Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wukong sometimes wishes he could just be reborn again. 

Being immortal gave Wukong a lot of opportunities. He was able to secure higher power beyond comprehension, travel the world and learn everything there was to know. He was strong. Handsome. Knowledgeable. And yet, for every opportunity he grasped and peddelled forward his own immortality with, he was sure to piss off at least one person. The irreversible damages of his own hunger for more left a trail of greed in his path. More often than not they would bite him in the ass. And scolded him, but it hurt.

Those days when Wukong wished he could start over were viciously clawed by what he would actually have to do to obtain it. All the years of work he would sacrifice just because he couldn't accept consequences. Yeah right, he’s the Monkey King for heaven's sake! Surviving 500 years under a mountain wasn’t anything! He could deal with the consequences of prolonging his living by…

“I don’t know, keep prolonging my living?” Wukongs mouth full of peach said to no one in particular. The sage lazed atop his mountain, talking to the clouds once again as if they would actually dispel him some wisdom. Lucky, they were, but Wukong hadn’t met any kind of great prophet since the monk.

“I mean.” Wukong swallowed before continuing, holding some resemblance of the manners the monk had tried to instill. Not that anyone was around to see it. “If I just, I don’t know, didn’t defend myself against demons getting revenge on me, wouldn’t that do it?”

Ginger fur splashed into the serene water of the mountain's waterfall. The simian carried no oils like the maidens and masters of the celestial realm. He wasn’t here to wash, he was here to bathe . Relax. And get way too caught up in his own thoughts.

“But then they’d have the title of being the one to kill the Great Sage Equal To Heaven.” Wukong pondered. “And I can’t just have any demon take that role. It would have to be someone worthy.”

As the king floated, he contemplated who he would let kill him.

“Argh, if Demon Bull King were still around I guess he’d be a worthy guy to fall to.” Wukong hummed. “I did have to give up my staff to keep him trapped after all.”

But Wukong kicked a deal of bubbling water at the thought of actually losing to his past brother.

“I already lost to Tang Sanzang when he put the circlut on me.” Wukong debated, shaking his fur furiously as he clambered out the water. “But he wouldn’t kill me so no use debating that.”

“Neither the Jade Emperor or Buddha either.” He contemplated as he plodded back to his house. “Anyone would lose to them so it’s not fun, just typical.”

As he reached his door, a familiar stone caught his eye. Upon it was a messy but youthful painting. One side depicted the sage in bravado. And the other, with eyes that contained far too many highlights was - 

“No.” Wukong turned firmly away. “Not him.”

Wukong entered his home, faced with memorabilia of his successes. Evidence of the people he had wronged. Gazing upon the relentless trophies and artefacts he realised just how long he had been alive. All those demons who had fallen to satisfy Wukong’s long life, and was he really preparing to throw that away? 

And that's when it hit him with a burst of glee.

“Aha! I’ll just meditate for a millenium!”

Wukong threw on some clothes as he formulated his plan. Astral meditation was incredibly demanding and shut him off from the rest of the world. As a stone monkey, he might even be able to revert back to hsi stone form while meditating and be reborn as a better, stronger and more wise Sun Wukong! And anyone who found him would assume he was an ordinary statue and not think twice about actually not killing him! It was foolproof!

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So.

A millennium turned out to be a very long time. Even for the Great Sage known for his patience, he couldn’t hold out that long. It only took three thousand years before the King finally cracked. Thankfully only figuratively, that would be a shock to the system to wake up with an arm missing due to an accident! As he awoke, he felt himself remain stiff and still. Of course. He was a stone monkey again waiting to be reborn. His eyes couldn’t show what the word looked like three thousand years later so all he could rely on was his golden eyes of truth.

Opening his eyes truly, he didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this! Wukong’s resting place has been in the centre of an opening in a woods not too far from Flower Fruit Mountain but far enough that he would be closer to civilization. And boy did civilization grow! Wukong now sat in the middle of a paved path, surrounded by climbing, metallic buildings. Rods of glowing light seemed to sprout from the ground and in the not so far distance Wukong could hear…roaring? He wasn’t sure what it was but the old monkey got a very in the face introduction of modern technology when a kid skated past on a gleaming white hoverboard. Wukong’s eyes widened.

‘Nimbus…WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU?!” He screamed, internally of course. He couldn’t believe this is what floating clouds had become. A rectangular slab of…what even was that? Quartz? What did they do to his fluffy boy!

Wukong’s eyes now became fixed upon the new world's fashion. Gone were the intricate embroideries and hanfus which many had spent years creating. Now came disappointingly simple garments with almost no flair or detail at all. And short sleeves. Wukong wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Maybe he ought to feel nothing at all as he noticed the women seemed to smile a lot more than they did in the past. Whatever this strange trade off was, it seemed to work. 

Curiously, he found himself locking eyes with a stranger. He immediately turned off his golden eyes of truth, not wanting to feel the perception of the man's gaze. Yet he still could hear it.

“See, it's the legendary monkey statue!”

Oh right. He was stone.

“Wow, so detailed! I wonder who carved it.”

“No one knows, it dates over three thousand years ago so whoever did it is probably dead.”

“Woah.”

Wukong listened curiously to the conversation these two mortals seemed to have about him. He couldn’t lie, after three thousand years in solitude and a few hundred more with only his own thoughts it was nice to hear someone sing his praises once more.

“Doesn’t he look a bit like how you’d imagine the Monkey King to look?”

Oh if only they knew.

“Sun Wukong? I thought he was meant to be handsome.”

…ouch.

“I think he’s handsome! For a monkey at least.”

Yes, random man, you tell other random man!

“Each to their own, but I’m not growing a monkey-beard for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But it's confused scholars for years. It might be the Monkey King, or a Lunar New Year’s piece.”

“The Monkey King has enough idealisations of him without needing a statue anyway.”

Wukong felt himself grinning at the implications of that statement. When he came back earlier than he thought, he was considering just slipping back into meditation. But he thinks he’s going to enjoy people watching in this state. 

Chapter Text

If your adoptive father asks you every day you come home from school what you got up to with your friends today, at what point do you tell him that you don’t actually have any?

This was a question young MK didn’t even consider an option. There was no coming clean about it, especially after having lied about it ever since he started going to school. These white lies weren’t hurting anyone. Infact, Pigsey always looked happy and pleased with MK when he told him about his misadventures. Mk really liked impressing the man he had always seen as his father. What did it really matter if he didn’t have any friends? 

Well, actually, MK would be lying if he said he didn’t wish he could have friends. Good thing he lied a lot, at the big age of six he didn’t have time for vulnerability! Vulnerabilities get picked on and he was a man with a great big world ahead of him. Keep that baby all bottled up. 

That’s why it definitely didn’t hurt him when he sat under the ‘Friendship Stop’ sign and no one talked to him. At first he didn’t understand it. The teachers said ‘If you see anyone sitting at the friendship stop, offer to play with them.’ And yet not so much as a small, pitiful glance was thrown his way. It was weird, why weren’t kids following the rules as they had been set out? If MK saw anyone sitting here alone, he’d come talk to them. That’s the rules of the sign. But then no one else ever did use the friendship stop. If it was occupied, it was always MK underneath it. So he stopped using it, after all he quickly found his greatest company was himself. 

When MK was older, he might look back with a bit of shame that he spent all of play time walking laps around the playground and talking to himself. Not living in his own thoughts, actually talking to himself for hours as he circled and dodged the kids playing sports, making daisy chains and being friendly with each other. But for now, it wasn’t that shameful. It was amazing. MK liked to talk and it was hard to talk when no one wanted to listen. Even Pigsey could only listen so long before he collapsed from exhaustion after a long day in the shop. But MK? He’d listen to MK’s rambles all the time.

And when he wasn’t talking to himself in laps, he was talking to himself with his notepad. MK found some pretty nice corners where the dirt and tree sediment didn’t land a lot and puddles didn’t form when it rained. He would sit there with his notebook, writing what really were just knockoffs of all his favourite stories with a few adjustments and pretty unfunny jokes but nonetheless became a bulky bank of writing, doodles and drawings. Sometimes he would even write plays, casting himself in all the roles of course. He didn’t have a full company but he could put on one hell of a one man show!

Maybe that's why everyone thought he was so weird. Spending all that time in his bliss, immersing himself into stories and art while others socialised. It can’t have been to do with anything else, right? It definitely wasn’t the fact that he was a human child with a swine father, Pigsey was the best dad who always packed him the best lunches! 

Not that it really mattered if he ate most of those lunches in the bathroom. Students could only eat in the hall and the hall only had tables of 8. No one wanted to let MK sit with them, even if he promised to be quiet. The longer he waited in line for a full table to be free for his solitude, the more time he wasted not being able to do the next drawing. 

And if anyone asked MK who his friends were, he’d say - 

“Oh!” With a mouthful of the best noodles. “Lin Junyi and I uh..we played tag! And eh Chao Gai we made daisy chains! Wu Song wasn’t in today, he has uhm…tiger pox. Yeah.”

“Tiger pox?” Pigsey huffed amusingly. “Are you sure he doesn't have the flu?”

“No no he definitely has tiger pox!” MK cried earnestly. 

Pigsey sighed fondly at his son's antics, remarking to himself that there seems to have been a sudden increase in popularity of names from the legendary story Water Margin. Maybe it was on some new reading list?

“So.” Pigsey grunted as he took MK’s finished bowl to wash up. “You said it was Junyi’s birthday soon, didn’t you?”

MK froze.

“It..is?”

“Oh yeah sure, you said there was a get together happening?”

Oh shoot. MK hadn’t calculated for this. It was another white lie he had told Pigsey when he asked if anyone's birthday was coming up. And…technically Lin Junyi’s birthday was soon, at least the Lin Junyi in his adaptive rewriting of Water Margin because technically the original material never specified - 

“Uh. He has tiger pox too!” MK scrambled to cover up his lie. 

“He does?” Pigsey raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t he hold off from playing tag then?”

“He ah…ahhh” MK racked his brains for an explanation. It would be way too embarrassing to admit that he made up friends based on the characters of his favourite novel. All because he didn’t actually have friends. It was close enough right? They lived inside his brain that often MK might as well call them companions.

“He…rebels a lot?” MK squeaked. “Against the teachers.”

“Wow.” Pigsey shrugged. “And here I thought Junyi was a good kid. Anyway, MK if he’s ill you should keep some distance until he gets better. So I’m sorry but unless he shows signs of improvement, you can’t go to his birthday.”

MK exhaled a relieved sigh quickly followed by a forcibly whined “Noooooooooooooo” to try and not show he was ecstatic Pigsey wasn’t going to continue this awkward conversation. 

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It was one day when MK found the toilets had overflowed and he didn’t fancy eating among sewage that he found himself tucked in the corner of the library with his tupperware bowl in hand. He wasn’t really supposed to be in here, even during normal times he shouldn’t be eating in here. Not especially when the librarian was on his lunch break and no one was around! Which unfortunately made this perfect. 

As MK slurped his noodles, he mused that he might do this more often. It was nice not having to hear the pipes transport goodness knows what and eat with the spiders - gosh, ANYTHING to get away from the spiders. Finishing and putting his utensils in his backpack, he looked up at the bookshelf currently shielding him from the world. It wasn’t super tall, the oldest kids at this school were 11 after all, and yet it enticed MK. The books were organised in size order. In fact the whole library was arranged this way with the smallest books in one section and the largest in another. MK frowned. How was anyone supposed to find anything like this, no matter how aesthetically pleasing it was? Sure some similar series managed to get groups together but MK couldn’t help himself as he started to pull books from the bookcase.

Shelves became stacks arranged by topic and alphabetical order. The fascination of organising was turning all the right cogs in his little brain just the right way. He started to pile the books back on the shelf in his makeshift organisation when he heard a quiet but firm ‘Ahem’. 

MK shrieked, falling backwards and accidentally knocking over his literature ‘T’ pile. When he looked up he saw the librarian staring at him through round glasses and a perplexed expression on his lips.

“Um…Hi?” Mk offered weakly.

“...hey.” The librarian offered rather coldly. “You're…not supposed to be in here. What are you uh, four maybe?”

“Hey I’m six and a half!” MK protested but the indifference in the librarians' expression wavered him. “Sorry sir, I was just organising the books.”

“Organising?” The librarian quipped. “Well, friend, I don’t know if you know this but I have a system here.”

As if to prove his point, the librarian - quite stiffly and with a slight noise of complaint about his ankles - bent to MK’s level to rearrange the books MK had started putting on the shelf.

“But I have a …system too, I swear!” MK protested, moving the books back. What was getting into him? He doesn’t usually defy orders from school staff, he was just proud of his system!

“Oh really. Huh.” The librarian mused. “And what would that be? Something that maximises the photographic appeal of this space, hmm? Or maybe you’d organise it by colour gradient, hmmmm?”

The words spat coldly in MK’s direction didn’t deter him. Instead it just made him even more determined to prove his point.

“No! The shelves are ordered by what the book is about and then by title name.” MK declared, moving more books into their place. 

He quickly got lost in the rhythm of organising and when he turned to pick up that knocked over pile, he faced the librarian. He expected him to be angry. But he just looked surprised and a little intrigued.

“Go on?” The librarian prompted.

With a smile, MK continued to sort the books into all their correct places. It was a bit spacey, after all this was one shelf with all the ‘E’ books on travel probably being among the other many shelves but when it was complete, MK stood back with a proud expression on his face. 

“Woah.” 

MK was snapped out of his rhythm when the librarian stood up. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous. After all, he had just defied a staff member who was probably patient out of pity but was now going to scold him. But instead the librarian turned to him with a perplexed expression.

“You’re six.” He seemed to mumble.

“And a half.” MK corrected, relieved he seemed to have earned his elders respect.

Well, not that old. He couldn’t be older than maybe 20. Even if that ankle made him seem 40 already. But still, a pretty big difference.

“You know, if you don’t wanna eat with the kids you can come here?” The librarian offered. 

MK’s face glowed. “Really?!” He hadn’t expected this. Wow. Then his face twisted. “Wait - I wasn’t eating here! Honest!”

The librarian chuckled. “I know you were, but it’s alright kid. I get it, the kids are scary and spending all day organising books is way much better.”

“Is that why you work here?” MK raised an eyebrow rather bluntly. “Are adults scary too?”

The librarian recoiled with an embarrassed expression, adjusting his round glasses a bit too much.

“Yeahhh. Just a little.” He chuckled.

“I knew it.” MK declared. “Honestly I’ve been meaning to have a conversation about that for forever, adults are just as scary as kids!”

“Woah,kid you don’t know everything yet, you’re still …well a kid.” The librarian reminded him. And that kind of surprisingly personal comment made MK wonder. It made the librarian wonder too. Back to his own childhood, hiding in the corners with a book. Not talking to anyone except…

“I organised the books this way because it makes it easier for people to put back.” He explained. “Most kids your age don't look at where they’re supposed to go, they just put it back wherever. But, you also can’t find anything in this photo-op mess, even if it is what the principal prefers.”

“So you’ll let me organise even more!” MK’s eyes sparkled once again and if the librarian hadn’t already agreed to it a few minutes ago he would be won over by this adorable child. 

“Heh. Sure kiddo.” The librarian agreed. “And when that’s all done, would you allow me to pick out the best stories?”

MK might as well jump!

“OOOH yes yes yes please!” MK bounced around. “That would be amazing!”

The librarian smiled softly as he removed a handful of graphic novels from where MK had placed them.

“What’s your name again?” 

“Oh. It’s MK!”

“MK, huh?” He chuckled. “Well, how about we make a comics and graphic novels corner over there since there’s already a lot of literature over here, eh MK?”

“On it, Mr….uh?” MK trailed off as he realised he didn’t know his name.

“Tang.” He smiled. “It’s Mr Tang. Now, let's get moving.”

Chapter Text

MK still did his fair share of talking to himself. As generous as Mr Tang’s offer was, he could only fulfil it during his lunch break and not the morning or afternoon break. But MK didn’t mind, he liked this new balance of talking to himself all morning, helping Mr Tang out all lunch and then doodling all afternoon. 

Reorganising the whole library turned out to be a lot of work but it was just the kind of task MK could really get stuck into. Shelves once more turned to even larger stacks - so tall MK had to pass Tang the books to go on the top - as a great circle of stories sat in the centre of the library. The duo talked each other's ears off as they exchanged books in sections at a time. Tang told MK stories of all the weird and wonderful occurrences that had happened since he started working at the school.

“And did you know they used to think the theatre was…haunted?” Tang described enigmatically one day. 

“No way!” MK looked up in awe as he arranged the books on the lowest shelf. 

“Mhm.” Tang nodded rather proudly of his delivery of the tale. “Students claimed they could hear the sounds of ghosts!”

“Ghosts?” MK kicked his toes in excitement. “Woah.”

“They say it was the remamanets soul of the late great Wu Chun coming back…”

MK turned to find Tang wasn’t there anymore. Where did he go?

“Coming back to get us!”

Tang jumped out from behind a stack of dictionaries - seriously, how many of those did they need? - earning a shriek from MK which soon developed into giggles from both of them.

“Wow Mr Tang! Was it really haunted?” MK asked earnestly.

“Eh, it’s debated.” Tang shrugged nonchalantly as if he didn’t just let on that it might actually be haunted. “Lots of students make up stories. Gets them in a lot of trouble.”

Tang sighed as he scooped up another group of books.

“That's why we need to keep fiction alive.” Tang explained. “Some have the greatest ideas of all time but think they can only tell their story if they pass it off as truth.”

MK listened attentively. In his mind, he couldn’t help but think of all the stories he’s told Pigsey. Wild and imaginative ones that he’s tried to pass off as stories of his friends. 

“Kids get into a lot of trouble telling lies.” Tang crouched back down. “But turn those stories into a novel? Now we’re talking.”

MK’s mouth tensed, trying his hardest not to let on how called out he was feeling by Tang’s words.

“Or... some other cool teacher stuff. I don’t know.” Tang waved a hand vaguely. “There’s a reason I work in the school library and not an actual classroom.”

He adjusted his glasses and slowly pushed himself upright - only to wince mid-movement.

“Ah - hey, perfect example. Wanna know why my ankles are so weak?”

MK’s eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

“Ooh yes!” He cried. “I’ve been wondering about that, I have like so many theories. Like did you step into an ankle twisting vase, or did you swap bodies with an elderly man, or - “

“Okay okay!” Tang chuckled. “You’re a bit far off, MK. But I’ll tell you.”

He lowered himself back down beside the boy, lowering his voice as if about to reveal an ancient secret.

“Did you know before working here I used to be a sacred Monk?”

MK’s eyes went wide. Then slightly crossed as he squinted in disbelief.

“Wait - You? A monk? No offense Mr Tang, but I don’t think you’re cool enough to be a monk.” 

Tang clutched his chest dramatically. “And children remain the most savage of all critics. But I’m serious! I was a wise, peaceful...uhm… very wise monk.”

“It was when I was younger all those years ago…well. Actually probably only a few years ago. This adventures not really appropriate for anyone under the age of 18 and I’m only 20. But anyway, a great emperor entrusted me to deliver some very important texts to the West. They were extremely crucial and unfortunately the road was treacherous and dangerous. So I needed a crew.”

“Ooh a crew like a pirate crew?” MK asked enchantedly.

“Well, yes I suppose there were some expectantly free spirits among us.” Tang chuckled, then paused as if he had to remember what happened next. “Anyway, the journey was a difficult one full of traps, monk eating demons and other wild and scary adventures. My companions defended me, albeit a bit violently, and we succeeded in the end.”

“Wait what does this have to do with your ankle?” MK questioned.

“All in due time, my boy.” Tang smiled, fully taking on the dramatic mantle of an old and wise 20 year old master…so still old. “Anyway, a wild fight broke out. A demon was trying to kidnap me, as many in the past have attempted to, because they knew if they ate me they would become immortal. The battle for my freedom was treacherous, the clash was intense! In the end, I was saved. But I had been suspended in the air and when I got my freedom I tumbled down a great winding long staircase until BANG! I hit the ground and broke both my ankles.”

