluggish. Desperate.

Macaque catches his wrist.

The world goes still.

The crowd stirs restlessly in the background, murmuring, shouting, confused at the pause in violence - but in Macaque’s ears, there was only silence. The kind that comes after a scream. After a collapse.

He looks down at Wukong’s hand in his own - feeling the tremble there, the pull of someone trying to fight and failing.

His temple throbs, and there’s blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. He can feel the sharp sting of bruises forming, but none of it matters. Not when Wukong is unraveling in front of him.

Wukong tries to yank his arm back, but Macaque doesn’t let go. He doesn’t hold tightly - just firmly enough to remind him: I’m here. I’m waiting.

Wukong’s shoulders shake. His breath stutters. His mouth opens like he wants to keep yelling, keep swinging - but no more words come out.

Instead, tears prick his eyes.

Not the kind that fall easily. The kind that gather, glassy and painful, at the corners of his lashes - refusing to fall, refusing to be seen.

Macaque watches him. And beneath the anger, beaneath the guilt, beneath it all, he sees it. The fear.

Not for himself. Not even for the others.

But for what he’s been forced to become.

For what this moment is asking of him.

And then- Wukong breaks.

His expression crumples. His knees weaken. And before Macaque can do anything more, Wukong shuts his eyes-

-and folds into him.

Macaque catches him with both arms, pulling him in gently, like holding something delicate. He presses a hand to Wukong’s back, mindful of the wounds, the bandages, the aching parts of him no one else sees.

Wukong leans in, his body shaking with effort of staying upright, of not collapsing entirely. His forehead finds Macaque’s shoulder.

And then, quietly - barely audible, like a confession or a prayer:

“I’m tired…“

Macaque exhales, and it trembles on the way out.

“...I know,” he whispers.

It’s all he says. But he says it like it means everything.

Because it does.

Because it’s the truth.

Because even though this is not new information, Macaque needs Wukong to know that he understands.

They stay like that a moment longer.

Pressed together in the center of the blood-stained arena, surrounded by a restless crowd that doesn’t know what to feel anymore. The chanting had quieted into uncertainty. Some spectators are angry - shouting for violence. Others go silent, almost reverent, unsure whether this is part of the act or something real breaking open.

The arena simmers in the pause.

And Demon Bull King does not like pauses.

“Enough!” He roars, voice slicing through the tension like a blade. “What is this? I said kill him!”

Macaque’s eyes flick up - cold, sharp.

He starts to pull away from Wukong, teeth gritted. His voice rises with a rare heat, just short of a snarl. “Why don’t you come down here and-”

The ground shakes.

A thunderous crack tears through the air as a distant explosion booms across the upper level of the arena. Smoke curls into the open sky, thick and black. The sound of fire - ravenous and spreading - reaches them a heartbeat later.

Gasps echo through the crowd. Screams.

Macaque tightens his grip on Wukong instinctively, pivoting toward the chaos. Firelight reflects in Wukong’s wide eyes.

“What the hell is happening?” Wukong breathes.

“Not sure,” Macaque replies, scanning the smoke - but there’s no time to think.

Another rumble. Another scream.

Macaque moves.

“Hold on,” he says. He pulls Wukong closer and sinks into the shadows. He can feel Wukong jump when the ground gave way beneath them, and the other clings to him. He moved quickly through the darkness and surfaced just behind Princess Iron Fan, who still had her fan held to MK’s throat.

Macaque struck without hesitation, kicking the weapon from her hand and grabbing the kid in one swift movement.

Iron Fan let out a furious shout, whipping around. “You-!”

Macaque shoved MK toward Wukong, who caught the kid with a grunt. “Hold onto him,” Macaque said without looking.

He got to focus on Mei only for a second, long enough to see her slam her head back into the bull soldier’s nose and then elbow him in the gut, causing him to let her go. She stumbled from his grasp and ran to Wukong and MK, both having barely anytime before she threw herself into their arms.

Macaque turned back to Iron Fan. She had already regrabbed her fan.

“You’re a fool,” she snarled, circling him like a viper. “All this for a celestial who will only lead you to your demise?”

Macaque’s lips curled. “I feel like this comes from a place of experience.”

They clashed. Her strikes were sharp, fast - relentless. But Macaque was faster. The shadows at his feet surges and danced with each move, keeping pace with her fury.

“Do you think he sees you? Perceives you as anything more than a demon?” The princess snapped, lunging.

Macaque dodged. “I think he knows me. Which is more than I can say for anyone willing to throw their entire life behind a brute like Demon Bull King.”

She hissed, slashing toward his ribs.

Meanwhile, Wukong and Bull King were locked in their own fight. Macaque could hear the scrape of weapons, the crash of impact. Wukong was still sluggish, his wounds slowing him - but not stopping him.

Macaque spared one glance toward him. Blood on his knuckles. A determined glare. He was holding his own.

Macaque trusted him to keep doing so for just a little longer.

He twisted, pivoted, slammed Iron Fan back with a shadow-assisted strike that sent her staggering. It wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it gave him the opening he needed.

“Brace yourselves!” He called over his shoulder.

Wukong met his eyes for just a second before he rolled under Bull King and grabbed the kids, one arm around Mei, the other clutching MK.

Macaque exhaled slowly and felt the shadows. Felt the cool chill they provided in this heated environment. Time seemed to slow for him, and then the world went dark.

He quickly moved them and found the first empty hallway he saw and dropped them all from the ceiling into it. The corridor was narrow, stone-lined and quiet. Dust stirred in the air from the explosion’s tremors.

For a second, no one moved.

Wukong was panting, clutching his ribs. Blood soaked through part of his robes and through his fingers. Mei was cluching his arm, looking concerned. MK was pale but alert.

Macaque looked between them. “We don’t have long. Mei, Wukong- go to the stables and get the horses. MK and I will grab the key and supplies.”

Wukong blinked at him “What?”

“They’ll be coming soon. Bull King won’t let this go. Splitting up will cover more ground.”

Mei nodded quickly. “You can count on me, I’ll keep Monkey Man safe.”

“I’m fine,”

“You’re not,” Macaque said flatly. “Don’t be a hero. Not right now.”

Their stared one another down - just for a breath - and Wukong gave a begrudging nod.

Macaque looked down at MK, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

MK swallowed. “Y-yeah. I got this.”

“I know.” He gave the kid’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

Wukong stood straighter, sparing his side a single glance. “Where are we meeting?”

“The back gate. If it’s blocked, we’ll improvise.”

Wukong nodded, but didn’t move right away. His gaze lingered on Macaque. That same conflicted, unreadable look from before the fight. Macaque didn’t know what it meant - not yet.

But now wasn’t the time to ask.

“Go,” Macaque said softly.

And they did.

Mei still held onto Wukong as he limped down a tunnel as fast as they could. Macaque turned down the other with MK at his side.

He and MK moved fast, steps echoing against the stone as they tore down the dim hallway. Smoke still lingered in the air from the explosion, and the faint sounds of shouting far behind them promised the chaos wasn’t over.

“We need to find our stuff and get out of here,” Macaque said, more to himself than MK.

They darted into room after room - mostly empty storage, some just dead ends. Each one more frustrating than the last.

MK was starting to fall behind, panting. “Where would they even put it all?”

Macaque cursed under his breath and grabbed MK’s wrist. “We don’t have time. Hold on.”

They sank into the shadows.

Darkness bent and warped around them, letting Macaque carry them unseen through the fortress’s lower levels. When they rose again, they were in a much larger room - one lined with crates and scattered weapons, armor, and gear.

“This looks like something,” Macaque said.

They split up without needing to speak. Macaque ripped open crates and poured out bags, scattering items across the stone floor. His hands were starting to shake, a wild, anxious beat hammering in his chest.

“We need to move faster,” he muttered.

“I’m trying!” MK called from across the room.

More time passed. Too much.

Then MKi’s voice rang out. “Macaque! I found them!”

MMacaque shot across the room. There, near the far wall, were their bags. Torn, jostled, but intact. Macaque grabbed the heavier one and started sorting through it with practiced speed.

“Get everything,” he ordered. “We’re moving as soon as we—”

His fingers hit cloth. Leather. Food.

But no key.

He dug deeper. Still nothing.

“Shit,” Macaque whispered. He tore open the next pouch, the one that held the Samadhi Key.

Empty.

He froze for just a breath - and then slammed the bag down. “It’s not here.”

MK turned, panicked. “What do you mean it’s not here?!”

“The key. It’s not in the bag.”

“We have to go—Wukong and Mei must already—”

“We can’t leave without it.”

“Macaque—!”

“I said we can’t!”

The weight of it dropped over them both. MK looked stricken, uncertain. But he swallowed hard and gave a short nod. “Okay. Then let’s find it.”

They turned back to the crates, tension tightening between their shoulders.

Then a voice cut through the quiet.

“Well. This is vexing.”

Macaque froze.

His eyes snapped up.

Demon Bull King stood in the doorway, framed by flickering torchlight - his face carved in fury, voice low and venomous.

“What do you think you’re doing, little thief?” he sneered at MK.

Macaque stepped forward fast, shielding MK with his body.

“MK,” Macaque said evenly, without taking his eyes off Bull King, “keep searching.”

MK hesitated.

“I’ll deal with him.”

The bull demon chuckled, stepping forward. “You’re going to fight me? That’s cute.”

Macaque’s shadows surged at his feet. He didn’t respond - just braced himself as Bull King lunged.

Their clash was immediate, brutal. Macaque moved fast, shadows flickering in and out of the darkness, but Bull King was faster - stronger. Every hit felt like it could crush bone. Macaque parried, twisted, lashed out again.

But Bull King didn’t give him a moment to breathe.

He slammed a blow into Macaque’s ribs. Macaque staggered.

Another hit, this time to his nose - hard enough to send him flying across the room. He slammed into a wall and crumpled.

“Macaque!” MK cried.

Macaque groaned and forced himself to his feet. Fresh blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and now running from his nose. His vision swam.

Demon Bull King turned to MK with a predatory smile. “You’ve got some nerve, boy. Sneaking around, stealing—”

He reached out a hand.

“Don’t touch him!”

Macaque surged through the shadows and slammed into the space between them. His arms wrapped around MK, and with a sharp snap of darkness—

They vanished.

They emerged moments later in the quiet outer corridor where Wukong and Mei waited with the horses, just far enough from the gate to not draw immediate attention.

The instant Macaque’s feet hit the ground, he nearly stumbled. MK steadied him, wide-eyed.

“You’re bleeding—”

“Worry about that later,” Macaque rasped, though his side burned. He glanced at Wukong. “We’ve got a problem.”

Wukong’s gaze sharpened immediately. “What happened?”

Macaque grimaced. “We don’t have the key.”

Wukong cursed softly.

“We’ll have to go back,” Macaque said, eyes narrowing. “But not now. Not while he’s looking for blood.”

He turned toward the others, forcing his body to move, to ignore the way it shook. Macaque mounted his horse, and MK slid on behind Mei. With a sharp flick of the rein, and a press of their heels, the stallions took off. The back gate was wide open, much to their luck.

They rode quickly out of there, none of them sparing a glance back. The creatures thundered beneath them, the wind sharp and biting against Macaque’s face. 

The back gate was long behind them, but he didn’t feel safe - not with the palace still looming on the horizon. Macaque’s mind seemed to be moving faster than the dragon horses. 

The key was gone.

He had risked everything for the first one. Stolen and lied. Let people get close when he shouldn’t have. Every moment since accepting the Lady Bone Demon’s deal had been a step toward not dying - and now it felt like he’d just lost ground he could never get back.

But the weight pressing on his chest wasn’t just that.

He looked over his shoulder. Wukong was slouched in the saddle behind him, gripping the reins too tightly with one hand, the other pressed against his side. Blood had seeped through the fabric and was trailing in thin streaks down his robes, shimmering and wet and getting worse with each jostle from the horse.

He was trying to keep it together - Macaque could see that. Keeping his eyes open and forward, shooting a smile when Mei or MK looked at him. But his skin was pale. The smile didn’t reach high enough. His eyes were dull.

Macaque’s throat tightened. 

When they finally slowed, the palace still visible in the distance, Macaque swung off his horse without hesitation. His body moved before his thoughts caught up.

“Wukong,” he called gently.

Wukong dismounted with a wince, gritting his teeth. “Look, Macaque, I told I am fine-”

Mei folded her arms as MK hopped off their stallion. “Not the time.”

“You’re bleeding,” MK said, his voice quieter, more serious than usual. “A lot.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Wukong replied, and even as he said it, his knees gave a little.

Macaque stepped forward. “Stop doing that,” his voice hardened, maybe letting too much anger slip out.

Wukong’s smile faltered. “It’s really not that bad-”

Macaque was already moving. “Come with me.”

This time, Wukong didn’t resis. Macaque led him a few feet away, to a low boulder on the edge of the road, hidden just enough from the others. He knew Wukong wouldn’t want the kids to see the bulk of the injury. When Wukong sat, Macaque knelt in front of him, hands already moving to part his robes.

Wukong tensed and flinched before Macaque touched him. “Careful,” he said, voice tight. “It’s… not great.”

Macaque stilled, eyes scanning the blood-slicked fabric. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”

He brushed the edges of the robe aside, careful fingers working around the ripped bandages. The wound was angry and deep, still seeping. Too much blood. Too little protest from Wukong.

“You’re the dumbest celestial in existance,” Macaque said quietly. “Perfectly fine my ass.”

Wukong let out a soft, pained chuckle. “I’ve heard worse.”

Macaque looked up at him, and for a moment, didn’t say anything. He searched those eyes that seemed to be struggling to stay open, the blood crusted against his temple and dried to that dumb crown Wukong never took off.

He looked away and began digging quickly through his satchel. His hands moved with purpose, but everything inside him still buzzed with a sharp, fraying edge of panic.

“I don’t have much to work with,” he muttered, pulling out an old canister and unscrewing the cap. He sniffed it. Still water. Stale, but not foul. “Sorry.”

Wukong shrugged faintly. “I’ll be fine.”

Macaque didn’t respond. He grabbed a strip of cloth - something that used to be a shirt maybe - and soaked it, then gently pressed it to Wukong’s side. The celestial hissed through his teeth.

“Hold still.”

“Bossy,” Wukong muttered.

Macaque didn’t dignify that with a reply. He cleaned as carefully as he could, trying not to reopen the worst parts. Blood clung stubbornly to the skin and matted his fur, molten yellow and drying fast.

“This feels familiar,” Wukong said after a while, his voice a little lighter. “Like that night with the demon in the woods. Remember? You patched me up then too.”

Macaque kept working, his jaw tight.

Things were familiar. But not the same.

He didn’t answer right away, only wrung the cloth and dabbed again. “It’s different now.”

The silence that followed was thick. Wukong didn’t try to make another joke.

Macaque almost winced. It hadn’t come out the way he meant. He wasn’t trying to make Wukong feel bad.. just acknowledging what they both already knew. Things had changed. They both felt it.

The air between them shifted, warmer somehow, and tense in a way that had nothing to do with wounds.

Macaque reached for the bandages next. He didn’t have a lot. He’d have to make them stretch.

As he started wrapping Wukong’s side, careful not to pull too tight, Wukong spoke up again. “Will there be enough left for you?”

Macaque glanced up. “For me?”

“You’re bleeding too.”

Macaque had nearly forgotten, all the adrenaline making his pain pretty forgettable. “I don’t need bandages,” he said softly. “Just food. And maybe a decent night’s sleep.”

Wukong gave a breath of something between a laugh and a sigh. He went quiet again, letting Macaque finish wrapping him in silence.

When it was done, Macaque sat back on his heels and exhaled.

“We’ll have to figure out how to get those cuffs off,” he said. “You won’t heal properly like this. And I don’t trust my medical skills not to kill you.”

Wukong smirked faintly. “I trust you.”

Macaque’s head shot up and glared lightly at the celestial. Wukong just chuckled and looked away. Macaque stood slowly, brushing his hands off. “I should check on the kids. Just take it easy.”

He turned to go, but Wukong’s hand shot out and caught his wrist.

Macaque stilled.

It was in this moment where it finally dawned on him that there wasn’t a wall between them anymore. There wasn’t a wall, and he had put all his feeling out in the open less than twenty-four hours ago.

Wukong’s touch seemed to burn his skin now. It felt real and too much. But not in a way that he wanted to pull away from. A way that he wanted to lean into. To drown in. Burn in.

He swallowed thickly as he met the other’s eyes. He could feel heat rise to his cheeks, and maybe it was his imagination, but Wukong’s cheeks looked dusted pink. Wukong quickly retracted his hand, like maybe he had been burned too.

“Thank you,” Wukong said, voice quieter than before. “And… I’m sorry.”

Macaque’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

But before the golden monkey could answer, MK’s voice broke the stillness.

“Ah-! What the fu-”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mei yelled, urgency sharp in her tone.

Macaque and Wukong rushed toward the shouting, feet crunching over dry earth and dead plants. The moment they rounded the rock, Macaque froze.

Mei and MK stood in front of them, side by side, arms raised in the worst fighting stances Macaque had ever seen. Mei had one hand curled into a fist and the other flailing uncertaintly near her face. MK was crouching like a starled cat, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly.

Opposite them, looking completely unimpressed, was Redson.

Macaque instinctively stepped forward, planting himself between the kids and the newcomer, one hand already ready to call upon the shadows surrounding them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Redson lifted a brow. “Being accosted by idiots.”

MK scoffed. “You’re the one appearing behind us like a creep.”

“Are you a child?” Red deadpanned. “You squeaked when I announced my presence.”

“I did not sqeak,” MK snapped.

“You did,” Mei chimed in, glancing sideways at him. “A little mouse squeak.”

“Traitor,” MK whispered.

“Imbeciles,” Redson muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I didn’t change my mind on the way here.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes, tense. “Change your mind about what?”

Redson just puffed and mumbled something. Before Macaque could snap at him to speak up, Wukong stepped up beside him. His steps were slow, careful. Macaque could feel the strain rolling off of the golden monkey like heat.

“Redson,” Wukong said, voice calmer that Macaque expected, “what are you doing here?”

Redson glanced at him, then away, jaw shifting slightly. “You look pathetic.”

“Thanks,” Wukong said dryly.

There was a pause, and then, without warning, Redson stepped forward, reached for Wukong’s wrists - and unlocked the shackles. 

A soft click echoed through the space. The metal bands loosened and fell, clattering in the dirt.

Macaque’s breath caught.

Wukong blinked, holding his arms up slowly. He flexed his fingers, then rolled his wrists. The familiar golden warmth of the celestial energy stirred faintly beneath his skin, like an ember returning to life.

He stared at the demon. “…Why?”

Redson didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.” There was a long, tight silence after Wukong’s question. Redson didn’t answer right away, just looked off toward the distant silhouette of the palace, jaw clenched like he was chewing down something bitter.

