Chapter Text
It starts like this.
Ma knows very little, in her first few months on the Island. She is nothing more than a monkey who had the good fortune of being dropped off at the shores of Huaguoshan, the Monkey King’s territory. Unlike his current subjects, she was not born on the mountain, did not belong to any of that troops that ran wild across streams and treetops as if they had something to prove. No, she was left in the open, in front of the King’s waterfall home.
She does not remember how exactly it went, once she was found, but the older monkeys tell the gibbon how she was accepted into the troop fairly quickly, a good bunch of them offering to care for the new addition to their steadily growing family. Ma is told that the King had been indifferent about the little fluffball that she was back then; he simply spared a sideways glance to the cub and assumed she had always been apart of the tribe. None of the other monkeys tell him otherwise, and so, she grows up safe and sound in Flower Fruit Mountain.
With time, the elders accept her and she does it right back. There is not much to be said about a childhood; as subtly different as the gibbon is from her peers, there is nothing of note about the way she grows up. These are, after all, the same monkeys who accepted the so-called stone monkey as their ruler. Of course they do not mind those minute differences all that much.
The island is peaceful yet chaotic, a safe haven amidst so many outside dangers. It attracts many others monkeys from the outside world, yaoguai or otherwise.
It is not a surprise when more are dropped off like she once was.
The newest arrival is shy, and quiet. He comes bundled in a large, red garment that he wears around his neck like an oversized scarf — or a cape. He is very different from the current troop, both appearance and personality wise. Ma has never seen a monkey quite this tall, or with such different fur coloring: it is split exactly at his head, which is a striking white while the rest of his body is colored an auburn-brown that is just short of the King’s. She thinks it looks pretty. The differences do not stop there, however. This new monkey does not speak their language at all, and unlike most of the troop, does not let anyone touch him. Any attempts at grooming are met with slapped hands and a lot of hissing; he does not join the sleep piles usually held inside Shuilian Cave, instead preferring to hang back and sleep high up in tree canopies. Even when all the kids are playing and messing around outside — something she takes great joy in — he always hangs back and sticks to himself, always at the shade of a big tree as he watches from afar.
That last one, Ma is ashamed to admit, takes a lot of time for her to notice.
Although, when she does, the gibbon is quick to rectify her mistake. She wastes no time leaving the little monkeys she had been playing with in the dust, climbing a nearby tree all up to the canopy. From up there, she can see the newcomer on the ground, sitting against the lean trunk of a ginkgo tree. With a giggle, Ma moves through the canopies until she erupts from the tree right above the other monkey with a flurry of golden-orange leaves — the new arrival startles at the sudden presence, but she will not let him escape this time.
“Hello!” Ma calls, hanging from the tree branches by her long arms. Like this, she is all but trapping the stranger, standing right in the path he has to take if he wants to get up.
The other monkey looks confused for a moment, but slowly — very slowly — he raises a hand to wave at her. So he can understand their language to some extent! Maybe he just can speak it yet?
“How are you?” She asks, to which the other monkey only gives a shrug before dragging his eyes right back to the ground. That will not do. Ma hums, letting herself fall back to the ground a little carelessly, disturbing a ton more yellow leaves from the branch she had been perched in. Her new almost-friend looks a little annoyed at it, but does not protest beyond the slightest frown on his face. He does let out a startled eep when Ma lands right by his feet, curling a little into himself when she steps even closer.
“My name’s Ma,” she chirps, introducing herself as some as some of the older monkeys have taught her to. She even points a claw at her own chest to make it clear. Ma does not bother adding the shared last name to it — they are all Suns here, like the Monkey King. “What’s yours?”
The monkey finally looks up then, seeing the way she pointed at him after the question and proceeding to stare right at her eyes. His own are unlike anything she’s ever seen: vivid rings of orange make up his irises, both submerged in the pitch black pools that are his sclerae — like some kind of celestial phenomenon she has yet to see. The gibbon gasps and has to physically restrain herself not to take his face between her two hands and scrutinize his eyes from up close. Instead, she lets out a mesmerized, “Your eyes are so pretty!”
The other monkey blinks up at Ma once. Twice. He still seems confused, clearly unable to understand all that she is saying. When he waves her off with a hand, she is not offended — although she does not simply go away, only takes a couple of steps back. It turns out to be the right decision; this new guy is not attempting to shoo her off, only asking for some space. The second he has some dirt cleared in front of him, he reaches with a claw to draw… or write something in it. Ma watches as he makes practiced strokes in the ground, a somewhat understandable glyph coming into view. She squints at it when he is done — this is the language Monkey King learned with the humans and is working on teaching the troop. Many of them can understand it to an extent, already, but the ones who can read, write or speak it are very few. Ma is one of them; she is better at the speech part, but can read a few words, too. She takes a while to decipher it but feels pretty confident about it once she turns to her new friend to confirm it.