“Woah! That’s - “ MK gleamed. “Well a pretty violent way to break both your ankles, I wonder how your legs survived? Or your brain. But still so so SO COOL!”

“Mhm. It is cool isn’t it?” Tang proclaimed proudly. “And completely made up.”

”WHAT?!” MK shouted in surprise, betrayal drenching his expression. “B-But - Its the story, wha - “

Tang interrupted MK’s confusion with a fit of giggles.

“Oh MK, you really thought I was a wise monk?” Tang chuckled. “I didn’t spend my late teens going on awesome adventures! Infact I’m, well, kind of a coward, heh. Didn’t ever go out because I was worried what would happen if a fight broke out.”

“Then how did you break your ankles?!” MK asked incredulously. “And why did you tell me all of that?!”

“Oh, it’s not a fun story.” Tang sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kicked a door.”

“You…kicked a door?” Mk blinked.

“Mhm,” Tang replied sheepishly. “Turned too fast, smacked into it, fractured one ankle, and the other one got messed up when I fell over yelling about the first one.”

“Wow.” MK mumbled. “That’s…really boring.”

“Exactly.” Tang replied. “So why did I tell you all that? It was a great story, right?”

“Well. Yeah.” MK admitted. “Even if it was complete garbage.”

“Exactly!” Tang exclaimed, leaning back. “The story was dramatic and captivating, even if it was a complete lie about something as silly as breaking my ankles because I kicked a door when I was 12. It would make an excellent tale to tell…but trying to pass it off as a truthful story can hurt people.”

He looked MK in the eye.

“You felt kinda betrayed when you found out I wasn’t actually some legendary monk with a magical staff, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah.” MK admitted. “I couldn’t believe you lied to me.”

“And I didn’t just lie - I straight-up borrowed someone else’s story. There was a monk named Tang Sanzang, sure. But I just recycled his legend and slapped my name on it.”

Tang’s voice softened. “And honestly… I did it because I see you doing the same thing. With those ‘friends’.”

That made MK freeze in place.

“W-What do you mean by that?” He stammered.

“MK, I’ve read all the great literature front and back many times.” Tang sighed. “You really wouldn’t think I’d notice that all your so-called friends just so happen to have the exact same names and personalities as all the heroes from Water Margin? Oh and that not a single one of them is enrolled here?”

MK felt his heart rise to his throat. He hadn’t told Tang that many lies about his friends but he still felt uneasy that his secret had been revealed so brazenly. 

“Look. I’m not mad. I’m saying… write it down. All those wild stories you tell - they’d make an amazing novel. It’s not great to pass them off as truth, sure. But as stories? As fiction?” He smiled gently. “They’ve got something special.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” MK hugged his knees, his voice shrinking to a whisper.

Tang’s smile faltered as he watched the boy’s energy fade, replaced by something smaller, more fragile.

“My… My dad always asks what I do with my friends. And the truth is, I... don’t have any,” MK admitted. “But I don’t wanna disappoint him. And like… I do hang out with all those characters. In my head, y’know? So… that’s what I tell him.”

“Oh.” Tang spoke quietly. This poor child. Tang may know what it's like to be lonely but he never had to lie about having friends in fear of disappointing his parents. They had enough to be disappointed of him for. “Well…You’ve got me.”

MK looked up at Tang who wore a comforting smile.

“Thanks, Mr Tang.” He smiled. “Although I don’t think Pigsey would be very happy that my only friend is twice as old as me.”

Tang chuckled at the joke. “More like three or four times, if we’re being generous. But I get it. You should probably come clean but I won’t blame you if you don’t.”

“That can be a problem for 20 year old MK.” Mk announced with a small beam in his eyes. “Then I’ll be an adult with my life together!”

Tang spluttered at that.

“Uhm..yeah sure kiddo.”

But it was then that Tang got a great idea.

“Hey, you said you liked the story, right?” Tang implored.

MK nodded quizzically. 

“Wanna hear the actual story? It’s around here somewhere and I did say I would find you the best books.” Tang offered with a mischievous smile.

“Oooooh yes yes yes please Mr Tang!” MK immediately returned to his bouncing off the walls energy. Good. Tang chuckled and began to push books onto the bookcase.

“Let's finish this shelf first.” He compromised. “And then I can tell you one of the best stories of all time. The legend of The Monkey King.”

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As it turns out, Tang was right. 

The tale of the legendary Monkey King completely captivated MK. What started as reading a few pages a day soon turned into a full-blown obsession. Once the library had been organized top to bottom, MK found himself constantly rereading his favorite parts—again and again. And Tang? He was more than happy to indulge him.

Before long, their afternoons became a routine. As Tang locked up the library, MK would stick around to gush over the latest chapters. They devoured every version they could find, Tang thrilled to share his passion with someone so eager, MK scribbling endless doodles and writing stories of his own. And then - 

“Halt there evil demon! I am Sun Wukong and the monk is under my protection!”

Roleplay. So much roleplay.

MK’s one man show had graciously become a two man show as Tang expressed his similar desire to write plays. Some might’ve called it cringe: a grown man donning a paper monk hat, being ‘rescued’ by a mop-wielding six-year-old playing god. But honestly? Tang wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was the most fun he’d had at his job in years.

“Now remember MK - I mean, Wukong!” Tang called from what had been graciously nicknamed the “kidnapping corner”. “Do not use excessive force! If you have any chance of becoming a Buddha you must look in yourself!”

“Sure sure.” MK waved his Ruyi Jingu Bang - which was definitely not a mop - dismissively. “Here…comes…MONKEY KING!”

The pitiful demon figurine from Tang’s old toy collection didn’t stand a chance. MK smacked it clean off the desk with a sweeping blow of his mop.

“Wukong!” Tang scolded, putting his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. “I said no violence! Now I’ll have to use the circlet.”

“Wait wait wait - NOOO!” MK cried in mock horror as Tang began miming a series of exaggerated mystical hand gestures. MK clutched at an imaginary ring on his head, stumbling dramatically around the library before collapsing with a groan. “ So unfair. I just saved you!”

Tang chuckled, taking note of the time and deciding they better wrap it up.

“Wow MK, you’re a pretty good actor!” He commented as he removed his makeshift hat. 

“Thanks Mr Tang!” MK grinned. “I got Monkey King’s mannerisms down!”

“That you do.” Tang smiled. “Hey, did you know there’s a statue of Monkey King not far from here?”

MK could have just exploded.

“There is?! Where?!” He cried enthusiastically.

“I think your dad’s shop is on my way home,” Tang said as he grabbed his coat and began closing up the library. “If you’re up for a small detour… I can show you.”

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Wukong internally yawned as he finished yet another day of people watching. He’d seen some interesting things today. The usual busy commuters, loose dogs that should really be reuinited with their owners, even a marriage proposal! The sage was quite enjoying being nosy. It was something he couldn’t always get away with due to his infamy but now he could listen to some very hot tea being said right next to him. There were certainly a few groups of gossipers he looked forward to walking past and many stories he was deeply invested in.

Not that Wukong actually needed the sleep, but he had made it a habit to slip back into meditation overnight. Nothing exciting happened around his statue, if not anything that did happen was just noisy and annoying. Satisfied with his spoils of the day, he felt the sun set behind him and began to slip away…

“Are we close, Mr Tang?”

Wukong’s eyes metaphorically burst open. Tang? As in…no it couldn’t be.

Wukong sighed as the man in question stepped into view. Yep. He got his hopes up falsely thinking the great monk might still be alive. Although the man wrapped up in a cotton coat did bear some resemblance to how he looked at the start of the journey. Young. And all over again he was reminded of his monk growing old and he just wanted to slip back to meditate and forget - 

“Woah. Monkey King’s so cool!” 

That prompted Wukong to reopen his golden eyes of truth. Sure enough, there was a child no older than 7 staring at him with awe and wonder. This was unusual. Usually those appreciative of his legacy were well into adulthood. He hadn’t seen many small children.

“Well we don’t actually know if it is Monkey King, MK.” The older - presumably Tang - explained as he adjusted a few books in his arms. “The creator left no label or credit. Infact, no one really knows when this statue appeared just that it did around..ehh 3000 years ago.”

“Who else could it be?” the child - MK, clearly - exclaimed, darting forward with wide, eager eyes. “That’s his pheasant-feather crown, and those are his cloud-walking boots! The only thing missing is the Ruyi Jingu Bang!”

Inside the stone, Wukong hummed in quiet approval. Sharp kid .

“Does he get a cold?”

It was an odd question - especially coming from a six-year-old. Cold? Yes. Yes, he did. But how could the boy possibly know that?

Tang blinked. “I don’t remember any legends mentioning the Monkey King having trouble staying warm,” He stated with a puzzled tilt of his head.

“No, no,” MK insisted, frowning slightly. “ This Monkey King. He’ll be sitting out here all night.”

“Huh.” Tang pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, considering it. “I suppose he might.”

Wukong felt a smile pull at the edge of his still, stony expression. He shut his golden vision for a moment. He felt warmed, not by sunlight slowly leaving him behind, but by something else entirely. This kid... he's kind of adorable.

Before Wukong could react further, he felt something soft and warm brush against his neck. A scarf - woolen, slightly scratchy, and lovingly wrapped with small, careful hands. He didn’t dare reactivate his Golden Eyes of Truth. At that moment, he felt oddly exposed, strangely vulnerable. Almost…human.

“MK, don’t you need that scarf?” Tang asked carefully.

“I’ve got a spare!” MK chirped, stepping back with a proud grin. “There! Now he won’t freeze!”

A metaphorical shiver passed through Wukong. Warmth, actual warmth, bloomed along the cold stone of his neck. It wasn’t just the fabric. It was the gesture. Small, strange, and disarmingly kind. He cracked open his eyes, just a sliver, just enough to see MK standing there, beaming up at him like he’d done something monumental. Maybe he had.

“Come on, MK. Your dad’s gonna wonder where you are.”

“Okay.” MK said brightly, turning to go. He gave one last wave. “Bye Monkey King! I’ll be back!”

Wukong watched him leave, the scarf still nestled around his neck like a promise. Something tugged in his chest - something he hadn’t felt in... millennia, maybe. When had someone last spoken to him like that? When had anyone looked at him, especially in this stone form, and actually talked to him. 

The feeling swelled - too big to keep contained. He hadn’t attempted astral projection in a long time, nor did he think he would in this stone form but he just had to - 

He reached, just barely, with what little power he could still grasp.

‘Thank you’.

MK froze mid-step, shoulders stiffening for the briefest of moments.

Yeah. He’d definitely heard that. 

“What was that?” he mumbled, glancing back over his shoulder.

“What was what?” Tang asked, peering at him with mild concern.

MK stared at the statue, trying to read something - anything - from that still, stone face. Was he imagining things? Had he just wanted to hear it? 

“I could’ve sworn…” MK hesitated, then looked up at Tang with a sheepish grin. “I thought the statue said thank you. That’d be a pretty cool story, huh?”

Tang raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. “A pretty creepy story. But sure - write it down.”

As the two walked off, their laughter trailing behind them, Wukong let the quiet settle once more. His eyes closed again, stone still and serene. He slipped back into meditation, the scarf warm around his neck, already waiting for the boy to return.

Chapter Text

The encounter with Wukong’s spirit didn’t weigh on MK’s mind for very long. A few months had passed and he’d already forgotten what he heard in favour of rambling with Tang again about the old legends.

“I wonder how heavy a mountain is.” MK wondered aloud as he fixed a ruined display of books. “Like really, and he survived 500 years under it!”

“I know right!” Tang exclaimed as he crouched on the floor eating a sad looking sandwich. “I wonder if the Monk knew what he was getting into when he released him.”

“A fun time with lots of adventures I bet!” MK smiled, turned away from the bookcase. “Ta-da!”

Tang readjusted his glasses as he looked at how MK had rearranged that small portion.

“..have you just put them all back in height order?” He mused. “Got sick of having to rearrange them every time one gets misplaced already?”

“No!” MK protested. “Well, not really? Look, I was thinking about what you said a year ago.”

“It was less than a year ago, MK.” Tang replied with an amused smirk.

“It was - wait.” MK racked his brains. “It’s July now. And we met - “

“October time?” Tang shrugged. 

“Anyway, I thought about it and you were right! No one really looks at what they’re putting back.” MK explained. “And there's that many books that even if individual shelves are disorganised they still go back where they’re meant to go. Look, these are all still geography books beginning with S even if they are in height order. You can still roughly find what you’re looking for without it all needing to be perfect.”

“If this is your suggestion to reorganise the entire library, I hate to break it to you but you’re late MK.” Tang chuckled. “It’s the end of term.”

“Oh we still have a few weeks - “ MK started before being cut off.

“No MK. Last day’s today.” Tang corrected with faux solemnity. Truthfully he couldn’t wait for a break. “Which reminds me, before don’t see each other for another millenia - “

“Is the summer holidays that longggg?!” MK exaggeratedly cried.

“Psh, I wish.” Tang laughed. “Your dad makes your lunches right?”

“Mhm! Oh shoot, that reminds me - “ MK proudly produced his tupperware full of noodles. “I forgot to eat!”

As MK dug in with gusto, Tang’s gaze locked onto the food. The moment those noodles hit daylight, his stomach practically growled in envy. The rich scent, the glistening sauce, the perfectly chopped vegetables - it was a masterpiece in a plastic box. Pigsy didn’t mess around.

“Heef starfin to teach me howm to cwook.” MK said with his mouthful. 

“I definitely need to stop by, then,” Tang said with a gleam in his eye. “You know, since I’m such a cool teacher and all - ”

“Librarian.” MK corrected, pointing his chopsticks in his direction.

“Hey I taught you about The Monkey King, didn’t I!” Tang defended himself. “I was gonna ask if you could potentially talk your dad into uh…letting me sample some noodles?”

MK looked up with a confused expression.

“Sample?” He questioned.

“Yeah! I’m something of a culinary expert myself,” Tang said, striking an exaggeratedly elegant pose with a flourish of his hand.

“Mmmmm no you’re not,” MK said through another bite.

“I am too!” Tang huffed. “I’ve done reviews! I’ve sampled the finest street food and gourmet dishes from here to Guangzhou!”

“Psh, Pigsy's Noodles beats all of that.” MK proudly stated. “His bowls are the best!”

“I’m sure they are,” Tang replied slyly, eyes narrowing with faux seriousness. “But I won’t really know until I try one, will I?”

“Ohhhh you want to try some!” MK eyes gleamed. “I’m sure Pigsey would love that, another five star review!”

“How about this -” Tang leaned forward with mock stealth. “I swing by the shop later?”

“Isn’t that like..a huge safeguarding issue?” MK questioned. “Pigsey told me if a teacher asked to come to our house to say no.”

Tang froze mid-grin.

Okay. Yeah. When the six-year-old says it out loud like that, it sounds extremely questionable.

But still… free noodles.

Tang winced at himself. Wow , that exact thought just confirmed he desperately needed to make more friends his own age - 

“W-Well I’m not a teacher am I?” Tang exclaimed. “I’m a librarian, a really cool one too, eh?”

MK starred at Tang long and hard. There was something else going on behind those glasses, something funny in his eyes…

“Okay.” MK shrugged. “But we better go before rush hour or Pigsey will kill us.”

“Hooray!” Tang pumped a fist in the air. “That’s a plan!”

…Tang really hoped MK was exaggerating about that last part.

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“Oh PIGSEYYYYYYYYYY!” MK cried as he pushed open the door. “I’m home! Brought Mr Tang here too - “

MK blinked, glancing around as he noted the empty shop.

“Huh he must be on delivery.” MK mumbled as Tang entered behind him, admiring the classical windows and interior decor. 

“Ooh! This is homey!” He exclaimed. “Pretty cool place to work, eh?”

“Oh 100%!” MK cried as he tottered behind the counter. “Pigsey always leaves me a bowl incase I get home while he’s delivering.”

Tang perched on one of the bar stools, eyes drifting toward the working kitchen. Two pans - one broth, one noodles - sat simmering quietly on the stove. He blinked. Should those be left unattended…? It felt like a fire hazard, but hey - maybe Pigsey had magic family heirloom heat-proof pots or something.

“I’m not allowed to use knives by myself yet,” MK explained proudly as he retrieved two bowls, wobbling on a step stool with surprising confidence. “But when I’m older, Pigsey’s gonna let me work here for real. Says when I’m sixteen I can even learn to drive the cart and do deliveries!”

“Sounds like a solid family business,” Tang said, still taking in the nostalgic vibe. It reminded him of the little noodle shops his own family used to take him to when he was MK’s age - simple, warm, and full of soul.

“It was his parents first and then they passed it down to Pigsey fully.” MK explained. “They weren’t too happy when I arrived though.”

That caught Tang off guard, especially with how cheerfully MK said it.

“What?” He questioned.

“I don’t really remember but I just kinda showed up one day.” MK shrugged, entirely unbothered. “That’s what Pigsey said, uh about four years ago? Again, I don’t really remember.”

Tang’s heart gave a little twist. He’d had a quiet hunch MK wasn’t Pigsey’s biological kid, but hearing it put so plainly, like MK had already been told, more than once, that he was different…it broke something inside of him.

“They said it would be a handful raising me and running the family shop.” MK continued as he scooped noodles generously. “But Pigsey’s awesome, he did both!” 

Tang found his gaze drifting toward a child’s drawing pinned to the wall: MK and Pigsey, crudely drawn in crayon, both wearing matching aprons. It hung right beside the shop’s hygiene rating certificate, like it was just as important - maybe more.

Respect for Pigsey settled deeper in Tang’s chest. What a guy.

MK pushed the bowls towards Tang as he jumped around the bar island to sit with him. 

“Anyways, here’s your noodles Mr Tang!” MK beamed as he instantly tucked into his own bowl.

“Thanks, lil’ chef,” Tang said with a smile.

Tang smiled as he took his first mouthful.

And oh his great sage he’d never tasted anything so divine!

The flavour exploded on his tongue in a symphony of umami perfection. The vegetables were tender and rich with seasoning, the noodles soft with just the right bounce. Tang felt like he was ascending - floating through the stars, basking in the light of culinary enlightenment. Every bite sparked joy. Every chew brought bliss. He was in heaven - 

Until a massive hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him clean off the bar stool.

Tang let out a startled yelp, nearly choking on the last of his noodles as he was dragged backward. Blinking wildly, he found himself face-to-face with what could only be the Pigsey.

Beads of sweat dotted the pig demon’s forehead like he’d just sprinted uphill with a wok in each hand. His glare could cut through concrete. He was halfway out of a driving jacket—still hanging from his shoulders - and beneath it, a pristine chef’s coat gleamed like armor. Tang clocked the stress lines etched into his brow. He could also tell that while intimidating, Pigsey was rather short. Yet the way Tang's legs recoiled like a scared kitten while the pig held him by the scruff of his neck made up for that height difference. 

“Oh hi Pigsfey! You’re homfe!” MK exclaimed with a mouthful of food. “Thifs is Mifter Tanmg!”

“So.” Tang’s attention turned back to Pigsey as a strong New Yorker accent cut through. Is that where Pigsey got his credentials? “You’re this ‘Mister Tang’ character I’ve heard so much about.”

“T-That would be me sir!” Tang stammered, still dangling from Pigsey’s grasp. 

“You’re…” Pigsey squinted. “Younger than I thought you’d be.”

“W-Well I’ve only worked at the school for a few years…” Tang chattered nervously. “And you uh also look younger than I thought you’d be.”

The compliment didn’t seem to impress Pigsey, but it earned Tang a huff. The pig demon finally lowered him back to the ground with a grunt.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Pigsey rolled his eyes, shucking off his driving jacket to hang it on a peg. “Point is, what are ya doing with a bowl of noodles when there’s no cashier in?”