Then Mei cut in, tilting her head and said, “Wait - is this some kind of evil ploy? You’re trying to lull us into a false sense of security, aren’t you?”

Redson turned to her like she’d slapped him. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he turned his nose up. “If i wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have waited until the simian had his powers back. I would’ve just done it when he was bleeding and weak.”

“Great,” Macaque muttered under his breath. “Very comforting.”

Redson’s gaze drifted toward the ground, a deep annoyance flickering in his eyes as he muttered. “You do something nice, blow your house up, and this is the thanks you get?”

Macaque furrowed his brows and digested those words before his mouth opened in shock. “That explosion,” he said, straightening. “That was you.”

Redson flinched.

It was slight - barely there - but Macaque caught it. And then the boy’s face went red, expression twisting into something furious and defensive, which all but confirmed it.

“Ha!” Mei grinned, pointing. “We got through to you!”

“In the cells!” MK added proudly. “All that talking paid off. You bonded with us!”

“I did not,” Redson snapped. “You kept addressing me casually and trying to sympathize with me. Disgusting.”

“Alright, thats enough,” Wukong said firmly, holding his hands up.

MK and Mei shut their mouths and Redson flinched. “Why?” Wukong asked again, his stare hard as he held the demon boy’s gaze.

Redson didn’t answer immeditately. He shifted his weight, then exhaled through his nose and slung a small satchel from his shoulder. Macaque’s eyes tracked every movement, muscles still tense, waiting.

Redson opened the bag, reached inside - and pulled out two golden circles.

Macaque felt his heart stop for a beat.

The keys.

The one Chang’e had given them and a matching one that belonged to the Demon Bull King. 

Redson stared of the golden objects for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he stepped forward and held them out to Wukong.

The celestial didn’t speak. He reached out and took them gently, as if they might vanish. 

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” Redson grumbled, finally. “It just… feels right.”

Macaque stared at him. The boy looked small all of a sudden - still pissed off, still acting like he had the whole world figured out, but small.

“If my parents find out, I’m dead. They’re already looking for you,” he added, glancing at Wukong. “You all need to get out of our territory. Now.”

“You should come with us,” MK said immediately, stepping forward.

Redson shook his head. “I can’t. If I disappear, they’ll know I had something to do with it. This way, maybe I can delay them. Maybe not.”

Macaque was still watching him closely, unease curling low in his stomach. “I still don’t get it. Why are you helping us?”

Redson looked at him, flat and disinterested. “You don’t need to understand. You just need to accept it.”

Wukong turned to Macaque and held them out. “We got them. We actually have two now.” He smiled brightly.

Macaque took them and looked at them for a moment before placing them safely in his bag, relief filling his veins. He looked to the demon, still faking annoyance to hide his shyness. “Thank you.”

Redson’s face flushed to the point it reached the tips of his ears. He scoffed. “Whatever. I didn’t do it for any of you. I did it so I could sleep at night. Whatever you buffoons are doing, I trust it won’t result in the end of the world.”

The others laughed - Wukong, Mei, MK. Even Redson gave a begrudging smirk before turning away.

But Macaque didn’t laugh.

His gaze dropped to the bag slung over his shoulder, the shape of the two keys pressing faintly against the fabric. The weight of them felt heavier than it should’ve. He could still hear the echo of Redson’s voice in his head - so I can sleep at night - and it made his stomach turn.

Because Macaque wouldn’t sleep tonight.

He couldn’t.

He’d fought so hard, tricked and lied and clawed his way toward a future he might survive, but now… now he was holding something too dangerous to even look at for too long. Two pieces of something meant to burn the world down, and he was still planning to hand them over to the one person who wanted to watch it all burn.

His chest tightened. The laughter died off somewhere behind him.

What would they say if they knew?

What would Wukong say?

Macaque glanced at him - head tilted back, letting the wind catch his hair, his shoulders finally at ease. Even bruised and broken, he looked… safe. Trusting.

Macaque closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.

They were all moving forward now. But Macaque’s feet felt planted in two directions: one on the road with the others, and one stuck in the place he’d first made that deal. The night he signed his name away for a chance to keep breathing.

He swallowed thickly.

Tomorrow, he’d figure something out. He had to.

But tonight, he would carry the weight of this choice alone.

And walk on, pretending he could still be the person Wukong thought he was.

Chapter Text

It had been a day since they left Bull King’s lands behind. But Macaque couldn’t shake the feeling they were still being watched.

They’d made camp just past the border, nestled under a dense canopy of pine and silence. Redson hadn’t followed. He’d said his goodbye without much fanfare, a quick word to the kids, a muttered farewell to Wukong. But Macaque had noticed the look exchanged between them - quiet, unreadable, like a conversation Macaque wasn’t meant to hear. He’d ignored it.

Now, with dusk stretching long shadows over the forest floor, Macaque sat beside a light fire, eyes fixed on the slow, steady rise and fall of Wukong’s chest. The celestial lay stretched out a few feet away, propped awkwardly against his bedroll. He’d barely spoken since they stopped, insisting he was fine, just needed sleep, just needed to rest - but every shift of his body made Macaque wince in sympathy.

He hated watching Wukong like this.

The shackles were gone, the wound cleaned and dressed, but Wukong moved like every breath was too heavy. And Macaque watched him like if he blinked, something worse might happen. His mind kept supplying scenarios - fever, infection, Wukong collapsing while they slept.

He closed his eyes, exhaled. Tried to breathe through it.

They had two keys now. Two out of three. That should have meant relief. Progress. A step closer to the end. But all Macaque felt was the unbearable weight on his shoulders - and the unbearable truth he hadn’t yet spoken.

That he was walking it closer to the hands of a monster.

He’d wanted to tell Wukong. He still wanted to. But every time he looked at him - really looked at him - he saw that promise etched into the space between them. The one Wukong had asked of him, voice quiet, gaze unwavering: Promise you won’t lie to me?

So instead, Macaque said nothing. Told himself it wasn’t the right time. Not while Wukong was injured. Not while they were still so close to danger. Not while the kids were still awake. Not while the stars looked down too brightly, like they might overhear.

Across the camp, MK and Mei sat cross-legged in the dirt, their heads bent together as they looked at the two keys resting between them. The firelight danced in their wide eyes - excited, proud, oblivious.

Macaque envied them, just for a second.

Then Mei looked up. “So… where exactly are we supposed to find the third one?”

They all turned to Wukong.

He cracked one eye open like he hoped that’d be enough to satisfy them. It wasn’t. With a sigh, he opened the other, groaning softly as he tried to sit up. Macaque moved before he could think about it, already leaning in to help - but Wukong raised a hand, a wordless signal. Not harsh, not cold. Just… firm.

It stopped Macaque in his tracks.

He sat back slowly, eyes narrowing as he tried to read the hesitation in Wukong’s face.  Didn’t they just talk about this? 

“I…“ Wukong started, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

MK tilited his head. “You don’t?”

“I had a plan. Kind of.” Wukong’s voice was scratchy from sleep and pain, but steady. “I figured Tripitaka might know something about the first key, and he did. I hoped it’d point us to Chang’e, and it did. And she knew about the second. But that was it. That was all I had.”

The fire popped, sending a trail of sparks into the dark. For a moment, the silence felt like it might stretch on forever.

“So,” MK said, carefully, “we’re out of leads?”

No one answered.

Mei clicked her tongue, throwing herself back. “Well… we could always go back and ask Demon Bull King.”

All three of them turned to her with a glare. Macaque’s burned hotter than the flames.

“Too soon, got it.” She raised her hands in surrender.

MK wrinkled his nose. “Still can’t believe you said he wasn’t a bad guy,” he told Wukong.

“I don’t think he is,” Wukong said, not looking up. “We’ve got… complicated history, sure. But he’s not evil.”

Mei raised a brow. “You sure about that? He did kindly request you to kill Macaque.”

Macaque’s mouth twisted, but he didn’t argue. He looked to Wukong to see the subtle shift in his jaw, the way his shoulders drew tight.

“He did,” Wukong admitted.

MK let out a light laugh. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t expect you to actually swing at Macaque.”

Macaque found a touch of humor in his chest, his mind agreeing with MK. He really hadn’t known what to expect. Maybe Wukong fighting him wasn’t the biggest surprise, but part of him really hadn’t seen it coming. He was about to join in, a quip already on his tongue, but when he looked to Wukong, the words died on his tongue. 

Tension was buried in every line of his being. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. I just… panicked. Everything in me snapped. I wasn’t thinking- I was just angry. Not at-” He looked up timidly to Macaque. “Not at you, obviously… just…”

His voice faltered, and he bowed his head, fingers curling tightly in the fabric of his pants. Macaque wanted to sit next to him and wrap him up in his arms. He wasn’t sure where the instincts were coming from, but the idea of shielding Wukong from everything was constantly pestering him.

“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he continued to the kids. “And you-” he glanced back to Macaque. “You shouldn’t have been hurt by my hands.”

Macaque didn’t say anything right away. The words had caught somewhere in his chest - caught between the ache in Wukong’s voice and the heaviness in his own stomach.

He thought of the look on Wukong’s face back in that moment - the wildness, the fear.

Regret soaked every word Wukong spoke.

“It’s okay,” Macaque said quietly. He hated how soft he sounded, how unsure. But the words came out anyway. 

The others echoed the sentiment. Mei offered a flippant “You were literally being blackmailed,” while MK added, “We know you didn’t mean it.”

But Wukong didn’t lift his head.

“I’m supposed to be better than that,” he said, voice suddenly sharp. “I’m not some new powerhouse that panics under pressure. I should’ve known how to stop it. How to control the situation.”

He sounded angry, at himself more than anyone else. Macaque caught the slight tremor in his hands as they curled into fists.

They could’ve argued. Could’ve tried to talk him down. But Macaque could already feel the wall going up around him again, brick by brick. Wukong wasn’t ready to hear forgiveness. Not really.

Macaque looked to the kids and shook his head, signaling them to let it go for now.

The fire crackled. Wind whispered against the trees, and the kids fidgeted in the dirt. For a moment, no one spoke.

Then MK cleared his throat. “Hey, uh… Monkey King?”

Wukong looked up, weary but listening.

“Can you teach me how to fight?”

Macaque raised an eyebrow.

Wukong blinked. “What?”

MK looked a little sheepish. “I just thought.. if I knew how to fight, then maybe you wouldn’t have to worry so much. You already showed me some stuff. The breathing exercises, how to center my spirit. I’ve been practicing. But I want to be able to do more. To help.”

Wukong stared at him. “MK, your dad would actually find a way to kill me.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” MK said quickly. “It can just be between us.”

Wukong didn’t respond right away. He still looked tired. More than tired honestly. But Macaque could see the way his expression softened.

Macaque stepped in, deciding to help the kid out. “It’s not a bad idea.”

Wukong turned toward him, a skeptical look. “You think so?”

Macaque nodded once. “Yeah. When you’re not being held together by bandages and sheer stubbornness.”

Wukong snorted, then sighed. “Alright. Fine. But if Pigsy finds out, I’m blaming Macaque.”

“Hey wait- what the fu-”

Mei and MK broke into laughter, followed by Wukong. Macaque sent him a tiny glare, but it was hard to be mad when the other was laughing. “You endorsed it. That makes you an accomplice.” Wukong joked.

Macaque rolled his eyes, but the sharp edge that normally went behind it wasn’t there. The firelight danced across their faces, warming the shadows. For the first time in the last few days, things almost felt normal.

-

The land had shifted beneath them.

Gone was the brittle, scorched terrian of Bull King’s domain - burned bone and ash traded now for slow-growing green. Grass pushed shyly through the soil, trees wore brighter shades of life, and even the wind felt softer. There was peace in the air, but not in Macaque.

He stayed close behind Wukong, eyes tracking every movement. Every stumble, every stiff breath.

Wukong noticed, of course. He always noticed.

“You know I can feel your eyes on me, right?” He called over his shoulder, voice light, teasing.

Macaque scowled. “Just making sure you’re not dying.” 

Wukong half-turned, his body twisted in a way that definitely wasn’t good for his wound, and shot him a lopsided grin. “That’s sweet. But unnecessary. I’m healing faster than you think.”

Macaque grumbled something under his breath and looked away, but he didn’t stop watching.

The truth was, things between them were easing. The tension had thinned, the silences weren’t so jagged, and Wukong had started making jokes again - ones that weren’t entirely defensive. But Macaque still noticed the way Wukong never let him get too close. The subtle flinches. The space he always kept between them, like a line drawn in the dirt.

Macaque had a guess why. And it was slowly boiling his blood.

Up ahead, Mei and MK rode a bit further, deep in their own banter. Macaque didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. He was too focused on Wukong, who would glance at his side a few too many times.

Wukong hadn’t been lying, his side was healing much faster. But it clearly had gotten infected while the cuffs were on, so it was slowing the healing process for him now that he wasn’t restrained by them. The sage had theorized that it would be a few days til he could move around more freely. It was reassuring to hear, yes, but Macaque was still worried. One wrong move, and he’d need even longer to heal.

They reached a steep hill, leading into a valley. It was lined with uneven earth and slick patches of dew from the morning. The horses hesitated. Wukong followed without compplaint - until the slope dipped sharply, jolting the creatures and their riders. Macaque saw the way Wukong’s body jerked and tensed. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his breath hitched loud enough to cut through the air.

Macaque was beside him in an instant.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re stopping.”

Wukong didn’t even turn. “We can’t stop every time I wince, Macaque.”

“We’re not stopping because you winced. We’re stopping because you’re bleeding again.”

“I’m not-”

“I can smell it.” Macaque snapped. “Do you want the whole forest to know too?”

Wukong sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Celestial healing’s already doing the hard part.”

“Then let it do it without making it worse every few minutes.” Macaque turned his head. “MK, Mei- check the area, would you?”

MK immediately perked up. “On it!”

Mei mock saluted. “You got it, boss monkey!”

Wukong groaned. “They shouldn’t be scouting. It could be dangerous.”

“They’re adults,” Macaque said. “And they’ve been traveling with us for like a month. They’re more capable than you give them credit for.”

“Still-”

“Are you planning on carrying them in your arms next?”

That shut him up.

Macaque stepped closer, reaching for the makeshift shirt Wukong had tied around himself - a coat MK had sacrified that Pigsy packed for him, since his other clothes had been bloodied and torn. But Wukong batted his hand away.

“I’ve got this.” He said dismissively.

Macaque froze. His hand hovered in the air for a beat longer than necessary, then dropped to his side.

“Fine,” he said quietly. He turned away before the heat in his chest burned through his expression.

MK and Mei returned about half an hour later, twigs stuck in their hair and dirt on their boots, talking too loudly about something unimportant. Macaque barely registered their voices.

Wukong was sitting again, reclothed in that ruined coat, the bandages on his side dark and brittle. They looked worse than before, dried blood staining the seams. Macaque’s gut twisted.

“We need to find a town,” he said, voice sharper than intended. “Somewhere with proper supplies. You keep wrapping yourself in that filth and we’ll be cutting off your side instead of healing it.”

For once, no retort. Wukong just nodded, eyes low. “Yeah. Agreed.”

Then he stood, slow and deliberate, as if pretending he wasn’t in pain would make it true. “I’m going for a walk.”

Macaque stared at him. “You shouldn’t-”

But Wukong was already walking. Macaque sat still for a second before standing and beginning to follow.

“Gonna go get his man,” Mei stage-whispered to MK as Macaque passed. MK snickered.

Macaque didn’t answer. Just rolled his eyes and continued after Wukong.

He found the celestial by the horses, brushing a hand along the mane of his steed. The horse leaned into it. When Wukong spotted him, he didn’t say anything - just turned and started walking down the narrow path that followed the curve of the creek. Macaque followed, a few steps behind, watching how Wukong limped slightly.

He frowned.

“Take it easy,” Macaque said, catching up. “You’re going to tear it open again.”

Wukong didn’t even look at him. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Macaque reached for him.

Wukong jerked his arm away.

That was it.

Macaque grabbed him - firm, grounding, hand around his wrist. “Stop. Just stop.”

Wukong turned to him, eyes flashing. “Let go.”

“No.”

His hand was warm. Still strong, even if a little shaky. Macaque held it tighter.

Wukong sighed exasperated. “Macaque-”

“You’re not hurting me.”

The words hung between them. Macaque tightened his grip, knowing that if the other really wanted to, he could pull himself from Macaque’s grasp. He momentarily wondered if the other realized that.

“You’re not hurting me,” he repeated, more serious. “And I already forgave you. So stop-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wukong snapped, sharp and too fast.

Macaque stepped in, not letting him run. “Yes, you do.”

Wukong tried to smirk, tried to turn it into a joke. “You’re being really pushy.”

Macaque didn’t laugh. “Would you knock it off? You said you wouldn’t push me away. For someone who hates liars-”

“I’m not lying-”

“You are.” Macaque snapped back. “You’re doing it again. Just like before. The second things get real, when it gets scary- you start building walls. Shoving people out.”

Wukong’s face hardened. “Yeah? Well maybe you need to stop living in some fantasy,” he said coldly. “This isn’t a story where everything works out, where everyone gets what they want.”

“I never said I wanted perfect.”

“You don’t get it!” Wukong shouted suddenly, voice cracking. “You can’t love a weapon, Macaque! So stop pretending like you do!” He finally yanking away from him.

Macaque went still.

The words echoed.

“You can’t love a weapon,” Wukong repeated, softer now, like it hurt to say.

Macaque’s breath hitched. He stared at Wukong for a second, and then the dam in him broke. All the anger he had been trying to keep back for the sake of sparing the celestial’s feelings- to hell with it.

“You are unbelievable! Stop deciding for me! Stop discrediting my feelings!”

“Macaque-!”

“No. Never once have I looked at you and only seen a weapon! So stop throwing that shit around like it supposed to scare me! It doesn’t!”

Wukong took a step back, like the words physically had the force to push him back. He looked surprised as Macaque stood there still simmering in his rage. He really was sick of Wukong trying to come up with every excuse in the book. 

That surprised look didn’t last long on Wukong. It sharpened into a glare, a storm barely held in check. “Then what am I?”

Macaque blinked. “What?”

“If I’m not a weapon - what am I, Macaque? What do you see when you look at me?”

That put a pin in Macaque’s rage. Maybe because of the raw look on Wukong’s face, or maybe because he didn’t know how to answer.

Because what did he see?

It was no lie that a few months ago, he would have said he saw an arrogant, self-absorbed celestial with too much power and not enough humility. But now?

He hesitated. He didn’t know how to say it. How to fit all the versions of Wukong he’d seen into a single sentance. A single word.

Because Wukong was so many things.

He was loud. Frustrating. Reckless. Arrogant as hell. He charged into danger like he thought he was invincible, and sometimes Macaque hated how right he was about it.

But he was also-

Someone who always checked the perimeter at night when everyone else was asleep. Someone who patched up a broken doll for a little girl though he pretended not to care. Someone who smiled like the world hadn’t broken him, even though Macaque was starting to see it had.

