Chapter Text
“Be a warrior.”
From the moment he accepted the boy’s offer, Macaque knows how it’s going to end.
Completely and utterly disastrously, as any mess related to Wukong would.
Doubly so if the so-called Great Sage started it.
Macaque is an expert at this, and he could tell Mk that. He probably should warn the kid, maybe nudge him about what, exactly, he’s asking of him. Maybe. It would be the… honest thing to do, the logical thing to do for his own continued survival, but Macaque hasn’t been an honest person in centuries, long before he’d clawed his way out of the dirt Wukong buried his corpse under. The Sage might have been known as a trickster, but Macaque was double so the schemer compared to the older monkey. Many of his tricks had been attributed to the Monkey King, over the years.
It would be honest, Macaque concludes, but it certainly would not be kind. He’s spent long enough around the Monkey King’s successor to know that acquiring this knowledge will only result in the child panicking, backtracking, and potentially costing them the fight. No, this is how things need to go. If this world has a chance at seeing a new dawn, then Macaque needs to do everything to ensure it. This includes making certain questionable, definitively dangerous and most of all underhanded choices. Chasing MK and his friends across the desert, pushing the boy over and over again to drags his powers back out in time for this final fight -Macaque has done everything he thought possible to ensure the kid is ready.
And he is ready. Kind of. He can play his part with some sensible percentage of success, and so can Macaque. He needs to do this for the kid, because Macaque is painfully aware he is MK's only available card left -the only one capable of doing what they need done. Nezha's been captured, Wukong nothing but a puppet for the Lady Bone Demon-
-so Macaque keeps his mouth shut.
It’s easier this way.
“You okay?”
The boy’s voice draws him out of his thoughts; Macaque turns his head to look at the human plopping down on the stone bench next to him. The others were getting ready, preparing the truck for the final voyage.
Macaque thought he’d been pretty safe in his corner of the temple, waiting for them to be ready to head out. Clearly, MK sniffed him out. Maybe he senses something. Maybe he doesn't. Macaque needs to handle this carefully.
“What makes you think that?
“You’re pretty quiet.” The boy hums, legs kicking, betraying his nerves. “...and you’re not answering my question.” He points out quite truthfully, brown eyes squinting at him. He's been around Wukong for too long, if he's starting to distrust Macaque's words.
...even if he should. Macaque snorts, avoiding his gaze in favor of looking at the rest of the group.
“It’s not going to be an easy fight, kiddo.” He admits, not wishing to lie to someone who didn’t deserve Macaque’s brand of twisted bullshit.
He watches from the corner of his eyes as MK visibly shudders. Hesitation dances in those brown eyes. Macaque shifts, hesitation mixing with the desire to say the truth but he can’t, that would break him - his tail flicks for a moment, then finds its way to wrap securely around one of the kid’s wrist, squeezing gently.
MK’s head is clearly somewhere else but the boy notices, if the way both hands start fiddling with the tip of Macaque’s tail. The shadow demon indulges him, waiting patiently.
“Do you…” The boy bites his lower lip, deep in thought. “...do you think we can do it?”
Macaque opens his mouth to retort, and pauses, not for the first time wondering if maybe he should say something. Then he reminds himself, again, that it would be just cruel.
Letting MK savor this precarious hope he’s built with his friends is the kinder thing to do.
“You got a plan all figured out, don’t you?” he tells the boy. “And it doesn’t involve setting yourself on fire and running at the Bone Demon. I’ll be honest, that’s already a step above Wukong’s usual tactics, kid.” Macaque tells him, smirking at how the kid lets out a surprised noise. MK’s smiling a bit. Success.
The cub needs this reassurance, if he’s going to focus on getting that dammed staff back.
“Just let me handle that old fool. You focus on saving the world.”
“I-I guess…” MK’s eyes flick down to his tail. He pets the obsidian fur gently. “Will you be okay, fighting Monkey King?” He asks, voice gentle but tinged with worry.