“Oh! I can answer this.” MK piped up proudly and Tang knew he was about get exposed hard. “Mr Tang was having a sample! He’s a food expert!”

“A food expert, huh?” Pigsey’s grin was wide. Too wide. Tang flinched. “Well why didn’t ya say so? I’d’ve cooked you somethin’ hot. Somethin’ real special.”

“Uh like what?” Dang Tang’s easy to win over tastebuds!

“Hmmm.” Pigsey grinned. “Freeloader meat.”

Okay get this Tang out of here - ! 

Tang screamed as he ran from the premises. Pigsey snorted and shook his head, settling onto a barstool beside MK.

“Guy’s got the survival instincts of a wet tissue.”

MK shrugged, slurping down another mouthful. “Still said the noodles were the best he’s ever seen.”

Pigsey grunted - but there was a ghost of pride on his face.

“Just so ya know, I wasn’t actually gonna cook ya teacher.” He clarified. Last thing he wanted was MK picking up violent habits.

“Mr Tang’s not a teacher!” MK corrected. “He’s a cool librarian.”

“Sure, MK.” Pigsey couldn’t help but smile at MK’s naivety. “But he’s also a cheeky lil freeloader. So he ain’t welcome here unless he got cash in hand.”

“Wow. Kind of a weird way to treat a friend.” MK pointed out as he slurped the rest of his soup.

“Course the first friend ya invite around would be him.” Pigsey grunted as he slipped off the chair and started to prepare for the dinner rush incoming. “Why can’t ya invite some of your age appropriate friends, eh? It’s summer, go socialise.”

MK put his bowl down a bit too hard upon hearing that. There it was again. That moment. The bit where he had to pretend all his “friends” had flown to Japan, or maybe Italy this time. Somewhere far enough Pigsey wouldn’t ask questions for the next eight weeks.

“MK?” Pigsey called when the silence stretched too long.

MK sighed. No turning back now.

“My friends they…” The lie danced on the edge of MK’s tongue and evaporated. “I…I don’t have any.”

A clattering sound was heard as Pigsey dropped the spoon in the broth.

“Whadda ya mean?” He asked softly, worriedly. “Did ya have a falling out?”

“N-No I mean..” MK hugged his bowl. “I made it up. No one at school wants to hang out with me, I even sat under the friendship stop and nothing!”

“MK - “

“I gave you a bunch of names of characters because I didn’t want you to get mad at me.” MK said with a small sniff. “I’ve been eating my noodles in the bathroom because no one wants to sit with me. It’s like they think I'm cursed.”

“You’re not cursed, kid.” Pigsey carefully approached MK. 

“That’s why I’ve been hanging out with Mr Tang.” MK smiled gently. “He lets me eat in the library and he tells me about the Monkey King and all his cool adventures.”

“So that’s why you got so into it,” he murmured, more to himself than MK.

“He’s so strong and cool.” MK’s eyes started to glisten. “And Mr Tang always seems to know more about him.”

Pigsey looked at the boy - his boy - with a deep ache behind his ribs. He couldn’t believe MK had been keeping this all to himself. If he’d known, he would’ve stormed the school for answers. But a part of him knew - even if he did, it wouldn’t change what made MK stand out. Not his personality. Not his spark. Not the fact that everyone knew Pigsey wasn’t really his dad.

It made MK an easy target.

And Pigsey couldn’t protect him from everything, no matter how badly he wanted to.

With a sigh, he moved around the counter and wrapped his arms around MK.

“I’m not mad at ya.” Pigsey assured him. “Kids are just mean.”

MK clung to him silently.

Pigsey’s gaze drifted to the window. Across the road, he spotted Tang standing near the bus stop, shuffling awkwardly, waiting.

“I’ll…I’ll be back, kid.”

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Tang kept checking his watch for when the bus would arrive. He’s gotten into some trouble dining and dashing before but never one so violent. He just wished the bus would come already.

Glancing upwards, he saw Pigsey exit the shop, eyes locking directly onto him. Tang let out a scared whimper as he tried to hide behind the sign. Peeking around, he could see Pigsey wait before crossing the road. 

That’s it. I’m dead. I’m gonna get turned into dumpling filling…Gosh I hope I at least leave a delicious legacy.

“Hey.”

The gravelly voice startled Tang.

“J-JUST GIVE THE BUS A FEW MORE MINUTES AND I’LL BE OUT OF YOUR HAIR!” Tang yelped.

“Hey, not so loud!” Pigsey winced. “Look. I wanted to just say uh…This ones on me.”

Tang’s eyes shone in surprise. “R-Really?”

“As much as you’re freaking freeloading you’re…” Pigsey sighed. “You’re also MK’s only person at school he can talk to.”

“Oh.” Tang’s face dropped. “So…He told you?”

“That all his friends fake? Yeah.” Pigsey huffed. Of course Tang would know before he did. But that made this even more important. “On the basis that I don’t want him to lose his only place to confide, even if he is my age, I’ll let this slide. You might already know that MK doesn’t really get along with his teachers either.”

“I…didn’t.” Tang tread carefully. “I can mention it to my colleagues if - “

“No, things won’t change.” Pigsey crossed his arms, avoiding eye contact. “At the end of the day, he’s not part of a nuclear family. That’s always gonna make it difficult.”

Tang pursed his lips. From what he heard from MK, Pigsey might not even be in contact with his parents anymore because he wanted to keep MK and  the shop. That would explain the wrinkles. The world really is unforgiving when he’s clearly trying his best.

“I think he might also have autism.” Tang blurted. “He uh. He reminds me a lot of when I was younger. He’s weird in the same ways I was…Which is fine. It’s just that kids definitely seem to avoid him because of it.”

“I…I had my suspicions.” Pigsey lowered his voice. “I just don’t want another target on his back, ya know? The school ain't exactly accepting.”

“I know.” Tang sighed sadly. He remembered the fair deal of scrutiny he was put under just applying to the school with his diagnosis. 

“If he decides when he’s older to get diagnosed, that's his decision.” Pigsey sighed. “But for now…he’s just a kid, Tang.”

Tang nodded in agreement.

“I think it’s best if he keeps seeing you.” Pigsey said after a pause, like the words tasted strange in his mouth. “He needs someone on his side, someone who gets him and his quirks.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.” Tang declared.

“Heh. Don’t call me sir.” Pigsey chuckled. “What are you, like a year younger than me at best?” 

“Alright then, Pigsey ,” Tang grinned. “Actually… would it be okay if I dropped by over summer? Just to check in on him. Not every day or anything, just… every now and then.”

“Sure, he’d like that a lot.” Pigsey agreed. “BUT - “

Oh no.

 “ - you’re paying for your own noodles!”

“Can I pay with wisdom?” Tang asked daringly.

“No, you freeloader!” Pigsey snapped, though the corner of his mouth twitched into an almost smile. “No more free noodles!”

Chapter Text

Even though Tang remained in contact with MK, he was beginning to miss their almost daily meetings. It was strange really. He had been able to remain sufficient only on his own for so long yet at the first indication of friendship and his loneliness reared its head. 

Pigsey was keeping him busy but there was only so much he was allowed to do in the shop. Now seven years old, he still wasn't allowed to use knives. But he was allowed to help out with the washing up, at least the polishing of the bowls. He could only just reach the sink bowl with the step stool and the sloshing suds were bound to be a slip hazard. 

Tang on the other hand was no help and still evading Pigsey's wrath.

“YOU FREELOADING - GET BACK HERE!” Pigsey roared as Tang once again escaped without paying. “I swear, that guy is a menace.”

“He has cool stories though.” MK grinned as he continued to doodle. “He was telling me again about the legendary fight with the Demon Bull King!”

“Uh huh and I bet he dines and dashes too.” Pigset rolled his eyes. He couldn't stay mad too long though. He'd never seen MK's eyes shine so brightly than when Tang recounted a story with stupidly good prose. Pigsey was never good at hyping something up like that, he was a realist who preferred to say it how it was. Maybe that was one of his many failings as a parent. He had the practicality to keep MK secure but nothing to inspire the childlike wonder MK possessed in bucket fulls. 

He hated how convincing Tang's case to stay was.

Pigsey worried about the long term effects of it though. He hoped when MK came into his own he'd be able to find other friends. Tang wasn't going to be around forever and Pigsey was sure when he moved schools upwards he was going to struggle if Tang wasn't his librarian anymore.

“Hey MK, I never asked.” Pigsey suddenly remembered. “What happened to your scarf?”

“Hm?” MK looked up from his sketchbook. “My scarf?”

“Yeah, your blue scarf.” Pigsey repeated. “You just kinda stopped wearing it.”

MK paused to think for a moment. What had he done with his scarf? Then he remembered-

“I gave it to Monkey King!” MK jolted up. “Oh no, I said I'd see him soon and I forgot to go back!”

“Uhhh.” Pigsey starred at MK with a baffled expression. “That ain't another of your imaginary friends right?”

“No!” MK cried before faltering slightly. “Well. Kinda. Not really? I-It’s a statue, but I gave him my scarf so he wouldn't be cold!”

Pigsey blinked. “Oh. That statue.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. The parenting books didn’t exactly cover what to do when your kid gave winter clothing to inanimate objects.

“I gotta go!” MK announced, taking off with his notebook in hand. 

Pigsey’s brief protests faded into the background. He watched the kid tear off down the street, sighing.

“Well,” he muttered, hands on his hips, “at least he’s getting some fresh air.”

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The warm scarf wrapped around Wukong’s neck had, over time, become entangled with the budding moss and growing vines that clung to him. He wasn’t too upset the kid had never returned. Children forget things easily, after all. Even so, that small act of kindness last October still warmed something deep inside him.. 

Wukong's mindless thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clattering footsteps and panting. He activated his eyes of truth to see what the commotion was only to be face to face with the same child he was just reminiscing about, heaving out of breath.

“Hah….hi.” MK spoke weakly as he regained his breath. “I'm sorry for not coming back. I was going to, I swear!”

For a moment, Wukong could only stare, stunned. Then a feeling of pure endearment welled up inside him. This kid really was sweet.

MK carefully clambered up onto the statue’s plinth, his small hands fumbling with the scarf tangled in the creeping moss. Wukong instinctively tensed. Was the kid taking it back? He wouldn't blame him, but still the thought stung.

But once MK climbed back down, he didn’t pocket the scarf. Instead, he shook it out vigorously, sending bits of moss and dust flying. Without hesitation, he dashed over to the nearby stream and dunked the scarf in.

Wukong watched, mystified, as MK made a messy job of scrubbing the fabric. Couldn’t he have just washed it at home? Wukong thought with a tiny, amused huff.

MK returned, holding the dripping scarf carefully. He paused, frowning.

“Oh. It's wet now.” He noted. “You don't want a wet scarf, do you? That would be gross.” 

Wukong didn't even respond mentally as MK approached a nearby tree and hung the scarf in the sunlight.

“You can't get it yourself, so I'll wait with you until it dries.” MK beamed.

Wukong could have melted on the spot. This kid was adorable. 

MK brushed away some leaves so he could sit on the edge of Wukongs plinth. He brought out his sketchbook, flicking through the pages with eagerness to show Wukong his work.

“Mr Tangs been teaching me all about you.” MK smiled widely. “I've been drawing all your adventures, uh don't look at that one I didn't get your hands right.”

Wukong’s spirit drifted behind MK’s shoulder, curious. As he peered over, he took in the scrawled, vibrant images. They were... surprisingly good, especially for a kid. Rough around the edges, sure, but there was heart and passion in every messy line. He studied the glorified moments of his past, captured in bold strokes and colorful imaginations.

“This is when you got your staff.” MK explained on a particularly well rendered drawing. “I need to get better at dragons, they aren't as cool as Monkeys though!”

That made Wukong laugh to himself. Yeah, he could get behind that. Monkeys are the best!

“I wasn't sure what to make your staff look like - OH!” MK flipped the page to the drawing he was working on earlier. “And I drew this today after Mr Tang told me about your fight with the Demon Bull King!”

Wukong felt something stir in his chest - a different kind of pride. Not pride in himself, not in his old battles or long-forgotten victories. No, this pride was for the small boy sitting by his side, pouring his admiration and creativity into something new, something alive.

He hadn't always been the perfect hero. He knew that. He particularly didn't feel pride for sealing away his former brother. But maybe, just maybe, if he could inspire someone like this kid to dream, to create… then he'd done something right after all.

“I struggle a bit with poses though.” MK wondered out loud. “It's hard to find any kind of reference for…’

His voice trailed off as he looked up at Wukong’s statue, eyes bright with a sudden idea. For a moment, Wukong could swear they shared true eye contact - fleeting but unmistakable - and in that instant, he caught a small flicker of gold deep within MK’s gaze, like a hidden ember stirring to life.

“Unless…” MK whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Without another word, he sprang up with a burst of energy. “I can draw you right now!”

He scrambled a few metres back from the plinth, sketchbook in hand, dropping to the ground with a determined plop. Wukong watched, a little bashful under the intense focus, as MK’s pen scratched eagerly across the page. Part of Wukong itched to float hus spirit around and peek over his shoulder, but he restrained himself, not wanting to spoil himself before MK himself wanted to show him. 

The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, warming the scarf hanging nearby. Wukong glanced at it, noticing how the fabric was beginning to dry, the blue color lightening back to its vibrant hue. The whole scene - the child humming softly to himself as he drew, the gentle breeze, the dappled light -

felt so serene, so utterly peaceful. Wukong, who had grown used to centuries of stillness, realized he had found a kind of rare happiness in simply being here, watching over MK.

In the distance however, Wukongs attention was caught by a man in a suit. He just stood a little further backwards but it was the way he stared at MK that unsettled Wukong. Did he know him? That wasn't Tang, was it? 

As the man seemed to unsuspiciously move towards MK, it struck Wukong that even though MK and he had been engaged in a one way conversation…for all intents and purposes MK was a small child sitting alone on a path. MK continued to draw, seemingly unaware of the approaching stranger. As Wukong studied him, the man masked his intent with the casual gait of a passerby. But Wukong saw through it—the way his eyes darted back and forth, his hesitant steps, the unnatural smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile Wukong had seen before, long ago. It was too familiar. 

Something primal surged in Wukong’s chest.

Even if the world saw MK as just a lonely kid with his sketchbook, Wukong knew better. MK was precious, kind, a soul who still believed in magic and goodness. And Wukong would not let anyone corrupt that.

Without thinking, Wukong summoned an astral projection towards the man with deadly ferocity. 

‘STAY AWAY FROM HIM, OR I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB BY LIMB AND FEAST ON YOUR BONES!!!’

The words tore through the air like a thunderclap, rattling in the man’s skull. Wukong’s spirit snarled, fangs bared, his golden aura flaring so brightly that the man was forced to shield his eyes. A second later, the man’s bravado crumbled. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide with terror, before turning and sprinting away down the path, tripping over his own feet in his panic.

Wukong sighed, letting his guard down again. That was a close one. He looked down at MK to see that he hadn't reacted, barely even moved. That was a relief. He didn't want to scare the kid. But he wouldn't let anyone hurt him either.

“Oooh I'm done!” MK jumped up, rushing to Wukong to show him his drawing. 

The affection blooming in Wukong’s heart returned tenfold as he gazed down at the drawing. For a kid, it was genuinely impressive - the lines were confident, the composition thoughtful, and there was even an attempt at shading and depth. MK had captured not just his image, but something deeper, something alive.

Wukong winced slightly as he noticed the cracks traced along his brow and leg in the drawing. He hadn't actually looked at himself properly since his reawakening - and he wasn’t eager to. It was easier to pretend he was still whole, still the unbreakable Monkey King of legend. 

And yet staring back in his own eyes he couldn't help but feel fondness towards MK for depicting this way.

“Might redraw it.” MK mumbled to himself. “I didn't get your arms right and your heads a bit large and…Yeah.”

Wukong really wanted to astral project again to tell MK his flaws weren't something to worry about and thank him again…but he decided against it. After all, communicating too much would reveal him. And Wukong wasn't sure he wanted to do that.

MK turned to grab down the now dry scarf. As he approached Wukong to put it on him, he paused. Wukong was, for lack of a better word, absolutely filthy. 3000 years of zero maintenance left the king covered in debris, ageing and plant growth. MK attempted to brush most of it away with his sleeve but to no avail. 

Regardless, MK wrapped the scarf around Wukong once more. He carefully adjusted it and even though the summer nights were not so cold, Wukong felt comforted with his scarf returned.

“I'll be back.” MK promised. “And I mean it this time.”

Mk scooped up his belongings and left. Wulong sighed fondly. Even if MK forgot for another 8 months, Wukong had enough gratitude to last him a millennium. 

Chapter Text

“PIGSEY I NEED TO BORROW A SPONGE.” MK cried as he burst back through the door.

“Woah, kid!” Pigsey exclaimed before noticing the lack of scarf. “Was it taken?”

“Nope, still there, gave it a wash.” MK rambled as he crouched and opened the cleaning cupboard. Pigsey made a mental note to put a lock on that incase MK decided to try eating laundry pods. 

“Then what do you need a sponge for?” Pigsey asked with a confused expression. 

“Monkey King's statue is covered in gunk!” MK explained, brandishing a sponge and grabbing the first soap-like thing he could find. “I’m gonna go clean him up.”

“Woah - WOAH! MK!” Pigsey practically dove to snatch the bottle from his hands. “You can’t just slap mystery cleaner on ancient stone! This’ll eat through half the statue before it gets the moss off!”

“Huh? But we use it on the floor,” MK frowned, skeptical.

“Yeah, and our floor isn’t a centuries-old monument to cultural mythology!” Pigsey huffed. “Look, if you're gonna do this, you’ve gotta do it proper. You can’t just grab the first bottle you see. You need to do the research, know what materials are safe, what brushes won’t scratch-”

MK blinked at him. “Since when were you an expert in stone preservation?”

“I run a noodle shop, kid. Same principle.” Pigsey folded his arms, but MK could tell he wasn’t really mad. More... bewildered.

Pigsey paused, studying the stubborn look in MK’s eyes. He wasn’t going to be talked out of this. That much was obvious.

“…Alright,” he finally relented, “but seriously - why go to all this trouble? It’s just a statue.”

MK hesitated. He wasn’t sure he had a clear answer. Would it sound stupid to say the statue felt alive somehow? That it seemed to be watching over him? That sitting near it made him feel... less alone?

“I want to preserve Monkey King’s legacy,” MK said at last. “His stories are so cool, and I want other people to always be able to look up to him.”

Pigsey blinked. “Kid, you do know Journey to the West isn’t all that niche, right? His legacy’s doing fine.”

“Yeah, but if his statue crumbles, people might stop caring,” MK said passionately. “And if that happens, the stories might fade too. I mean, if we don’t protect old stuff, it disappears, right?”

That one hit home.

Pigsey glanced around the shop - at the porcelain bowls he’d polished just this morning, at the calligraphy scrolls hung neatly above the register. His grandmothers blinds. Yeah, the kid knew how to appeal to him.

“…Alright,” Pigsey said with a sigh. “I’ll finish up today’s orders, then we’ll look up what we’ll need.”

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Wukong had seen MK several times over the past few days. Each visit lit something in his ancient heart - some soft, forgotten joy. The boy hadn’t forgotten him. In fact, he seemed more eager than ever to return, and not alone this time.

More often than not, MK was accompanied by Tang, and a new figure Wukong quickly came to recognize as Pigsey. It didn’t take long for the Monkey King to piece things together. Pigsey wasn’t just some guardian - he was family. Not by blood, perhaps, but in all the ways that truly mattered. The way he watched over MK, the way his tone softened mid-lecture, and the ever-present undercurrent of love behind every grumble and groan.