He was someone who cared. Desperately. So much it hurt to watch.

Wukong scoffed, sharp and bitter. “That’s what I thought.”

He turned, shoulders tensing like he was about to walk off, when Macaque spoke - quiet, halting. If he couldn't find a few words to explain, he might as well use them all. 

“You’re-” Macaque stopped himself, frowning. “You’re not easy to explain.”

Wukong stilled.

Macaque’s hands were slightly raised, like he might grab the other so he wouldn’t leave. “You’re loud. And annoying. You brag too much. You rush into things and act like you’re invincible even when you’re literally bleeding out.”

He took a slow breath. “But you’re also the only person I’ve ever seen fight like the world’s worth saving, even when it’s already trying to crush you. You… care. And you try to hide it, but you do. And I think that’s why I can’t stop-” He cut himself off again. Swallowed.

He looked up, finally meeting Wukong’s eyes. “You’re a pain in the ass. And you’re kind. And you’re stupid brave. And you’ve made me feel safer than anyone ever has.” A beat. “That’s what I see.”

Silence stretched between them like held breath.

Wukong’s expression didn’t shift right away. But the anger - no, the fear - had cracked. He looked at Macaque like he didn’t quite believe him. Like maybe he wanted to, but didn’t know how.

“We’re not good at this.” Macaque said after a second. “An immortal celestial and a mortal demon. What a joke.”

He sighed and lightly kicked the ground. The silence stretched for a while, neither saying anything. Macaque wasn’t sure what to do with himself in this situation. Should he let Wukong have some space? That had clearly been what he was seeking when he went for his walk. 

Then a hand was on his cheek.

His breath caught. The hand slowly raised Macaque’s head to meet the other’s eyes. Wukong stood just in front of him, gaze intense but unreadable, his fingers warm against Macaque’s face. His expression was mixed with so many different emotions, it was hard to focus on just one. Apathy. Confusion. Sorrow.

Before Macaque could speak, Wukong’s thumb brushed up toward the faint bruise blooming at his temple - the one he’d given the darker monkey. There was the lightest pressure, just enough to make Macaque flinch on instinct.

Wukong recoiled like he’d burned the other.

Their eyes stayed locked. Neither moved.

Then, slowly, Macaque reached for Wukong’s hand. His fingers closed around it, steady. He guided it back, until Wukong’s palm rested against the bruise again.

Wukong didn’t pull away this time. Instead, his hand slid back into Macaque’s hair, fingertips drifting through the tangled strands. Then lower, brushing down to Macaque’s mouth - his thumb ghosting across the split in his lip, the skin still cracked and healing.

There was something in Wukong’s eyes now - regret, yes, but something heavier. Like guilt threaded with longing. Like he couldn’t decide if he was allowed to be this close.

Macaque didn’t move. His heart pounded so loudly it might’ve drowned out the river beside them.

Then Wukong whispered, voice low, “You think I don’t want this… that I’m pushing you away because I’m afraid of being a joke? That’s not it…”

He didn’t look up, eyes locked onto the cut skin. He kept tracing that busted lip gently, like he could erase the damage. Macaque felt like he was on fire.

“I push you away because when I look at you, I don’t see someone who could ever belong in the same story as me. You’re clever, and reckless, and complicated in all the way I’m not. And you keep making me want things I’m not supposed to want.”

Macaque’s chest tightened.

“You’re not just someone I trust,” Wukong said. “You’re someone I… I envy. Someone I admire. I see the way you care, even when you don’t want to. And I think - if I let myself love you, I’ll ruin it. I’ll ruin you.”

Macaque had no words. None. Just heat crawling up his neck, the air in his lungs suddenly feeling thin.

He noticed how close they were then. Just inches apart. If he leaned in-

Wukong’s eyes flicked up and met his. Waiting. Curious.

Macaque stared back, giving Wukong more than enough time to pull away. But he didn’t.

Macaque moved.

He leaned in, slowly, not even sure what he was going to do when he got there, just followed the pull of it - of Wukong, of everything unsaid-

A snap of branches in the woods behind them shattered the moment.

Wukong sprang back instantly, like he’d been shocked, hand falling away.

Macaque let out a frustrated breath, sharp through his nose. He turned, already half-glowering toward the source of the noise.

MK’s voice called faintly from the trees: “Macaque? Monkey King? Uh, is everything okay?”

Macaque didn’t answer right away. He looked back at Wukong, whose expression had already folded into something careful, guarded again.

The tension still hung between them, thick and unfinished.

“…We’re fine,” Macaque called back.

But his voice was low, unreadable, and his fingers still tingled with the warmth of Wukong’s touch.

MK’s voice piped up from behind the trees, forced and nervous. “Haha, uh, just checking on you two. You’ve been gone for a bit!”

Wukong turned toward the sound, slipping easily into one of his charming smiles. “We’re fine,” he called back, cool and light. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

MK nodded, visible only as a flicker of motion before he disappeared back toward camp.

Silence dropped again between them, heavier this time.

Macaque stayed frozen in place, the lingering weight of what could’ve been sitting like a stone in his chest. His arms felt like they didn’t quite belong to him. That familiar irritation pricked up again - not really at MK, but at the universe itself. That was twice now. Twice he’d been one breath, one inch away from kissing Wukong and the moment had slipped right through his fingers like sand.

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t mad, exactly. Just… unsatisfied. And haunted, still, by the feel of Wukong’s fingers against his lip.

“You’re really going to give yourself wrinkles thinking that hard,” Wukong said lightly, breaking into his thoughts.

Macaque blinked and looked over. Wukong’s posture was casual, but his expression… not quite. A little too guarded. A little too distant.

“We should head back,” The celestial said, tone careful.

Macaque gave him a look. “I’m still going to wait.”

Wukong hesitated.

“But,” Macaque went on, “you’ve got to stop making excuses.”

With that, he turned and started walking back to camp, giving Wukong no room to answer. He didn’t look back.

When he reached the camp, MK and Mei were by the fire. MK perked up when he saw Macaque.

“You guys were gone a while,” MK said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Mei grinned, elbowing MK. “Were you two making out or-”

Macaque cut her off with a sharp look. “No. Because someone,” he shot a pointed glance at MK, “was lurking in the trees like a raccoon in a trash bin.”

MK flinched. “I wasn’t lurking! I was - worried! You were gone! What if you fell into the river or something?”

Macaque sent him a deadpanned look.

MK sheepishly looked away.

Mei snorted. “You were totally about to fuck when MK ruined it.”

“No. And thank you for the image.” Macaque rubbed his temple.

“You’re welcome.”

Before Macaque could retreat further into his exhausted frustration, Wukong strolled in behind them, looking far more composed.

“There’s a town a few miles north,” he said.

Mei blinked. “How do you know that?”

Wukong just grinned, smug and glinting. He pointed to his eyes. “Magic.”

MK and Mei immediately started talking over each other, trying to ask how that worked, whether he could see through walls, or read minds. Wukong looked smugly amused.

Before the interrogation could begin in earnest, Macaque cut in. “We’ll head that way tomorrow.”

That settled the matter. Sort of.

The fire crackled, and the camp settled in for the night.

But Macaque’s thoughts didn’t settle with it.

The fire crackled softly in the pit, its warmth ebbing with each passing hour. Macaque sat close, elbows on knees, chin resting in his hands, staring into the flames but not really seeing them. Behind him, MK and Mei had finally stopped whispering and fallen asleep, curled into their blankets like children. He could hear their breathing - soft, even.

Macaque glanced toward where Wukong had disappeared, past the flickering light of the camp. He had come back to tell them of the town, but then said he was going to stand guard and vanished further into the woods.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sat back, stretching out slowly, as if trying to release the ache in his chest along with the tension in his limbs. The creek nearby whispered against stone. Somewhere above them, an owl called once and then fell silent.

There was so much left unsaid between them, and yet… maybe not. Maybe it was all there, just tangled between glances and half-formed touches. Wukong had looked at him like he wanted to stay. Like he might stay. And Macaque had almost kissed him.

Almost. Again.

His lips still tingled faintly from Wukong’s touch - gentle, apologetic, hesitant. He pressed his fingers there, just for a second, as if trying to preserve it.

He sighed, rolled over, and stared up at the sky.

Soon, he thought. Not quite a promise. Not quite a hope. Just… a word.

And then, finally, he let his eyes drift closed.

Chapter Text

The town was still a few hours off, so the group had decided to take a break in a meadow. The horses, as powerful as they were, were running low on steam from all the traveling. Mei said they should find a stable where the stallions could get some decent food to give them a, quote on quote, punch.

Macaque sat with Mei, his elbows rested on his knees as he sat on a rock. The horses lazily pawed at the dirt behind them. A few paces away, MK and Wukong circled each other in the clearing. Or rather, MK circled, awkwardly mimicking a stance while Wukong barked corrections from where he sat on a fallen log. He called out instructions like an exasperated drill sergant, one arm draped across his knee.

“No - wider stance. Elbows in. You’re about to snap your wrists like that.”

MK’s brows were furrowed in absolute concentration. Determination raditated off him like heat. Every time Wukong corrected him, he adjusted immediately and nodded, almost too fast, like he was desperate to prove he could keep up.

“Better,” Wukong said, voice warm.

MK beamed.

Macaque had tried to tell MK no when the kid asked Wukong if they could take this break to practice. Honestly, Macaque was pretty sure Wukong was going to tell the kid no himself. But the second the darker monkey showed his disaproval, the celestial was all over the idea, and dragging the kid into a clearing. He promised he wasn’t going to hurt himself, but that didn’t stop Macaque from watching like a hawk.

Looking now though… he couldn’t stop staring. And not in a protective sense. The way Wukong watched MK - serious, focused, but soft around the edges. The way he coached gently despite trying to sound more intimidating. And the way MK looked at him - stars in his eyes when his idol praised him.

It tugged at something in Macaque’s chest. Something warm, and a little painful.

“You know,” Mei said beside him, all mischief and teeth, “if you stare harder, you’ll probably give monkey man the wrong idea.”

Macaque didn’t take his eyes off the clearing. “And what idea would that be?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

He shot her a glare, to which she laughed.

“Why aren’t you over there training too?” He asked, hoping to change the topic.

Mei grabbed a stick and inspected it like it might turn into a sword, then jabbed it a couple time. “I thought about it, I want to get good at fighting too.” She looked back over at the boy and celestial, taking in the sight for a second. “But Monkey King is MK’s idol. His hero from the stories we grew up with as kids. I know those two already love each other a lot, but I thought I’d give them some space.”

Macaque blinked, his glare turned to a genuine look. “That’s surprisingly mature.”

“Thanks. I’ve been trying it on lately.” She smirked. “Don’t worry, it won’t stick.”

A silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable. MK stumbled on a foot placement and overcorrected, nearly spinning himself off balance. Wukong laughed - a short, light sound that cracked out of him like it escaped before he could stop it.

Mei glanced sideways, then back to inspecting her stick. “So… what’s going on between you and golden boy?”

Macaque stiffened. “What?”

She tilited her head at him. “Don’t play dumb. Didn’t we already have this conversation a couple weeks ago?”

“I’m not-” he started, but she just gave him a flat, expectant look that made his words shrivel in his throat.

He sighed, gaze flicking back to where Wukong was motioning for MK to try again. “I'm not sure.”

“Seriously?” Mei perked up a little, tossing the stick aside. “Why haven’t you just told him how you feel?”

“I have,” Macaque said.

That caught her off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Twice now,” he muttered. “The first time, we were still in the dungeons. The second… I told him again last night.”

Mei looked shocked and puffed out some air like she needed a minute to digest that. “Shit man. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Thanks.” He grumbled.

“Well?” She asked. “What did he say?”

Macaque sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, the memories giving him a headache. “Well the first time he said he wasn’t ready so I said I’d wait. The second time he basically said he felt the same, I think, but didn’t want to hurt me.” Macaque looked up at the white fluffy clouds that rolled overhead. A moment of silence passed between the two before Mei broke it.

She sighed dramatically. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

Macaque turned to her, startled. “Excuse me?”

She jabbed a finger toward the clearing. “He’s practically drooling over you. And don’t give me that look - you’re worse. You both act like the other carries the world in their hands, but instead of doing anything about it, you mope around and make everyone else suffer.”

“I do not-” Macaque began.

“You do,” she said flatly. “You sulk in the most dramatic way possible. It’s like traveling with a gothic love poem.”

Macaque opened his mouth to argue but found no ground to stand on. He settled for scowling at the horizon instead. “It makes sense. He’s been through a lot. We’ve also got the mission to think about. And we’re not exactly… simple.”

Mei crossed her arms, voice softer now. “Complicated doesn’t have to mean impossible. And trauma doesn’t mean you get to push people away forever. That goes for both of you. If he cares about you - and he does - then he should let himself have something good.”

Macaque was quiet.

She nudged him with her elbow. “And you should stop acting like waiting around in pain is romantic. It’s not. It’s just sad.”

He didn’t respond right away. Out in the field, MK tried again. This time, his form was better - Wukong nodded once, clearly impressed. MK lit up with pride.

“Sometimes,” Macaque murmured, “I think he’s more scared of himself than anything else.”

“Then help him not be,” Mei said. “And while you’re at it, stop being afraid of being wanted.”

Macaque looked at her, brow furrowing. “What do you mean… afraid of being wanted?”

Mei stretched her legs out, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Exactly what I said. You act like being wanted is dangerous.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” She looked at him squarely now, the joking tone gone. “You get weird when people care about you. Defensive. Distant. Like you’re waiting for it to turn into something painful.”

Macaque’s throat tightened. “That’s not-”

“Macaque,” she interrupted gently, “it’s okay. I’m not judging. You’ve probably got reasons. But you do it. You flinch when people get close. You only let yourself believe in something if it’s doomed first.”

“I've gotten better.” He said half heartedly, not actually believing it. But to his surprise, she nodded. 

“I think so too. You wouldn't be having this conversation with me a month ago. But 

maybe you’re so used to being hurt that you don’t know how to handle it when someone actually sees you and stays. So instead of believing it, you wait for the moment they leave. You make it come, so you don’t have to be surprised.”

Macaque was quiet for a long beat.

“…He said he didn’t want to ruin me.”

Mei’s expression twisted. “Are you waiting for him to? Does a part of you want him to hurt you so have a reason to walk away?”

Macaque looked away.

She gave him a nudge with her foot. “You’re not a vase, Macaque. You’re not going to shatter if someone loves you back. You’re stronger than that. And he - Monkey King - he’s dumb sometimes, but he’s not wrong about everything. He thinks he’s dangerous, but that’s his problem to work through. You can’t do it for him. But you can stop pretending your heart doesn’t count just because his is scared.”

Macaque let his mind roll those words around, and Mei let him. The wind rustled the leaves behind them and Wukong was still calling out corrections and praises. Macaque looked back up as a cloud shifted out of the way for the sun. 

His eyes shut tightly and then squinted open as the warmth covered his face. He let the light burn his eyes for just a moment before blinking and looking down to his bag. He reached inside, had to rummage around some, then pulled something out.

It was small emough to sit in the center of his palm. He turned it over with his thumb, slow and thoughtful, the gesture almost unconcious. The object caught the light faintly - gold, polished, shaped by care.

Mei leaned a little closer, nearly rested atop his shoulder. “What’s that?”

He hesitated. Then, almost sheepishly, he reached into his robes and pulled on the chain around his neck. He showed her the black pendant shaped like a cresent moon. “Wukong got it for me,” he said, voice quiter now. “Back at the festival.”

Mei blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “He said it was a peace offering or something. Well…“ He raised his hand to show her what he had pulled out of his bag. “I saw a similar one, but a sun. I was going to give it to him after the festival when we left. But then things go weird. So I didn’t.”

Mei’s expression softened. “You’ve just been carrying that around?”

Macaque gave the barest nod.

She watched him for a moment, then nudged him. “You should give it to him.”

Macaque looked over at the sage, doubtful. “Now?”

“Not now-now. But… it was for him anyway, right?” she said. “He’ll love it.”

He frowned. “Honestly, Chang’e said he didn’t really like gifts. So maybe I shouldn’t have even bothered.”

Mei rolled her eyes and whacked him on the back of the head. His head jerked forward in surprise, whipping around to stare at her. “He’ll love anything if it comes from you.”

He looked back down to where the cresent moon pendant was pinched between his fingers, then to his other hand that held the matching sun. 

“…Maybe.”

-

By the time they reached the town, the sun was just a few hours away from setting, casting long slants of golden light across red-tiled rooftops and stone-paved streets. The place was bigger than Macaque expected - bustling with life, noise, and color. Shopkeepers called from doorways, trying to sell their goods. Children ran under adult’s feet, kicking a hacky sack between shoes. There was a nice peacefulness to it all.

Macaque took notice of the pretty equal amount of humans and demons, letting that ease his concerns of finding a fair establishment to rest in for a night or two.

Macaque and MK stepped out of an inn and into the flow of evening foot traffic. The innkeeper had been pleasent enough, offering two doube-bed rooms with an apologetic smile and a promise they’d be cleaned by nightfall. It was a rather luxurious  place for a good price.

MK stretched his arms over his head and let out a groan. “The lady was nice. You think they’ll let us soak in that hot spring even before we check in?”

“I’m not asking,” Macaque muttered, scanning the street.

He was still wound tight. Maybe it was habit, or maybe it was because this town - friendly, open, and full of strangers - felt too good to be true. Mei’s voice cut through the noise like a splash of color and got both of their attention. “Horses are settled in very comfortably,” She announced.

She jogged up with Wukong beside her, both visibly relaxed unlike himself. She tossed a grin their way, practically glowing.

“The stablehands were so nice! They promised to take care of the dragon-horses like they are their own children.”

Macaque arched a brow and looked at Wukong. Wukong just shrugged. “They have definitely never seen a creature like those horses. Of course they want to treat them like the exotic animals they are.”

“Right, well,” Macaque said, changing the topic. “We got two rooms, they’ll be ready later tonight. Until then, we’ve got time to kill.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I know the best way to burn time.” Wukong replied, his tone cheerful.

MK and Mei lit up instantly, leaning in like they were waiting for something fun - a game, maybe, or some kind of side quest.

“We’ll go practice,” Wukong said with a smile.

MK’s face drooped. Mei made an audible choking noise.

“Seriously?” She asked, scandalized. “We just got here.”

“You think demons are gonna give you a warm-up stretch?” Wukong asked. “You’re lucky I’m not making you run laps.”

MK gave a groan of protest, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. He liked training - liked learning, improving. He just didn’t like being told it was fun.

Macaque crossed his arms and looked over the square. “You three do that. I’m going to look around.”

“Scouting for something?” Wukong asked.

“Hopefully a lead on the next key,” Macaque said, adjusting his satchel. “Someone in a town this size might know where a library is or someone who does know something.”