Under layers upon layers of glamor, six ears flick back. Mk, too trusting to use his true sight, does not see it. Too trusting, he leans slightly towards Macaque. Not enough to touch, but enough that it shows, enough that Macaque sees and feels and understands the gesture, feels the delighted warmth that comes with that realization settle in his bones and chase away the cold, if only for a moment.
“I will be fine, kiddo.” Macaque lies softly.
MK smiles up at him, eyes twinkling. He tries to ignore the way the sight of that honest, relieved expression claws a hole in his heart.
.
.
.
From the moment he made -and without missing a beat, immediately broke- his contract with the Lady Bone Demon, Macaque understood one thing.
There’s only one way this whole mess is going to end.
His return from the land of the dead has been for one purpose; to escape the Diyu and get his revenge on the one who put him there without a second thought, the one he thought would always have his back, the one who traded him for a bunch of weaklings and took his eye when he dared to try and make him see reason. Because the Great Sage is always right, and his temper is legendary.
Just thinking of it makes acid crawl up his throat. Macaque tosses that ugly feeling with a flick of his tail and an impatient clench of his fists, staring off at the rolling landscape outside the truck with distaste. Watching and waiting as the greenery slowly gives way to snow and ice, marking their approach to the demon’s domain.
He can hear the others discussing among each other, going over the plan once more. All of them keep a healthy distance from him, save MK of course, who shoots him occasional glances and holds it long enough for Macaque to give in, tear his eyes away from the road and nod at the boy in acknowledgement. He’s not sure what exactly Wukong’s kid is trying, but Macaque doesn’t have the energy to really dwell on it.
And it’s not like he’ll have the time to think about it, after.
(Because there won’t be an after, the Diyu whispers within his bones.)
Macaque turns his attention back to the road, tail flicking. To do this is madness, but he’s going to do it either way.
He'd be a fool to say MK didn’t have him right there with that -the promise of a more honorable purpose than to be the demoness’ puppet, revenge against the creature that thought she could chain him...and most of all the prospect of rubbing Wukong’s failures in his face, remind his once sworn brother how the same flaws that had pushed Macaque attacking him during the Journey now had the king leashed like a dog by the Bone Demon.
Wukong always dove in head first. He always tried doing things on his own, so certain of his own strength and so desperate to make sure the handful of beings he loves are safe. Macaque had once been part of that group -he was the first, born of the elements upon Flower Fruit Mountain, just like him - and he likes to think he knows the Monkey King far better than anyone else upon this earth, or beyond.
After all, who knows the sun better than its reflection?
MK clearly picked at that connection to get him to fold. Macaque underestimated his former student. He'd been peculiarly melancholic that night, tipping his hand too far with that little shadow play. It had been a calculated risk on his part, to keep MK from making the same mistakes that led Wukong down this path, to keep his ego from growing and growing until not even all the wonders of the celestial realm could sate it.
Macaque had been a firsthand witness to what Wukong’s ego had done. He'd been tossed aside by a reckless friend who always sought for more. He did not want MK to share this flaw with his mentor. And it…seems to have worked, to his surprise. Or simply put, MK is just inherently better than his once sworn brother.
That little shadow play seemed to have been so long ago, but MK remembers it and has taken it to heart -and turned his little tale of woe right around on him, boxing him in a corner.
Smart kid, foolish mentor.
Or maybe mentors. They’ve only trained together for less than a month, but Macaque likes to think he left some form of impact on the boy. More than one mentor never hurts, right?
He’ll be back to one soon enough, he reminds himself as the van speeds towards the Bone Demon’s lair, every bump and jump the vehicle makes jostling him in his seat and reminding him of how quickly the distance between him and Wukong is shortening.
How quickly he will be a memory again.
He can’t lie to himself about this. Mk is a good kid. If they make it through this -if the boy survives this fight- he has no doubt the child will be the best out of any of them. Better than Macaque, better than Wukong, better than any entity of heaven or hell. He’s just a good kid, too good, leaving Macaque to wonder if Wukong really grasp the magnitude of how ridiculously lucky he is to have this bright young man as his successor.
