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Macaque was no stranger to being intangible.
It was a given, considering his magic and his preferred travel method. Shadow magic was an art only the strongest, most attuned to the element could wield, and Macaque was a master of it. Shadows and darkness bent to his every whim, his control absolute and their loyalty irrefutable. His mind wanted and his magic obeyed, no desire too grand, too taxing for his magic to be able to handle, whether it be teleportation, clone creation, shapeshifting and so much more. Very few things remained out of his reach.
At least, that was how it had been, once.
Before he left in search of his king, his six magically-infused ears somehow incapable of locating the heartbeat he could recognize even in his sleep.
Before he finally found him on this blasted journey, chained to a mortal like a dog, tortured like a wild beast.
Before he found out the hard way his king had grown extremely protective of the human, a protectiveness he once thought exclusively reserved for his mountain and his people and him.
Before his king stood before him, legendary staff in hand, golden highlights stained red with blood, his blood, the sage's expression unreadable as he stared at who had once been his most loyal shadow.
Before he entirely lost control of his magic, the shadows no longer recognizing him at all, only seeing a nuisance to be dealt with, a meal to consume. A portal he had no control over opened beneath his bloody, battered body and shadow-made chains sprung out of it, binding him, dragging him down to be devoured whole by his own magic. Screams were forced out of his throat from the brutality of it, a pain like being burned from the inside. With his fading, blurry vision, he saw the shape of the Monkey King, the setting sun illuminating his back, his face entirely shadowed, taking a step forward in his direction, hand outstretched to inflict a finishing blow he would never have the time to.
When the Lady Bone Demon dragged him out of the Diyu, back to this cursed realm he wanted nothing else to do with, the first thing he noticed was that his shadows were as obedient as they had always been, something that took some getting used to, the experience of being eaten alive one that would scar him forever, just like the one present on his right eye, courtesy of the king.
The second thing he noticed was that his magic wasn’t whole anymore.
It was damaged and shattered, some pieces fitting back together easily enough, some pieces being missing outright.
To keep the remaining pieces from imploding on themselves, the oh so generous lady had gifted Macaque with a share of her own magic. The cold essence fit easily between the pieces, strengthening them and filling the missing parts. A repair work of the highest quality, like mending a broken pot with gold. Macaque hated it.
Hated the feeling of a foreign magic intertwined with his own. He wanted nothing more than to tear it out of his soul, though he knew it was the only thing keeping him intact. Should he try to, it would just be a repeat of last time, when he lost control over his magic. Something he never wanted to live through ever again.
Yet he dreaded thinking about the hold she could potentially have over him, what she might do with him completely at her mercy.
It was in his best interest that she never be given even the slightest opportunity to take advantage of it.
Which is why he threw away the key. He was safer with her sealed away, and so was the rest of the world. A shame his heroic act never amounted to anything more than infuriating the lady and her thrall. In hindsight, he should have disposed of it somewhere much more strategic, rather than dumping it where he’d been brought back to life.
At least, this wasn’t a concern anymore, the defeat and subsequent death of the bone demon ensuring she could no longer do anything to him.
He almost wished that wasn’t the case.
As he stared at the noodle container spilled all over the wooden floor of his dojo, dropped not out of carelessness, but because his hand couldn’t grasp it at all - his fingertips fading into a thin, dark purple mist, all feeling gone from his hand, a familiar sensation, but no less terrifying at the moment - he was faced with a horrifying realization.
It was happening again.
Without the Lady Bone Demon, the magic she infused in him could no longer stay intact. Just like ice, the magic holding him together was melting, dripping down and vanishing, leaving the shattered fragments of his magic to strain to hold themselves together.
He couldn’t think for a moment.
The very next, his thoughts were all over the place.
A part of him lamented his meal, wasted all over the floorboards. Another complained about the mess he would now have to clean. Another was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner, or that the Samadhi Fire hadn’t completely melted the magic on the spot.
Yet another part of him, one he was desperately trying to ignore, was screaming.
It was happening again.
It was happening slowly this time around.
He would watch as he slowly lost control of his shadows piece by piece, the process bound to be just as, if not more, agonizing as the last time it happened.
Macaque could already feel it.
He could already feel his control slowly slipping from his fingers like sand. The way some of his shadows were starting to get restless, unlike the rest of them, perfectly calm and at ease.