Wukong opened his mouth to object - probably to suggest they stick together - but paused when Macaque reached and took each of their personal bags from them. He hoisted then onto his shoulder without much trouble.

“If the rooms are ready early,” Macaque added, “I’ll go back and drop off everyone’s stuff.”

There was a pause. Mei and MK exchanged a glance, then looked to Wukong.

Wukong nodded after a second. “Alright.”

“Hey, if you find a place selling candied fruit, you should get us some.” Mei said happily.

Macaque gave a small huff of amusement and turned toward the heart of the town, already disappearing into the crowd with a casual wave. 

The town’s streets were packed with noise and motion, a current of footsteps and voices pressing in from all sides. Macaque moved through it like water parting around stone - silent, watchful, alert. He kept his eyes forward but didn’t stop scanning. Too many hands, too many bags. He shifted the satchels on his shoulder, trying to keep a mental count: Mei’s, MK’s, Wukong’s, and his own. Each one with its own weight, its own vulnerability.

He passed shop after shop, stalls shouting out about their wares - bright silks, silver rings, inks that shimmered in the light. The smell of fried dough drifted between alleys. A group of demons with glimmering scales bargained loudly over a stack of books in a language Macaque didn’t recognize. Two small children - one human, one horned - chased each other with toy swords around a fountain.

Macaque ducked his head and kept walking.

Eventually, the noise began to press too close. He turned sharply at the sight of a small sign hanging crookedly over a door: The Whiskered Bean. A painted cat curled around a teacup. He hesitated, then pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside.

Cool air and quiet met him. Inside, the café was small - maybe four or five tables, all mismatched and painted in soft colors. The walls were covered in sketches of cats and customers alike. A few people sat near the windows, nursing drinks and speaking in low voices. The clatter of the town outside felt distant here.

Macaque stepped in further - and something brushed against his leg.

He looked down.

A sleek black cat wound lazily around his ankles, purring like it owned the place. Macaque blinked at it, unsure, then looked around as if someone might explain it to him.

No one did.

He sighed through his nose and made his way to the corner, brushing off the cat gently. He dropped the bags beside the chair and slid into the seat with a quiet groan, letting his shoulders drop for the first time in hours.

It lasted all of two seconds.

A shadow loomed over him - broad and solid.

Macaque’s hand twitched toward the knife in his sleeve.

The man standing there was huge - easily a few heads taller than him, with thick blue skin, a wild ginger beard braided in bands of gold, and arms like tree trunks. His presence filled the space like a thundercloud, and for a beat, Macaque tensed for a confrontation.

Then the man gave a cheerful grin that showed slightly too-sharp teeth.

“Welcome to The Whiskered Bean!” he said, in the friendliest voice Macaque had ever heard from someone built like a siege weapon. “So glad to have you! You just sitting in or planning to eat?”

Macaque blinked.

“I - uh,” he started.

A second cat leapt onto his table.

It looked up at him, smug and expectant, and pawed at his hand like it was owed something. Macaque stared.

“Sorry about that!” the demon said, laughing as he scooped the cat up effortlessly. “They’ve taken over the place. Thought about trying to get rid of ‘em, but every time I see one asleep in the sugar bin I lose my nerve.”

Macaque tilted his head. “That… feels like a health code violation.”

“You’d think!” the man said brightly. “Anyway, take your time. Or I can bring you the house favorite?”

Macaque nodded, already sinking back in his seat. “That’s fine. Bring whatever.”

“Coming right up!” The man vanished toward the back, humming.

Macaque exhaled slowly and leaned back into the chair. The moment the noise disappeared behind the kitchen door, the silence seeped in. He rested his arms on the table, eyes skimming the windows.

This town was a lull.

His fingers tapped the wood. Somewhere out there, the Bone Demon was waiting. Watching. He hadn’t heard from her in a couple weeks, but he could feel it - that growing pressure in his chest, the weight of failure pressing in behind his ribs. He hadn’t found the third key. He didn’t even know where to start. He had no name, no rumor, no thread.

And if she checked in and he didn’t have anything to show for it…

He clenched his jaw and dragged a hand through his hair.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

His gaze drifted down to the bags by his feet. He bent and reached into the lining of his own, fingers slipping into a hidden seam. After a few seconds, he pulled out a thin, leather-bound book.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Tang Sanzang’s journal.

He told himself that if he was going to work with Wukong, it made sense to know what made him tick. But in truth, he hadn’t touched it since taking it from the library. It sat in his bag like a weight - like guilt, really. He hadn’t wanted to look at it. Not when it felt like spying. Not when Wukong had opened himself up in other ways.

But this wasn’t about Wukong anymore.

This was about the fire. The key. The mission that was creeping closer to collapse every time he blinked. And if Sanzang had even mentioned something like the Samadhi Fire, or if there was a clue tucked between these pages…

Macaque set the journal gently on the table and flipped it open.

This time, he wasn’t looking for secrets.

He was looking for answers.

The journal opened with a stiff creak, the aged leather binding resisting, as if reluctant to give up its secrets. Macaque adjusted his seat slightly and rested the book on his lap. The table in front of him was too small for all the bags he had to babysit, and the tea shop too quiet for his usual restlessness. He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the page, careful not to tear the delicate paper, and finally began to read.

The first few pages were orderly, methodical. Sanzang’s handwriting was narrow and tight, letters marching across the page like little soldiers. Macaque wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the immortal’s personal journal - some dramatic inner confessions or celestial musings, maybe - but the beginning read more like a travel log.

“Mission to the Western Provinces. In service of the lower courts, at the behest of the Jade Emperor. Objective: collect scripture fragments and deliver them for archival.”

Macaque’s eyes glazed over, but he kept reading, if only out of obligation. Sanzang described his preparations in exacting detail - blessing the talismans, charting celestial alignments, coordinating travel routes with a few minor spirits. Macaque skimmed over it, half-paying attention, until one name jumped out at him.

Sun Wukong. Macaque remembered reading the first log that mentioned the sage. Now, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He skipped that log, not wanting to read the rather cruel words. But the monk’s tone changed subtly from that point forward. Less formal. Still analytical, but now laced with something else - unease.

“He burns so brightly it’s almost hard to look at him. The demons fear him, though they pretend otherwise. I see it in how they give him space. In how they go quiet when he speaks.”

Macaque’s brow furrowed. He had seen that too. It wasn’t just the strength that kept people at arm’s length - it was something beneath it. A pressure. Like standing too close to a cliff edge and knowing the drop is real.

He kept reading.

“There’s something fractured in him. He speaks out of turn but never pushes too far. He doesn’t lead, but everyone follows anyway. It’s not respect. It’s inevitability.“

Macaque’s lips parted, then closed again. The phrasing wasn’t wrong. It was just… sharper than expected. Sanzang didn’t write like a friend. He wrote like a scientist watching a firestorm from behind a glass wall.

And yet-

“Of the demons with us, monkey is the most powerful. And strangely, the most reasonable.”

Macaque tilted his head. Reasonable wasn’t the word he would’ve picked.

“He’s a storm that wants to be calm. But I see the cracks. Rage held back not from mercy, but fatigue. I don’t think he wants to fight. I think he just doesn’t know what else to do.”

That line stayed with Macaque longer than the others. He read it again. And again.

Then he shut the journal, just briefly, and sat with that silence. The soft hum of the café filled in around him - quiet music drifting from some unseen instrument, the faint clinking of cups, a cat’s contented purr vibrating against the floorboards.

He opened the book again and flipped forward, skipping entries. He wasn’t here to dwell on Wukong. Not like that. He was looking for something specific. A mention of the Samadhi Fire. Of the Lady Bone Demon.

But page after page passed with no answers.

Until a shift.

The handwriting lost its shape.

The monk’s script, once pristine and elegant, now slanted awkwardly, as if written in a hurry - or by a trembling hand.

Macaque narrowed his eyes and leaned closer.

“I didn’t see it happening. Maybe I didn’t want to. I thought I was helping. That I was doing the right thing. But something’s changed. He won’t meet my eyes. He flinches when I speak. There’s a weight in the room when we’re alone. A silence I can’t fix.”

Macaque blinked. The “he” wasn’t named, but the context was suffocatingly clear.

“I told myself I did what I had to. That I didn’t mean for it to end up this way. But good intentions don’t soften consequences.”

The entry went on like that. An apology that never quite used the word sorry. Lines dressed in guilt, sidestepping specifics.

Macaque flipped pages. More reflections. More remorse. Never the what.

“I keep telling myself he’ll understand. That it’ll pass. But maybe I broke something I didn’t have the right to touch.”

The pages after that returned to travel notes. Formations. Holy sites. Macaque’s frustration bubbled up again. He skipped even further - until something else made him pause.

“We reached the southern range by dusk. The land is blackened and charred. Nothing grows here. The villagers warned us not to stay overnight. They say the ground itself remembers the fire.”

Macaque’s grip tightened on the edge of the book.

“The locals say it came a thousand years ago. A blaze that never died. The gods couldn’t destroy it. Only contain it. So they sent it upward - into Heaven. They said it was too dangerous to leave on earth.”

Macaque’s brows drew together. That didn’t add up.

Everything Macaque had learned - every piece of intel he had gathered - had pointed somewhere else. The Samadhi Fire was hidden, not sanctified. Split apart. The keys weren’t in Heaven - they were scattered among unlikely hands. Chang’e had one. Demon Bull King had another. Neither were gods of the celestial court. Neither had anything to do with Heaven’s politics.

So why would Tang Sanzang write this?

Why would the people tell him this?

Macaque stared at the words, mind circling like a hawk over prey it couldn’t quite see. Was it a lie? A cover story? Or had something changed between then and now - something no one talked about?

Before he could dwell further, a broad shadow passed across his table.

A steaming cup of tea landed gently in front of him, followed by a delicate plate of cookies, neatly arranged in a spiral.

“House blend,” came the blue demon’s gentle voice. “Cardamom and honey. Sweet things help you think clearer, I always say.”

Macaque blinked, still tangled in his thoughts.

“Right.”

The demon gave the table a soft pat, brushing a curious cat off the edge with practiced grace. “Let me know if you need anything. They might pile into your lap if you sit long enough.”

Macaque offered the faintest nod as the man walked away.

The tea sat patiently beside him, curling steam rising like incense. The cats blinked slowly up at him from the floor, as if waiting for him to settle.

But Macaque’s thoughts were already moving again, fast and unsteady.

He didn’t like the implications of what he’d read. And he liked the questions it raised even less.

The last pages offered nothing - just notes about borderlands, celestial travelers, idle observations about towns that probably didn’t exist anymore. He skimmed them, half-heartedly, as if sheer will might force some meaning to emerge. But the book had said what it needed to say.

And what it said didn’t line up.

Not with what Wukong had told him. Not with what Chang’e had explained. Not with what the Bone Demon had hinted at.

He leaned back slightly in the chair, the wood creaking beneath him. His eyes lingered on the spiral of cookies left untouched beside the cooling tea. The air around him had shifted while he read - somehow heavier now. The golden light pouring through the windows had softened into a burnt orange glow. Evening had crept in unnoticed.

He tapped a finger against the cover of the book, brows furrowed.

Why would those locals lie to Sanzang? Or… were they even lying? Was something else moved? Or changed?

He thought about the monk’s guilt. About the way he described Wukong. Not with awe. Not with admiration. But with unease. A strange sort of reverence, like someone witnessing a god already mid-fall.

Macaque sighed through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair.

Before he could sink too deep again, a blur of motion caught the corner of his eye - a soft thump of weight against the table.

A cat.

Unusual blue fur with an even more unusal orange mohawk. It had hopped up without shame and was now daintily sniffing his cookies.

Macaque blinked at it.

“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, trying to wave it off with a flick of his fingers. “Cookies aren’t good for cats.”

The cat stared at him, blinked slowly, then rubbed its cheek along his knuckles in open defiance.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Still, he didn’t push it away. His hand hovered for a moment before settling into an absentminded rhythm, fingers gliding down the soft fur between its shoulders. The cat let out a pleased, rumbling purr.

Macaque sighed again, this time less irritated.

His thoughts swirled like tea leaves in the bottom of his cup - useless fragments floating in circles.

If the fire had really been sent to Heaven, why wouldn’t the keys be in the hands of the Jade Court? Why wouldn’t Wukong have known that version of the story? Or Chang’e, for that matter? Wasn’t Wukong with the monk when they saw the results of the fire?

Were the informants wrong? Was Sanzang? Or had something been deliberately hidden - rewritten?

Before he could follow that thread, a shadow fell over the table again.

“Still going at it, huh?” came the warm, rumbly voice.

Macaque looked up to find the blue demon standing beside him once more, a faint smile playing at the edges of his tusked mouth.

“You’ve been here a while.”

Macaque blinked. He glanced outside.

The sun was nearly gone. The sky was painted with streaks of dusty purple and melting gold. The street was quiet. He hadn’t even realized how empty the café had gotten.

“…Right,” Macaque muttered, sitting up straighter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to loiter-”

The demon waved a hand, brushing off the apology before it fully landed. “No bother. I’m not closing any time soon. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t fading into the furniture.”

Macaque gave a faint nod, expecting the man to walk away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the demon peered down at the closed journal on the table and asked, “What’re you reading, anyway?”

Immediately, Macaque’s shoulders stiffened. “Nothing. Just a book.”

The demon’s smile widened into something amused. “Bit defensive for ‘just a book.’” He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’m just curious. Bit of a knowledge hoarder, myself.”

That made Macaque pause.

He looked at the demon again, properly this time.

“You… read a lot?”

The man chuckled, twiddling his thumbs together. “Comes with the territory. All kinds of folks pass through here. Storytellers, travelers, immortals trying to dodge responsibilities. You hear a lot when you keep the tea warm and your ears open.”

Macaque’s expression shifted, faintly intrigued. He sat up a little more.

“Do you know anything about ancient demons?”

The demon grinned, as if Macaque had asked his favorite question.

“Oh, I’m a demon expert,” he said, with absolutely no modesty.

Macaque studied him for a beat longer. Then he reached over and gently moved the cat aside to clear a seat at the small table.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

The blue demon’s eyes gleamed with interest as he pulled the chair back and eased himself down with a contented sigh.

“Course you can. Name’s Sandy, by the way.”

Macaque gave a short nod in return, mind already turning. “Macaque.”

He sat in silence, elbows resting on the table, the book still close by, but his hands now folded. The cat had retreated to another sun-warmed chair nearby, its eyes half-lidded in contentment. Across from him, Sandy waited patiently, his broad arms folded across the edge of the table, expression open and unhurried. The room was quiet enough that Macaque could hear the soft ticking of a wall clock behind the counter.

This wasn't what he should be asking about. This wasn't what he was supposed to be looking for. He should be asking about the fire. But the second this man mentioned hearing a lot… maybe he’s heard of a certain demonness.

Only issue was names had weight. Power. And saying the wrong one aloud - especially in a place this peaceful - felt like smearing soot over fresh snow.

The Lady Bone Demon wasn’t just a name. It was a threat. A force. A promise of destruction dressed in ancient bone and silk. Macaque didn’t even know the full scope of what she wanted, and he wasn’t about to pull some sweet-natured café owner into the middle of that.

Still… he had to know.

He drummed his fingers once against the wood grain, then looked up at Sandy, who was politely pretending not to notice the hesitation.

“So,” Macaque said carefully, his voice quiet. “You said you know a lot about demons.”

Sandy nodded. “As much as a secondhand scholar can, yeah.”

“And… do you know anything about really old ones? The kind most people don’t talk about anymore?”

Sandy’s brow lifted, intrigued. “You mean the buried legends? The ones whispered around hearths but left out of official records?”

Macaque nodded once. “Yeah. That kind.”

A pause.

Sandy leaned back slightly in his chair, looking up toward the ceiling as if flipping through a mental library. “There’s a few that come to mind,” he said slowly. “Depends on what you’re after. Some were gods before they were demons. Others were born from curses, or pulled from the shadows of other creatures. Some went quiet after the wars. Others… vanished in less natural ways.”

Macaque’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What about ones who stayed hidden? The ones who pretended to be something else. Or someone else.”

Sandy looked back at him, thoughtful now. Not suspicious, just curious.

“That narrows it down some,” he said with a hum. “But there are still a few. You looking for anyone in particular?”

Macaque’s jaw tightened just slightly. He didn’t answer right away.

His thumb grazed the edge of the journal, and he glanced down at it for a beat - at the weight of half-truths and buried histories tucked between worn pages - before meeting Sandy’s eyes again.

“I’m not sure,” he said, voice quiet. “But I think she’s trying to make a comeback.”

Sandy went still for half a second, and Macaque could see the gears turning behind his eyes. He hadn’t said her name. But the tension hung there like an unspoken chord, waiting to be struck.

Sandy studied Macaque for a moment, then slowly leaned back in his chair.

“I think I know who you’re asking about,” he said at last. “There’ve been whispers. About a mistress of purity. The kind that makes you shiver when her name’s said too loud. I’ve only had a few people talk about her, but it was chilling enough that I remember.”

Macaque gave a single nod, subtle but sharp. It was enough.

Sandy’s expression shifted - subtle, like a door closing somewhere far off. “Why’re you curious about someone like that?”

Macaque looked away, gaze settling on the steamless surface of his tea. “Someone else asked me the same thing,” he said quietly. “I’ve heard she’s… moving again. Or trying to. Just wondered how safe I was.”

Sandy let out a laugh, but there was nothing light in it. It caught at the end, something brittle underneath.

“Safety,” he echoed. “That’s not a word associated with her.”

Macaque stayed silent. He didn’t need to prompt him - Sandy was already talking, voice lowered like a priest reciting forbidden scripture.

“She was a shapeshifter. An old kind of demon. One of the first to call herself judge and savior all in the same breath. She started off well-intentioned, if the stories were true. She’d find cracks in the world - rot, injustice, suffering - and fix them. Clean them up. Purge them. But...”

Sandy’s gaze drifted to the cat sleeping in the next booth, but Macaque could tell he wasn’t really looking at it.

“When more demons rose into the world - mortal-blooded, spirit-born, the whole lot - she saw it as corruption. Said the world was being tainted by our kind. That it needed to be corrected.”

Macaque frowned. “But… she’s a demon too. Why’d she think she was above all that?”

Sandy gave him a sad, sideways look. “Because she thought she was more, apparently. Thought herself divine. As pure as the Heavens and skies. She stopped calling herself a demon entirely. They said she saw herself as a goddess.”

Macaque’s stomach turned as Sandy continued, voice a little flatter now.

“Heaven eventually took notice. They didn’t like when someone started trying to rewrite the rules of balance. So they sent envoys. Diplomats, at first. Asked her to stop, to slow down, to reconsider. She didn’t take it well.”

“What’d she do?”

“Sent their heads back.”

Macaque blinked. The image was so visceral, so quietly horrifying, it felt like it didn’t belong in the warmth of a cat-crowded café.