Not many can pick up the staff, but there could have been a handful out there who might have the potential -and yet MK is the one that did it, and he’s got such a golden heart Macaque knows that no matter what happens today, no matter that he knows what is going to happen to himself, the kid needs to live.
As long as he draws breath, he’s going to do everything to make sure MK gets through this, revenge be damned.
The plan is classically Wukong in its nature, but it makes sense. Him and the kid go for the staff, Macaque fights Wukong, the others go find the girl before the Bone Demon can utilize the cursed fire of Samahi, and hopefully find Nezha in the middle of the chaos and get him to help.
It’s simple.
It will work.
Macaque is simply following what the kid asked of him. MK thinks he can stand against Wukong, get the Sage pinned long enough for the kid to get through the Bone Demon
and grab the staff. As long as she’s greedy enough to keep Wukong under her control, to make him her champion , her physical vessel cannot do much. Not when she’s keeping the girl contained, piloting her mech and suppressing one incredibly stubborn celestial monkey. Even for a creature as ancient as her, there are limits.
That leaves the staff wide open for MK to steal back.
If Macaque can hold off Wukong long enough.
We throw monkey against monkey! , the child had explained with such jovial determination that any smidge of will in him of even hinting at what Macaque knows will happen dies right there and then.
And now they’re almost there.
Path’s coming to a close, Macaque thinks to himself quietly. There’s no going back now, the future is far too set in stone. A few variables could change, but Macaque knows how most of this is going to end, and he believes in the kid well enough to know he will take it from there, once Macaque cannot help anymore.
(He can almost feel the cold of the Diyu already seeping back into his bones.
Due to the Bone Demon’s interference, Macaque has escaped it for over three hundred years.
It yearns for his return.)
The mech is in sight, a towering monolith of silver metal and ice; the Bone Demon’s temple to her obsession. Macaque walks to the doorway and waits for MK, who seeks reassurance in his companions one last time. He can’t stand the sight of it.
Still he waits, until that gleaming silver mech feels too close and they need to move, now.
“Kid, let’s go!” He barks at the boy firmly but with warning. Every second counts. It’s only a matter of time before she notices their approach. Every second wasted lowers their chances at succeeding.
They both jump out of the moving van, form twisting into that of birds. Macaque leads the way and he keeps an eye on the smaller bird as MK follows. MK’s transformation is that of a dark-colored eagle, lighter in color and patterning than Macaque but still far from Wukong.
He looks like a mini me, part of Macaque denotes with amusement. He wonders if Wukong noticed it too, when the Sage first saw MK in this form. He wonders how angry it made the old fool.
Shame he’d never get the chance to poke fun at him about it.
.
.
.
They get to the ancient demon’s construct with little opposition. Macaque turns back into a monkey and lands nimbly on the frozen ground, MK at his side. The staff is only a mere few feet in front of them, covered in ice and stuck to the ground like a macabre trophy.
Macaque can see from the corner of his eyes how MK twitches at the sight of it. The boy is full of energy, full of action, and the moment he takes a step forward, Macaque is quick to grab his jacket and stop him. MK makes a soft noise, eyes turning to him questioningly.
They don’t have time to even speak.
Wind picks up, the chimes of metal chains clanking together echoing in Macaque’s ears like ice needles sinking into his flesh. The cold air turns absolutely freezing within seconds as a figure appears above the staff, arms crossed behind her back.
Sometimes Macaque hates being right. It seems it didn’t take long for the master of this domain of ice and bone to notice their approach. He’d hoped they would have more time, but unfortunately luck isn’t on their side today.
“The successor and the Six-Eared Macaque,” the ancient demon’s voice echoes through her domain of stone and ice, thoughtful yet with just the slightest tinge of sharpness that betrays danger. “-working together? So you’ve come for the staff, and the girl. Amusing.”