“Liu?” She asks, unsure. Then, using the few words she knows in the human tongue: “Your… name?”
He nods much more calmly than she would have expected, but then again, his tail betrays him. The other monkey’s — Liu’s — tail starts wagging so much that he has to stop it by putting a leg over it. The very tip of it continues swaying even then, and he looks faintly embarrassed.
Ma beams, then kneels by his side to write something else. “My name,” she repeats, tapping at the recently written glyph, then turning to look at her new friend.
Liu scrutinizes her writing with a little frown, then repeats, “Ma?”
If she had a tail, she would have been wagging it too. Instead, she settles for a enthusiastic nod as she takes in his voice. Only a single word has been uttered, and she is already charmed by the soft, low voice of Liu — it is the polar opposite of her loud, boisterous chirping and she has to admit that it is very soothing to listen to. He resumes talking a little later, and Ma has to strain her ears to try and understand what is being said.
She does not know as many words this time, unfortunately. Among a jumble of vaguely familiar ones, she recognizes only “speak” and some conjugation of “early”. The questioning lilt to the words makes her assume that Liu is asking her to repeat herself, only now in this language. She… can try, that is for sure.
“Uh,” she begins, grappling for the correct words. “Your…” she does not know how to refer to his eyes, so she points at her own luminous green ones in hopes he will recognize the intentions.
Liu stares at her gesturing for a moment before his eyes light up and he says a single word which she assumes is the one she is looking for. Ma repeats it, and he keeps stressing it as if attempting to correct her poor pronunciation — until she grows tired of it and just says it as best as she can manage.
“Your yǎnjing,” Ma repeats. “Pretty.”
He blinks, his already red face growing much darker. He is blushing, she realizes with faint amusement, but does not comment on it. Liu mumbles a few words that she assumes are a response to her shameless praising, before turning back to that questioning tone. She understands only a couple more words: “teach” and “you”. She feels like something is turning in her head as she processes the question, until finally understanding what he is proposing.
“Oh!” Ma exclaims, then nods. “Yes! I’d like it if you helped me understand you. I can… help… no, teach you, too!”
The offer is a little fumbling, but Liu seems to understand it well enough. He gives a stuttering nod, burying the lower half of his face in the gigantic scarf he has around his neck, concealing his mouth in such a way that she cannot even tell if he is smiling. That is fine, though. There is still a lot of chances for her to see it, now that they are friends. She reaches a hand to him, a silent offer; Liu scrutinizes the offered appendage as if he does not quite trust it but ends up clasping it after a while. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head in surprise when Ma hauls him up effortlessly and he almost flies right into her arms. Interestingly, Liu does not let go of her hand immediately, instead holding into it more firmly as he hears the hooting of nearby young monkeys and shrinks into himself. Ma does not comment on it; not until he tries to walk away, muttering something about lessons.
“Later,” Ma explains when he looks at her unmoving form in confusion. “Play now.”
Liu does not look all that happy about stepping into the fray, pointy ears flicking at the loud sound the young monkeys make as they roll in the dirt, play-wrestling to their hearts’ content. He also does not protest when she leads them both in the direction of it, but she knows better. Ma directs them to stop just at the edge, where the dense forest meets a clearing that the older monkeys have been using to plant an orchard. She can tell how tense the crowd makes her new friend by the way his hand squeezes hers unconsciously, so she does not force him to do anything but watch. She stays by his side during the whole afternoon, even when she feels the urge to go play with her fellow monkeys. It is a small price to pay for making a new friend, really — even more one that is just like her.
It becomes a routine, after. She retrieves Liu from whatever tree shade he deems as his favorite for the day, they haltingly teach each other the language they can speak, and then Liu follows her around as she does whatever she feels like for the rest of the day. Ma does not mind it. She likes the other monkey’s company, enjoys spending time with him even when he turns completely silent in the face of her other friends and just listens in to the conversation. It feels special, that she is the only one who has ever heard his voice before, the only one who can sneak close and grab his hand without receiving a loud hiss of protest in response. It is their thing, and she would not trade it for anything in the world.