“After that,” Sandy said with a grim sort of finality, “it was war. Heaven didn’t turn the other cheek after something like that. They sent generals, soldiers, saints. And still, it wasn’t enough. Took someone like Erlang Shen himself to finally bring her down.”

Macaque stared at him. “And they locked her away?”

“In Diyu,” Sandy confirmed. “Deep enough that even the dead would be scared to walk past. That’s where she’s been the last few millennia.”

The silence settled again. Thicker this time.

Macaque shifted, the dread already tightening in his chest. “And… if she isn’t there anymore… how would someone let her out?”

Sandy’s eyes narrowed slightly. Suspicion flickered just beneath his smile. “Why?” he asked. “You planning to?”

Macaque waved a hand quickly. “No. I just… If she’s back, it means someone did, right?”

Sandy didn’t speak for a long moment. Then: “Could be. Or… maybe she did it herself. She was powerful. You’d have to be a lunatic to crack that gate open deliberately.”

Macaque’s mind flicked unbidden to her henchman - the one with the sickly grin and glassy stare. Lunatic wasn’t far off.

“What exactly did she want?” he asked, voice lower now.

Sandy’s expression shifted again. Not quite pity. Not quite fear. Something in between. “She wanted a world without pain. One where mortals and gods could live in harmony. Perfect balance. No chaos. No hunger. No war.”

Macaque sighed. “That’s… idealistic.”

“It’s impossible,” Sandy said, his voice firmer now. “Heaven thought the same. That’s why they acted. But in her version of the world, demons had no place. Not even the ones who’d never done harm.”

Macaque went still. He sat back, slow and careful, his fingers curling against his knee beneath the table. His breath came a little shallower.

No place for demons.

Her words echoed in his mind - the ones she said when she hired him. That she needed him.  That when all was said and done, he’d have a place to thrive.

But thrive to what? To exist in a world where he didn’t belong?

His jaw clenched.

Sandy didn’t press him. The other just sat there, watching with quiet empathy, as the silence filled the space between them once again.

Macaque didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

She tasked him with helping her building a world in which he didn’t meet requirments. Didn’t fit the criteria.

So, where did that really leave him?

Chapter Text

Macaque left not long after.

He offered Sandy a wave on his way out. The demon smiled warmly, one hand resting on the sleeping cat in his arms.

“Come back if you ever want a good cup of tea,” he said. “or a cat to pet. They’re very theraputic.”

Macaque nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to betray something.

By the time he stepped outside, the sun had nearly vanished behind the buildings, casting the town in rich hues of gold and violet. The bustle had quieted to a steady hum - fewer carts, fewer crowds, the air a little cooler now as evening settled over the cobbled streets. Shadows stretched longer between the lantern-lit alleys.

Macaque walked quickly, thoughts still tangled in everything Sandy had said, until the inn came into view.

Outside, seated on a wooden bench beneath a hanging paper lantern, was Wukong - slouched lazily, one leg stretched out and the other bent, eating a peach with visible boredom. He perked up the moment he saw Macaque.

“There you are,” Wukong said through a mouthful of fruit. “I’ve been waiting forever. The rooms were ready, like, half an hour ago.”

Macaque slowed to a stop. “Right. Sorry.”

Wukong shrugged, wiping peach juice from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Eh, you’re fine. I was just gonna nap on this bench if you took any longer.”

The awkwardness prickled under Macaque’s skin, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and followed Wukong inside.

The inn’s interior was lit with soft lanterns, casting a warm golden glow over lacqured wooden walls and polished floors. It smelled faintly of lavender and river stone. Macaque could hear the gentle trickle of water from somewhere deeper in the building.

Wukong led him down a hallway, glancing over his shoulder. “So… where were you, anyway? You kinda vanished.”

Macaque kept his tone even. “Found a cafe.”

Wukong raised a brow, smirking. “Really? Didn’t peg you for the cafe-and-pastries type.”

“The owner was nice,” Macaque said. “Had a lot of cats.”

Wukong blinked at that, but didn’t press further. “Huh.”

The hallway branched, and Wukong gestured toward a door. “That’s MK and Mei’s room. They’ve been in there for a bit. Probably planning chaos.” He stopped at the door next to it and nudged it open. “This one’s ours.”

Macaque hesitated. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Wukong shrugged again and disappeared inside, door creaking shut behind him.

Macaque knocked on the neighboring door. It swung open immediately to reveal Mei, her hair pinned up and her cheeks pink from heat.

“Macaque!” She beamed, tugging the door wider. “We were starting to think you wandered off and got lost.”

“I did wander off,” Macaque said, shrugging their bags off his shoulder and holding them out to her. “Sorry for not meeting you sooner.”

She waved it off like it was nothing, taking the two packs from the older. “Please, we’re fine. This place is amazing. Did you know there’s a hot spring here?”

“I heard.”

“You should go.” She leaned in. “MK looks like a boiled dumpling now, but he hasn’t complained once.”

“I’ll think about it,” Macaque said, mostly to end the conversation.

He heard MK calling her name from deeper inside, and Mei turned with a quick, “Coming!” She gave Macaque a playful wink and shut the door.

Macaque turned back to the room Wukong had pointed out and pushed the door open.

The room was small, but not cramped - just enough space for two people to coexist without stepping on each other. A handful of candles flickered from the walls, casting a soft, steady glow that made the shadows feel deliberate rather than forgotten.

Immediately to the right of the entrance, a wooden door led to a private bathroom. Along the left-hand wall, two beds sat parallel to each other, pressed close but separated by a narrow desk nestled between them. The desk was clean, untouched, like everything else in the room.

Opposite the beds, a wide window let in the last traces of evening light, the sky outside still blushing with color. The far wall held a set of heavy curtains drawn shut across a narrow balcony, the fabric gently rustling as the breeze slipped through cracks in the doorframe.

Everything was spotless - too spotless. The linens were crisp, the air faintly perfumed with wood polish and something floral. If it weren’t for the staff propped against one bed and the half-eaten peach on the desk, Macaque might’ve thought no one had ever lived here at all.

It was almost eerie in its stillness. Not cold, exactly. Just… lonely.

Macaque’s quiet inspection of the room was cut short by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turned toward the voice and found Wukong standing just inside the doorway of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe tied loosely at his waist and a towel slung over one shoulder.

“I’m heading to the spring,” Wukong announced.

Macaque blinked. “Right now?”

Wukong gave him a look. “You’re welcome to join.” He turned and started to leave without waiting for a reply.

Macaque hesitated. For a moment, he considered staying behind. But the idea of being alone in this pristine, too-quiet room didn’t sit well. He grabbed a robe and towel and followed without another word.

The hot spring was located at the back of the inn, tucked between carefully pruned hedges and flowering trees that filled the air with soft floral and citrusy scents. Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting golden ripples over the water. A few guests lounged in separate pools, their conversations low and lazy, nearly drowned out by the trickling of water and the hum of cicadas.

The sage led the way to a vacant pool near the back, and Macaque followed - until realization struck.

He was supposed to strip. Completely.

He froze for a moment, blood rushing to his face. He glanced toward Wukong, who had already untied his robe and was letting it fall off his shoulders with no hesitation. The other didn’t even look at him.

Macaque quickly averted his gaze.

“Are you getting in or what?” Wukong asked, sounding equal parts bored and impatient as he settled into the water.

Macaque cleared his throat. “Should you really be in there with your wounds still healing?”

There was a beat of silence. Macaque turned to look - Wukong was already reclining against the edge of the pool, water reaching his chest, one brow arched in mild irritation.

“They’re fine,” he said flatly. “Warm water helps with the soreness.” He sank in deeper with a content sigh. “Now are you getting in or are you just going to stand there blushing like a teenager?”

Macaque scowled, flustered. But he shed his clothes anyway, stealing a glance to see if Wukong was watching. Much to his relief - and annoyance - Wukong had taken an interest in the far corner of the garden, eyes fixed on a lantern like it held the secrets of the universe.

Macaque stepped into the pool quickly, the heat rushing over his skin and making him tense.

They sat in silence. Wukong leaned back, arms draped over the rocks behind him, head tilted to the sky and eyes closed in something that looked dangerously close to peace. Macaque sat like a board, stiff and awkward, his eyes trained on a spot in the water that offered no help whatsoever.

“You’re not relaxing,” Wukong said suddenly, still not looking at him.

“I am,” Macaque muttered through gritted teeth.

“No, you’re not.” Wukong cracked one eye open, his tone sounding almost confused.

The conversation died again, awkward tension curling between them like steam. But they stayed - sitting in silence as the sky deepened into night and the water softened the edges of their guarded selves.

He stayed in the water a while longer, letting the warmth settle in his bones and the tension in his chest loosen - just barely. The awkward undertone becoming too much and he couldn’t bring himself to exist in this thick atmosphere with Wukong for much longer.

Macaque watched him for a moment, then stood.

“I’m heading back,” he said, voice low.

Wukong turned his head, giving him a lazy nod. “Alright.”

Grabbing his robe and towel, Macaque wrapped the fabric tightly around himself and stepped out of the spring, the night air nipping at his flushed skin and dripped cooling water from the ends of his fur. He didn’t look back.

Macaque kept his gaze low as he walked, fingers absently toying with the sash of his robe. The warmth of the spring had faded, leaving behind a prickling awareness across his skin - and not just from the temperature change.

What the hell was that? He thought bitterly.

He’d been with more people than he could count. Intimacy wasn’t new, wasn’t daunting. And it wasn’t like he and Wukong hadn’t already been in a few… compromising situations. Yet one moment of shared stillness in a hot spring had made him feel like a blushing amateur.

It was pathetic.

He cursed under his breath and smacked his forehead lightly with his palm. Get it together.

You’ve been wanting that exact kind of moment with him, he thought, jaw tightening as he turned the corner. So why, the second it happens, do you freeze up like some shy teenager?

Back in their room, Macaque shut the door quietly and changed into sleepwear - loose, comfortable, plain. He claimed the bed by the balcony, pulling the covers over himself with more force than necessary.

The room was calm. Candlelight flickered faintly from the wall sconces. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and lavender. It should’ve helped him relax.

But he couldn’t stop replaying the moment in the hot spring. Wukong, unfazed. Relaxed. Barely even paying attention to him. And Macaque? Macaque had been a mess. Flushed, stiff, awkward. He buried his face into the pillow with a groan.

He probably thinks I’m a child.

Other people wouldn’t bat an eye at something like that. But him? One dip in a traditional hot spring and he was acting like he’d never seen a naked man before.

He rolled over to face the balcony, letting his eyes fall shut, hoping sleep would come quick and wash the memory away. It didn’t.

Some time passed. The door creaked open.

He didn’t move.

Soft footsteps padded across the wooden floor. The faint rustle of fabric. Then-

“You asleep?” Wukong’s voice was quiet, almost cautious.

Macaque stayed still, breathing slow.

More silence. Then the sound of Wukong moving about the room, followed by a gentle, “Goodnight.”

And then nothing.

Macaque lay there, eyes still shut, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. He could’ve said something. Anything. But now it was too late.

He let out a slow breath, his hand clutching the charm around his neck.

Eventually, finally, sleep came.

-

The dining area of the inn smelled faintly of warm bread and eggs, morning light spilling through the high windows. Macaque sat next to MK and across from Wukong and Mei, idly picking at his food more than actually eating it. The others were more focused - MK with his usual enthusiasm for breakfast, Mei sipping tea, and Wukong tearing into his plate like he hadn’t eaten in days.

MK noticed Macaque’s lack of appetite but didn’t say anything to the older. “What’s the plan for today?” He asked instead.

Wukong spoke up. “Might be worth staying here another day or two. We’re still trying to find a plan of action, and it’d be good to rest while we can.”

Mei nodded and turned her attention to Macaque. “Did you find out anything yesterday?”

Macaque hesitated. “Not… anything that helps right now.”

No one pressed. “We’ll figure it out,” The sage said simply, reaching for his tea. “In the meantime, MK - training again this morning. While it’s still cool. Mei, you are welcome to join us.”

MK groaned into his rice. “But I’m sore from yesterday...”

Wukong grinned. “All the more reason to keep going. Your body only gets stronger by being used.”

Mei leaned in dramatically. “You’ll thank him one day when you’re fighting some horrible beast and your calves don’t cramp.”

MK made a face. “You sound like him now.”

Mei stuck her tongue out at him.

Macaque pushed his plate slightly forward and stood. “I’m not joining today,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “I’ve got something I want to follow.”

That made Wukong glance up, curious. “Oh?”

Macaque gave a half-shrug. “Just a hunch. Might be nothing.”

Mei raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, mysterious.”

Macaque didn’t take the bait. He gave the group a nod, murmured a quick, “Don’t wait up,” and left the dining area, the sound of their chatter trailing behind him as he made his way toward the front of the inn.

Macaque stepped out into the early light of the street, the gentle bustle of morning around him doing little to quiet the churn in his chest. He didn’t have a real lead, not one he could explain, but his gut told him where to go.

Sandy’s little tea shop sat quietly at the end of a narrow lane, tucked beneath the shade of overhanging vines and windchimes that clinked softly in the breeze. Macaque felt his stomach dip as soon as he saw the closed sign hanging in the window.

He exhaled, deflating. A small wooden plaque hung crookedly on the door, cheerfully announcing:

“Closed Until Noon”

Macaque rubbed the back of his neck. “Figures,” he muttered, turning on his heel, ready to waste time elsewhere until it opened.

But before he could take more than a step, the door creaked open behind him.

“Mr. Maquack?” came Sandy’s voice, light and mildly amused.

Macaque turned back, blinking. Sandy stood in the doorway, beard tousled like he’d just gotten up, wearing a long robe belted loosely at the waist and holding a half-eaten persimmon in one hand. His eyes crinkled with interest. “Were you coming for some tea?”

Macaque hesitated. “Something like that,” he said. “But I can come back when you’re open.”

Sandy took another bite of his fruit and waved a hand. “Nonsense. Come in. You look like a man possessed.”

Macaque gave him a wary glance, then stepped past the threshold. The familiar scent of dried herbs and old wood greeted him, mingled with something faintly citrusy and sweet. That same blue cat blinked from the front counter, standing up and walking in a little circle before sitting down again and watching Macaque with interest.

“You always this nice to your customers?” Macaque asked, trailing in as Sandy moved behind the counter.

Sandy grinned without looking at him. “But of course. Most of them just don’t show up before breakfast.”

Macaque ducked his head and scratched at his temple. “Right. Sorry.”

Sandy brushed it off with a wave. “Now then,” he said, rummaging through his shelves. “What are you in the mood for?”

Macaque’s fingers reached out to gently pet the cat’s head, its ears twitching but otherwise content. “I want to finish our conversation. From yesterday.”

At that, Sandy glanced at him over his shoulder. His expression flickered with something unreadable before he smiled again - less playful this time. “Ah. Then I’d better make a stronger blend.”

Macaque didn’t say anything, settling into the quiet as the cat purred softly beneath his fingers. Sandy worked efficiently behind the counter, the rustle of tins and clink of ceramic grounding the moment.

Macaque watched the steam rise from the kettle, the soft hiss and click of the old stovetop filling the quiet space. After a few moments, he spoke.

“Why is everyone in this town so… nice?”

Sandy laughed, not looking up as he sorted through a line of ceramic jars. “Would you rather we be mean to each other?”

Macaque gave a small shrug. “I dunno. I’ve just never been anywhere that felt this… harmonious.”

Sandy glanced at him, brow raised. “You grow up in a city?”

“Yeah,” Macaque said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I traveled a lot too. Never really stayed in one place long enough to get used to it.”

“Hm,” Sandy hummed, amused. “Sounds exhausting.”

He didn’t offer any further comment, and silence settled again. Macaque watched Sandy carefully scoop and measure tea leaves, not rushing a single motion. Everything was done with deliberate care, like it mattered. Like it had meaning.

When Sandy finished, he glanced up. “So, is that the conversation you came all this way to have?”

Macaque smirked a little and shook his head. “No.”

Sandy poured hot water over the leaves and let them steep as Macaque spoke. “My companions and I… we’re looking for something. But we’ve kinda hit a dead end. I was hoping maybe you’d have some insight.”

Sandy didn’t miss a beat. “I’d be happy to help if I can.”

Macaque hesitated for a moment before asking, “What do you know about the Samadhi Fire?”

At that, Sandy’s hands paused, but he didn’t react the way Macaque expected - no alarm or suspicion like he’d seen in Chang’e and Redson, just a thoughtful furrow of his brow. He set the teacup in front of Macaque.

“I only know the stories,” Sandy said. “That it’s a fire that can’t be put out. That it could burn through the fabric of reality if left unchecked.”

Macaque took a sip, nodding for him to go on.

“They say Heaven has the keys now,” Sandy added. “Whatever that’s worth.”

Macaque sighed into his cup. “So nothing I don’t already know.” But still nothing that lined up with what he’s learned from Wukong or any of the onther immortals.

Sandy leaned an elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his hand. “Why are you looking for it?”

Macaque hesitated, then gave a lie that came out easier than breathing. “I’m helping a friend. He’s from the celestial realm. Heaven gave him a mission to find the keys and bring the fire back.”

Sandy’s eyes lit up like a child hearing a bedtime tale come to life. “Seriously? That sounds exciting! Dangerous, too. But mostly exciting.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “It’s not. Not when the guy they sent is obnoxious.”

Sandy chuckled. “Let me guess. Your friend’s one of those uptight celestial types?”

“No,” Macaque said, sighing. “He’s… the Monkey King.”

Sandy blinked. “Wait. The Monkey King?”

Macaque gave a begrudging nod. “Yeah.”

Sandy’s grin widened in amazement. “Unbelievable. The Monkey King’s here? That’s incredible.”

Macaque muttered, “He’s busy training his successor.”

Sandy laughed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Macaque smirked. “He’s already chosen a prodigy. Kid’s got the spark. And the whiplash.”

Sandy snorted. “I need to meet this kid.”

He paused, squinting at Macaque with a new kind of curiosity. “So what’s he like? The Monkey King, I mean.”

Macaque’s answer came too easily. “Loud. Arrogant. Talks like he knows everything. But,” His voice dropped a little. “He’s good. Strong. Smarter than he lets on. He doesn’t look down on people. And he’s…”

Sandy waited.

“…He’s better than I thought he’d be,” Macaque finished, trying not to look embarrassed.

Sandy leaned in with a sly smile. “You like him.”

Macaque immediately stiffened. “No. I- I mean…yes, but it’s not like that.”

Sandy raised an eyebrow, utterly unconvinced.

Macaque scowled. “Nothing’s going on between us.”

“Mhm.”

“There isn’t,” Macaque insisted. “Not because I haven’t tried, but because he keeps making it more difficult than it needs to be.”

Sandy looked entertained. “So… you two like each other or..?”