The ground tremors as something hits the floor in front of the staff. Macaque’s muscles tense involuntarily as the dust settles and blue eyes stare into his, solemn and cold in a way they’ve never been before.
Wukong.
Gone are the bright, comfortable clothing; metal and blue robes covered the king’s body, a regal ceremonial armor that screams a clear claim from the Bone Demon. One that has Macaque raising his hackles and flicking his tail is restrained disgust and fury. It hasn’t even been a day, and she already had him clothed in her colors.
What a wretched beast.
MK says something he doesn’t catch; Macaque lowers his stance, hands extending low at his sides. He prepares himself mentally. Settles his heartbeat. Steadies his footing wider for stability, just like he’s been taught.
It’s going to be just like those spars they used to have as children.
(It’s not, the land of the dead laughs from deep within his soul.)
The Lady Bone Demon chuckles softly, eyes falling on him. Her smile tells him everything.
She knows.
Macaque takes a breath and leans low.
Wukong moves like lightning; Macaque barely catches the fists intended for MK’s face. His arms buckle under the Great Sage’s strength and his instincts scream at him to pull out, to dive into the shadows and run, run away before the tale repeats itself, but he bites them back with a snarl.
Instead, he glares straight into the cold, bright blue eyes of his once brother, and steadies his resolve.
“Okay, MK-” He wheezes out, all too aware of the tremor in his arms from holding Wukong’s full strength back. He’s strong. Too strong. Stronger than Macaque remembers. “Hope that staff is worth it!” Macaque yells as he falls back, allowing his back to hit the ground and pulling Wukong with him. The momentum of Wukong’s attempt to push him back sends the golden monkey flying over Macaque, and the shadow demon immediately kicks out both legs, tossing the Sage across the battlefield.
He glances back at MK. The boy is staring at him, brown eyes wide in shock. Macaque commits his face to memory one last time, then steadies himself as he senses a familiar mass of energy zooming back across the field, heading for them.
“Go, kid!” he roars as he takes off into the heavens, Wukong in fast pursuit like a blazing comet.
He’s a mile up in the air and could strain his six ears to listen for MK’s reply, but then he narrowly avoids the sharp talons of a golden eagle cleaving into his skull and Macaque is suddenly very, very aware of not only what’s at stake, but how this is going to go.
He shifts into an eagle as well, ducking under a talon swipe aimed for his throat. He ducks and weaves as the larger bird chases after him, dipping into any shadows he finds in the clouds to gain more distance.
Wingbeats echo behind him, the cry of an eagle following after Macaque’s smaller form growing dangerously close. Macaque’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest, well aware that one moment, one minuscule split-second of hesitation or pause will end him early. He ducks and weaves, not making a single sound as talons get too close, slice through a few inches of his left shoulder, take a chunk of tail feathers at a second pass, nearly graze his neck with the next…
Wukon isn’t holding back.
(He steadies himself with memories of times long lost beneath blood and tears, of afternoons spent chasing each other across their mountainous home in numerous forms. Of the laughter of mortal monkeys and even louder crackle of a golden monkey right at his tail, trying to catch him before he dips into the realm of shadows.
Just a spar.
Think of those mock battles they used to have under peach orchards.
Don’t think of what comes after.)
Wukong screeches behind him and suddenly there’s a gust of air crashing into Macaque like a wave, tossing him out of control as a boom like a thunderclap echoes through the heavens. He spins around, twisting back into the form of a monkey, narrowing his eyes when he realizes Wukong used his wings to part the clouds and take his shadows away.
There’s nowhere to hide.
Wukong changes back as well and they meet head on -Macaque matches every kick, every punch, everything Wukong throws at him blow for blow and finds himself faltering; limbs aching after each hit.
When beans of blue light start emitting from Wukon’s eyes, barely missing him time and time again, Macaque is certain of his fate.