Tang, on the other hand, was… well, Tang. Wukong had watched enough to realize the man had no idea what he was doing. A far cry from the monk he had confused him for. Still, he tried. He argued constantly with Pigsey over what were clearly irrelevant things - snack choices, historical accuracy, whether it was actually safe to let MK handle cleaning products - but even through the chaos, Wukong could tell they shared a common goal: MK’s happiness. Their bickering felt less like division and more like two parts of the same mismatched but devoted team.

Wukong didn’t pretend to understand parenting. He never had the chance to learn, and maybe he never would. But watching the three of them together - awkward, messy, and so full of love - it made him feel something close to wistful. Maybe even hope.

Pigsey, for his part, had developed a strange fascination with Wukong’s stone tail. Every visit he’d fuss over it, dabbing it with various liquids and muttering things like “moss killer” and “polishing compound” under his breath. Wukong didn’t pay much attention. His focus was always on MK. The way his face lit up when he talked, the way he sketched and smiled and glowed in the sun like the center of some small, perfect universe.

Then came the day they arrived in full force: Pigsey tugging a squeaky pull-wagon loaded with water jugs, Tang juggling bottles and MK marching ahead with a sponge held high like a sword.

“Alrighty!” MK declared, practically bouncing as he approached the plinth. “Let’s get this monkey cleaned up!”

Wukong froze.

Oh my great sage this child was the cutest thing in the world PIGSEY YOU BETTER BE PROTECTING HIM - 

“Watch it Tang!” Pigsey exclaimed. “Careful with the pheasant feathers, they’re gonna be fragile!”

“Hey I am being careful!” Tang retorted back. “Besides, I’m the tallest one out of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Pigsey grumbled incredulously from the floor. “You watch it, you’re not that much taller than me.”

“What I mean is if you’re reaching a lot you’re bound to have less coordination!” Tang tried to explain.

“Coordination, huh.” Pigsey scoff. “This guy talking about coordination. You wouldn’t know the first thing about coordination in the kitchen!”

MK tuned them out with practiced ease. The grown-ups could argue about anything, anywhere. Instead, he focused on the real task at hand - scrubbing grime from the intricate crevices of Wukong’s stone-carved fur. He worked gently but determinedly, tongue poking slightly out in concentration as he got into the trickier grooves.

Wukong, meanwhile, tried not to feel anything.

Which was harder than usual.

It had been so long since he’d felt anything real. Sure, he could sense heat and cold in abstract terms. He knew when the sun was out or when rain rolled across his shoulders. But it never affected him. It didn’t cling to his body or bite his skin. It simply was. Like scenery.

But now... now there was something new. Something sharp and startling.

Warmth.

It bloomed slowly, subtly, from a small patch near his cheek where MK’s hand rested opposite the sponge. Then, all at once, Wukong felt the soft drag of bristles. Suds bubbling in the creases of his chest. He leaned toward it without meaning to.

“Oooh the statues warm!” MK’s voice broke through the adults' argument as well as Wukong’s thoughts, causing him to shut off whatever this was in a panic.

“That’ll be the sun.” Pigsey grunted. “Hopefully it means he’ll dry soon.”

As the conversation continued, Wukong shut off his golden eyes of truth to avoid distraction. What was that? Something had shifted. Just for a second, he’d felt his surroundings. Not metaphorically. Not spiritually. Physically. But what did that mean? Was his stone shell cracking? Deteriorating? Was he… waking up? Wukong couldn’t risk that. Yet even though he clearly felt something, he couldn’t feel the return of his fur. His fur felt like how he imagined human skin to be, smooth and firm. Was it possible to still feel what was around him without breaking form?

‘Heh. Sue a monkey - guess it’s been a few millennia too long.’

He centered himself. Took a figurative breath. And this time, he reached for the sensation gently. Slowly. Just enough to feel. To be. Warmth flowed into him again, not overpowering, but steady. The soft strokes of MK’s hand and sponge returned, and he soaked them in like sunlight.

The experience was… indulgent. Almost like a massage. Wukong leaned into it cautiously, holding right at the edge where sensation met stability. Any more and he risked revealing himself but here, at this threshold, he could exist. He decided not to reactivate his gold vision so he could have full focus on this. After all he’d done a lot of lazing about in his time but this by far took the cake. Maybe he should have invested in that “taking care of himself” business after all. 

When the feelings left, Wukong felt empty. He decided to let that power fade so he could reopen his eyes. One day he might learn how to do both but he certainly wasn’t risking it while the kid was right in front of him.

“There you have it MK. Good as new!” Pigsey sighed in relief it was finished. He couldn’t take a minute longer in the sun.

Wukong finally allowed his eye to wander to see what he had become. What he saw stunned him. His form still cross-legged in eternal meditation gleamed. The cracks remained, sure, but now they looked… dignified. Like the lines of an ancient tree rather than a decaying relic. His fur, once dulled by centuries of neglect, caught the light with a soft sheen. Although his eyes wandered to his many flaws, he was so grateful for MK’s work.

And there, placing the final touch with reverence, was MK gently wrapping the blue scarf back around his neck.

Wukong couldn’t feel it this time.

But oh, how he wished he could.

Chapter Text

It's strange how quickly routines can form alongside familiar connections.

Several years had passed since Wukong first met MK. Since then, MK’s visits had been consistent and frequent. The boy now spoke to Wukong every day on the way too and from school. The mornings were brief hellos but the evenings would turn into hours on end as MK spilled what had happened in his day.

Now aged 11, MK had moved away from the school where Tang was his librarian. Wukong gathered that the pair still met frequently as proven by the many arguments between him and Pigsey over Tang’s dine and dash habits, clear that Tang had become very comfortable in his role in the dynamic. However, he could tell MK missed just how frequently the duo met up. He was once again in a school with no friends. While Wukong enjoyed MK’s extended company, he was saddened by its route cause.

Netherles, he felt honoured to be able to continue protecting MK. More than often suspicious looking adults would prey on the solitary child and Wukong had perfected the art of astral projecting into their eardrums to scare them away. He received less and less visitors as a result, overhearing some whispers of the strange occurrences that had been happening around hsi statue. Wukong didn’t mind. His favourite visitor still remained and he was sure to keep the environment safe for him.

Almost like an exchange, MK kept Wukong in a good condition. He cleaned the statue bi-weekly, sometimes more frequently in the summer due to good weather. The cute gesture became something Wukong enjoyed immensely, managing to extend his power to feel the way MK scrubbed the stone.

And…well. Wukong had also started to receive hugs.

It was bittersweet because he enjoyed the feeling immensely but knew that MK needed the affection returned. Something Wukong wasn’t able to do.

He considered breaking his form once and for all a few times but he could never bring himself to do it. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if he did. Would the cracks in his form translate to scars? Or worse, would MK be afraid knowing he had been speaking to legend himself?

Wukong’s history seemed to slip away from him when he was with MK. He forgot he was the great sage, the one who caused havoc in heaven, the widely known Monkey King. He forgot of the legendary battles despite MK showing his drawings to him. Whenever MK was about, he just wanted to be Sun Wukong. The name chosen for him by his first master when he too was young and didn’t really know what the world was about. An emotional being who just enjoyed the pleasure of being in MK’s life.

A mortal life that could end at any moment.

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Tang had also missed his little friend. 

One hand, it was very nice to have someone shorter meaning Tang din’t have to crouch down all the time for lower shelves. His ankles had flared up less and less as a result and it was something he was really appreciating. But really he missed MK’s personality. Sure he could still swing by the noodle shop but that usually meant dealing with an earful from Pigsey. That was completely his own fault but in his defence, student loans were a lot to pay off. 

He sighed as he struggled to stand back up after rearranging the bottom shelf. MK made his job feel so much easier. It was amazing seeing someone as passionate about literature as he was and yet even when purposefully scanning the new students, he couldn’t find any with even an ounce of his enthusiasm. 

He had also managed to be wrangled into assisting the after school drama club under the bribe that they would put on a Journey To The West themed performance. While Tang was ecstatic, he could tell the kids weren’t nearly as enthusiastic about the source material. And he also knew MK would have absolutely adored this kind of thing.

Thats how he ended up one night closing up the school by himself. The teacher who ran most of the club had to dip early, something about very important business, leaving Tang to fend himself against kids who didn’t listen to him because he was just a librarian. He finally exhaled when all the kids had left and he could at least spend his sweet time packing away.

Tang hummed to himself as he boxed up props and costumes. He made a mental note to never do this ever again, it was far too draining. He underestimated how different a theatre production would be to his and MK’s roleplay. Wow he really did miss seeing that kid every day. It was Friday and he was already looking forward to sneaking into Pigseys shop again the next day.

As Tang shoved the boxes into the cupboard, a small creeping feeling started to wash over him. He’d never packed up alone, usually he was with the other teacher, Shì Zhǎng. Not that safety in numbers was any less nerve wracking. This guy was the most unsettling teacher Tang had the displeasure of partnering with. If the kids weren’t already a handful, he then had to deal with him too. It didn’t help that he was on the school board and could make decisions swing to his favour. Tang wouldn’t be opposed to the drama clubs receiving for funding if it wasn’t for the way Shi Zhang’s smile turned into something unsettling. 

He also had an extremely weird ritual to follow every time he closed. There was an altar resting in the fly system, unknown to most, that Shi Zhang insisted on talking to every night for a few minutes. He claimed it was a way to keep the demon who haunted the theatre at bay, something which scared the children to giggles but Tang knew was complete nonsense, no matter how enthralling of a tale it was to tell. Although, now he was here alone, he was starting to believe the story even more. 

Tang cursed his weak ankles as he climbed to the top of the fly system. Shi Zhang had left him instructions on what he needed to do to protect the theatre another night. He assured him that even though he told many tales about how the altar only responded to him and only he could keep the demon at bay that Tang was absolutely qualified to do this unsupervised! Yeah…sure he was?! Apparently most of the difficult parts had been completed before Shi Zhang had to dip but that didn’t make Tang any more confident. Or terrified. And boy was he terrified.

When he finally reached the altar, Tang took a deep breath. It was a small box really, shaped suspiciously like a coffin. Decorative chains and metal engraving adorned the box in bone shapes, casting an eerie feeling over Tang as he approached.

“Uhm…hi theatre demon.” Tang didn’t know why he was talking to a probably empty box that probably didn’t have a demon in it. “Shi Zhang isn’t here tonight so its uh…just me. Please don't haunt me.”

Through the silence Tang swore he heard whispers. He shook it off as his imagination as he unfolded the instructions.

“Okay…light all sixty candles.”

Tang blinked. Oh he had to be joking!

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It was a bitterly cold Friday evening, the kind that bit into the air and sank into bone. Frost clung to the branches. The breeze carried a biting sharpness that made even the stars seem distant and watchful. MK was chattering animatedly about his day, as he always did while Wukong sat silently in his meditative pose, listening, content.

But then, something shifted.

A sudden, unnatural chill crept up Wukong’s spine. It was not the kind that came with the wind or dropping temperatures, but something deeper. Older. It burrowed beneath his stone skin and wrapped icy fingers around his spirit.

He knew this feeling.

No. It couldn’t be.

He fought to dismiss it, to rationalize it away as nothing more than the cold night air. But the sensation gnawed at him with growing urgency. He had felt this before. Something that should have been sealed away, forgotten.

"And then I drew Princess Iron Fan! She’s so cool, kinda like this elegant warrior queen vibe?" MK babbled, waving his arms with a grin before trailing off. He frowned. “Huh. You’re colder than usual.”

Wukong flinched inwardly. He hadn’t realized his aura had shifted so noticeably. He cursed MK’s perceptiveness. It wasn’t because he was annoyed, but because he didn’t want the boy to worry.

MK hesitated only a moment before shrugging off his hoodie and walking up to the statue. “Here. The scarf’s not doing enough tonight.”

He stretched up on tiptoe, carefully pulling the hoodie over Wukong’s shoulders. It sat awkwardly, MK was still small, and the hoodie couldn’t thread through the statue’s arms properly. But somehow, the gesture made it fit perfectly. It was soft. It was warm. It was his .

Wukong’s heart ached.

Even with stone where his skin should be, he could feel the weight of MK’s kindness. The cold didn’t leave, but somehow, for a moment, it felt just a little more bearable.

And yet... the chill that crept through his spirit did not stop growing.

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One incredibly anxiety-inducing candle-lighting session later, Tang collapsed into a cross-legged heap in the center of the circle, sweat clinging to his forehead. His hands still trembled as he unfolded the ritual instructions again.

“Once all candles are lit,” he read aloud, squinting at the page, “slowly extinguish each one individually…” He groaned. “Are you serious? I just lit all sixty of them!”

Tang adjusted his glasses as he prepared to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Demon of the theatre. I am here once again…well here for the first time, sorry the usual guy couldn’t do it.” Tang chuckled nervously. “I am here once again to order you to stay in your shackles.”

As he spoke, Tang carefully reached around him to extinguish the candles.

“It is a consequence of your betrayal that you must live this way, on the verge of the living realm. If you come forth and bring your destruction with you, you are not welcome to reap the rewards of your bones.”

A soft rattling distracted Tang from the speech. From the darkness above, strange ornaments swayed in the fly system, beads, twigs, and unmistakably, bones. They clicked together like wind chimes in a phantom breeze. Tang shuddered.

“However if you bring forth your aide you will be…allowed to be set free?” Tang read hesitantly. What kind of a ritual was this anyway? “Remember who allowed you to flourish in the first place. Remember what she is and what she did for you. Now is you chance until you are engulfed in shadows once more. But if you attempt ti lie your way out, that too is punishable. Make your choice, phantom.”

That was enough for Tang.

“Nope. Nope. I’m done.” He snuffed the last few candles with frantic swipes and scrambled to his feet, plunging the space into darkness.

As he clambered down the steps, he dashed for the exit as fast as his wobbly ankles could manage. But upon barely making contact with the opening bar, the door slammed shut sending Tang stumbling backwards.

“What - “ Tang barely reacted before he felt an overwhelming shadow cast over him. The crushing wave of pressure rolled over him, blinding and suffocating. Shadows spilled across his vision, thick and oily, clawing at the edges of his sight. “S-Stay away whatever you are!” He screamed to the void.

“Ohhhh?” A voice suddenly echoed throughout the theatre. “Is the monk regretting touching things he shouldn’t be touching?” 

“M-Monk?” Tang looked around in confusion and fear. “I-I’m no monk! I was just doing what he - “

“What Shi Zhang told you to do?” The shadows hissed. “Don’t worry, he’s gonna be next on my list.”

“Next?!” Tang screamed. “Are you gonna kill me?! What is this?!”

Suddenly, something slammed into him with bone-snapping force. Tang cried out as he hit the floor hard, air forced from his lungs. A crushing weight pinned him down, something cold and unseen curled around his throat, tightening. His glasses were gone, tossed in the fall, leaving the world a blur of shifting shadow.

“Awww don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you.” The shadows taunted. “After all I have to thank you for failing the ritual so spectacularly it allowed me to make my escape.”

“O-Oh. You’re welcome?” Tang squeaked. “C-Can I go?”

The shadows around him laughed. 

“No. But I can’t have you talking either.” The voice replied gravely. “She can’t find out what happened. If she does, it’ll ruin me.”

“She? What - “

“So for now…you’re staying here with me.”

A blunt force struck the side of Tang’s head. The last thing he heard was the sound of laughter slipping into a whisper as the world dropped into nothingness.

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“Pigsey, Tang didn’t come by today,” MK said quietly, scrubbing a plate beside his dad at the sink.

“Heh. About time,” Pigsey grunted, drying his hands with a dish towel. “Maybe that freeloader finally got the hint.”

MK frowned, stacking the clean plates with more force than necessary.

“It’s not like him though.” MK pondered. “I think somethings wrong.”

“Uh kid he’s probably just ill.” Pigsey pointed out. “Or finally remembered how to cook for himself.”

“Then can we go visit him?” MK asked. “Please. I just wanna check that he’s okay.”

“Ugh fine.” Pigsey groaned. “But only because hes yer friend. And I ain’t taking him any food.”

The bike pulled up to Tang’s place just as the sky turned navy blue. The lights inside were off - but the blinds were wide open.

“That’s weird,” Pigsey muttered, cutting the engine. “It’s almost 9. Tang always closes his blinds before dark. Claims the ‘night air gives him migraines’ or some rubbish.”

“ This is what I meant!” MK jumped off the bike. “Something’s not right.”

He plastered his face against the glass to take a look. Pigsey sighed.

“Look MK, you can’t just look into peoples windows. You gotta knock first - “

“LOOK!” MK interrupted. “Do you see his calendar?”

Pigsey reluctantly looked inside. Sure enough a large wall calendar adorned Tang’s kitchen wall with a red X on the days passed. 

“Friday and Saturday aren’t crossed off yet.” MK pointed out. “And I passed Tang yesterday morning so that means he marks them when the day is over not when the day is beginning.”

“You’re right.” Pigsey pondered. “And his schedule is completely empty except for…visit MK!”

“He’s been kidnapped!” MK yelled.

“Whoa there, slow down.” Pigsey held up a hand, glancing back at the darkened windows. “Maybe not kidnapped. But you’re right. Something’s off.”

Pigsey nodded grimly, slipping his helmet back on. “Yeah. Guess we do.” He kicked the bike into gear. “And he better not be at some other, low quality, fast junk restaurant…but let’s start at his school.”

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Tang had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but when he came to, he found himself strapped to the coffin-lid altar, propped vertically against the fly system wall. His wrists and ankles were bound tight, the restraints biting into his skin. He blinked rapidly, struggling to breathe through the sudden spike of panic.

Stay calm, he told himself. Stay focused. Breathe.

“I’M GONNA DIEEEEE.” Tang wailed into the thin air. “That is it. I’m done for. Dead. About to be eaten by a weird theatre phantom. I’m doomed!!!!!”

“Ugh, stop your whining. You’re not gonna die.” A voice floated from across the balcony. 

Tang’s panic paused. His head jerked up.

“You!” he sputtered, trying to sound composed and failing spectacularly. “You’re the - “

“Yeah yeah, phantom of the auditorium or whatever you called me.” Tang’s eyes squinted to make out the dark outline across the room although his glasses were long lost so he couldn’t truly make him out. “Just. Do us both a favour. Shut up.”

“Oh…Okay…” Well that was ominous. And menacing. “...Can I speak if it’s at a moderate volume?”

“Ugh fine!” The phantom agreed. “But next time I need you to really shut it. I’m expecting someone tonight.”

“O-oh. Like… a date?” Tang joked weakly, grasping for levity.

“...that’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard.” Tang could hear the phantom audible gag. “Have you ever even thought about dating Shi Zhang? Eugh.”

“Wait, Shi Zhang?” Tang raised an eyebrow. “What do you have against him?”

“More unfinished business than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.” The phantom responded dryly.

“Oh, try me,” Tang said with a nervous smile. “I’ve got the entire Journey to the West memorized. There’s no story too long for me.”

“Oh?” The phantom edged closer. Tang could feel it. “Well then you’ll know all about Tang Sangzang.”

“Oh plenty!” Tang felt a little more comfortable being able to distract himself with something he cared about deeply.

“I have to apologize for earlier.” The phantom goaded. “For calling you a monk. You see, you bear a striking resemblance.”

“Oh. Uh.” Tang faltered slightly, caught off guard. “Thank you?”

“You are just a scholar though.” The phantom dismissed. “But tell me while we have time to kill. I’m curious. Do you know the fate of the Six Eared Macaque?”

Tang paused. The Six Eared Macaque? A pretty niche character for a demon to be curious about. Tang had just remembered entirely that he was infact talking to some kind of ghostly spirit.

“I..Don’t know much about him.” Tang responded truthfully. “He just kinda…showed up, impersonated Monkey King and died.”

“That’s it?” The phantom growled, far more offended than just a regular fan. “That’s how the world remembers him? A copycat who just dies ? That’s how the story was written?”

“Uh…Yeah.” Tang felt nervousness creep back in. “Why? Why do you care so much?”