Macaque folded his arms. “Yeah. I like him and I know he feels the same, but he keeps avoiding both our feelings. I’ve made it clear I’m not scared of whatever consequences come with this, but he - he keeps backing away. And fine, maybe he’s scared. I know he’s scared. But I’m not. And that should be enough, right? It should be enough that I’m willing. That I don’t care about what happens to me. I’m disposable anyway.”

Sandy’s amused expression faded.

He studied Macaque carefully for a moment, then said gently, “If he feels the same, then he probably doesn’t see you that way. Disposable, I mean.”

Macaque looked away, jaw tight. “I know that. I know he’s trying to protect me. But keeping me at arm’s length isn’t helping. It’s just-” He sighed and rubbed his face. “It’s just making it worse.”

Sandy tilted his head. “Maybe he doesn’t realize that.”

Macaque was quiet.

Then, Sandy smiled again - wider this time, mischief returning. “Well… if you were really serious about winning him over, maybe you could do a traditional courtship gesture.”

Macaque raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Sandy gave a dramatic shrug. “You know - classic demon courtship rituals. Could be fun. Ease his worries.”

Macaque blinked. “What, like offering to kill something for him? Or what’s that other one… courtnapping?”

Sandy chuckled. “Not always that dramatic. Though, I’m sure that would work for some. But no - I was thinking something a bit more subtle. While I’m not really sure of a common courtship practice for your species, there are plenty of options. Like giving your love interest an offering.”

Macaque frowned. “That’s a courting thing? I thought that was just for the gods.”

“Well not just any offering,” Sandy said, turning to rinse out the teapot. “It’s an old custom, not too common now, but I’m sure it’s just as effective. Basically you go out and find something small- simple. A stone, a flower, a feather. But it has to come from a place that reflects how you feel.”

Macaque stared at him. “You want me to bring him a… rock?”

Sandy grinned. “Not just any rock. One that means something. Like, if you’re feeling calm and certain, something from a quiet grove. If you’re a mess of nerves, maybe something near a river. You find something simple, but personal. Then you give it to them without explination.”

Macaque raised both his brows, waiting for Sandy to say he was kidding. When he didn’t, “That’s the stupidest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

Sandy shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ve had a few couples come in here and tell me all about their experience doing it, and from where I’m standing, those guys are in love and you’re still pinning.”

“That is a low blow. I thought you were supposed to be nice.” Macaque said, glaring down at his tea cup.

Sandy chuckled, and leaned against the counter. “I am being nice. I just think you need it put in harsher words to understand. You don’t have to give him something if that’s not your style. There are hundreds of ways to court someone. But based on how you described Mr. Monkey King, I think he would appreciate something honest. Something real between just you two.”

Macaque considered it. Something real? He had been real. He has bared his heart to the celestial in ways he has never done with anyone else. How much more real could he get?

“I’ll think about it,” He finally said.

Sandy lit up like someone had just given him a gift. “Really? Oh, that’s great! I hope it goes well. And if it does-” he leaned in, grinning like a gossiping auntie, “-you bring him back here. I’ll make you two my best tea and pastries. On the house.”

Macaque snorted. “What, to congratulate us? Or just to meet him?”

Sandy laughed. “Why not both?”

Macaque rolled his eyes, then stood. “I should go.”

“Back to your celestial?”

Macaque smirked at the playful remark. “Back to the group.”

Sandy gave a warm nod. Macaque moved toward the door, pausing to give the cat on the counter one last scratch behind the ears. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime,” Sandy said. “Good luck.”

The clouds were already gathering when Macaque stepped out of Sandy’s cafe and noon had set in. Heavy and dark, curling like smoke over the tops of the trees. He narrowed his eyes at the sky. It hadn’t felt like rain when he’d left earlier, but now the air was thick, pressed tight with humidity.

It didn’t take long too find them. Just a little ways past the gates, in an open patch of grass where the dirt was soft and the wind passed clean through. Wukong stood at the center, arms folded, brows knit in deep focus as he corrected Mei’s stance with a casual point of his tail. MK was nearby, red in the face, trying to mimic the movement with stubborn determination.

Macaque slowed, watching for a second. Then he stepped forward.

“Macaque!” MK perked up immediately, seizing the moment. “Perfect timing - break time!”

Mei chimed in with a dramatic sigh. “Thank the heavens.”

Wukong rolled his eyes, but the faint twitch of his mouth betrayed him. He wasn’t really annoyed. “You two are ridiculous,” he muttered, not bothering to hide the small smile now.

“Sorry,” Macaque said, stopping beside them. “took me a while to find you.”

“How’d your lead go?” Wukong asked, brushing dust from his sleeve.

Macaque shrugged. “Didn’t find out anything new.”

Wukong looked thoughtful for a second but nodded. “It’s alright. We’ll figure something out soon.”

Macaque’s eyes flicked over the field. “How’s training?”

“Great!” MK beamed, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let me show you what I’ve learned!”

Before Macaque could answer, MK grabbed Wukong’s arm and tugged him back toward the field. “Come on, come on - let’s go through that last form again!”

Wukong let himself be dragged, giving the rest of them an exaggerated, longsuffering look. “You’re all very demanding.”

“You love it,” Mei said, already plopping down on the grass beside Macaque.

And maybe he did, Macaque thought, watching as MK and Wukong took their places. Wukong was gentle, steady, every motion precise. He mirrored MK’s stance, slowed things down, broke them apart, offered a correction here and there. His voice stayed patient, even as MK tripped over his own feet more than once.

The clouds above thickened as the day wore on.

Macaque and Mei sat quietly, the grass warm beneath them as the clouds gathered above, dulling the gold of the afternoon into a silvery haze. It wasn’t unpleasant. There was a kind of softness to it - the kind that invited stillness.

MK moved through the training forms with all the elegance of a puppy trying to walk in snow. He stumbled, recovered, swung too hard, overshot a stance. But he was improving. It showed in the way Wukong didn’t immediately correct him this time, instead watching patiently, arms crossed, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

Macaque leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.

“Doesn’t look like he’s suffering,” Mei whispered beside him.

Macaque hummed. “Wukong or MK?”

Mei snorted but didn’t answer.

Wukong stepped closer to MK and gently nudged his arm. “This hand’s too high. Relax your shoulders - good. Again.”

MK nodded eagerly, face red with exertion but determined. He went through the motion again, and when Wukong gave a quiet “Better,” the pride in MK’s eyes was enough to make Macaque’s chest ache.

He wasn’t sure when it had become so easy to watch Wukong like this - easier than breathing, maybe. The way his voice softened when he gave praise. The way he lingered beside MK long enough to make sure he felt encouraged. The way he-

Plip.

A raindrop landed on Macaque’s nose.

He blinked, drawn out of the moment. Another drop hit his cheek, then his arm.

He looked up.

The clouds overhead had thickened into something darker. Something heavier. The air shifted - pressure dropping, the light dimming in a slow, crawling way that didn’t feel quite right.

“We should head back,” Macaque called over. “Rain’s about to come in.”

Mei stood with a stretch. “No complaints here.”

Then-

CRACK.

Thunder shattered the stillness, loud and sharp, rolling over the field like a warning.

Everyone stilled.

MK turned to Wukong, clearly waiting for direction. The celestial gave a small nod, brushing raindrops from his shoulders. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Let’s-”

Macaque didn’t hear the rest.

His whole body tensed.

The world around him dulled - sound, color, everything flattening into something distant. He didn’t hear something so much as feel it: the shift in the air. The echo of pressure rushing toward them like a thread pulled taut.

Wrong.

Not toward him.

Toward Wukong.

Macaque’s head whipped toward him. The golden monkey was standing tall, relaxed, mid-turn. Completely unaware.

There wasn’t time to think.

Macaque lunged.

He tackled Wukong with full force, the sound of wind rushing past his ears as they both crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and startled gasps.

“What the hell?!” Wukong barked, pushing himself halfway up. “Macaque, what are you-”

But Macaque didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

He sucked in a breath - and his whole body seized.

It hit him all at once: a cold that wasn’t weather, wasn’t water, wasn’t anything natural. It sank into him like smoke made of ice, burning inward, coiling around his ribs, squeezing behind his lungs.

His heart skipped. Then stuttered.

His throat tightened.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out - only a shuddered exhale that sounded like it didn’t belong to him.

“Macaque?” Wukong’s voice sharpened instantly, panic replacing confusion. “Macaque, hey- look at me. What’s wrong?”

Macaque’s eyes were wide, lips parting as if to answer - but all he could feel was that wrongness crawling through him. Like his bones were humming with something foreign. Like something had entered him and didn’t want to leave.

The sky cracked again.

He heard someone - MK, maybe - shouting in the distance, but it was muffled. Like he was underwater. Or somewhere else entirely.

Wukong grabbed his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Stay with me. Macaque- hey- stay with me.”

Macaque tried.

He wanted to.

But his body betrayed him, limbs twitching, jaw locking, vision spiraling inward.

He choked on something that wasn’t there. Air? A scream?

His last thought was that he should’ve said something. That he should’ve warned them.

And then-

Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

The cold is the first thing he notices.

Not the kind that brushes over skin and leaves behind a chill - but something deeper. Heavy. A cold that sinks its teeth into him and stays. It gnaws at his bones, makes itself at home beneath his skin.

He wants to curl into himself, to fold inward like a flame shrinking beneath a storm. He wants fire, warmth, something to hold him - anything to chase the numbness from his fingers and toes, from his chest. But there is only dark.

So much dark.

The blackness presses on him, thick and soft as velvet, and it’s impossible to tell if his eyes are open or closed. The difference has lost meaning here. His senses have flattened, leaving him raw and hollowed out.

And worse than the dark is the silence.

It is not peace. Not calm.

It is a silence so absolute, it presses into his skull like pressure underwater. Dense. Suffocating. It devours everything - not even the sound of his own heartbeat survives here.

Macaque, who was cursed with hearing too sharp for the world, is deafened by the silence.

No echo.

No breath.

No hum of air or whisper of motion.

Just the unbearable, infinite quiet.

He feels like he’s moving. His legs stretch forward and back, shifting weight with invisible steps, but there is no ground beneath him. No gravity. No direction. Just a slow drifting in nothingness.

There is a weight in his chest - a hollow ache that blooms like a wound. It isn’t pain exactly, but it empties him just the same. His throat is dry and tight, like dust has settled over his voice. He tries to call out, to cry for help or for something - anything - but his mouth is frozen shut.

There is a memory there, just beyond reach. Something he should know, something important he is forgetting. It slips through his mind like smoke through fingers.

Where am I?

Why am I here?

What was I doing before this?

The questions eat at him, but no answers come.

Then - something changes.

A sound.

So faint it might be imagined. A breath against glass.

Then again, stronger. Sharper.

It slices through the silence like a crack in ice.

A voice.

The sound hits him like a jolt - too loud, too sudden after the dead stillness. It vibrates in his skull, echoes off invisible walls, shakes something loose in his chest. It’s familiar. He knows it, even if he can’t place it.

Warmth prickles at the edges of the cold. A thread of light in the darkness. It calls to him - not in words he can grasp, but in feeling, a pulse beneath the silence.

He turns his head, or thinks he does. His limbs are slow and distant. He reaches out, but touches nothing.

Still nothing but black.

The cold sharpens, angry now. It tries to smother the voice - curling tighter, like it wants to keep him here, still and forgetful. But the voice rises again, louder. Sharper. Almost painful. It drills into him, overwhelming in the silence. He flinches, instinctively trying to pull away, but it chases him. It wants him to listen.

His name. That’s what it’s saying. 

It’s calling his name.

The sound spins all around him - impossible to place, as though the dark itself is speaking. It pulls at him. Drags him toward something he can’t yet see. His chest tightens. His breath comes quick and shallow, though he’s not sure if he’s actually breathing at all.

And then-

His eyes open.

And its raining.

It pours in sheets around him, soaking through fabric and skin in seconds. Cold, but not the same. This cold is real, grounded - earthly. It bites, but it doesn’t linger in his marrow like the other had. It doesn’t hollow him out.

He blinks up at the sky, the clouds smudged and bloated, lit briefly by the flash of lightning that rips jagged across the canopy above. Thunder cracks a second later, splitting the world open, echoing like a warning.

The trees loom around him, their branches bending under the weight of water, their silhouettes stretching into the dark like crooked fingers. And before him - nothing. Just more dark. Murky. Reaching. It pulses in the spaces between the trunks, an unknowable thing that makes some deep instinct in him want to run.

The sound of the rain fills his ears. A thousand sharp taps. A steady roar.

Then - through it - clarity. A voice.

“Macaque!”

He turns.

His skull aches. A sharp, pulsing pain just above his brow. He winces, raising a hand to his temple, squeezing his eyes shut against the stabbing sensation. When he opens them again, Wukong is there.

Standing in the storm.

Drenched. Rain runs down his face, turning his hair into copper-soaked strands. His clothes cling to him, waterlogged and heavy.

His hand is outstretched, fingers just shy of brushing Macaque’s shoulder.

“Macaque,” he says again, louder this time to fight the storm. “What the hell are you doing?”

Macaque says nothing. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain what just happened. He opens his mouth - but a thunderclap cuts him off, cracking across the sky like it’s trying to split him open too.

He flinches.

Wukong’s eyes stay locked on his.

Macaque swallows. Thinks. Fumbles for anything that might make this seem like less of a nightmare. Something simple. Something Wukong will believe.

“I was… looking for something,” Macaque says, quiet. “To give you. A gift.”

Why are you lying?

Wukong blinks. The concern falters - turns into confusion, then disbelief. “What?”

Macaque presses on, his own voice barely rising over the rain. “For you. To court you.”

Wukong just stares at him, stunned.

Then: “You what?”

Macaque looks down, embarrassed. “I thought-” he lies. “I don’t know. It made sense at the time.”

“You tackled me,” Wukong says, voice sharp now. “You tackled me in the field, went completely still like you’d been shot with an arrow, then just walked away. I shouted after you. You didn’t even flinch. You scared the hell out of me, Macaque. And now you’re telling me you did that to find me a gift?”

Macaque nods once, weakly.

Why are you lying?

Thunder again. Louder this time. The trees sway with the force of the storm.

“You’re unbelievable,” Wukong mutters, raking a hand through his soaked hair. “You dragged me out into a storm because you wanted to be romantic?”

Macaque shifts uncomfortably, trying to bury the tremble in his limbs. “Where are MK and Mei?” he asks, voice low.

“I sent them back to the inn,” Wukong says, still agitated. “Didn’t want them getting soaked. I followed you myself. Good thing I did.”

They fall into silence.

The rain doesn’t.

It pours around them, unrelenting. The smell of wet bark and earth hangs heavy in the air.

Macaque doesn’t look up. “Sorry,” he says finally.

Wukong doesn’t respond. Not at first.

He watches Macaque instead - eyes narrowed, trying to read him like he’s a riddle he can’t quite solve. There’s something there, just behind his gaze. Worry, still. But something else too. Hurt.

Then - quietly, without a word - Wukong reaches forward and takes Macaque’s hand.

His grip is firm. Warm, despite everything.

He turns and starts walking.

Macaque follows.

Wukong doesn’t say a word as he drags the taller through the soaked underbrush.

The rain continues it’s assult, Macaque still feeling it on every inch of skin and fur, clothes sticking to him like regret. The town’s lights are distant flickers through the trees, a warm haze they move toward without speaking.

The sage doesn’t look at him.

And somehow, that hurts more than the raised voice, more than the cold. It’s like Wukong’s silence is louder than anything he could say. Punishing, yes - but not out of cruelty. Out of something more fragile. 

He focuses instead on Wukong’s hand, still clasped around his.

It’s warm. Strangely so. Like a lifeline.

By the time they reach the inn, both of them are dripping water onto the floorboards. Wukong drags him to their room and leads him straight into the bathroom, turning the knobs on the lanterns and kneeling by the tub. The soft yellow glow bounces off steam-stained tiles, gentle and quiet in contrast to everything else.

Macaque stands there, uncertain, while Wukong busies himself with the faucet, adjusting the water with practiced motions. It’s quiet work, but deliberate. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t glance up.

Then he’s gone - just for a second - returning with a towel and a bundle of fresh clothes. He sets it all down carefully, then turns. Macaque blinks as Wukong steps in close, reaching for the scarf around his neck. Fingers deftly unwind the fabric, careful, but too fast.

And then - Wukong’s hands move to Macaque’s robes.

They pause.

Macaque sees it happen in real time - the way the golden monkey’s expression shifts, eyes widening just slightly as he realizes what he’s doing. That he’s about to undress him.

Wukong pulls back like he’s touched a flame. His jaw tightens.

“Take a bath,” he says, voice softer now. Still strained, but not angry. “Before you catch a cold.”

Macaque doesn’t get the chance to respond. The door clicks shut behind the celestial a moment later.

He’s alone.

The silence settles in again, broken only by the slow fill of the tub and the tap of water hitting porcelain. Macaque stands there, dripping, until the cold finally drives him into motion.

His hands shake slightly as he peels off each soaked layer, clothes clinging to his fur like they’re afraid to let go. When he finally slides into the water, it’s like a thousand tiny needles press into his being at once before melting into warmth.

He exhales.

Leans back.

Lets himself sink deeper, until the heat cradles him.

It’s not enough.

That cold - that cold - is still there. Deep. Rooted. Not the chill of rain or wind, but something older. Something buried in his ribs and behind his eyes. Like a shadow that hadn’t quite left.

What was that?

He remembers the silence. That awful, suffocating silence that had teeth. The kind you can’t scream through. He hadn’t even realized how loud it was until Wukong’s voice broke through it.

He should’ve been scared. Maybe he was.

But it hadn’t felt like fear at the time. It had felt like - like he was being pulled. By something ancient and cold and empty. And he’d followed.

Why?

His stomach twists. His mind drifts to Wukong. The way he’d looked - drenched, frantic, angry. The kind of angry that only came from care. And Macaque had lied to him. He’d looked into that beautiful, infuriated face and said he’d gone into the woods to court him. Why? 

It had been the only excuse he could think of.

He presses a hand to his chest, just above his heart.

The numbness is gone. But something is still off. Not wrong - just… echoing. Like a door has been opened inside him and he doesn’t know where it leads.

Macaque sinks lower, the water rising to his chin.

He wants to understand.

He wants to forget.

He wants - Wukong.

Macaque stays in the tub longer than he needs to, waiting until the cold in his bones feels more like a memory than a threat. Even then, the warmth doesn’t settle easily - it hovers, like it’s not sure it belongs.

Eventually, he pulls himself out of the water and dries off enough to slip into the clothes Wukong left for him. Everything smells faintly of cedar and something sweet. It feels too kind. Too much.

When Macaque steps out into the room, the first thing he sees is the celestial.

He’s standing by the window, completely still, watching the rain slash against the glass. His shoulders are hunched slightly, his hair dripping in dark strands down the back of his neck. The light from the storm casts long shadows, outlining him like a painting that doesn’t want to be seen.

Macaque stops just shy of the main room. He considers saying something. But what? That he’s sorry? That he doesn’t know why he wandered off like that? That he lied?