It only cements what he’s always known -Wukong has been holding back, he’s always been holding back since his resurrection, since Macaque stormed his mountain nary sixty years after the Journey - his death- and nearly burned it down to the ground in a cruel attempt to remind Wukon of his failures, of what he tried to bury and forget.
(Of how Wukong didn’t even bother burying him home.)
So Wukong had been holding back this whole time. How quaint. Maybe it had been a misplaced attempt at seeking forgiveness -for all the hatred they share for each other, Macaque knows his once brother can be a bleeding heart, despite the attitude. Or maybe it was his attempt at avoiding giving into his rage once more, to slip and take his staff back from MK and finish Macaque off in the same manner as before.
Macaque makes a feint and barely manages to twist out of the way in time of a charging Sage. He immediately leaps upon Wukong’s back, a closed fist burrowing itself into the golden monkey’s hair hard enough that for a moment, his opponent stops moving. Wukong makes no noise of pain. Macaque tries to ignore the tightening in his chest at just how burrowed deep in his mind the Bone Demon must be to keep him from even feeling pain.
They crash out of the sky like falling stars.
They’re approaching a nearby mountain. As they fall, Macaque manages to grab onto Wukong’s armor and twist him around, using him as a shield as they impact the side of the mountain with enough force to create a sizable crater.
Wukong buckles under him, not even dazed -Macaque barely dodges a fist as he scrambles off the bigger monkey, feeling and hearing the way Wukong’s clawed hand catches part of his cloak and rips it to shreds within moments.
He makes distance, dipping into shadows and calling upon his magic. The shadows call back, swirling and pulling and tugging at his skin, metal spilling out of the void as he assembles his armored construct around himself, layered the core in protective metal and-
The sound of glass breaking barely registers in his ears before Macaque feels a fist connect with his chest.
Something gives.
Oh what a fool, to think his mech could have stood a chance! He hits the back of the core and crashes right through it; the construct falls all around him before it's even done forming, limbs falling into pieces as he crashes into the earth, the weight of a possessed monkey crushing him against the dirt.
Wukong rises -Macaque scrambles back as much as he can while laying on his back, hearing the other’s approach. Too close, and he’s too dazed to use a shadow portal. Wukong would just drag him right out before he can close it, just like he had on top of the ritual mountain. This is bad. Maybe this might be the end of the line.
No.
No!
He needs to -needs to buy MK more time! He needs to get up -!
Before Macaque can roll out of the way, Wukong’s foot comes crashing down into his left femur.
Snap!
For a moment, he is blind in the white-hot fog of pain.
By the time he can see again, he feels two hands on his right arm.
Snap!
The crack of bones breaking is drowned out by Macaque’s howl. It rings out across the mountain. He hopes that MK didn’t hear it. He hopes this was enough, as fleeting as it had been. The Great Sage was just too much for one shadow demon. He hopes MK got the time he needed.
He hopes he was enough.
(Not enough, not against the Monkey King, not as a scrap of soul and shadow reanimated by a ice demon. He is not enough, he would have never been more than a fleeing distraction.)
This is it, Macaque realizes dimly.
Everyone who read the Journey knows the tale of the Six-Eared Macaque, killed by the Monkey King with his golden cudgel. Liu’er Mihou was never meant to exist beyond those pages, his own adventures shrouded in mystery, his true nature only known to a single being. His destiny had come and gone, his fate sealed by the hands of a foe bearing a familiar face.
Liu’er is a thing of the past.
Macaque is a dead man walking.
(And to the earth, you will return.)
Vision spinning, Macaque looks up at the monkey towering over him. Blue eyes stare back, alight with something, for once. Delight. Malice.
Figures she would personally attend his execution, Macaque thinks bitterly.
“You could have been something great.” Her voice echoes in his head, rattling it. His vision is filled with black spots. Macaque only hangs on to consciousness due to the pain. “You could have been my champion.” She hisses, full of contempt as if she’s offered him the world and Macaque spat at her feet in response. Which, in truth, he might as well.