The shadows shifted. A sudden snick and one of Tang’s hands was freed, scraped by something sharp. Before he could react, it was seized by something warm and furred, then firmly pulled forward.

Tang tensed until he realized his hand had been pressed against something soft. Firm. Furry. Three long, velvety shapes twitched beneath his palm.

“I-It’s you!” Tang breathed. “The Six Eared Macaque! You’re the one whose been haunting the school!”

“Took you long enough, and here you said you’d memorised the whole book!” Macaque laughed. “Ah I’ve missed this. You have no idea how long I’ve been trapped in there, aching to create another dramatic performance.”

“Your ears are soft.” 

The statement shattered Macaque’s monologue instantly.

“Eh?” He sputtered.

“Sorry,” Tang mumbled with curiosity. “I’ve just never touched monkey ears before. And yours are… impressive. I mean, they can hear the past, present, and future, right?”

“Uhm.” This wasn’t what Macaque was expecting at all. He wanted to watch Tang squirm a bit more. He didn’t want it to be passed back onto him. “Yeah yeah, hardley use them though.”

“Are they sensitive?” Tang wondered. “I mean they must get loud?”

It was in that exact moment Macaque realized he was still holding Tang’s hand against one of his very sensitive ears.

“Okay - enough of that!” he yelped, shoving the hand away and recoiling as if burned. “What kind of weird reverse interrogation are you pulling?”

Tang blinked innocently. “I was just curious.”

“Yeah yeah, just, lets move on from them ey?” Macaque rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure what mind games the not-monk was trying to play but he didn’t enjoy them. It had been so long since he’d felt something other than shackles and he wasn’t about to start craving it.

“So then why do you haunt the school specifically?” Tang questioned. “Last time I checked you died no where near here?”

“No, this is where I was resurrected.” Macaque explained. “By your colleague.”

That didn’t shock Tang nearly as much as it should have. Somehow, the idea of the weird, vaguely sinister drama teacher dabbling in necromancy felt... alarmingly plausible.

“Then what do you have against him if he resurrected you?” Tang asked carefully.

“Because he didn’t do it out of kindness.” Macaque’s voice sharpened. “He did it on orders. From his mistress: Lady Bone Demon.”

“The Lady Bone Demon?!” Tangs mouth gaped open. “But she’s been locked away for centuries!”

“Tell me about it,” Macaque growled. “But Shi Zhang is working to bring her back. Not yet, apparently. He keeps mumbling something about destiny not aligning. But it’s coming. Eventually.”

“So they want your help to free her?” Tang deduced.

“Mhm,” Macaque muttered. “But like… seriously? I just got my life back. You think I’m in a hurry to get torn apart again chasing after some cryptic ‘key’? Even if I do owe them, I’m not on my knees that easily.”

“So you fought back and thats why you were sealed here?” Tang put together. “And thats what the speech was? Something to taunt you with until you eventually complied?”

“Yes, the candle ritual is to ensure that I stay contained and it must be performed every night, otherwise I can break free.” Macaque agreed. “But for whatever reason, he picked you to read it and you didn’t complete the ritual. So I was able to break free. Perhaps he too mistook you for a great monk.”

“And that’t why you know he will come tonight.” Tang realised. “He has to.”

“He has to.” Macaque agreed, eyes glinting in the dark. “And once he’s nothing but a bag of bones? Then you’re free.”

“Oh,” Tang sighed with visible relief. He didn’t spare a thought for Shi Zhang’s gruesome fate, beyond the nightmare of school paperwork. “Well, if you're not gonna kill me, I guess this just counts as a mildly traumatic sorta exhilarating brush with a mythological legend. Nothing life-altering.”

Macaque snorted. “When you put it like that…” He tilted his head, amused. “It has been a while since I had an actual conversation.”

“Ha. Me too.” Tang admitted. “I mean, I see kids all the time but none of them really seem all that interested in reading.”

“Interesting. I also have to say their enthusiasm for the theatre is disappointing.” Macaque sat beside Tang as their conversation turned casual. “If only kids were as invented in the arts as they used to be!”

“Well, there is one.” Tang smiled fondly. “There was a kid who left this school not long ago. He was like the definition of wonder and excitement. I miss seeing him around, I still visit him sometimes though - “

Tang paused.

“…It’s Saturday,” he mumbled. “Oh gods, he’s probably freaking out. He’s the type who worries about everyone. Heart bigger than his head.”

“I see,” Macaque said, cool again, his voice like a curtain drawn shut. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but you’re not going anywhere until this is finished. No matter how much some kid worries about you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to wait much longer.”

Tang shrieked as Shi Zhang came crashing down from the upper level in a blur of robes and madness, colliding with Macaque in a violent tumble. The two wrestled across the rafters until Macaque ended up pinned beneath him, limbs straining.

“H-How did you know!?” Macaque growled, struggling against the iron grip.

Shi Zhang didn’t answer directly. His grin was wide…too wide.

“My lady would be too pleased with this turn of events!” He cackled gleefully.

“Uh Shi Zhang don’t you mean wouldn’t?” Tang corrected feebly.

“Call me Mayor,” he said, without even glancing at Tang. “Destiny has already laid the groundwork. Tang was meant to fail the ritual, to release you, just long enough for you to fully drop your guard. And oh, how you dropped it! Tying him up like some scene from a tragic opera, how dramatic! How brutish!”

“But why?” Macaque seethed. “If you needed me for something why not just free me yourself?!”

“Destiny,” the Mayor crooned, “works in mysterious, beautiful ways. Theatrics, symbolism, betrayal, it’s all part of the performance!”

“It’s not time yet,” Macaque muttered, trying to twist free. “It can’t be.”

“No,” the Mayor agreed. “But she has... other plans for you.”

Suddenly, glowing blue chains shot from the air, wrapping around Macaque’s limbs with unnatural speed. He roared in defiance as the chains yanked him upward, slamming him through wooden beams and sending splinters flying like shrapnel.

Debris rained down, and one sharp piece struck Tang hard in the head, knocking him sideways.

His world spun to black.

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…

“...ang? Tang? Can you hear me?”

The voice was rough but familiar, cutting through the high-pitched ringing in Tang’s skull. His whole body throbbed with pressure, the world coming back in fractured pieces as someone shook him gently.

“uhhh…Pigsey?”

Pigsey sighed in relief as he heard Tang respond feebly.

“Can you see me, buddy?” Pigsey asked.

“Uh… nooooo,” Tang groaned, head lolling. “Glasses.”

“Ah. Yeah I guess that makes sense.” Pigsey grunted. “What the heck even happened?!”

Tang suddenly shot up.

“Did you see him? The six eared macaque?” Tang demanded, instantly eased back to the floor by Pigsey.

“The what now?” Pigsey mumbled.

“It’s a character from Journey To The West.” MK explained to Pigseys sigh of realisation. “You must have dreamt of it while you were knocked out, Tang.”

“No, I swear!” Tang insisted, struggling to sort through the fog in his head. “I touched his ears. I remember it. And he had me tied up-”

“Woah.” Pigsey paused him. “He’s 11, Tang, watch what you’re saying.”

Tang paused before flushing in embarrassment. Had he just… invented a very vivid fantasy about a mythological monkey man? I mean discoveries were certainly made and Tang was sure he would have to take the “Am I Gay” quiz later. 

But embarrassment and a strong desire to look up Six Eared Macaque fanfiction aside, Tang was certain it wasn’t a dream. The details were too sharp. The warmth. The voice. The chains. The theatre - 

He glanced up.

The ceiling was… fine. Perfectly intact. No damage. No signs of struggle.

Huh.

Maybe he had just passed out.

“Come on Tang.” Pigsey helped hoist him up. “Let's get you home.”

And just like that all those extreme desires were replaced by something that curled quietly in his chest. A strange, fluttering warmth, not for this apparent vision but for the man currently holding him upright.

Geez he really needed to take that quiz. 

Chapter Text

A few months had passed since Tang’s run in with death, not that anyone treated it as any more than a strange dream he had after falling over in the fly system. Tang thought about that night long and hard. It had to be real. Surely. After all, when Tang returned after his sick leave, Shi Zhang, or Mayor he supposed, was no where to be found. No one knew why he had quit or if he was fired. For Tang, that made him the defacto leader of the drama club against his will but he was glad he didn’t have to do any weird rituals this time. 

That was another thing Tang thought about a lot. The six eared macaque. Meeting the mythological legend seemed less plausible than his ex colleague being a harbinger of demons and yet Tang wanted to believe it was real. Even though the roof was perfectly fine, the feeling of the simians ears was too realistic to be a dream. His memory was blurry thanks to the head injuries and the lack of glasses, of which he had to replace because he couldn’t find his original pair. That was another thing, Tang had made his way to the ground floor before getting his glasses knocked off. But then they shouldn’t be hard to find in an empty hall, compared to if he passed out at the altar and they fell into the abyss there. Maybe it was just a dream after all.

Regardless, Tang fulfilled his initial desires and took the dam test. And low and behold, there it was. He was as straight as his ankles. Which is to say a bit bent and wiggly.

Tang wasn’t sure what to do with this information. On one hand, his encounter with Macaque was sure to exhilarate any perfectly straight man. On the other, Tang couldn’t deny the fluffy feeling he got from being held up by Pigsey. It was a very difficult walk for the pig and Mk had to help despite not being all that much taller than him but the way Pigsey’s hands rested on his waist send a feeling more exhilarating than being tied up through his entire body. 

He was certain a relationship between the two couldn’t work out though. After all, Pigsey hated Tangs guts for a very good reason and him holding Tang up because he was injured meant nothing. But maybe it wasn’t the action but rather the fact that Pigsey was there at all. That he’d broken into the school on a Saturday because MK was worried. Maybe Tang could hope that Pigsey was worried about him too. And then MK told him:

“Yknow, he seemed pretty upset at the idea of you ‘freeloading’ someone else's restaurant.”

Pigsey defended himself with yells and insults directed at both parties and yet Tang couldn’t help but find hope in the confusing confession. It didn’t make any sense on the surface, Pigsey would likely be happy Tang wasn’t causing him any more trouble. And yet, was he…jealous? Despite the absolute pain in the ass Tang was, was he possessive over the idea of him being someone else's pain in the ass?

Pigsey was a difficult man to read emotionally. The only one truly able to break down his walls was MK and that was obvious. The rest of the time, he covered up his feelings with insults and shouting. Maybe Tang was delusional. After all, any sane person would see what was happening and immediately tell Tang he was being stupid and there was no way Pigsey was finding the freeloader he actively threw ladles at endearing.

Tang sighed to himself. Time will tell. And he was only 27, he had a long life ahead of him to figure it all out.

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The early teens was a time of great change for many kids. Now 13, MK found that he wasn’t that worried about whatever was ahead of him biologically. He was more worried about socially. 

The kids in his class, many of which he had grown up around, started becoming…different. The clics they formed were far more defined and exclusive. Whereas before Mk had to wonder if kids were ignoring him purposefully, he knew they were because they now told it to his face. He had managed to thrive pretty well so far on his own, despite being an extroverted person, but the constant confirmation that he wasn’t wanted pushed him back into his shell in the classroom. His main confident was Monkey King, where he could get out all that had happened and process it before deciding what he could and shouldn’t tell Pigsey and Tang when he saw him on the weekends. 

After all, MK was sure he wasn’t being bullied. Bullying is when you get grabbed by the scruff of you collar and shoved against a locker, or when you get paint poured on your artwork or when you get paper balls thrown at you in class. MK didn’t get any of that. He was sure it wasn’t bullying when the kids laughed at his lack of understanding social cues. He was sure it wasn’t bullying when he was teased because he hadn’t seen the latest big movies but knew Journey To The West by heart. He was sure it wasn’t bullying when small, honestly worthless items were taken from him. Because really, who gets upset at a kid stealing some blu-tac ? And it definitely was bullying to fear seeing certain kids in the hallways over it. Even though they acted like his friend MK felt like they weren’t and they just enjoyed metaphorically poking him. But that wasn’t bullying.

And frankly MK had no right going to the teachers about it. First time he tried that, he was accused of lying for what he thought was the honest truth. And it wasn’t a huge deal what was happening to him. It was just teasing which hurt but isn't severe enough to warrant intervention. Intervention would just make it worse after all. Sometimes it’s better to stay silent.

So eating in the bathroom it was. Again. Great.

Mk wasn’t exactly thrilled this was going to be his life for at least another 3 years. The difference this time is that he wasn’t the only one in the bathrooms. The bathrooms were like a secret club of fights, smoking and anything else the school banned. It turned his quiet solitude into being trapped in a box among his greatest enemies in the school. Fantastic.

It wasn’t until they were allowed to spend lunch on the field that everything changed.

The field was larger so all the problematic kids were already far away from MK. This was some relief as he shovelled down his bowl of noodles and drew even more Monkey King fanart. For once, the air was calm.

Then a ball rocketed past his face, missing by mere inches.

“Sorry!” A voice called and Mk looked up to see a girl with black and green hair run towards him.

She skidded to a stop and flashed an apologetic grin. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” MK replied stiffly, bracing for a follow-up insult. He half-expected her to blame him for sitting in the way or something.

Instead, she plopped down beside him like they were already friends.

“Hey, watcha doing sat here on your own?” She asked casually.

“Oh, y’know.” MK wasn’t sure what to respond to that. Was this teasing? He didn’t know. Social cues translator, this would be a good time to work! “Just drawing.”

“Ooh! Can I see?” She leaned over eagerly, completely invading his personal space. Weirdly enough, MK didn’t really mind.

“It’s just Monkey King stuff, but…” He handed over his sketchbook carefully, almost protectively.

“Wait. You’re into Monkey Mech too?!” The girl exclaimed. 

“Monkey what now?” MK blanked.

“Monkey Mech? The arcade game?” The girl raised an eyebrow. “How do you not - “

“Ehhe…I’m into the original legends more.” Mk replied sheepishly.

“But you’ve never played Monkey Mech?!” The girl cried. “Have you even been to the Zero Gravity Arcade?!”

She responded to MK’s confused glance and continued silence with a groan.

“Girlfriend, you are missing out!” She shouted. “Quick version, I’m Mei, are you free tonight? You better be free because you need to see how awesome this arcade is!”

She thrust her hand forward for a handshake…and accidentally socked MK in the stomach.

“Ah! Sorry!” she yelped, cringing. “I get kinda excited. If I’m overwhelming-”

“Nononono it’s okay!” MK shook his head. “I also get a bit excited and loud so - “

“Really?” Mei squinted with an unconvinced expression. “You’re like…the quietest guy I’ve met so far.”

“You just wait until the weirdness is unlocked.” Mk chuckled, feeling more and more at ease with Mei.

“Well then, we better speedrun this friendship because I’ve been waiting for someone to match my energy for…years!” Mei gleamed. “So. Free tonight?”

MK still hadn’t fully processed what Mei was offering. She wanted…to hang out? 

Someone pinch him she actually wanted to be around him? Out of her own free will? What was this?!

“Y-Yeah I’m free!” Mk responded. “As long as I’m home by 8. My dads - “

“Oh I get it my parents are also strict.” Mei interrupted. 

“No he’s not strict he just worries y'know?” MK defended Pigsey.

“Either or, you say when and we dip!” Mei grinned widely.

Mk couldn’t believe his ears. Did he just make a friend? Or wait, was he about to get kidnapped? He couldn’t tell if that was nerves or excitement in his chest.

“By the way, pronouns? You chill with girlfriend?”

“Uh yeah sure. I’m uh…’chill’ with that?”

“Great, see you after school boi!”

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The Zero Gravity Arcade was everything MK had ever dreamed of—and more.

He didn’t bring any money, but Mei happily lent him some tokens. From the moment he stepped inside, MK was overwhelmed in the best way possible. The place was bursting with color, flashing lights, and the kind of noise that would usually make him flinch… but not today.

It was electric.

Arcade machines lined every wall, stacked side by side like a technicolor maze. The atmosphere was loud, chaotic, and alive. And MK loved every second of it.

Mei’s energy was infectious. She darted from game to game, dragging MK along with uncontainable excitement. He quickly found himself swept up in it, loosening up, laughing harder, shouting louder. It was like something inside him had cracked open and pure joy was pouring out.

“Finally! Monkey Mech!” Mei cheered as she dragged MK towards the two player game. “The best one in the entire universe!”

“WOW!” MK rushed up to the screen. “Is this a game about Monkey King?!” 

“You betcha!” Mei grinned. “I know, its pretty cool huh?”

“Cool?” MK practically vibrated, frothing at the mouth. “This is next-level awesome. We have to play!”

They jumped in, battling side by side and against each other with fierce determination and wild laughter. The flashing lights, the button mashing, the over-the-top action. It was pure, unfiltered fun. By the time they stumbled away, they were both breathless and grinning.

Later that evening, something caught MK’s eye: a tunnel lit up by shifting neon lights, pulsing gently like it was calling to him.

“Woah, what’s that?!” MK asked, his eyes wide.

“That,” Mei said, following his gaze with a mischievous smile, “is the real Anti-Gravity Arcade.”

MK blinked. “Wait, we’re in the fake one?!”

“No, no, this is the regular one,” she explained. “But in there, the gravity stuff is serious. We’re just kinda floating now. That room? Zero gravity.”

“So cool! We have to go in - “

“Nope!” Mei grabbed the back of Mk’s hoodie. “Trust me it looks cool. But it’s 18+.”

“Huh? But why?” MK whined. “It looks so much fun!”

“I know right!” Mei also groaned. “But they sell alcohol in there so kids aren’t allowed in there. It’s also more of a club so general rules seem to apply. But come on, couldn’t they make a tiny one for us babies to enjoy?”

“Aw man…” MK deflated. “When I grow up, that’s the first place I’m going.”

“Same.” Mei crossed her arms with a huff. “Only five more years, right? That’s basically nothing.”

MK grinned, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. “When we’re 18, we go. Deal?”

Mei reached out and locked pinkies with him. “Deal.”

And just like that, a quiet promise was made. One that said…

We’ll still be friends by then. We’ll still be here.

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Mk and Mei became inseparable pretty quickly, bonded by their love for wacky video games and eccentric personalities. Mei also was able to decipher when MK was being teased unfairly.

“You gotta grow a backbone dude.” Mei exclaimed as they hung out, munching on Monkey King themed snack bars. “I’m not always gonna be around to kick ass.”

“Hey didn’t you say I was stuck with you for life?” MK teased back. “But yeah I know. I just don’t always when know when it’s happening.”

“You ever though about getting diagnosed?” Mei questioned.

That stunned MK.

“Huh? Diagnosed for what?” MK raised an eyebrow.

“For autism, duh.” Mei said through a mouthful of food. “Probably ADHD too at this point.”

“I don’t - But I’m not…” MK protested but sighed when he thought about it. It would make sense. Just another way he was different from everyone else he supposed. 

“Ask your dads.” Mei pointed out. “Can’t hurt to have a looksey.”

“Yeah but - wait did you say dads?” Mk spluttered. “Whose the other one?”

“Tang, duh!” Mei cackled. “Seriously, have you seen the way he looks at Pigsey? I wouldn’t be surprised if a wedding is around the corner.”

MK scrunched his nose. “He looks at food like that, not Pigsey.”

“Food is love,” Mei shrugged, wiping her fingers on her pants. “Anyway, he’s totally your second dad. Deal with it.”

“Nah, he’s more like… I don’t know. Cool uncle energy.”

“Gotcha.” Mei grinned. “And the sky is red.”

“Well it sometimes is red, huh!” MK protested. 

Mei grinned triumphantly before bursting into laughter.

“Speaking of weird assumptions, did you know some people think we’re a couple?”

MK nearly choked. “What?! Ew - no. Noooope.”

“I know right!” Mei agreed. “Can’t too gals who ain’t exactly both gals just hang out? Everyone else in this school is sooooo lame, they wouldn’t let loose in the arcades like we do.”