It wouldn’t last.
Little by little, they would all rise up against him, and consume him.
Again.
Slowly.
Painfully.
On this very day, in the privacy of the only place he could compare to a home, in the company of magical entities that had ended his life once and were bound to do it again, Macaque wept. He mourned the approaching, abrupt end of this short, second life.
He wept for an unknown period of time - seconds? Minutes? Hours? He couldn't tell - before despair gave way to rage.
How dare the world torment him so? Hadn't he suffered plenty already? Were his sins truly so great that he needed to be dragged back to the realm of the dead in the cruelest way imaginable?
It was all his fault.
He shattered his soul to pieces.
He was the reason Macaque left the mountain in the first place, the reason he even stayed and called the island home in the first place.
Yes, it all started with Sun Wukong, and it would end with Sun Wukong.
Finding strength in his new resolve, the demon reached within himself, deep within his crackling magic, until he found the thread he was looking for. Once he did, he pulled hard on it, nearly snapping it under the pressure. It held strong, however, and with his work done, Macaque looked at his hand in careful inspection.
The limb had grown solid again, he could feel it. Feel his muscles move every time he clenched it, tendons and bones accompanying the movement easily, feel the blood flow to its destination, feel his own fur on his fingers when he rubbed his newly solid hand against his arm.
The agitated shadows in the sea of tranquil darkness of his soul had quieted, forced into submission by their rightful master.
He had regained control.
It would not last.
The cracks were still there, he could tell. The structure was still fragile, and pulling so roughly at the seams might have weakened it further.
It didn’t matter, however. He just needed a little more time.
He reached again for his pooling magic, gentler this time, shadows obeying easily and eagerly enough, and opened a portal.
It strained against his soul, and he emerged on the other side of the portal panting, hands resting on his knees for support. Was he breathless from the distance, or from the sudden usage of this much magic at once? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he was running out of time.
He didn’t need a lot anyway.
The smell of saltwater brought him out of his thoughts, focusing instead on the familiar sight of the sparkling ocean before his eyes. Flower Fruit Mountain truly was an island blessed with all the beauties the world could offer.
Not wanting to dwell on the sight for too long - afraid of what memories it could bring forth - he trekked up the dirt path that led deeper into the forest. The beach wasn't an ideal battleground, after all.
He had meant to go to the old training grounds that once served to train the king’s generals and show off the king’s might, but his steps took him down the path to an old, run-down, amateur theater.
His theater.
Calling it so might be a bit of a stretch. It was no more than a gathering spot next to the mountain side, the stone serving as a screen to project his shadows onto, and a large stone slab for when he wanted his shadows to move around like puppets on a scene, rather than drawings on a wall.
But it had been his very own space, where he would practice his magic and entertain the people of the mountain, Wukong’s idea to get his beloved subjects to get used to the wandering monkey. It had worked like a charm.
Seeing the place now, abandoned and reclaimed by the flora of the island, left a bitter taste in his mouth, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He hadn't expected much else.
He could hear the distant whistling of the wind, an object moving so fast it cut through the air like a knife would flesh.
Took him long enough , he thought. The king had most likely been surveying human settlements, on the look-out for any damage done by the bone demon not yet dealt with, when he sensed the intruder upon his kingdom.
The old theater wasn’t the ideal battleground he wanted, but he didn’t mind. It would be its very last show.
The Great Sage jumped off his cloud and landed before a very unimpressed Macaque in a cloud of dust and upturned dirt. Arms crossed and stern expression on his face, he scanned the shadow demon before him with furious, fake golden eyes. He wasn’t wearing his full armor, but the king held himself with all the power and grace someone of his status should.
Macaque might have trembled in fear, were the king still his liege.
Instead, the demon slow-clapped, a mocking smile etched on his face. “What an entrance! Have you been practicing?”
The king bared his fangs at the intruder. “My patience has its limits, Macaque. What do you want,” he demanded, his eyes never leaving the shadow monkey as he walked around, exploring the old theater grounds like someone who wasn’t being threatened by the most powerful creature the Universe had ever seen.
“Ah yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to provoke your legendary temper.” He knew firsthand how devastating it could be. “See, you and I have some… unfinished business so to say, and I figured now was as good a time as any to settle our scores.”