He bares his teeth at Wukong, still fighting to get up.
“There is no honor in being a slave.” He reminds her, trying to get up but his leg gives, it's twisted the wrong way and the waves of pain that follow lay him flat upon the earth like a helpless mortal.
Wukong stares at him, then steps forward, foot planting on the break on his leg and pressing.
White fills his vision. Macaque dares not make a sound of pain, out of dignity. Her laughter rings in his ears through the glamor that keeps flickering on and off, struggling to remain in place as Macaque fights back the urge to pass out.
“A slave?” The demoness repeats, amused. “No, I made you a champion. I gave you the finest armor, I restored you to your former glory-” She waves Wukong’s hand at him and Macaque flinches when he feels the last shards of his glamor shatter and fall away, revealing his scars and ears. Exposed bare, a final ridicule before the end. “-without me, you would still be in the Diyu, forever rotting away for the sin of daring to get in Sun Wukong’s way.”
Macaque remains silent.
Getting in the way. That’s one way to describe what happened. There had been a series of mistakes, on both sides, misunderstanding, Macaque feeling ragged and abandoned after spending over three hundred years looking for his older brother, and Wukong being…being Wukong.
His brother always had a temper; all three of the realms had had a taste of it. All immortal beings that walked upon this earth and beyond know and fear it.
Macaque just never expected the full fury of it to come crashing down on him.
“Better the Diyu than your puppet.” He breathes out in between waves of pain, of fear, of regret and bitter acceptance. “Better to die free than live as a doll.” He spits out balefully.
She does not react to his words beyond a slow tilt of Wukong’s head.
“Wise words for one so foolish.” She acknowledges as Wukong leans down. “But you are missing perspective, monkey.”
A hand wraps around his neck, another on what remains of his shirt, claws digging in. Despite being possessed by the demon of bones, Wukong still feels warm.
Maybe in another life, Macaque would have leaned in, just to feel some form of warmth from Wukong, one last time.
But there is no warmth in those cold eyes, there is no escape from the pain running up and down his spine, from the limbs twisted too far to be fixed, from the ribs that are definitely broken stabbing into his lung with each pained breath he takes.
“As it once was, it shall always be. Destiny cannot be changed, Liu’er.” Her voice surrounds him as spots of black fill his vision, threatening to overwhelm him for a final time. “Until I cleanse this world of sin, until I wipe it clean, the cycle will continue. Your fate will forever be the same. I rewound the clock, but I cannot change the path.”
All he feels now is cold. Wukong’s breath on his face is cold. Cold emitting from deep in his own bones; whether it is the lingering effects of her curse, or the Diyu, he does not know. All he knows is that time is up, and he hopes he bought enough time.
Macaque closes his eyes.
“Mine or not, your destiny always was to die for him.”
Liu’er has few regrets left when his older brother clutches his neck and squeezes.
.
.
.
(
He’s long gone when the Champion lands behind his successor and tosses his cooling corpse next to the child.
He’s long gone when the boy looks down at the object thrown at his feet -recognition dawning as he stares at the torn cloak, the blood splattering black and bronze, horror growing when he finally notices the face and sees faded golden eyes staring up at the sky lifelessly.
He’s long gone when the boy turns back with a frustrated roar and grabs the staff once, gold crackling across his mortal body as he pulls with all of his might, with all of his soul -and the ice cracks and shatters as he screams out to the heavens, letting his fury be known to the gods.
He’s long gone when the Champion becomes Wukong again.
He’s long gone when mentor and successor, united as one in their rage, defeat his tormentor and shatter her gleaming silver mech.
He’s long gone when the dust settles, ice melts, and a pair of auburn hands carefully pull his broken body from the rubble and tucks it again into a heaving chest. He can no longer hear the sobs of a child and his brother, and can no longer feel a forehead press against his, nor the wounded cry of a king, pleading the gods for a mercy not even they can grant.
Macaque is long gone but his destiny is complete.
)