“Exactly. They don’t understand.” MK chuckled.

“Tell me about it.” Mei sighed. “You know they don’t let us girls do sports right?”

“Whahhhhhht?!” MK’s mouth gaped. “Like…at all?”

“Nope.” Mei shook her head. “We gotta do sewing instead. Seriously, can’t we just rough an tumble?”

“Yeah! Put some respect into Princess Iron Fan’s name!” Mk agreed. His face lit up with an idea. “Hey, we’re similar size right?”

“Pretty much, why?” 

“Reckon we’d be able to pass as each other?”

Mei’s mouth hung open for a second. She considered it.

“Yeah…Yeah maybe we would!” She cried. “Are you suggesting we swap places?”

“I mean I don’t care about sports all that much.” MK shrugged. “I usually get ignored anyway and sewing looks interesting.”

“OH MY GOD PLEASE,” Mei cried, grabbing his arm and practically vibrating. “MK, IF YOU DO THIS, I WILL LET YOU USE ALL MY ARCADE TOKENS. ALL OF THEM.”

“Okay okay I’ll do it!” Mk laughed. “You don’t have to pay me with tokens, it’s what friends are for y’know.”

“Tokens on the table. Take it or leave it.” Mei joked before bursting into a big smile. “Thank you so so so much!”

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MK managed to stay quiet and focused during sewing, and the teacher was just relieved that “Mei” had finally stopped being so “disruptive.” Meanwhile, over in P.E., the coach was thrilled that “MK” was finally showing enthusiasm and team spirit.

It was a perfect win win scenario, and Mei felt like Mulan having to hide so her secret wasn’t revealed. As slightly terrifying as that part was, the prospect of having a secret they could giggle about was exciting. 

Plus, MK was learning things about himself in this class.

“For the new year, I want you all to create a patch resembling your zodiac.”

MK's eyes had gone wide.

He was born in the year of the monkey.

He practically burst out of his seat with excitement, barely able to contain himself. It felt like destiny handing him a golden ticket - of course he was born in the year of the monkey. It was like the universe had been nudging him all along.

The moment the final bell rang, MK bolted through the school gates. He ran past food stalls and alleyways, his backpack bouncing wildly as he made a beeline toward the old shrine on the hill—toward him.

There, under the fading glow of sunset, stood the familiar statue of the Monkey King.

MK skidded to a stop in front of it, panting but beaming. “Wukong! You’re not gonna believe this!”

Though the statue didn’t move, didn’t speak, MK swore he could still feel the amused golden warmth radiating off it, like the air shimmered just slightly when he spoke.

“Guess what! I found out I’m literally the year of the monkey! Can you believe that?! It’s, like, fate, right? That has to mean something!”

He sat cross-legged in front of the statue, arms flailing excitedly as he recounted everything.

Wukong had seen less and less of MK lately, but he didn’t mind. MK still came by every day, even if it was just for a few minutes after school. He always made time to share his latest adventures, ramble about Mei, or just sit quietly and snack near the shrine. And in those brief moments, Wukong listened.

If watching him grow meant seeing him less, then Wukong would take that trade a hundred times over.

After all, the boy had a whole world opening up before him. And finally, he was walking alongside someone his own age who fully matched his energy.

Chapter Text

As MK grew taller, it became easier for his hoodies to fit around Wukong’s statue.

There was still a little bit of stress, no doubt. But he had undergone a major growth spurt by the time he was 14, much to the annoyance of Pigsey who didn’t like that his son was half his age and taller than him now, yet it proved useful for keeping the statue warm.

However, there was something gnawing at the back of MK’s head. In the sewing class he was taking, they had begun discussing traditional imperial roles. While the subject was incredibly interesting, it made MK wonder. Was Monkey King offended by the modern clothes MK was using to keep him warm? Studying the statue up close, MK could make out the carvings of a traditional surcoat at the very least although the cross legged position made it difficult to see exactly what Monkey King was wearing.

He had also heard stories about how statues of gods were sometimes dressed to keep them warm or to protect them with symbolic imagery. While MK saw the similarities between that and his hoodies, he also felt like he was doing a dis-service to Monkey King’s legacy by covering his traditional robes with frankly a pretty boring article of clothing.

It was that summer evening that MK decided what he was going to do in sewing class. He was going to make a proper hanfu for the Monkey King.

It was supposed to remain a secret from him but frankly MK was terrible at keeping secrets even from a motionless stone statue. When Wukong caught wind of what he was doing when he rambled about his day, he couldn't help but feel his heart jump to his throat. It was comforting just to hear someone talk about the traditional symbols that had been long outdated by the time Wukong had gained gold-vision consciousness. But it was even sweeter knowing that Mk was planning this gesture. 

Respectful even, as creating a fully embroidered hanfu was no easy task. MK was fiercely committed to this project as the months bled into years. Wukong watched MK grow up even more, all while anticipating the end of the project. Occasionally, MK would bring samples to show Wukong out of excitement but without telling him what they were for.

“And then we have the gourd which I made out of forbidden knots.” MK rested the piece of fabric on Wukong's chest. “Seriously, I can see why these used to blind people!”

“Looking good MK!” Mei encouraged her best friend. MK had brought Mei to Monkey King’s statue a few times now. Mei didn’t exactly understand why this was a ritual of MK’s but she accepted it as long as they got to play Monkey Mech afterwards. “I’m sure Monkey King will love his - “

“SHhsshSHHHSshshsh!!!!!” MK clamped a hand over Mei’s mouth. “Not so loud Mei! He’ll hear you and it’ll ruin the surprise!”

“You know it’s just a statue right.” Mei chuckled. “I know you feel this big ol’ spiritual connection and all but he can’t actually hear you.”

“Just in case though.” MK groaned. 

“Welp, we’ve shown him the samples, now let's go play Monkey Meccchhhh!” Mei cheered as MK said goodbye to Wukong.

Deactivating his gold vision, Wukong sighed in conteness. He’d grown incredibly attached to MK over the years, from his small beginnings at 6 to now being 14. The years that Wukong had MK in his life were filled with wonder and excitement. Every day he wanted to finally break form, to show MK just how much he meant to him as a son figure. How proud he was of him. How excited he was whenever he showed a new drawing, or fighting pose, or textile. How much he appreciated the clothes and even more so the immense effort he was putting in this hanfu. Wukong was sure he was going to cry when he saw it.

Usually once MK leaves, Wukong resides himself in a meditation state until MK was due to return. It made the days go far quicker and allowed Wukong to completely fill his life with MK. This time though, he decided to stay awake and just reflect on his peaceful life.

There was a rare stillness in the air, a hush in the trees, and for once, Wukong let himself bask in it. To sit still and simply reflect on how strange and fortunate his fate had become. Bound to stone, yes, but not trapped. Not in the underworld, not forgotten. Instead, he had a different purpose.

As the shadows grew longer and the forest took on the blue hush of early evening, Wukong prepared to slip back into slumber.

And then he heard a voice.

“Wow. Guess the rumours were true.”

Wukong’s soul left his body when he heard that voice. No. It couldn’t be.

His golden eyes snapped open at an instance to confirm his worst fear.

Macaque!

The sight hit him like a blow to the chest. The simian looked…awful

The once-proud shadowy warrior looked like he’d been dragged through centuries of suffering. His fur was patchy, matted in places, torn clean out in others. The twitching of his six ears betrayed a nervous tension his smirk tried - and failed - to conceal. Scars criss crossed his face, one particularly gruesome one covering an eye completely.

Wukong had never seen his former brother look so broken… and yet still burning with bitterness.

“They really built a statue of you, huh?” Macaque said, voice smooth but edged with venom. “Not bad. The craftsmanship is impressive. Must’ve taken years.”

Wukong forced himself to stay still. Macaque couldn’t sense him. Not unless he made himself known.

“So much care,” Macaque went on, circling the base of the statue slowly. “So much love . For you.”

Wukong’s blood stayed tense as he was unsure where Macaque was going with this.

“And frankly you don’t deserve any of it.” Macaque spat. He stepped closer, close enough that Wukong could see the wild, furious gleam in his one uncovered eye.

“Did you know, Wukong, that you lived on as one of the most talked about legends there are?” Macaque spoke slowly. “Well guess what happened to me. Apparently my only notable trait worth remembering is how I was killed by you.”

Wukong’s jaw tightened. He supposed in the book centering him, Macaque's role would be minor. Just another body to the pile, as much as Wukong hated to think that way. For every sworn brother he cut down, he had his regrets. Even if he did what he needed to do.

“It’s pathetic.” Macaque growled. “You don’t deserve to be remembered this way. So positively.”

“Did you know Wukong? What has become of me? I escaped the underworld, but only because some sick, sadistic woman and her unnerving, creepy lap dog have destiny to fulfil. You want to talk torment? Try being locked in a box. Stuffed into darkness so tight you can’t move, can’t scream, can’t breathe. Forced to listen, day after day, to warped, butchered versions of our story. They reenact my death. Every. Single. Year. Children point and laugh. Adults cheer when I’m killed. Again. And again. And again.” And then every night he performs a ritual to keep me trapped and tortures me. And I know he enjoys it.”

“And then I finally manage to be freed by some idiot. I finally feel the touch of another person. Touch that wasn’t a backhand. Or grabbing. Or shoving, pushing, I have chains put on me almost every day to make sure I walk heel to toe! I finally found someone that, despite his strange attitude, showed me a little bit of kindness. And then even that got stolen away from me. I can’t have shit in this world, Wukong!”

He stormed up to the statue’s base, fists trembling, lips pulled back in a snarl. His voice was a guttural roar now, spit flying.

“I didn’t even get a FUCKING GRAVESTONE. What makes YOU think you deserve a STATUE!?”

Wukong was taken aback by this display from his former enemy, his former brother. He figured Macaque may have grudges against him for what happened but what was all this? Who was ‘she’? Wukong only watched as Macaque took a step back, chest heaving from the load he just unleashed onto the statue.

“I’ve only got a few hours before they track me down,” He muttered, low and venomous. “So I’ll make this quick. Not that you deserve the mercy.”

A flash of black erupted as a weapon was produced. Without much time to react, Macaque gripped the weapon and swung it towards the statue.

In this defenceless state, all Wukong could do is screw his eyes shut and hope. But when the spiked battle staff didn’t make contact, Wukong peeked one eye open.

Macaque was also stunned when his spikes made no dent on the statue.

“W-What is this…” He gaped.

Wukong wasn’t sure either. He knew for a fact his powers had done nothing. Maybe the statue couldn't be destroyed due to his immortality? But he had been cracked and damaged before, a swing like that should surely leave a mark?

A small, unassuming piece of fabric nestled in his stone lap. The little gourd MK had made for him. A charm, stitched with clumsy care, meant to ward off evil spirits.

Wukong's golden eyes widened.

It’s working?

“Hi.”

Both Wukong and Macaque snapped their heads toward the source. Macaque instinctively shimmered into his illusion glamours, restoring his deceptively casual, less terrifying appearance. Standing behind Macaque was a very sleepy looking MK. Oh no. What was he doing here?!

“Uh….hi kid?” Macaque raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you should be here.” MK’s voice came out pretty tough but both monkeys could tell the kid was terrified. 

“I could say the same for you.” Macaque moved towards MK. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“It is a bit late.” MK agreed, shaking slightly as Macaque moved towards him. “A-And it’s a bit late to carry…that thing?”

Macaque casually rested the weapon over his shoulder and gave a soft chuckle.

“Yeah whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Look kid, I'm no babysitter so you should probably go home. I have things to do.”

MK hesitated, backing up slightly, heart hammering. His bravery was fraying fast but something about the stranger radiated wrongness. And he couldn’t leave Monkey King behind.

He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration…and then, suddenly, a shimmer of gold floated into view.

He opened his eyes, mesmerized.

A golden wisp, soft and glowing, hovered in front of him.

“Look, kid, you better - “

MK looked upwards, his eyes suddenly flooded with a blinding gold light. He screeched at first, panicking. Then he looked upwards at the stranger to find a gruesome appearance and 6 very distinct ears.

“You’re…” MK mumbled. “You’re the Six Eared Macaque!”

“Oh no - “ Macaque panicked, checking his glamours. How did the kid know? “I don’t know how you’re seeing this but I need you to forget it just like that librarian did.”

Librarian. What the - Was he talking about Tang?

“It’ll be mostly painless, I swear.” Macaque raised the blunt end of his staff to strike downwards. This time he was blocked by a blinding golden light and thrown backwards. When he scrambled to his feet, he bolted from the scene. Clearly whatever magic was in this area wasn’t worth it.

MK let out a sigh of relief, running towards the statue.

“Monkey King I - “ 

Mk froze in his tracks. His vision still glowed gold, the world tinged with ethereal shimmer. As he looked up, he gasped. There, hovering just above the statue, was the unmistakable shape of a golden monkey spirit. One arm still outstretched from blocking Macaque’s attack. Floating. Watching. No…it couldn’t be. 

Wukong starred right back at MK. Was the child…looking at him? He tilted his head to the side and when MK copied, his eyes widened. He could see him.

Gently, Wukong descended, hovering to meet the boy at eye level. Up close, the signs were unmistakable. MK’s pupils shimmered with golden flecks very clearly a symptom of gold vision. Since when could the kid do that? He wasn’t sure what this meant for either of them. MK reached towards Wukong carefully, his hand phasing through the golden spirit.

“Monkey King…” Mk began before his eyelids started to heave. Poor kid. The encounter must be so draining for him. Wukong motioned to the plinth at the feet of the stone statue and MK carefully sat there.

“I just… saw this gold spark,” MK murmured, trying to stay conscious. “I thought you were in danger, and… guess I was right…”

MK yawned as he began to slump against the stone. Wukong watched him carefully. Unsure what to say. Unsure if he’d even be heard. Before he could think of what to say, he noticed MK’s chest slowly heaving up and down. The child had fallen asleep. 

Wukong watched him sleep affectionately. But as cute as the scene was, Wukong knew he couldn’t sleep out here.

With a final look, he let his spirit dissolve into golden light, flowing back into the statue.

Slowly, deliberately, the statue stirred. Its movements were stiff and mechanical, more golem than god. Wukong worked through jerky and restrained movement, determined not to fully break form. He didn’t want to break the illusion, not yet. MK wasn’t ready.

Maybe he wasn’t either.

Carefully, the stone arms scooped up the boy. Cradling him, Wukong began the awkward trek back through the city streets, the glow of neon casting strange patterns across stone limbs.

He slowly made his way to Pigsy's Noodle Shop. He had a difficult time both walking and navigating the city's densely packed layout but he was able to find the neon sign eventually. Climbing up the side stairs to what he presumed to be MK’s bedroom judging by the open window, Wukong carefully laid MK into his bed and tucked him in.

Wukong stood over him for a long moment, unable to tear his gaze away. Something in him ached.

“I just want you to be safe.” He whispered. “That’s all.”

He cast a glance out the window toward the distant mountains. He could only hope that tonight’s scare would keep Macaque at bay.

With a sigh, Wukong stiffly turned back around and walked back to his plinth. By the time he reached the statue again, the sky was tinged with the earliest shades of dawn. Climbing back onto his plinth, Wukong positioned himself exactly as before. He let his spirit sink back into silence and stone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When MK woke the next morning, the night felt like a blur, more dream than memory. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the golden light, the macaque, the statue...

Still groggy, he tried to summon the golden vision again, just to be sure.

Nothing.

MK flopped back on the pillow and let out a sigh.

“Man… what a crazy dream. Imagine if the statue really was alive!”

Chapter Text

When MK told Pigsey about the dream he had, he was amused by it. It was always a joy to see MK’s imagination still in the works, retaining his child like wonder despite growing older. Pigsey had alway worried if Mk would become a different person in his teens. He couldn’t lie and pretend he didn’t want MK to stay young forever. But the boy whom Pigsey had grown to love was only changing for the better. His energy was maintained by his building self confidence, not least due to the impact of having Mei as a friend. He seemed to not care what others thought of him anymore, residing to continue learning the ways of the noodle shop, play video games and still visit that strange statue. Pigsey couldn’t be prouder of him.

But while raising MK had been a joy and a privilege, Pigsey couldn’t lie that it took a toll on him. That and running the noodle shop, his general stress was constantly high. Something he hadn’t even considered until he watched Mei and MK go off together was if there was anything he’d like to do. For pleasure alone.

It seemed obvious really. Pigsey wanted to run the noodle shop. He was good at that, breaking records and maintaining a solid reputation throughout the city. He gained a lot of pride from maintaining his traditional ways and honouring his family heritage, despite his falling out with them. But running a business was fulfilling, not easy. Pigsey adored everything about his shop but he couldn’t say he found the pleasure that came from it relaxing. 

Then, Pigsey wanted to raise MK, a decision he stood firmly behind. He gained a lot of happiness from investing in the kids life, even if it felt like he lacked sometimes. He wasn’t a whimsical storyteller nor was he able to walk MK home most nights. It was his biggest regret and he always worried if he would make it home safely, even when MK is older and more than capable to assess danger. He wanted to provide MK with a job so he could earn his own money when he was legally old enough to be properly employed. 

Finally, Pigsey wanted to go biking. It was an activity he thoroughly enjoyed and it blended perfectly with his job. Everytime he raced around the city to deliver noodles as fast as he could, he felt fulfilled knowing he was keeping his customers satisfied while also feeling youthful again.

Pigsey was almost 30 after all and already feeling himself need to slow down. He had already started giving MK basic driving lessons in hopes that he could take on the bulk of deliveries once he was fully employed. It wasn’t that Pigsey didn’t enjoy deliveries, they were the occasions he even could ride his bike around town. It’s just he felt himself quickly becoming spent making the noodles and delivering them. While Pigsey’s body was already prepared for MK to take over, his mind wished he could keep up. It’s not like he was old or anything. Heck, most biker gangs and clubs Pigsey ran into were well into their 40s! He just felt like he was ageing faster than most others. It probably also wasn’t a fair comparison between driving a few intense hours a few times a week for pure enjoyment rather than driving around 5 hours a day 7 days a week for work. 

It was on one of those evenings that Pigsey found himself in his own thoughts, hands in the washing up bowl. He was getting on with life, if he wanted to do something fun and for himself alone he had to find the time for it. But there wasn’t a lot of time with Pigseys full on schedule. He supposed he could go for a ride later. MK was having a sleepover and that day had been lighter than usual. Plus the summer days meant it was still light outside. Who knows. Could be fun.

Pigsey was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard someone humming beside him. He turned to find Tang with a towel carefully drying the bowls Pigsey had started to stack on the draining board.

“What are you doing?” Pigsey asked, his voice gruff with mild suspicion. He wasn’t really in the mood for Tang’s usual antics.

“You seemed tired, figured you could use a hand.” Tang shrugged with a smile.

“Uh huh. Ya know, it’s not often you just invite yourself around the back of the counter to help out. ” Pigsey snorted. “You’ve already cost me one bowl tonight, you ain’t getting another.”

“Oh I’m wounded you would think so little of me, Pigsey!” Tang whined dramatically. “But if another bowl is on the table, I’m not gonna say no.”

“Course you wouldn’t,” Pigsey muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned back to the sink but occasionally glanced over to check that Tang wasn’t about to destroy his vintage crockery.

Surprisingly, Tang was handling the dishes with an unexpected level of care, like each bowl was an ancient relic. Pigsey supposed that tracked. Tang had a soft spot for old things, for history.

Hm maybe that’s what Pigsey should want. He could make an improvement to his restaurant. There wasn’t anything he particularly wanted to change but there were some blank patches aching to be filled with something antique.

Or he could ride on his bike. Yeah he’ll do that.

“Uh - “

Pigsey looked up to see Tang looking at him with a perplexed, slightly embarrassed expression. What was that for?

“Did I say something?” Pigsey grunted with confusion.

“You just asked if I wanted to ride on your bike.” Tang repeated words Pigsey seemingly didn’t realise he spoke.