Sun Wukong let out a dry laugh. “Didn’t realize you were so eager for another beat down. I mean, we both know this one’s gonna end the same as the others, right?”
A low blow to Macaque’s pride, unsurprising, coming from the king. “Wanna see how this one turns out?” he taunted.
While Macaque shifted to a proper battle stance, anticipating an attack soon after, the sage had the audacity to sigh, a drawn-out, weary thing, and drop his rigid stance in favor of a more relaxed one. He looked almost tired.
“Seriously?” Wukong tilted his head to the side, staring at the shadow with a deadpan look. “Don’t you get tired of this?”
It took all of Macaque’s willpower to not drop his own stance right then and there out of shock.
“What…?”
"I mean, I'm supposed to be retired, you know.” Wukong scratched his ear, looking thoroughly disinterested in a fight. “I can't just fight every small fry that barges in and demands a fight. I don't have time for that!"
Macaque clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms, absolutely shaking with fury. Of course. Of course , that was all Wukong saw him as. A small fry. A nuisance. A vermin. He knew that already. He really shouldn’t be surprised. The king was the direct cause of his downfall, after all.
Hearing it still hurt like hell.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Macaque said once he got a proper hold of himself.
He summoned his staff, while the king made no move to summon a weapon of his own. Macaque knew the process of creating things out of his hair was effortless to Wukong. Yet the sage remained unarmed.
Try as he might, Macaque could not get the upper hand. Wukong was simply faster, his defenses impenetrable, effortlessly blocking every blow he could throw at him. It was infuriating already, not even having the satisfaction to punch his stupid face, but it wasn't the worst part. Far from it.
The worst part was that Wukong. Was not. Fighting back.
Not once did he try to throw a punch, a kick or even a snarky word in his way.
As if the fight wasn't worth taking seriously. As if he wasn't worth taking seriously.
It frustrated him to no end and he could feel it affecting his movements - more erratic, less precise and calculated - but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed to hit him.
Suddenly, the king grabbed his forearm after yet another failed punch - his first real attempt at fighting back - and flung Macaque like a pebble all the way across the theater grounds.
The shadow demon effortlessly righted himself mid-flight and landed on his feet. His knees trembled upon touching ground, betraying his fatigue, his energy split between fighting the god and maintaining his soul intact and his magic in check.
Wukong seemed to take notice of it, the strange fatigue weighing on the one who used to be the only one who could keep up with him. "Why are you even doing this?" he asked, confusion written all over his face. "I know you know you can't beat me. Why do you insist like that? What do you even get from this?"
"Shut up!"
Wukong did, surprised by the sudden outburst.
"I… I need…" Heavy breathing interrupted his own words, struggling to regain control over himself and everything going wrong in his life. "I need to do this."
"Why?"
The question was spoken so softly, a creature with weaker hearing than Macaque would have missed it. Sincerity dripped from this single word, and the king's face had contorted into a pained grimace, a saddened expression.
It almost looked like he cared.
It sickened Macaque to no end.
He chuckled, before the chuckle turned maniacal laughter, shoulders shaking so violently it looked painful. A disturbing and worrying display, but Macaque didn't care.
"What the hell was that ?" he mocked cruelly. "Don't pretend like you care . I know you don't!"
"I'm not pretending."
"Yes you are! I know you are!" he sneered. "You don't kill those you care about!"
"I did not kill you!" Wukong shouted, real anger coloring his voice for the first time that day.
"Right, of course!" Macaque laughed humorlessly. "How could I forget the opportunity was stolen from you right under your nose! A shame, eh?"
"I never wanted to! I never even wanted to fight you but you forced my hand!"
Wordlessly, Macaque removed the glamour over his eye, revealing the scar his once friend inflicted on him. A blind eye not even resurrection could save.
Wukong flinched ever so slightly, falling silent.
“You know, I learned something that day," the shadow monkey said softly, all previous animosity evaporated. "Something very important, right after you so easily discarded me after centuries of not seeing each other. I learned there was only one way for you to look at me, to even acknowledge me anymore. It was the only thing I could do. I had to become your enemy. And so I did. And I’ll keep doing it."