None of it would fix the look on Wukong’s face from earlier.

So instead, he walks quietly across the space and sits on the edge of his bed. His gaze flicks to the bed across from his - Wukong’s bed. The covers are rumpled, messily kicked aside. It’s a small comfort, knowing the sage must’ve gotten at least some rest last night.

He looks back up. Wukong hasn’t moved.

Still soaked. Still silent.

“You should take a bath,” Macaque says softly, voice careful, unsure. “You’re still wet.”

At first, there’s nothing. Just the rain against the windows. Then, without turning, Wukong finally speaks.

“I don’t understand you at all right now.”

His voice is quiet. Not sharp. But tired. And that makes it worse.

“Were you trying to scare me?” he asks. Not like an accusation - more like he’s honestly asking himself. “Was this you… trying to worry me?”

Macaque’s heart skips.

“No,” he says, quickly, a little too quickly. “That wasn’t - it wasn’t like that. I just made a dumb mistake.”

Wukong turns his head slightly, finally glancing at him. His expression is unreadable at first. Then something cracks - barely - and his brows draw together, sadness cutting through.

“You don’t make dumb mistakes like that,” he says. “You’re smart. You’re calculated. You know better.”

Macaque doesn’t answer. Because it’s true.

“That’s why I know it wasn’t just… to find some gift. That’s not it.”

He turns back to the window, and the words that follow are quieter, like they cost something to say.

“You’re not telling me the truth.”

That lands heavier than anything else. Not because it’s angry - but because it’s not. Because it’s full of hurt.

Macaque stares at Wukong’s back, rain still thrumming against the windows. The silence stretches - so thick it feels like it could choke him. He watches the way Wukong’s shoulders remain tense, like he’s holding in too much. Like the wrong word might break him open.

He sits there in silence, hands folded loosely in his lap. They look too perfect. Too still. Like they don’t belong to him at all.

This quiet - this distance - it’s pressing into his chest. He can feel the edge of something rising behind his ribs. Guilt, maybe. Or the ache of something older. Something he’s been holding down for so long he’s forgotten what it feels like not to.

The words Sandy told him drift back, faint but steady.

Something honest.

Something real.

Macaque swallows. The sound is loud in his ears.

His gaze drops. He curls his fingers slightly, as if bracing for impact. There’s a line he’s never crossed - not with anyone. He’s kept that part of himself locked tight, tucked behind layers he doesn’t even think about anymore. Layers that protect, that conceal, that make everything easier.

He could keep it that way. He should.

But…

“You’re not telling me the truth.”

It hurts more than he expects it to. Wukong always knew what to say to get him to crack. He knew the sage never meant to. Maybe that was just it. It wasn’t the words that always made the blow hurt. It was because they were coming from him.

He shifts in place. Breathes in deep. Something sharp catches in his throat. Whatever choice he’s about to make - it’s not simple. It’s not easy. It’s like standing at the edge of something high and steep and deciding to step off, knowing full well you might fall.

A voice in the back of his mind whispers that Wukong might look at him differently. Might see him - and hate what he sees. Might turn around and walk away.

And Macaque doesn’t think he could survive that.

Still.

Still.

He makes the choice.

The change is quiet. Barely perceptible. But it’s enough to tilt the air in the room. Enough to feel like a shiver under the skin. Something slides away - not forcefully, but with the weight of years.

Macaque doesn’t look up.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. The words sit differently now. Because this apology isn’t about the woods.

Wukong turns. His mouth open, clearly about to retort - but he stops cold.

His face shifts, the anger faltering. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything at all. Just stares. Like something just rewrote itself in front of him.

Like he’s seeing Macaque for the very first time.

And in a way, he is.

Macaque sits still, hands resting in his lap, eyes locked on Wukong’s expression. Every second that passes makes his chest tighten a little more. He can feel the weight of the scar over his right eye, dull and numb, but noticeable - the slight blur edging his vision like a half-forgotten shadow. He rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit, the tiny, rough scars along them catching faintly.

His ears twitch, all six. The hidden ones - longer, curled at the tips, pressed slightly too flat from being concealed so long - are painfully aware of the open air now. They twitch again. The ebony monkey can’t help the way his heart beats faster, harder. Loud enough he’s sure Wukong can hear it.

The sage doesn’t move.

Macaque wonders if he’s going to laugh. Or scoff. Or say something sharp to break the silence and make it easier to pretend none of this happened. He wonders if he’s going to walk away.

But he doesn’t.

Wukong’s expression softens. The surprise melts into something gentler - quieter. He takes a slow step forward. Then another. Then sits beside Macaque on the bed, close but not touching.

His gaze drags across Macaque’s face, like he’s trying to memorize it. As if it’s something precious. Macaque feels a mixture of dread and relief that nearly cancels itself out.

“I’m sorry,” Macaque says again, voice low. “for not being truthful.”

Wukong doesn’t respond at first. His eyes keep moving - scanning, pausing. Then, slowly, his hand rises. Macaque barely flinches when the celestial’s fingers brush the edge of his scar. The touch is featherlight.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wukong murmurs, more confused than anything. It isn’t a scolding. It’s bewilderment. Wonder. They both know what it means - what it costs - to let someone see you like this.

Macaque exhales. “I’m being honest.”

Wukong doesn’t answer right away. His fingers trace gently over the scar, as if trying to feel the history there. “Does it hurt?” he asks, so soft it sounds like he isn’t even aware he’s spoken out loud.

“Not anymore,” The darker simian replies, equally quiet. His eyes haven’t left Wukong’s once.

Wukong’s hands move - slow, deliberate. He brushes aside Macaque’s hair, fingertips ghosting toward the extra ears. Macaque tenses slightly, and says, “Careful. They’re… sensitive.”

The other’s touch grows even gentler. His palms cup the sides of Macaque’s head, thumbs brushing softly over the curve of each ear. There’s no mockery in his gaze - just reverence. He’s being so careful, like he’s afraid Macaque might vanish or shatter.

Macaque leans into it, just a little. Then he asks - tentative, afraid of ruining everything - “How many glamours do you wear?”

The hands pause.

Wukong’s gaze finally shifts to meet his, and Macaque feels it. Like the great sage equal to Heaven sees him for the first time. It’s grounding. Intimate in a way that makes Macaque feel like he’s standing at the edge of something vast.

“You wouldn’t want to see me without them,” Wukong says quietly, withdrawing his hands. “Trust me.”

“That’s not true,” Macaque replies immediately, voice firm but warm. “But if you’re not ready… I’ll wait.”

He had expected a pause after the words left his mouth, but the reaction was immediate. Something breaks in Wukong. Not in a way that is loud or painful. But the way his shoulders dip, the way his face tilts just slightly away - it says everything.

“The other celestials told me I had to wear them,” Wukong says, voice quiet, almost absent. “Said it was better that way. That people wouldn’t… confuse me for something dangerous.”

Macaque watches him in the dim light, eyes following as Wuong’s fingers drift to the edge of his fillet like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he’s trying to convince them both that Heaven had a point. That maybe everyone really is safer this way.

“Well,” he says, light but not dismissive, “it’s a good thing I’m just a mortal.”

There’s a pause.

Wukong huffs something like a laugh through his nose, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t meeting Macaque’s gaze. Instead, he studies the floor like it might hold the right words.

“I’ve got a lot of ugly scars,” he declares after a moment, and this time it lands like a confession. His voice is barely more than a breath. “More than I can count.”

Macaque takes it in, lets it settle between them. Then he exhales slowly, eyes drifting to his own hands - calloused and healed over a hundred different ways.

“So do I,” he murmurs, and there’s the smallest tug of a smile at his lips. Not bright. Not performative. Just real.

But Wukong still isn’t smiling. His shoulders have gone rigid, like he’s bracing for something he doesn’t know how to name. His voice drops, barely audible.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

And that - that - is the real thing he’s afraid of. Not the scars. Not judgment. But change. Distance. The crack in something warm and rare he doesn’t know how to hold onto.

Macaque doesn’t answer - not with words. In a moment of found courage, he reaches out, takes one of Wukong’s hands gently, and presses a kiss to the knuckles. His smile stays, soft and sure.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently either.”

Wukong glances at him before looking away again, clearly embarrassed. His ears flush at the tips, barely visible in the low light.

They sit in silence, rain still murmuring against the windows. The air between them is heavy - fragile, almost sacred. Macaque can feel Wukong thinking. Can feel the tension tightening in the space between heartbeats.

Then Wukong shifts.

Just slightly. Barely a breath. But Macaque feels the change.

The other exhales, head lowered and eyes shut. It’s a quiet, trembling breath, but it seems to carry everything with it. 

The glamours fall.

It’s not dramatic - not some burst of light or shimmer of magic. It’s quiet. Like fog evaporating. Like a mask slipping free.

But the ebony monkey feels it. Like something old and invisible has been stripped away.

The first thing he notices are the scars.

One etched over Wukong’s left brow. Another clawing down the curve of his jaw. Faint, silvery lines across his forehead, near the base of his crown. And the ones on his ears - deep, ugly rakes down both sides, like something had tried to rip through him and almost succeeded.

Wukong’s head is still bowed, his eyes still closed. And for a second, Macaque doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t dare.

Then the celestial opens his eyes.

The change is immediate. The gold sclera of his eyes is no longer golden yellow - they glow a deep, striking ruby red. His irises are a striking gold, too bright, too alive. There’s something haunting and beautiful in them. Something vulnerable.

Macaque’s breath catches. It’s not because of the color. Or the scars. It’s because this is Wukong. And he’s letting Macaque see him. 

Not just the pride or the strength or the loud, radiant confidence he wears like armor. Not just the grief or the insecurities, or those moment of weakness that he’s let the other see. But also the things the glamours were always meant to hide.

The trust feels heavier than any blade Macaque’s ever held. It settles into him, warm and fragile, and something in him wants to flinch away from it. Like he’s not worthy of it. Like it’s too much.

He looks at the scars again.

Not just the ones on Wukong’s face or his ears - but the invisible kind, the kind Macaque recognizes all too well. The tension in his jaw. The way his shoulders are too straight, like he’s holding himself together. Like if he relaxes even for a moment, he might fall apart.

Macaque’s throat tightens. It’s a strange mix of anguish and admiration. Because even like this - especially like this - Wukong is beautiful.

Not in the polished, immortal way that celestials tend to be. But in something real. Something raw.

And Macaque realizes something terrifying.

He’s already fallen for this version of Wukong. The one no one else sees. The one he’s seeing now.

He swallows thickly, blinking to chase away the heat stinging at the corners of his eyes. He wants to reach out. Say something. Anything.

But what do you say to someone who’s handed you their deepest fear?

His hand twitches slightly at his side before he lifts it. Gently - so gently - he brushes his fingers along the scar over the other’s brow, mirroring what the sage had done to him only moments ago.

Wukong doesn’t flinch.

Macaque’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “You’re not what I expected.”

There’s a pause.

Then: “I think I like that more.”

Wukong stares at him, eyes a little wide. And then, finally, something in him cracks open.

He surges forward - not roughly, not recklessly, but with the weight of something he’s been holding back for too long. One hand slides behind Macaque’s neck, tentative, and he kisses him.

Their lips meet in a crash of nerves and acknowledgment. It’s not graceful. Macaque flinches, startled, and their noses bump awkwardly - but then he exhales, soft and surprised, and leans into it.

Just lips, brushing.

A breath shared between them.

Then they pull apart. Just barely. Macaque’s eyes are wide, a little dazed. Wukong looks afraid - like he’s bracing for rejection, for reality to crash back down around them.

But Macaque lifts a hand, gentle and sure, and brings him back in.

The second kiss finds steadier footing. It’s still soft, still learning. Lips pressing again, finding where they fit - what rhythm feels right, how to move together.

Then it shifts.

Subtle, at first. Wukong’s teeth catch Macaque’s bottom lip in a delicate nip, and Macaque answers by tilting his head, deepening the kiss with something like intent. Like permission. His hand slides to Wukong’s jaw, thumb ghosting across the line of a scar.

They break apart just long enough to breathe - and then it crashes over them again.

All the restraint burns away.

There’s no performance in it, no practiced heat. Just the raw, imperfect ache of two beings who have spent far too long pretending not to want this.

Hands pull each other closer. Mouths open in soft, seeking hunger. It’s not hurried, but it’s not slow either - it’s urgent, unspoken, aching.

Not just desire. Not just longing.

Everything.

All of it.

Wukong kisses Macaque like it’s the only language he has left. And Macaque answers him without hesitation, finally giving back everything he’s been holding in.

Wukong shifts into Macaque’s lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world - like he’s been moving toward this moment from the very beginning. Their lips don’t part, only deepen, breathing shared between kisses that taste like trust, like time lost and finally found.

Then, gently, the celestial guides the thief back. The mattress dips beneath them, and Wukong follows, never losing contact. When they finally separate, just barely, both are breathing harder, their eyes locked.

For a suspended second, they just look at each other.

Macaque’s smirk is slow, crooked. Wukong’s laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. The darker monkey’s hand finds the back of his neck again, and he draws his golden counterpart down into another kiss.

There’s no rush.

Just warmth.

Reassurance.

Apology, affection, ache - all bleeding into the press of their mouths, the slide of hands, the weight of unsaid things being spoken through touch.

Wukong’s fingers ghost beneath Macaque’s shirt, skimming over scars, the curve of his ribs, the quiet thrum of his heart. Macaque doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t flinch. Instead, he shifts, pushing Wukong gently back, reversing their positions until the celestial is beneath him. He pulls his shirt over his head and lets Wukong look.

Macaque sees his gaze travel - scar to scar, memory to memory - and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to hide.

Wukong sits up slightly and leans in, pressing quiet kisses to the scattered marks across the other’s chest. Macaque flushes, color blooming high on his cheeks, and he doesn’t hide that either.

He leans away just enough to get the celestial’s attention, both of them holding eye contact and sharing a silent conversation. Wukong slowly reachs up and drags the tips of his fingers over the back of Macaque’s ears, sending a shiver down the dark monkey’s spine. He gently pulls Macaque into him, creating a rather awkward position of the thief straddling the celestial while also hunched over him, and gives each of the six ears feather light kisses.

It makes Macaque’s heart soar and ache painfully at the same time. He never liked his ears. Never knew anyone that liked his ears. They were an eye sore, adults had said. He was a freak, kids had said. He kept them hidden because it was easier for everyone. But here Wukong was. Treating them with a gentlness Macaque never thought he could be worthy of. Touching them like they were delicate petals. 

He reaches for the drenched folds of Wukong’s robes and peels them away, slow and careful. The fabric clings before falling, and Macaque takes in what’s beneath - more scars, pale reminders of battles past. His eyes catch on one near Wukong’s side, the one from Demon Bull King, and his fingers drift over it like a vow. Then his mouth follows, soft kisses down the line of it, reverent and silent.

Wukong’s hand finds his shoulder, guiding him back up.

Their eyes meet again, another shared conversation that said too much in a short span of time. Then another kiss - this one slower, deeper, more certain.

Wukong wraps his arms around Macaque’s neck and pulls him down again, carding his fingers through the coarse fur on Macaque’s back. Wukong’s own back sinks into the pillows and Macaque braces himself carefully above him, every motion saying I’m here. I want this. I want you.

The rest unfolds like a whispered promise.

Movements gentle, touches speaking what words can’t. Their bodies learn each other in real time - hesitant at first, then fluid, unhurried. The room is quiet save for soft breaths, low murmurs, the creak of the bed beneath them. Fingers tangle. Lips find familiar places and new ones. Every part of it feels like something sacred.

Macaque leans in close, mouth brushing the shell of Wukong’s ear, and says something only for him. The celestial closes his eyes and nods, the smallest smile curling his mouth before he pulls Macaque even closer, as if they could become one.

When they finally come together, it’s not rushed or wild.

It’s steady.

It’s grounding.

It’s the long-overdue meeting of two souls that have spent so long circling each other in pain and fear and silence - and have finally chosen closeness.

Chosen this.

Chosen each other.

And in the quiet that follows, tangled in each other’s arms, they don’t say much. They don’t need to. Their silence is soft, warm. Whole.

Like everything else, it speaks for them.

Chapter Text

Wukong was still asleep, which Macaque found faintly hilarious.

Of the two of them, the golden monkey was always the one up at the crack of dawn, already moving and humming and dragging Macaque along to continue their travels. But now - now he was sprawled out like a cat in a sunbeam, his face slack with sleep, breathing slow and easy against the ebony monkey’s chest.

Macaque had been awake for a while. Long enough to go through several waves of disbelief. And awe. And hunger. And now, this - the quiet indulgence of watching Wukong sleep like it was the only thing worth doing.

He traced slow, absent-minded patterns over the celestial’s back with the tips of his fingers, feeling the silky bronze fur. Lines he’d forget the moment they were drawn. But it grounded him. Kept him in the moment. Because gods, there had been a lot of moments where this had felt impossible.

And now it was real.

He kept looking at Wukong’s face like it might vanish if he looked away too long. Like maybe this was a dream and he’d wake up alone again, bed cold, heart bitter. But no. This wasn’t a trick of fate or the universe.

This was Wukong.

The real one. Warm and soft and breathing against him.

And Macaque, well. He got to have this.

His eyes wandered over Wukong’s features, drinking them in like he hadn’t already memorized them a hundred times over by now. Still, he couldn’t help it. There was something addictive about the real thing. The quiet curve of his brow, the faint crease between his eyes where worry liked to live, the way his lashes brushed his cheeks in sleep.

Then there were the scars.

Macaque’s gaze lingered on them. A small constellation across Wukong’s temple. A line slicing through one brow. Another at his jaw. He wondered which stories belonged to each mark. Maybe Wukong had already hold him every one but forgot to mention the scars they left behind. Some probably had no story at all, just stupid moments in a stupid long life that added up to one unshakably solid monkey.

Some framed his circlet in a way that made Macaque wonder what had happened. Made him wonder if the sage wore it to hide them. They curved and faded like small veins just hidden beneath the golden crown. They weren’t ugly though. Nothing about this version of Wukong was ugly. It all seemed to belong to a single puzzle. Like the way a sky belongs to light.

The thief wondered if they still ached in the cold. Wondered what kind of pain it took to make someone this gentle still hold so much fire.

And maybe the thing that surprised him most - he didn’t feel scared of it.

He should, maybe. A version of him would have been. The Monkey King was a character that was untouchable. Dazzling. Distant. But the simian in his arms? He laughed too loud. He burned his tongue on tea. He lost silly carnival games. And he had chosen Macaque.

Of all the people in the world, of all the ways this could’ve gone, Wukong had stood there and looked him in the eye and said I want you.

He felt… a little smug.

Not in a cruel way. Not like he’d won something no one else could have. Just in that rare, quiet way where the universe finally tilted in your favor and you got to laugh about it.