Oh crud. 

Pigsey was now the embarrassed looking one. He hadn’t meant to say that outloud but he guess it was spoken now. The mistake of speaking when he didn’t mean to was embarrassing enough but now something else churned in his gut. 

Did he…want that?

On a normal day, Pigsey would flat-out deny ever wanting to hang out with Tang voluntarily. The guy drove him nuts. Aside from drying a few bowls and being MK’s oddball sidekick, Tang didn’t have much of a place in his life, just a freeloading presence he tolerated more than appreciated.

But then if that was the case, why did Pigsey keep him around?

Logically now that MK had Mei and didn’t need to solely rely on Tang anymore, Pigsey could kick him him out. He could pick Tang up by the neck like he had done all those years ago, throw a knife at him, even call the police. There were so many reasons to make Tang leave and never come back. 

So at what point did his annoying and costly antics become endearing? Did Pigsey want to be around Tang?

“Yeah.” 

It was a soft admission. Pigsey found that maybe he did want that. 

“Yeah, I said it.” Pigsey repeated gruffly, trying to be nonchlant. “I haven’t gotten out much on it other than to deliver noodles so was figuring I could go for a joy ride.”

“A-And you wanted me to come with you?” Tang asked for clarification. Dammit, why did that stammering have to also be endearing. He’s a bumbling moron, nothing more. 

“Come on.” Pigsey abruptly tipped the rest of the dirty water down the drain. “What happened to Tang five minutes ago, huh? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t say no?”

The words surprised them both. Tang felt a flush rising in his ears, caught off guard by the directness. Pigsey, meanwhile, couldn’t believe he’d let that slip so easily.

“I mean you CAN say no.” Pigsey quickly corrected, realising how his statement sounded. “But ya know. How often do you properly kick back, and being around MK doesn’t count.”

And that’s when Tang realised that even though Mk made him feel like a kid again, he was still an adult who still held back some words due to his age.

“Shit.” Tang spoke, experimentally at first. “Shit, you’re right.”

“Pft, have you seriously not sweared before?” Pigsey chuckled. 

“I have!” Tang protested to Pigsey’s mockery. “Tons of times! I just work around small children.”

“It’s okay Tang.” Pigsey mocked with a laugh. “But we’re both adults here. So do you wanna ride on my bike or not.”

“Uhm… That’s what she said.”

“Oh - You are the WORST!”

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Once Tang had calmed down after the teasing had accidentally hit a few nerves and Pigsey had processed the strange, lingering surprise of actually wanting to spend time with him, the two of them closed up shop. Pigsey led Tang out the back, where an old but solid-looking motorbike sat tucked between a few bins and a battered alley wall. The paint was chipped in places, and the frame bore the scrapes of years of city use, but it still had presence. Like Pigsey himself: Worn, but not worn out.

Without a word, Pigsey moved to the back of the bike and unlatched the insulated food box attached to the rear rack, hoisting it off and setting it to one side to make room.

“Oh uh…” Tang cleared his throat. “Is this safe? I don’t have a helmet.”

“You can borrow MK’s” Pigsey responded, tossing Tang a helmet way too small for him and covered in Monkey King stickers. Tang winced as he squeezed into it. “And it’s safe as long as you hold on.”

Tang’s stomach dropped.

Hold on?

Images flashed through his mind. Bikes zipping down city streets, passengers clinging to drivers like their lives depended on it. Lovers, mostly. Or thrill-seekers. Tang was neither. His idea of a wild night was getting an extra topping on his noodles. But more than that, the prospect of being that close to Pigsey - practically pressed against him - was more nerve-wracking than the idea of crashing.

And unlike the vivid, idealized dream he’d had about Macaque, this was real. Tang wasn't sure he liked how much more terrifying reality was.

Pigsey hoisted himself onto the bike, motioning for Tang to sit behind him. Tang took a steadying breath and awkwardly swung a leg over, settling onto the raised back seat. He hovered for a moment, unsure, before his hands gingerly found their way to Pigsey’s sides, hovering there like he wasn’t sure how much pressure was acceptable.

“No, no, see Tang you’re gonna fall.” Pigsey grunted, swinging off the bike. “Sit in front for a second. I’ll show you.”

Tang blinked, startled, but obeyed. He shuffled forward into the driver’s seat, and then froze as Pigsey climbed on behind him. Very close behind him. His hands settled firmly on Tang’s waist.

“Do you feel how firm I’m holding you?” Pigseys words were instructional but Tang couldn’t help but swoon. 

“Yes.” He gasped, more gasp-ey than intended.

“Good, that’s how you need to be holding onto me.” Pigsey’s hands lingered for a moment before he climbed off.

Once their positions had swapped back, Tang carefully climbed back behind Pigsey. He shuffled a bit closer, even closer after Pigsey grunted he needed to move forward. Tangs face grew red as he shuffled until his body was flush against Pigsey’s. He swallowed a sigh of relief when Pigsey didn’t tell him to come any closer, mainly because Tang was practically in Pigsey’s ear. 

However, when he leant forward to hold onto Pigsey’s waist, there was no apparent hesitation. Tang’s hands slotted into the perfect position and a comfortable pressure, as if they were always meant to be there. When Pigsey grunted with approval and shifted slightly to start the engine, he realised the position he had just put themselves in. Tang holding onto Pigsey like he was his lover.

Pigsey banished that thought by kicking off and letting the motorbike build up speed. He did not miss how Tang’s body shifted against his but he refused to acknowledge it. Not that Pigsey was in denial about his sexuality, truth be told he was that unbothered he decided it would be obvious if he was “don’t care about gender” aroace or “don’t care about gender” pansexual when the moment arises.

And the moment was certainly rising.

“S-So!” Tang shouted over the wind, his vice wavering. “Are there any routes you like going round?”

“Eh?” Pigsey shouted back, leaning slightly into the curve of the road. “Truth is, I haven’t done this in a while! But there’s one street I used to hit all the time.”

“Oh!” Tang exclaimed. “Where would that be?”

“You’d have to hold on tight, pal!” Pigsey chuckled, deciding he could get used to enjoying Tang squirm in the face of risk. 

Pigsey grinned wickedly and cranked the throttle. The bike lurched forward before taking a sharp, sudden left. Tang yelped, tightening his grip like a vice around Pigsey’s middle as they hurtled through a winding backstreet. The turns came fast, each one like a heartbeat, pounding through the frame of the bike and Tang’s body alike.

He didn’t care about dignity anymore. He buried his face into Pigsey’s back and held on for dear life.

The bike finally slowed, tires hissing as Pigsey brought it to a sharp stop. He let out a breath of half exhilaration, half satisfaction.

Tang didn’t dare open his eyes, assuming they’d paused at a light or traffic.

“Tang.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“...You can let go, pal.”

Tang opened his eyes to find they had stopped at the entrance to a bridge. The sky had darkened significantly since they’d left, clearly the fast ride had taken a lot longer than Tang felt. It was then that his senses truly came back and he let go of Pigsey in a hurry. 

Pigsey slid off the bike, sweating from the ride. Tang admired it for a second before shutting down that thought.

“Come on,” Pigsey said, grabbing Tang by the sleeve and tugging him forward. “Let’s get munchies.”

Tang blinked, lagging behind. “H-Huh? We just ate! I thought I was gonna see my noodles again during that last turn!”

“Not dinner, moron,” Pigsey said, rolling his eyes. “I’m talking dessert. There’s a street cart just up here: best egg waffles in town. If Pigsey’s Noodles is home to the best noodles in China, this guy’s got the best street food you'll ever eat.”

Tang tilted his head. “Why’s he out so late then?”

“Caters to biker gangs mostly,” Pigsey said casually. “He gets a steady stream of rough customers and post-club stragglers looking for something good at ungodly hours.”

Tang paled. “He’s... in a gang?”

“Yup,” Pigsey said, not bothering to soften the blow. “And he’s probably the most rage-filled guy you’ll ever meet.”

Tang whimpered.

“But dontcha worry,” Pigsey added with a smirk. “I used to be a regular. He’ll be cool with me.”

As Pigsey led Tang up to the food cart standing alone on the bridge, Tang couldn’t help but feel nervous. He had seen many bikers both in gangs and not in gangs and other than Pigsey they terrified him. 

When they approached, Tang cowered behind Pigsey as he banged on the side of the metal truck. 

“Hey Sandy, how you been!” Pigsey hollered.

Tang peeked over his shoulder to spot a towering figure: Broad, blue-skinned, and heavily muscled, with thick ginger hair tied into a high topknot. His apron was streaked with batter, and his eyebrows alone looked capable of bench pressing a moped.

“Pigsey!” the giant roared with glee. “Back from the grave, huh? What brings your bacon hide around here?”

“Ohoho, just showing my good pal Tang the sights,” Pigsey grinned, reaching over the counter to grab Sandy’s arm. The two immediately locked into a rough arm wrestle, which Sandy won in half a second.

“You still got it,” Pigsey wheezed, shaking out his hand. “You’ve got more muscle than this whole damn bridge.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, swine,” Sandy bellowed with laughter. “You coulda been tough if you stuck with your crew.”

“Yeah, well I had a kid to raise and a restaurant to run.” Pigsey chuckled. “All my muscles just gone into my belly and I couldn’t be happier.”

“I’ll be damned,” Sandy said, shaking his head with a smile. “Never thought you’d be the one to settle down. Should’ve guessed, though. You always did have a soft center.”

“Like a bao bun,” Pigsey quipped.

“No kidding.”

Then Sandy’s gaze turned to Tang, who immediately felt like a frog under a microscope.

“So... Tang, huh?” Sandy rumbled, brow arched. “You with Pigsey?”

Tang completely misinterpreted what Sandy meant and started spluttering.

“O-Oh you know, I’m not uh with Pigsey - “

“Yeah he’s with me.” Pigsey interrupted Tang’s rambling smoothly. “He’s a librarian Sandy. He’s not versed in all this.”

“Ahhh, that explains the glasses!” Sandy guffawed.

“Actually…no it doesn’t.” Tang squeaked but that protest was ignored.

“So what can I get you two manly men out on a manly men trip?” Sandy inquired.

“Surprise me, it’s been a while since I’ve been here, show me what's good.” Pigsey waved his hand.

“Don’t say that, I’ll make you the most expensive item.” Sandy grinned ear to ear before skillfully getting to work. “How about you two…How about you go wait on the bench over there, hm? Enjoy the last bit of sunset.”

Tang glanced around and noticed that indeed there was a small glimmer of light left. He let Pigsey guide him to the bench opposite the truck.

“He’s a bit intense.” Tang commented quietly.

“Yeah, that’s Sandy for you.” Pigsey smiled fondly. “Best not to get on his bad side, he’s got a temper like a fire cracker.”

“I see.” Tang spoke nervously. “So. You used to be a regular?”

Pigsey paused slightly as he sat beside Tang.

“Yeah, I used to be in some racing groups.” Pigsey revealed. “Then MK came and…well I didn’t want him to be exposed to all that brutality so early. That and the restaurant.”

“Does he know?” Tang questioned.

“No.” Pigsey sighed. “I’m waiting until he’s at least 18 to tell him that bit of ‘cool dad lore’. Then he can make his own informed judgements and know that biking groups ain’t all sunshine and rainbows and…hopefully doesn’t join one before he can fend his own.”

“So you wouldn’t stop him?” Tang raised an eyebrow.

“I want to equip him with the best judgement.” Pigsey explained. “I can’t control him though, Tang. I’d rather he be informed and feel like he can come to me about anything weather it’s taboo or not. If I try to shape MK’s future, it’ll just lead to problems. So I’ll just guide him and alwyas make sure he had a warm bed and a fresh meal if he ever ends up in trouble.”

Tang could feel a slight ache in Pigsey’s heart. Especially knowing that MK had already hidden from Pigsey his lack of friends. But he understood Pigsey’s perspective, MK was no designer baby to be moulded into Pigsey’s image. MK took after his dad in a lot of ways - stubborn, caring, a bit hot headed - yet when he was older he would ultimately carve his own path.

“Well.” Tang smiled. “I think you’re a great dad for that, MK’s already a wonderful person because of you.”

“Ah…thanks.” Pigsey smiled softly. “I don’t always know if I’m doing it right, ya know? Most parents would be horrified to learn MK’s been walking home from school alone since he was 5.”

“Well, I think we can owe a bit of that good luck to the Monkey King statue.” Tang joked. “It’s almost like a guardian angel over MK.”

“Eh, I don’t believe in superstition.” Pigsey remarked. “But I agree. We have been lucky no one tried to take MK.”

It was at this moment Sandy appeared behind the duo, presenting their food.

“You two looked deep in conversation,” Sandy said with a wink, handing over the plates. “So I’ll just let the food speak for me.”

Pigsey coughed awkwardly and shoved some bills into Sandy’s hand.

“W-Wait I can pay - “ Tang protested before Pigsey just handed him his egg waffle. 

“Pay? Please.” Pigsey scoffed. “I think I’d be offended if you’ve been freeloading from me this entire time and stop now just because it’s Sandy.”

Tang chuckled slightly.

“Well…Thank you then.” Tang smiled softly as he began tucking into his waffle. “Oh man…This is amazing!”

“I told you, huh? Best street food in town.” Pigsey also took a bite of his own waffle. “Oh…Oh wow, Sandy you’ve really improved! It’s even better than it was before!”

“MR SANDY YOUR WAFFLES ARE DELICIOUS!” Tang enthusiastically yelled to the truck, to which Sandy just gave a thumbs up. 

“Did he give you something different?” Pigsey peered at Tang’s paper plate.

“Yeah I think mines more fruity than yours.” Tang look at Pigseys. “Oh is that biscuit in yours - “

As Tang reached for a piece of Pigey’s waffle, Pigsey also reached, their fingers brushing. As if jolted by electricity, both men froze in place. Tang looked up a second, as if to gauge if Pigsey was realising what was going through his head right now. Pigsey just starred back.

“Uhm.” He coughed. “Ask before taking a mans food.”

“Oh right.” Tang withdrew. “Yeah…May I?”

“Sure sure, you’ve basically touched it now.” Pigsey let Tang take a piece of his waffle.

Tang took a bite, trying to mask the heat rising to his ears. “Oh, this is glorious.”

He turned, holding up his own waffle. “Here, try mine-”

He paused. Was he really about to offer to feed Pigsey?

Apparently, yes.

And even more astonishing, Pigsey leaned forward, lips parting just enough to take a small bite from the piece in Tang’s hand.

Tang could’ve melted into the bench. His brain screamed. His heart screamed louder.

“Pretty good…” Pigsey said quietly. They didn’t say much more, just eating in silence with the occasional acknowledgment of just how good it tasted.

When Pigsey returned to Sandy’s van to dispose of the plates. Sandy had the biggest, cockiest grin on his face. 

“Just looking out for you, man,” Sandy said, barely suppressing a laugh. “But don’t forget to use protection.”

“Wh - SANDY?!” Pigsey shrieked, nearly dropping the plates. He dropped his voice into a frantic whisper. “It’s not like that! We’re not like that!”

“Dude your eyes were in little hearts all night!” Sandy bellowed. “Don’t tell me you didn’t just take him out on a date.”

“Would you keep it down?” Pigsey hissed, glancing back nervously. Tang was still on the bench, nibbling at the last piece of waffle, thankfully oblivious or so Pigsey hoped.

“If you’re not into him, why are you acting like a teenager who just held hands for the first time?” Sandy teased, arms crossed.

“He’s just...a freeloader,” Pigsey muttered defensively.

“Mhm. And I'm going to therapy.” Sandy retorted.

“Wait you are?”

“No, Pigsey, I’m not going to therapy,” Sandy said, throwing his hands up. “I’m making a point: You’re not subtle. At all.”

Pigsey risked another glance at Tang, then exhaled sharply, as if the realization had finally hit him.

“Do…” Pigsey leaned close to a whisper. “Do ya think he’s noticed?”

“NOPE!” Sandy bellowed. “But hey. Just ask him. I’d even wingman if you need that push.”

“No Sandy, I don’t need a wingman and I don’t need a push.” Pigsey groaned. 

“If you say so.” Sandy snickered as Pigsey turned back to Tang.

“Ready to leave?” Pigsey refused to make eye contact with Tang.

“Promise to drive slower?” Tang asked carefully. “I think I’m a bit sensitive from all the sweetness in that waffle.”

“Will do,” Pigsey replied stiffly, walking ahead.

Tang followed in silence, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. Maybe Pigsey had been subtle but Sandy definitely wasn’t. Tang had heard every word. And now, his heart was pounding in a way he hadn’t expected. Did this mean Pigsey liked him? Really liked him?

Pigsey climbed onto the bike and passed Tang his helmet. He looked at Tang expendtly, waiting for him to climb aboard. Instead, Tang carefully put the helmet back on the handle bars.

“Uh, Tang?” Pigsey raised an eyebrow.

“Can I do something stupid?” Tang mumbled.

“Wha?” Pigsey leaned closer. “You’ll have to speak up.”

“Can I do some - “ Tang’s nerves betrayed him as he wavered. “Oh, screw it.”

Tang leaned over the bike and pressed a small kiss to Pigsey’s lips. Shockwave instantly erupted throughout Pigseys body, electrified by the small touch. His hands froze as he tried to figure out what to do with them before Tang pulled away. Shock, maybe at himself, was in his eyes and his lips were slightly parted. It was a look that made Pigsey blush, a world full of questions.

“LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, YOU GET HIM, PIGSEY”

Sandy’s thunderous voice shattered the quiet. Tang yelped and reflexively reached out intending to grab Pigsey’s hand, but instead clutching his leg. Pigsey flinched hard.

“Get on,” Pigsey said, voice a notch too high.

Tang didn’t hesitate. He scrambled onto the back of the bike and wrapped his arms around Pigsey’s waist. Not because he wanted to but because he had to. Or maybe it was both. As the engine rumbled to life and the bike sped off into the night, Tang held on tighter than necessary. Because the second they stopped, they'd have to talk. And right now? He had absolutely no idea what he’d say.

Tang didn’t even have time to process what he’d done (let alone figure out what to say) before Pigsey pulled the bike up to a quiet, unfamiliar street far from Sandy’s bridge. A line of shuttered shops sat in the orange glow of street lamps, casting long shadows over the pavement. The bike screeched to a halt, and Pigsey immediately jumped off, pacing furiously, putting distance between them. Tang reached to remove his helmet only to realise it had fallen from the handlebars after Pigsey sped off. 

“Pigsey - “ Tang began as he jumped from the bike.

“Don’t.” Pigsey held out a hand, not in anger, but in sheer bewilderment. He looked rattled, less furious than confused.

“I just…Why? How, huh? What?” Pigsey stumbled over his words as he tried to make sense about what happened. Tang wasn’t used to seeing the man like this. “You just - what?”

“I just, yeah.” Tang mumbled. “Sums it up. Look Pigsey, I’m sorry - “

“ Sorry ?!” Pigsey snapped, freezing in place. “What do you mean, sorry ?”

A lump rose in Tang’s throat, tight and hot.

“I didn’t ask before we - before I just.” Tang fumbled over his words now. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Why are you saying that?” Pigsey demanded, eyes sharp with a kind of urgency Tang rarely saw. “Why any of it? Why did you do it in the first place? Tang, ya not makin’ a lick of sense and I need you to be straight with me before I get the wrong idea.”

The lump in Tang’s throat threatened to burst. He wasn’t planning on having to say this tonight. He wasn’t planning on properly confronting his growing feelings for Pigsey until at least another 10 years.

“I’ve admired you for years.” Tang eventually spoke. “Even though our conversations are tense at best, I just…I couldn’t help it. So when I overheard Sandy I just thought…what if there was a chance. Oh for goodness sake Pigsey I've been getting flustered all night over everything you do! The little words that might mean something else, the way we touched, everything. So its been on my mind so I wanted to try and…well I should ahve asked before I tried anything. So I’m sorry.”