They are both in their late teens when the little prince arrives to the Island. No one knows the exact details of his birth, only that it was preceded by the most horrifying storm that Huaguoshan has ever seen in its sunny shores. Never one to lounge around inside the cave all day, Ma had been caught up in it — and, in consequence, so was Liu.
For all he has grown into his own in the years he has lived in the island, Liu still prefers to stick to her side. He does not need her as an interpreter anymore, having long learned the monkeys’ language, and the basic interactions he needed to peacefully live his life in Flower Fruit Mountain. Still, he accompanies her in everything. They have grown up together. They are best friends. It’s only natural.
They are lucky enough to make it into the cave before things can get really bad. There are many monkeys already there, but most are still outside, braving the storm. The King, of course, is out there rescuing them all. She has no doubt he is capable of doing so without any casualties, but still… still she cannot just sit still as more and more of them flood the cave. Ma has always been one to act when she sees someone suffering, always cared disproportionately about the well-being of others before her own; her friendship with Liu is proof of that. That is why, instead of just hanging back and waiting for the King to work his magic, she feels the urge to get out there and help. Of course, Ma has not been sitting idle: along with Liu and a few other older monkeys, she has been helping the arrivals get settled. There is only so much that can be done, though, and with time, she ducks away to stand in front of the waterfall.
Ma hesitates when she gets to it. Something inside her tells her to go out and help, but a more rational voice in the back of her mind — one that sounds a lot like Liu, funnily enough — tells her the best thing she can do now is stay put and not create any more problems. She ignores it, going to step into the flowing water–
“What are you doing?” A familiar, soft voice asks behind her.
Most of the time, Ma would be delighted to hear her best friend of all time speaking; she finds his voice, just as everything else about him, very pretty. This is one of the few occasions where she would rather be left to her own devices, though.
“I’m going to help,” Ma answers evenly. She knows there is no need to elaborate. Liu will understand.
He hums. “This is not a good idea, Ma.”
She tsks. “I won’t know unless I give it a try, you know?”
Liu sighs. She stops in her tracks; if there is one thing she hates more than sitting idle, it is seeing her best friend disappointed with her. “I have to do this, Liu.”
“I know.” He steps closer, stopping right near her back. Ma almost startles out of her own hide when he puts his hands on his shoulders, the presence familiar yet not; Liu never initiates the contact. Not because he dislikes it (she has exhaustively asked before), but because he is not that good at returning the affection. It is simply how he is, and she is aware he has long gone past the uncomfortable stage, to the point now he fully embraces her more cuddly nature.
She still overthinks it when he does it on his own volition. This is one of the only times he has done so — Ma only discovers the true intention when Liu finishes wrapping his arms around her torso and plops down on the ground with crossed legs, Ma practically sitting on his lap. He is restraining her so she cannot go out into the storm.
Ma hisses. “Liu. Let me go right this instant or I swear to the gods–“
“Shh,” he shushes, gently. Had she been a little less angry, Ma would have melted on the spot. As it is, she only wriggles more, unable to escape Liu’s grasp. “It will be over soon.”
She trashes and curses him for at least half an hour. In that time, the Monkey King comes into the cave a few more times, sporting a gaggle of monkeys attached to his arms and torso each of them. She redoubles her efforts whenever it happens, but Liu keeps a firm hold. By the time the King comes back with what feels like one last pair, she has had enough: she bites one of Liu’s arms with as much force as she can muster. He yowls painfully, letting her go and springing to his feet. Ma is bowled over but does not waste a moment to wade into the water, ready to run out. She turns for a second to see Liu’s reaction and freezes: he looks pained and hurt; the arm she bit is dripping blood steadily in spite of the hand he is holding over the wound for pressure. She has no time to decide what to do before his expression darkens and he twirls around, marching further into the cave.
“Liu! Wait!” She calls, but he is already running into some secluded corner of the cave. She knows that she will not be seeing him for a few hours after this. It is enough to make her stomach churn with guilt, and she abandons the idea of running out altogether. Ma barely gives it any attention when the King comes back with the little white cub that would soon become the Prince, too absorbed in her mistake.
It takes a few days to regain Liu’s trust. When she does, apologizing and giving her best friend a bunch of his favorite fruit in the entire world, they are quick to fall into each other’s arms in an embrace that lasts way longer than any previous one — as if they had been months apart, instead of a couple days. It is a rarity after that, though. Liu gets a little suspicious of her affections after the fact. She cannot blame him, but she already misses the way he had been so close to reciprocating. She is the one who messed it up in the first place.