Wukong could’ve had anyone. Could’ve kept running. Could’ve kept hiding.

But he hadn’t.

He was here.

And Macaque got to be the one holding him.

The thought made something soft and stunned unfurl in his chest.

He rested his chin lightly against the sage’s head and exhaled.

Whatever this was - however long it lasted - Macaque wanted to remember this part. The quiet. The warmth. The stupid, gorgeous luck of it all.

He snapped to attention when Wukong stirred with a soft noise, a faint hitch in his breathing before he shifted, nuzzling closer into Macaque’s chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand curled loosely against the darker monkey’s side, fingers flexing once, twice, before stilling again.

Macaque stilled too, watching him.

Then Wukong blinked his eyes open, sluggish and slow, gaze unfocused until it settled on the shape of Macaque above him. He squinted, brows furrowing slightly in the early light.

“…How long have you been awake?” he mumbled, voice thick and groggy.

Macaque’s mouth curved. “A while.”

Wukong made a soft, indignant sound and buried his face against the others’s collarbone. “Rude.”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You stared me awake.”

Macaque huffed a quiet laugh, dragging his fingers gently through Wukong’s hair. “Wasn’t on purpose.”

The celestial didn’t move. “You’re still staring.”

“I know.”

Wukong’s voice was barely audible. “You’re gonna wear holes through me.”

Macaque smiled at that. “Not my fault your face is nice to look at in the morning.”

The shorter groaned into his skin, but there was no real protest there. Just the kind of lazy contentment that came from being comfortable, being held. “…I was having a dream,” he murmured, fingers curling against Macaque’s ribs. “I think you were in it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” A pause. “I don’t remember what happened. But you were laughing.”

He blinked, surprised. “That’s rare.”

“I know.” Wukong tilted his head just enough to peek up at him, lids still heavy with sleep. “It was a good sound.”

Macaque swallowed, throat suddenly tight. He didn’t have words for that - not really. Just a quiet ache behind his ribs, the kind that made him press a kiss to Wukong’s forehead instead of answering.

They stayed like that for a moment. Breathing in the same rhythm. Nothing urgent. Nothing heavy. Just warmth.

Eventually, the sage shifted, stretching out with a long sigh before relaxing back against him. “Are we getting up today, or is this the rest of our lives now?”

Macaque ran a hand lazily down his back. “I’m open to both.”

“Dangerous thing to say.”

“You asked.”

Wukong smiled into his chest. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Only because you’re enabling me.”

Another pause. Wukong’s voice was quieter when he spoke next. “You… really okay? After everything? After last night?”

Macaque didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” He looked down at him, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “You?”

“Yeah.” Wukong smiled, a little lopsided. “Weirdly.”

“Good weird?”

“The best kind.”

There was a moment of stillness. Like they might fall back asleep, cocooned in warmth and shared breath.

“…You aren’t going to stop staring, are you?” The sage’s voice was quiet, but this time there was a different edge to it. Lighter. Almost amused.

Macaque didn’t look away. “Can’t help it.”

Wukong tilted his head slightly, a lock of hair falling over his brow. “I’m going to start getting ideas if you keep looking at me like that.”

The thief hummed, his fingers still tracing slow, meaningless shapes along the small of the celestial’s back. “What kind of ideas?”

“The dangerous kind.”

“That so?”

Wukong didn’t answer right away - just slowly pushed himself up, bracing one hand on Macaque’s chest. His hair was a mess, and his expression was still a little sleepy, but the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, voice low and lazy, “but I’m not great at resisting temptations.”

The ebony monkey smirked. “Lucky me.”

“Oh, you say that now.” Wukong leaned down, lips just brushing Macaque’s jaw. “But what if I told you I was thinking about making this a problem?”

“Then I’d ask what’s stopping you.”

A beat passed.

“Nothing,” Wukong murmured - and then he was kissing him. Faster than last night; deeper, hungrier, like he already knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t interested in pretending otherwise.

Macaque groaned into it, hands sliding through the fur on Wukong’s sides, and for a while, the only sound in the room was the rustle of sheets and the quiet, breathless noise Macaque made when Wukong shifted to straddle him.

The older’s hands were on his wrists a second later, pushing them gently above his head, pinning him down against the mattress.

“Well, well,” Macaque panted, grin crooked. “Look who got bold.”

“Not into it?”

“I’m into anything involving you.”

Wukong leaned down again, teeth catching Macaque’s lower lip before letting go. “What a flirt. You’re just as bold with your words.”

Macaque’s eyebrows arched, mouth parting like he was going to say something smug - and then he laughed softly, low in his throat. “I just thought you’d appreciate some honesty from me. So what are you going to do with it, great sage?”

Wukong’s smile was all teeth, that burning fire in his eyes only seemed to grow. “I’d say turnabout is fair play.”

Macaque grinned. “Then I hope you’re planning to be thorough.”

“Oh, definitely,” The celestal whispered, already kissing down his throat. “You made a mess of me last night. I’m just returning the favor.”

Macaque’s fingers curled against the sheets, breath catching in his throat as Wukong’s touch burned lower and lower. “You’re - unfairly good at this.”

“You’re the one who said I was nice to look at,” The sage said, trailing a hand down his chest. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me not to ruin you.”

The taller laughed, hoarse. “I thought you were scared of doing that?”

The wandering hand immediately stilled. “Do you want me to stop? Because I can-”

Macaque gently pulled his wrists from the other’s grasp and grabbed Wukong, bringing him up for a quick kiss. “I think I’ll lose my mind if you stop now.”

Wukong blinked a couple times before a relieved look fell across his face. “Good,” he said, lowering his voice until it was nearly a purr. “Because I’m just getting star—”

Knock, knock.

Both of them froze.

There was a beat of stunned silence before Macaque turned his head into the pillow with a groan so loud it was practically a cry of betrayal.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Wukong bit down a laugh and collapsed forward against him.

Another knock. This one paired with MK’s unmistakably cheerful voice. “You two up yet? We’re getting breakfast!”

“I hate them.” Macaque grumbled.

Wukong failed to hold down his amusement this time and burst out laughing as he peeled himself off of the other. “No you don’t.”

“Right now, I do.”

The golden sage snorted as he stood and raked a hand through his hair, his glamours going back up. “Think of it this way - now you’ve got something to look forward to.”

He pulled on a white bathroom robe and opened the door with a bright, too-innocent smile that fooled absolutely no one. Mei stood behind MK, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. MK, as usual, looked completely oblivious. “We were wondering if you two were awake,” Mei said. “We’re starving but didn’t want to go without you.”

“How thoughtful! Macaque, isn’t that thoughtful?” Wukong asked, shooting him a shit-eating grin over his shoulder. Macaque glared at the other from his place on the bed. “Give us a few minutes,” Wukong told the kids before shutting the door.

Macaque groaned from his spot, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m starting to think the unoverse is personally offended by my happiness.”

Wukong laughed - full and unrestrained - and Macaque didn’t even pretend not to smile. That sound was fast becoming his favorite thing. Not the smug kind the celestial used when he was teasing or making a show of himself - but this one. This laugh, bright and messy and real, like he forgot he was supposed to be anything other than alive.

“You’ll survive,” Wukong said as he crossed the room, bending down to rummage through one of his bags. 

Macaque finally summoned all the energy he had and pulled himself from the bed, smoothing his hair back as he stood. He padded across the way to grab his own pack and pull some fresh clothes.

Neither spoke as they got dressed. The silence in the room didn’t need to be filled with noise; the quiet shuffle of feet and clothing was enough to bring contentment to both of them. Granted, it took longer to make themselves decent than normal. 

When Macaque pulled his shirt down, a body was pressed to his back and hands slid up his chest before playfully pulling away again. He’d give Wukong an unipressed look, but he was no better. While the sage was overly concentrated on making sure his sash sat correctly over his chest, Macaque brushed his hand through the tawny locks, fixing the messy state of it. 

Soft looks were exchanged, hands brushing waists, Wukong sweeping his tail under Macaque’s chin. The atmosphere was sickeningly sweet. There was a silent agreement that both wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

Finally, they were dressed and their respective glamours were fixed in place once more. Even though he had only seen Wukong without his glamours for a handful of hours, seeing the smooth skin and golden eyes was equivelent to looking at a stranger’s face. It wasn’t less attractive to him, but knowing what sat underneath now, Macaque couldn’t wait to turn in for the night again and have Wukong look at him with those ruby eyes.

They both stood by the door, Wukong reaching for the knob when Macaque stopped him. He playfully reached up to wiggle the golden fillet atop the celestial’s head, but found it stuck. He blinked a couple times, going to try and adjust it again with the assumption that it couldn’t be comfortable so tight, when Wukong ducked away with a surprised look. 

Wukong’s hand went up to press his fingers to the golden accessory, as if checking to see if it had moved. His eyes looked ever so slightly wider, before he let out a chuckle. “C’mon, the kids are probably wondering what’s taking so long.” He turned away and walked out the door, leaving Macaque to stand there for a second before rushing after the older.

The cafeteria smelled like honey and citrus peel. Light poured through the warped windows in angled sheets, catching on mismatched plates and the sticky gloss of syrup traills left behind by other patrons.

Mei spotted them first, perking up from her seat with a fork mid-air. “There you are!” she grinned. “We were worried you guys ditched us.”

MK, slouched beside her with a napkin half-heartedly tucked into his shirt, added “You took forever.”

“Sorry,” Wukong said with a lazy smile. “Someone wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Macaque didn’t bother defending himself and correcting the sage by saying they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Instead, he followed Wukong to the table, casting a dry glance at Mei’s mountainous plate.

“You stockpiling for winter?” He asked.

“She said she’s bulking,” MK mumbled around a bite of waffle.

“For battle,” Mei said, dead serious.

Wukong plucked a slice of mango from her plate before she could stop him, then offered it to Macaque without looking, as naturally as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Macaque accepted it with a quiet huff and dropped into the seat beside him. Their knees bumped under the table, and neither of them moved away.

It was too easy, Macaque thought - this small, lived-in rhythm. It unnerved him a little how much he liked it.

They fell into the usual morniing chatter, a blend of complaints about lumpy pillows and praise for decent coffee. Wukong stole more food, Mei threatened to stab him with her fork, and MK couldn’t pick who’s side he was on. It was all so endearing to watch up close.

But of course, then came a shift.

“So,” MK began, almost too casually when there was a dip in the teasing. “what happened to you yesterday, Macaque? You kinda… disappeared.”

Mei’s utensil paused just short of her mouth. “Yeah. You straight up tackled monkey man and then just - went.”

Macaque didn’t flinch. He’d been expecting this. He swallowed another piece of fruit that had been handed to him by Wukong, and gave the most offhanded shrug he could manage. “I was looking for something.”

“In the woods?” MK asked.

Macaque nodded. “Thought I dropped something the night before. Wanted to check before the rain came in.”

“Wait,” Mei frowned, “you mean you went back out just to find… what, a trinket?”

Macaque shrugged again. “It was important.”

She gave him a suggestive look, to which he raised a brow at, before it seemed Mei reached some revelation. She opened her mouth to make an ‘oh’ shape and smirked. “Ah, I see. I think I know what you went out for.”

“What.” He deadpanned. He hadn’t actually went out for anything, so what in the heavens did she think he was looking for?

“You should be a lot more careful,” she said. She elbowed MK lightly and nodded to him, as if trying to reassure the boy that whatever Macaque went into a storm for was worth it. MK started pestering the two, wanting to be let in on the secret that in truth, Mei was the only on in on.

Macaque went along with it though and let the conversation shift. Mei and MK found something else to discuss, much to his delight, and he could safely sneak food off of MK’s plate without having to admit that he wasn’t even sure how he ended up in the forest. The only thing keeping him tensed, was Wukong’s stare.

It was heavy, and burning the side of his head.

He pretended not to notice. Not to notice how Wukong had looked expectantly to him when MK brought the topic up, not to notice how Wukong didn’t offer any comment on the matter, and not to notice his curious look now. 

It wasn’t a sharp stare or one that was angry. It was knowing. Because Wukong knows that it was complete bullshit. 

“You don’t make dumb mistakes like that,”

That was where Wukong was wrong. He makes dumb mistakes all the time. These last handful of months have been proof of that.

He’d made one the day he said yes to Lady Bone Demon, chasing money instead of sense. He’d made another when he decided to use Wukong - pluck him from his rightous pedestal and lead him blindly toward a fire neither of them fully understood. And another, when he let his guard down long enough to start looking at Wukong like he was anything more than a means to an end.

Letting him close was the dumbest one of all.

Because now everything was tangled. The job, the lies, the touches that lingered too long and the silence between them that felt like a promise. He wasn’t sure when it stopped being about the fire and survival and started being about Wukong.

But it had.

And that made him a bad mercenary.

Or a terrible liar.

Or both.

Still, he couldn’t call it regret. Not really. Maybe just a recognition - a quiet acknowledgment that despite the sharpness he kept around his heart, he wasn’t as detached as he liked to pretend. He was selfish in ways that had nothing to do with gold. He wanted things he shouldn’t. He’d made choices that made no tactical sense.

And Wukong, somehow, was still looking at him like he’d done something right.

Macaque shifted in his seat, kept his face blank, and took another bite of fruit like he hadn’t just admitted all that to himself.

He didn’t glance at Wukong.

But his fingers brushed his knee under the table - subtle, slow - and felt the warmth of Wukong’s thigh where it sat close.

He didn’t pull away.

Maybe he made dumb mistakes.

But this one? He wasn’t ready to let go of it just yet.

--

“Oh! You brought people!”

The voice rang out before the door had even fully closed behind them. It came from behind a beaded curtain where the scent of fresh herbs drifted like mist. A moment later, Sandy appeared - only a pair of baggy pants on, beard tied at the end, and flour on his arms like he’d been elbow-deep in something moments ago.

He lit up when he saw Macaque. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to be back either,” Macaque said evenly.

Sandy looked past him to the others, hands already moving in a vague gesture of welcome. “Please, come in. Sit. I just brewed a fresh pot of my signature blend.”

Mei was the first to wander inside, immediately distracted by the slow, stretching movement of a large cat curled beneath a sun-warmed window. “Oh my gods. You have cats?”

“Several,” Sandy said, with a theatrical sigh. “They run the place. I just work here.”

“Nice,” MK said, looking around with a grin. “Macaque’s been coming here this whole time?”

“Twice,” The dark monkey muttered, following behind.

“Twice and he still barely smiles,” Sandy added brightly. “But I’m working on it.”

That made Wukong glance sidelong at Macaque as they stepped in together. “This where you’ve been sneaking off to?”

“I don’t sneak.”

“You disappear without telling us where.”

Sandy chuckled as he swept toward a low table and gestured for them to sit. “It’s okay, he’s my favorite type of brooding stranger. Quiet but keeps up interesting conversation.”

Macaque shot the owner a look, worried that he might continue and elaborate on what he deemed ‘interesting conversation’, but luckily he just smiled and went silent. Macaque took a seat in the same corner he’d occupied when he first came here, the others following suit: Shi with barely-contained enthusiasm, Mei already chasing a cat with quiet coos. Wukong took the seat beside Macaque, sitting noticably closer than needed.

The tea arrived in a quiet clatter of ceramic: a delicate tray, four cups, and a subtle blend of jasmine and ginger that drifted warmly into the air.

Sandy poured without asking for preferences. “House blend,” he said. “Cleansing. Light. Good for starting the day.”

“Smells great,” MK said.

“Thank you,” Sandy replied, then nodded at Macaque. “Glad to see you brought friends.”

Macaque’s gaze flicked to him. There was a question in Sandy’s gaze, the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to inquire about the celestial next to him. Macaque just gave the barest of nods, not wanting to have to enplain to Wukong that he got relationship advice here.

That earned a soft smile from Sandy, who didn’t press further. He just topped off the cups and stepped away to give them space.

For a few quiet minutes, it was just the sound of sipping, the soft clink of a cup set down, the thud of a cat hopping onto a table and lying directly in front of Mk’s plate. Macaque watched Mei play with the creature, as MK guarded his biscuits from the curious feline. Wukong nudged him, grabbing his attention, just to redirect it silently with a jab of his chin. Another cat crept up behind the boy, jumped onto the table, and stole one of the treats.

It made a run for it, getting MK to get up and chase after it, parroting the words Macaque had said not long ago about these kind of treats not being good for cats. Mei followed, laughing and encouraging the cat that kept dodging MK’s half hearted attempts to catch it.

Macaque watched the transaction, not realizing a soft smile found its way onto his face. He jumped slightyl when he felt something make contact with his tail. Looking down, he saw Wukong had intertwined his rust colored tail, with Macaque’s own ebony one. The sage was sipping at his tea, acting none the wiser, but his blush was very apparent to Macaque.

He smirked and leaned it slightly, keeping his eyes on the kids to make sure they weren’t watching. “You’re terrible at being subtle.”

“Hm?” Wukong turned his head with the most obnoxious innocence Macaque had ever seen. “Something wrong?”

“Your holding my tail.”

“I am.” Wukong looked down at their joined tails as if he was surprised to find them there. “Guess you’re just magnetic.”

Macaque snorted. “Bold of you. Especially for someone who spent weeks pretending he wasn’t interested.”

Wukong leaned in then, voice low and smug. “I wasn’t pretending.”

“Oh? So you just happened to fall for me only after last night?”

“Fall for you? Aren’t you a bit conceited - it takes more than that to get the great sage to fall for them.”

“That so?” Macaque asked, matching Wukong’s tone and completely forgetting that they were in a public space. “Then tell me, Monkey King, what can this mere mortal do to make sure you only have eyes for me?”

Wukong stared at Macaque’s lips as he slid his hand up the thief’s arm, gripping just below his shoulder. “I’ve got a few ideas… for starters just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

Macaque blinks, caught completely off guard by the tenderness in Wukong’s voice. The words settle warm and heavy in his chest, stirring a sudden, desperate urge to close the small distance between them - to press a kiss to those lips and see if Wukong meant it as much as it sounded.

He opened his mouth to tease back, maybe flirt, maybe lean in. But then, footsteps approached.

Sandy appeared beside the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he set down a fresh pot of tea.

“Well, well,” Sandy said cheerfully, eyes flicking between then with a sparkle that said he saw everything but wasn’t about to comment. “You two look like you could use some more tea before you start causign a scene.”

Wukong and Macaque exchanged a quick glance before pulling away and letting their appendages fall from each other. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Wukong said with a grin, leaning back in his seat. Macaque cleared his throat and nodded his thanks, face flushing ever so slightly from embarressment.

Sandy took a seat across from the pair and smiled. He looked between the two like a proud parent meeting their child’s partner for the first time. It was… strange. That look didn’t last long when his eyes finally became stationary on Wukong, gleaming in the light. “So,” he said, tone light and chatty, “what’s it like being a living ledgend?”

Wukong blinked, then gave a short, amused laugh. “You’d be surprised how often I get asked that.” Macaque rolled his eyes.