Pigsey stared at him for a long, long moment. Then, softly:

“I’ve only just started to realize I like being around you,” he said. “But maybe… maybe it’s been a lot longer than I thought.”

He took a cautious step forward.

“I’ve been letting you freeload for years. At first, yeah it was for MK’s sake. But over time...”

“Over time?” Tang prompted.

Pigsey looked up at him, eyes gentle. “Over time... I stopped minding. Then I started hoping you’d never leave.”

He stepped closer until they were face to face beneath the soft streetlight.

“At least we’ve got some privacy now,” Pigsey murmured.

“What does - “

Tang’s words caught in his throat as Pigsey rose onto his toes, pulling him into a kiss.

It was hesitant at first as Pigsey’s hands trembled against Tang’s shirt but the moment Tang tilted his head, they fit together perfectly. The kiss deepened, quiet and steady, a silent admission of everything neither had said aloud.

They panted softly when they parted, looking at each other with a mixture of hesitation and confusion.

“What does this mean for us?” Tang whispered.

“It means…uh.” Pigsey grasped Tang’s hand. “It means I want you in my restaurant.”

“Well I’m not going to say no.” Tang smiled nervously. “Your noodles are  -”

“I’m not talking about the flaming noodles, Tang.” Pigsey rolled his eyes. “I want you here. With me.”

Tang's heart skipped a beat. Great sage, he really just said that. 

“…If you’ll have me,” Pigsey added, quieter now.

“Oh, great sage, yes!” Tang blurted, laughing breathlessly as he cupped Pigsey’s face. “You think I kissed you for nothing?”

Pigsey’s hand found Tang’s waist.

“Then do it again,” he said.

And Tang did.

Chapter Text

When MK happily hummed his way into Pigsey’s noodle shop the next morning, he could tell something was off. For one - there was laughter. Actual, genuine laughter from Pigsey. Tang too. MK didn’t find that to be too weird. But both of them? At the same time? But when he walked through the door he could see the pair side by side, doing something. The weirdest part was that MK didn’t even know what they were doing because the second he made his presence known, they withdrew so hard Tang fell off his chair. A wet cloth sagged on the floor as it fell from his hand.

“Morning…uh…Mr Tang.” MK raised an eyebrow as he helped Tang up amidst many complaints about his ankles. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Oh uh me?” Tang scrambled his legs and his words with exaggerated normalness. “Well I just - “

“You slept over, didn’t you.” Mei’s astute voice cut through the air like a bullet. Right, MK had forgotten in the confusion that Mei was also with him.

“W-Wha?!” Tang yelped, flailing his arms. “No I didn’t, I slept very soundly in my own bed last night!”

Pigsey visibly flinched at the word soundly , coughing into his elbow with an alarming level of intensity.

“Sure…” Mei had a shit eating grin on her face. “You okay, by the way, Piggy? Do you have a cold?”

“Just a sore throat.” Pigsey’s voice came out hoarse as he reached for his water glass like a lifeline. “Dry air, ya know?”

“How come?” It was MK’s turn to try and catch onto the social implications as fast as Mei seemingly was. “You don’t do anything late at night?”

MK’s eyes shot open in sudden realisation.

“YOU WENT TO THE ZERO GRAVITY ARCADE AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!” MK sobbed dramatically.

“No kid, you know I don’t get out like that!” Pigsey groaned.

“Then where were you getting around?” Mei asked innocently, stirring her metaphorical tea - wait when did she get that? - with suspicious casualness.

Tang spat out his drink. Mei was either blissfully unaware or way too aware of adult slang for a teenager - 

“I just went out for a ride is all.” Pigsey cleared his throat. “On my bike.”

Mei tilted her head like a cat about to pounce. “Ooooh, is that where the bruise on your neck came from?”

Pigsey froze. Tang visibly stiffened.

“Piggy!” Mei gasped dramatically. “You gotta be more careful! You probably hit a streetlight or something, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, probably clipped something,” Pigsey mumbled, tugging up the collar of his shirt.

“Well, don’t sue the light because you don’t know how to aim!” Mei snorted. 

“Soooooo - pancakes!” Tang coughed loudly to change the subject. “You kids want pancakes? Pigsey was just saying how many pancakes he could definitely make. Right now.”

“Yes!” MK cheered, entirely missing the undercurrent. “With whipped cream?”

“Sure! Why not go all out?” Tang said with a strained smile. “It’s not like today can get any weirder!”

Pigsey gave Tang a warning side-glance. Tang didn’t know if Pigsey was more mad about the food or the implications.

“I want chocolate chips.” Mei just sipped her tea which was definitely no longer metaphorical, seriously where did she get that from? “And gossip.”

“You’ll get one of those things,” Pigsey muttered.

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One sugary helping later, MK, Mei and Tang were making their way towards the school, strolling with a smile as the morning sun warmed them.

“So…” MK swung his arms like a metronome. “Why’re you walking us to school today? You got demoted to student or something?”

“Teachers conference.” Tang shrugged. “Don’t know why they want me there, I’m a librarian after all, but I guess they probably wanted someone expendable.”

“Hmm like you.” MK grinned before his hair was ambushed by Tang’s hand. “Hey I just got that right!”

“Tang, are you getting sacrificed?” Mei’s face widened in over the top horror.

“No, no rituals. Just hours of note taking.” Tang chuckled. “I’ll survive.”

They walked for a few more paces before Mei’s expression slowly curled into something far more dangerous than horror. Interest.

“Okay okay, so now we’re not at Pigseys.” Mei’s smile twisted into something mischievous. “What’s the deal with you two?”

Tang tripped over absolutely nothing and tried very hard to look composed - and maybe even cool - while doing it.

“We just… had a fun evening,” he said with attempted calm. “Nothing crazy.”

“Pigsey never said you were there too?!” MK exclaimed and Tang knew he was just digging this hole deeper for himself.

“Yes, well, we went to go see a friend of his.” Tang didn’t see a reason to lie on that.

“Pigsey has friends?” Mei raised an eyebrow. “I always thought he was a grouchy mean old loner who doesn’t actually want to be alone.”

“Well…” Tang mused for a moment. “Yeah, I can see why you think of him that way. But don’t think too little of him, he’s got a very big heart.”

“A heart you got real up close and personal with, huh?” Mei wiggled her eyebrows.

Tang stopped walking, face frozen like someone had just dumped a slushie down his back. He was tired. He wasn’t even caffeinated. He was not emotionally fortified enough for this.

“Piggey and Tangy sitting in a tree - “ Mei started singing loudly.

“Shhh! SHH!” Tang frantically waved her down, eyes darting around in a panic. “Could you not scream my personal life in front of a school full of children?”

“I’m a child and I think this is great.” Mei beamed.

“Okay, this is where this stops.” Tang sighed and pressed a hand to his temple. “You two behave, alright?”

“But I never got to ask if you kissed in the moonlight!” Mei whined.

“I - wha - there was no moon!” Tang stumbled over his words. “It was overcast! I mean - just - agh!”

Mei cackled as Tang all but sprinted toward the faculty entrance.

“Well MK, looks like you’re getting another dad!” Mei cheered.

“I don’t know if that’s how it works, Mei.” MK laughed.

“But you gotta be at least a liiiiiiitle curious right?” Mei gleamed.

“I mean…A little.” MK rubbed the back of his neck. “It just feels a bit weird.” 

“In what way?” Mei questioned.

“Well…I just never thought Pigsey would ever find someone like that.” MK mumbled. “And…I don’t know. If I want it to be anyone I guess Tang’s the best choice.”

“Just worried you might get left behind?” Mei mumbled.

“Is that selfish?” MK spoke dejectedly.

“Not really.” Mei shrugged. “It’s easy to feel forgotten by your parents sometimes. Well a lot of the time…But yeah pretty normal!”

MK raised an eyebrow at the way Mei fumbled with her shirt.

“That’s uh…I didn’t think that was normal.” MK cocked his head. “Are you okay, Mei?”

“WHo-wha me?” Mei brushed off with a loud increase of pitch. “Yeah I’m fine!”

“You can talk if - “

“Don’t wanna!” Mei smiled widely. “Anyway, you got that hanfu to finish right?”

MK immediately got distracted.

“Yeah I have a whole new section to block out!” He spoke brightly.

“Great, let’s go then!” Mei poked her head into the girls bathroom before giving the clear to MK. 

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Just as they had done it the day MK started suspecting if Tang and Pigsey were really in a relationship, 3 years later they were still doing their usual trickery. Two next-door cubicles, a lot of giggling, and a flurry of clothes flying over the dividing wall as they swapped outfits.

“Could you imagine the drama if they found you in here?” Mei snickered.

“You mean if they found you in here!” MK returned. “You’re me after all.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Mei exited to find MK already trying to tie his hair into Mei’s pigtails. “When I’m 18, I wanna get my hair cut shorter like yours.”

“Will you still have the pigtails?” MK questioned. “They’re like your personality.”

“Well duh!” Mei chuckled. “But I want short and stubby ones, yaknow?”

“I can see that working.” MK mused.

“And I want to dye it green.” Mei added, eyes lighting up. “Like my great great great a thousand times great grandpa’s dragon was!”

“I think he had white hair actually.” MK rambled. “White horse dragon, yeah? But the green would be so cool!”

“It would be so cool,” Mei agreed with a dreamy smile. “And when we hit eighteen, we’re flying over to the Zero Gravity Arcade. All night. Full-on por-tay mode.”

MK smiled at her enthusiasm, but a quiet weight settled in his chest. Mei always had these bright plans for the future - haircuts, arcades, neon green dye. And MK? Other than their pact to stick together, he wasn’t sure what he wanted from adulthood. Eighteen suddenly didn’t feel that far away anymore. Time had started racing ahead, and he wasn’t sure if he was keeping up.

“Anyway, time to get off and kick some ass!” Mei pulled her hood up. “You said you were almost done with the Hanfu?”

“Yeah.” MK beamed with pride. “I can’t believe I’ve been working on it this long.”

“You’re going to give it to him tonight?” Mei asked.

“I think so.” MK chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s finally starting to feel like…the right time.”

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A cool breeze swept across Wukong’s face as he waited in still silence atop his pedestal. He had taken extra care recently to remain hidden, even from MK’s increasingly unpredictable golden sight. He knew the signs now: the flicker in MK’s eyes, the way his gaze sharpened. At the first glimmer, Wukong would ease himself back into stillness, back into stone, unseen.

He smiled happily when he heard the unmistakable sound of MK approaching. In his arms he carried something colourful yet concealed.

“Hey Monkey King.” MK spoke carefully as he laid the fabric at the base of the plinth. “I made you something.”

Wukong’s smile curled gently beneath the stillness of his stone form, eyes following MK’s every move with quiet anticipation.

“I’ve always felt guilty for dressing you in modern clothes.” MK rambled to himself as he began to peel away the hoodie wrapped around Wukong. “Youre a legendary warrior and you probably aren’t a fan of it.”

Wukong allowed faint whispers of his spirit drift across the statue’s surface. Just enough to peek. MK’s eyes weren’t gold today but they were soft, full of something almost reverent.

“So I’ve been working on this.” MK left his hoodie aside and he unfolded the fabric.

Wukong’s golden eyes widened.

It was a hanfu, handmade, lovingly detailed, and absolutely radiant. MK continued talking, nervously chattering about how it was his first time trying some of the stitches, how he’d swapped places with Mei to finish it but his voice faded to a blur as Wukong took in every detail.

The centerpiece was a powerful dragon, bold and resplendent. But it wasn’t alone, the sun was sewn larger than usual, dominating the panel with brilliant golden thread. Thousands of careful stitches formed the borders: blooming peaches, miniature depictions of Wukong’s companions, scenes from the Journey to the West rendered in thread. Auspicious symbols lined the sleeves - clouds, bamboo stalks, characters for immortality - all thoughtfully arranged. Even the beading, while not traditional, shimmered delicately under the morning light, lending the garment an otherworldly texture.

It wasn’t just beautiful.

It was sacred.

Wukong, wordless, stared at the robe, a tapestry of memory, meaning, and love. All created by MK’s own hands.

And for the first time in a long while, Wukong wished he could move.

Just to hold it. Just to hold him.

Wukong’s admiration was gently pierced by MK’s voice. He turned his full attention to the boy below. Not just a boy anymore. His boy. A reflection of every emotion Wukong had once believed himself incapable of feeling.

“I had heard about ancient gods being dressed in these. I don’t know if you would count as a god - I mean you’re the powerful Monkey King but anyway. You…hold that status to me, y’know? You’re a legend, an all mighty warrior. And you’ve messed up - Oh boy you’ve messed up a lot - but what always inspires me is the way you eventually learn to fix those mistakes. You’re not as perfect as all the other mythological deities. You’re just you. And you own how cheeky you are while just so happening to be really really cool.”

A soft warmth fluttered in Wukong’s chest. He wanted to laugh, not in mockery, but in disbelief. That anyone could still admire him after everything. The arrogance, the destruction, the exile, the failures. Yet MK did. Earnestly. Wukong remained still as MK gently draped the hanfu around his shoulders, every movement reverent, like a ritual. The fabric kissed the stone, soft where he was hard, warm where he had long gone cold. It was almost unbearable.

“I had also heard of these kinds of things protecting statues. I don’t know how much I believe that. I mean I might have done when I was 6, but I’m nearly 18 now! But at the end of the day, you’re just stone. And I wanted to keep you in good condition which is why I keep getting Pigsey, Tang and Mei to come help me clean you up. Not that you need it as much as you did when we started doing that, you don’t get dirty as often. But I wanted to protect you.”

It made something ancient in him tremble. No one had ever said that before. Not really. Wukong had always been the protector, the force, the one others feared or followed. But MK, mortal as he was, wanted to shield him. 

“I had a dream a few years ago. That the six eared Macaque came to attack you. And I felt like I was able to protect you, and you protected me. It was after I showed you the sample. A part of me felt that even though it was a dream, I had the power to protect you. So that’s why I put as many symbols as possible on this hanfu, because even if they do nothing, I like feeling like I can be there for you just like you’ve been here for me. And you never left.”

“But I want to do more than just protect you from dramatic, unrealistic stuff like that. I want to make you comfortable in this modern time. I want shield you from the wind and rain. And I want to show generations to come how much this means to me. So even after I’m not able to keep you safe or dry or warm others will be able to look back and keep you protected.”

Wukong glanced down at the sash MK was tying to hold the hanfu in place.

“It reads my wish.” MK smiled. “Please, don’t let my stone monkey go cold.”

The cracks came slowly at first.

It was as MK stepped back to admire his work that Wukong felt his entire stone body inhale. Breath coursing through him as his body shifted slowly, small chips breaking away from his statue state. The smallest of twitches caught his shoulders and his toes. The feeling of breaking could have been terrifying for Wukong. The dismantling of the facade he had managed to maintain so easily over the past centuries, even after he began to view the world through golden eyes. Instead, the glistening dampness of his regular eyesight returning filled him. He continued to burst free, the stone walls softened to reveal unkept but gentle fur. The oxygen gushed into him through another poignant breath, awakening his internal organs which had been dormant. His breathing quickened momentarily as his body recovered, each hair reacting to the world around him in every way. The breeze, the fabric, the feeling in his heart.

Wukong had forgotten how great it was to feel alive.

And as his gaze settled on MK - frozen, staring, slack-jawed in stunned silence - Wukong realized something even greater than being alive. Someone had cared for him. Loved him, even, in a way Wukong had never expected nor believed he deserved. Wukong stepped forward, a little shaky at first. His last reanimating had been stiff and heavy. Now he had complete control over his body, he found it harder to focus on where his feet were stepping. Thankfully, his target was right in front of him.

Gently, he pulled MK into an embrace. The hanfu rippled around them, flowing down his arms as he enclosed the boy in its fabric. He held MK carefully, like something precious and fragile as if the world might crack open if he held too tight.When he finally found his voice, it scraped through his throat like stone grinding against stone. But there was warmth in it. Gratitude. Awe.

“Thank you.” He managed, voice hoarse with emotion. “I feel honoured.”

MK blinked. His eyes were wide, shining with disbelief.

Then came the scream.

The boy stumbled out of Wukong’s arms and bolted, faster than Wukong had ever seen him run. The joy drained from Wukong’s face.

“W-Wait!” he rasped, coughing through the rawness in his throat. “Please…return!”

It was too late. Wukong’s arm stretched out but he was in no shape to run after MK. His heart sank as he pondered on what he had just done. 

Breaking his statue form felt natural. How could he not thank MK for the heartfelt bestowment? It had touched Wukong in ways he didn’t think he could be touched. He wasn’t a sentimental person. Not really. Yet he had been caring for the child so long he was almost an adult. 

Wukong sighed as he sat back on his plinth. He didn’t return to his meditative posture but he did reflect. He had just shown MK exactly who he was. Not an unassuming stone monkey but a living being. Wukong couldn’t blame MK for his reaction. After all, other than the gold vision fluke MK had not interacted with any form of true magical abilities. It saddened Wukong that he had scared MK, he didn’t want to bring the boy pain when he had brought Wukong so much joy. 

It was then Wukong realised that he still had his old, dirty journey clothes underneath. The TLC to his stone form didn’t do anything for his actual figure. The last thing he wanted was for MK’s work to be ruined, so he used the large hanfu to shield himself as he shook off his old clothes, laying them at the base of his plinth. Only the hanfu remained and Wukong relished in it. He observed the copious amount of protective symbols the boy had indeed sewn into the fabric. 

Protective, huh?

Wukong thought it was his role to protect MK, not the other way around. 

Still, dusk drew the curtains of the sky to a close and enveloped Wukong in darkness. He knew he couldn’t just stay in this form, he’d be discovered by others. He didn’t mind MK seeing him like this however. 

Rising to his feet, Wukong stretched. His limbs extended with satisfying cracks and pops that had waited centuries for release. It felt… good. Necessary. And then, without further hesitation, he set off toward MK’s home. He found the streets a lot easier to navigate now that he wasn’t doing it for the first time and had a more fluid body. He supposed he did look a little out of place but no one seemed to mind that he was dressed traditionally, more so they just acknowledged him and continued minding their own business.

When Wukong reached MK’s house, he peeked his head inside. The room was empty. Wukong could hear Mk’s voice floating from the shop below. Perfect.

Wukong pried open the window and slid inside, carful not to knock anything over. He looked around for some scroll and ink, he needed to write a note. As he searched he realised that MK didn’t own any ink. Huh? Wukong was sure he had heard people talk about writing as if it was a known skill rather than a rarity. And he had seen MK write with a - 

Wukong face palmed as he realised MK sketched using a pencil and paper, not ink and scroll. He searched for said pencil, landing upon one. He also found some paper and pulled up a chair to MK’s desk. He tapped his chin briefly before deciding what to write.

MK

I am sorry for startling you today. It was not my intention. Truthfully I did not even intend to break form.

Wukong bit his tongue.

I don’t want to be written off as another hallucination or dream. I will explain. But there is too much to talk about in one sided communication. I’d like to talk to you, if you’re not scared of me that is. To explain but also to thank.

I will be at my usual spot, I’ll probably be in my stone form. Stone is a lot more resistant to the night than fur is. 

Wukong paused. Should he sign off his letter as his title or his name? MK rarely called him Wukong, but it felt like they were on such personal terms that he was permitted to not use his title.

He wasn’t sure and before he could decide, he heard footsteps coming towards him. He had just leapt out the window in a panic as MK reentered his room. Hidden just under the windowsill, Wukong calmed his breathing as he heard MK read the letter. WIthout a word, he slipped away to his plinth.

Wukong exhaled as he sat in his meditative position. He tried to return to stone form but found it a struggle. Why was this hard? Wukong never struggled with this in the past? Perhaps he was too alive.

Eventually he resigned to simply entering regular meditation, hoping that no one would notice the stationary figure was furry.