"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Wukong struggled to keep his voice even as he shouted, emotion occasionally bleeding through. "Do you hear how stupid you sound right now? You used to tell anyone who would listen how I was the stupid and impulsive one, and you were the smart one who had to keep me in check! What happened to that, huh? When did you get so stupid?"
Macaque roared as he summoned his smoke monster, unsure how else to deal with the conflicting emotions in his heart. But just as the creature took physical form, it howled in pain and collapsed on itself, disappearing in the air.
Snap!
Macaque realized too late what had just happened.
Any emotion he felt was pushed in a corner of his mind as dread filled his mind. The thread of his magic had snapped. His shadows grew agitated once more. His powers were no longer his own, manifesting tendrils of darkness without his input. He knew what was coming next, his powers about to slowly devour him alive.
Wukong's eyes widened, the fiasco before his eyes nigh identical to one he witnessed centuries ago.
"Is that…?" The golden monkey found himself asking, unwilling to believe his eyes.
"Yeap," came the nonchalant yet pained reply. "Thanks for that by the way. It's really hard to control shadow magic with a shattered soul."
"Shattered…?" he whispered, as realization slowly dawned on him.
Macaque paid no mind to Wukong's small emotional roller-coaster, too focused on controlling his breathing and whatever magic he could still grasp. He could feel it all slipping from his hold, feel the animosity directed his way, his beloved shadows no longer recognizing him.
The beginning of the end.
The portal and chains appeared first, binding him and dragging him down, the chains burning against his fur. He was still powerless to do anything to stop it. The only difference this time around was that he had more energy to struggle against the binds, buying himself some time.
He looked up, and for a moment wondered if he had traveled to the past, or if the future had never existed in the first place.
The sunset shone against the king's back, completely shadowing his face and blinding Macaque. Once more, he saw the king take a step forward, hand outstretched to deal the finishing blow.
Exactly like last time. As if the Universe was trying to right the wrong that was Macaque's continued existence, by dragging him down to the realm of the dead exactly as it happened the first time.
At least this time, it would go quickly. Macaque would never even feel the pain of a broken neck once Wukong was done with him, unlike the agony caused by his rogue magic. It was almost over.
Warm hands gently cupped his face, such a contrast compared to what he expected that he almost flinched, before melting into the soft touch. The warmth stretched and moved across his entire body, before focusing on a single spot. His soul.
In an instant, magic he knew almost as well as his own flooded his soul, filling the cracks and mending the broken threads, a repair work that lacked any finesse but made up for it with the sheer amount of golden magic.
Macaque opened eyes he never remembered closing, only to see Wukong, kneeling down to his level, hands still on his face, sighing in relief once he confirmed Macaque's magic was finally stable, the chains gone and the portal closed.
Oh.
Wukong had never been trying to finish him off, had he?
"You wanted me to kill you before your magic could?" It sounded like a question, but they both knew it was disbelief siping through. The answer was clear as day.
It took all of Macaque's willpower to not follow after the hands when Wukong finally let go of his face.
"I'm sorry." The king's eyes bore into his own. "I should have explained myself better that day. I shouldn't have tried to push you away. After what you did to me and Master, I couldn't control myself. I was angry and hurt, but I never wanted it to go this far."
"... Since when do you apologize…?" Macaque couldn't help but wonder. A hint of disappointment flashed alongside the sadness etched on Wukong's face.
The king got up and turned his back to him.
"You should rest, Macaque. We can talk about this another day if you want, but I don't want to fight you anymore."
"'Talk'? 'Don't wanna fight'? Who the hell are you…?"
"Go home Macaque." Were the king's final words before flying off, leaving Macaque alone with his thoughts.
"Home…? Dipshit," he spit out, feeling his strength suddenly leaving him. "Flower Fruit Mountain is the only home I've ever had."
He passed out, the song of the island lulling him to sleep.
He woke up on his bed in his dojo, with no idea of how he got here.
The first thing he noticed as he got up was that the mess of noodles from the previous day had been cleaned, but his attention was soon drawn to the mouth-watering smell of fruit. It was then he saw it, a large bowl filled to the brim with delicious fruits. Mangoes, plums, and a singular, perfect peach. A trembling hand reached for the pink fruit, paying no mind to sudden dampness of his cheeks as he bit into the sweet flesh of the stone fruit.