The incident makes Ma realize how much she hates to see her best friend hurt. She vows to never let it happen again, be it by her hand or otherwise. A few years later, when she is already a young adult and the Monkey King almost gets snatched by the Diyu only to come back unscathed, when he starts training the troop to defend themselves and the island, she is one of the first to volunteer. There are things she must protect, after all.
To her great displeasure, Liu volunteers too. They argue a lot after the fact. For a time, Ma thinks their friendship cannot be salvaged. She mourns, and throws herself headfirst into the training, until she finds herself as a candidate for being one of the King’s marshals. She has had the opportunity to interact with him and finds that the loyalty he demands of his closest confidants is, in fact, deserved. The Monkey King is very different from when she first arrived at the Island, more responsible, kind and just; some attribute it to the adoption of the little Prince into his life, plus whatever he had seen at the underworld. The change is welcome. Sun Wukong is friendly, on par with Ma herself — she can see how she will fit right in with the rest of the chosen guard.
Before she knows it, she is indeed made into one of the marshals. The other one surprises her. It’s Liu, her best friend — she still thinks of him like that, despite the recent avoidance and the months of separation. The first few weeks are awkward. They barely talk outside of discussing assignments, and she feels her heart shrink in her chest each time. It lasts a month. When she feels like she cannot take a single more moment of the crooked truce, Ma gets back to the beginning. The ginkgo tree from their shared childhoods still stands proud and golden amidst a sea of flowering, green trees.
(“It is not supposed to look like that,” she remembered Liu saying, years prior, “these trees are only like this in the autumn. There is no autumn in Huaguoshan.”
Sometimes, he got those obsessions about certain topics in specific, going to great lengths to find out more about them. Luckily for him, those trees were well documented in a scroll thrown into one of the then moderate piles of junk the King kept bringing from the mainland.
“Well, maybe that one is special, you know?”
Liu scoffed. “I highly doubt so.”
“Well, it is to me,” she insisted. “It’s where I met you.”
His face flitted between surprise and this warm little expression he always sported whenever she said something particularly sappy. Before Ma knew it, he was tackling her to the ground, the pair of them engaging in a spontaneous bout of play-fighting as Liu tried desperately to cover the wide smile on his face. They laughed and laughed as they rolled around in the dirt, previous little argument forgotten in the sheer joy of being together.)
Ma cannot contain a long sigh as the memory forces itself into the forefront of her mind. She fears that time will never come back, seeing how things were going. She has not properly talked to Liu in months, and agonized over the fact that she most likely never will again, not in the same way she once did–
She pauses. Speak of the devil…
Liu is sitting on the base of the tree, gaze lost in the distance. He looks up when Ma accidentally steps on a bunch of crinkly leaves as she attempts to retreat without turning her back on him, and for an instant their eyes meet; luminous green against bright orange. She is reminded of the day they met, of how she had been completely mesmerized by those very same eyes.
She does not realize what she is doing before she falls to her knees in front of Liu, their legs almost touching.
“Your eyes are so pretty,” she utters, as if seeing them for the first time again. Ma’s voice is wobbly with unshed tears.
Ma sees Liu’s face scrunch up around the same time as she feels hers do the very same thing. They fall into each other’s arms as if no time has passed at all, slotting together like puzzle pieces. They barely talk it out beyond the first emotional I’m sorrys and you’re my best friend and I hurt you and the many, many I love yous that spill from shaky lips as they tangle around each other, crying like infants. It’s only hours later, once they are minimally calmer — yet refusing to let the other go — that they discuss what drove them apart in the first place. They had fought over the desire to protect each other from harm, and while they cannot exactly see as the other does, they reach an agreement in the end. They will both look out for and protect each other as long as they live and breathe, and that is that; it is a promise neither will dare to break. They fall asleep at the ginkgo tree’s roots, waking up with the first rays of the sun.
When they return to the palace, hand in hand, there are not many people around to see them. The generals — Ba and Beng — are the only ones who witness it. Ba is happy enough to ignore what they saw, but the way Beng looks at them teasingly makes her unnerved. Liu’s tail lashes when he notices it, and he goes as far as offering to go after the general to let him have a piece of his mind after the fact, but she pleads him not to. There is no need to make a fuss; after all, they know what they are, and this is what matters. Best friends, always and forever. She does not need anything besides that. She is content with what she has, not feeling the need for a more ‘traditional’ relationship, much less a mate. Liu is much the same.
They work perfectly as they are.