You're alive." Wukong stared at the warrior, then looked over at his student, "You've spoken to each other." Turmoil plagued his heart, screaming for anger to take control. But he'd lost the right to scream a long time ago. And his tears had long since depleted.
Macaque bristled, his scowl deepening, "Yeah. I'm here to 'talk it out' or whatever." Fear overtook his rage, making the warrior want to run. Slip into the ebony, and never be seen again. "Someone brought me back, I met your kid, and he convinced me to talk shit out with you." The confession was rough, made without sentiment.
"...I missed you. And I am sorry." Wukong swallowed thickly, "I know you're angry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I can--" Macaque yowled, stepping back, "This isn't about you. I'm here so I can-! I don't know, find closure? Yell? Scream? Fight?" MK nervously looked between them, unsure of what to do.
"Sorry. You're right, uhm, is it a spar you want?" The king felt loss, flightless. How does one resolve such sorrow? Such betrayal? What Macaque assumed was hatred was really just grief. Grief for what had once been. Grief because who knew how long this would last.
"Sure." Macaque shifted in place, awkwardly glaring at the king. Wukong tried to smile, beckoning the pair over to where MK usually trained, "I promise to hold back if you want. Trust me, I know you're strong, but I don't want to..."
'Hurt you anymore' went unsaid. A silent promise. One that would be held close to his heart, and never let go. It was a command towards himself, making his fists extend as if catching a harmed soul instead of tearing a being apart.
Macaque bit back a harsh retort. This was not the same Wukong who'd hurt him nearly beyond repair. This was not his Wukong. He was MK's Wukong.
A small part of him hoped this could become his Wukong, too.
---
MK sat back, watching the pair slam into each other. Wukong was being careful, but still throwing the warrior around. And Macaque was screaming, sometimes wordlessly, with a heaving storm of fury and tears. MK felt as if he shouldn't be here.
Sometimes, when MK wasn't so distracted, he often thought of how Macaque felt about him. Honestly, sometimes MK felt as if he were a replacement. Set up again and again with one sole purpose, to keep the king company. But Macaque didn't seem to act that way, if anything, he was amused by the boy's existence.
And Wukong always treated him as if he were MK, not someone else. Someone different, long gone and stuck within memories.
The brunette gasped as the ground cracked and screamed, lurching forward as a fist clashed against the soil. Dust bellowed up, making him sneeze, and crackling purple and gold streaks shot through the air. Like lightning without the storm.
And then it was quiet.
No screams, no fists, no sobs. It was dead silent, dust settling like an uneven sheet over a bed. Power still buzzed in the air, and MK stumbled back onto his feet, eyes wide. Gold flashed within his irises, highlighting the land.
Macaque suddenly coughed, kicking dirt at the sage. Wukong smiled sheepishly, not bothering to scold the shadow user. MK bounded over, nervously gazing at the pair, "Are you okay?" Macaque rolled his eyes, "Sure." He spat at the ground, popping his knuckles together with a grunt. Wukong sat up, eyes downcast.
"Will I see you again?"
Or were you only here to see me off? Were you only here for MK? Were you only here to beat me with your own hands, to strike pain across my skin, and nothing more?
The warrior didn't look at the king. Instead, his eyes joined with the star's, and he smiled. A genuine, gentle little thing. "Sure." He then fell, disappearing into the ebony that presented itself as his home.
YOU ARE READING
Incarnate
Fanfiction(Restart AU) Legends had it that the Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, had created a being much like him. The spirit of a celestial primate, birthed to inhabit a different body after each cycle of their life. Every century, they are rebor...
