Chapter Text
Like anything bad happening in MK’s life at the worst possible moment, it's Yin’s fault.
Or Jin.
Because in the chaos of them tossing the artifacts they were stealing from the new museum, MK’s not sure who made the mistake.
He only knows that Macaque ended up somewhere in the mess.
(It’s easy to spot the hooded figure among the crowd.
Slipping away from Tang and Mei, MK disregards every single warning Pigsy has ever taught him about picking a fight with strangers -especially strangers that tried to kill him less than a month ago- and walks right up to the shadow demon, planting a finger into the other’s chest. Surprisingly enough the shorter man allows him, looking far too bemused about his visible anger.
“What are you doing here, Macaque?” MK spits out with all the ire and menace he can muster, hands itching to reach for his staff -he needs to be ready for whatever schemes the shadow weaver is up to!
Yet he doesn't get that sneering grin, nor does the room go abruptly dark. Instead, Macaque gives him a long, flat look -and then, just as MK begins to fidget with uncertainty, the sneaky demon strikes. Faster than the young hero can react, the shadow warrior lifts his left hand up and flicks him right on the forehead hard enough to make his ears ring.
MK yowls.
“Argh!” He hunches over, hissing, trying to stifle more sounds of pain as a few heads turn their way. He peers at the celestial monkey between his hands and glares, aghast at the underhanded move. A punch? He can take it. Another insult towards his mentor? Pass over, he and Mei are making it a game at this point to document what creative insults the shadow demon comes up next with every new encounter? This? This is not it. This was dirty. “What was that for?” MK whines.
“Manners.” The dark monkey sniffs, side eyeing him with amusement before turning to the exhibition.
“That’s not answering the question!”
At his declaration Macaque sighs like he's witnessing something particularly bothersome, adjusting his scarf with a flourish. The only thing he has left to do in MK's opinion is turn his chin up at him to complete the haughty look. “If you must know,” he starts dramatically, and oh MK can feel an evil little monologue coming right up. “-I wanted to take a look at the new Zhou dynasty artifacts.”
...oh.
MK blinks. “...the ones from the new exhibit?” He hears himself ask with surprising civility.
“Precisely.”
Silence. MK fidgets, brain misfiring as he attempts to workshop through his next quip.
“...to steal them?”
Once more, Macaque looks at him with a flat stare, looking not too off from a middle school teacher disappointed in his answer.
Then before MK can apologize, he reaches up and flicks him on the head again.
By the time an indignant MK recovers from that migraine, the shadow demon is walking away, swaying his tail as he heads deeper into the museum, towards the theater gallery area. MK watches him go with a glare.
He knows he shouldn’t let him go, probably, but he also paid a lot for the entrance fee, and he saw Macaque do the same so he can’t even call him out on that crime. Plus, he’s here to have a fun day with Tang and Mei -the scholar had all but begged them to come, too excited by the new exhibition but also extremely nervous because of the large crowd size. So, MK roped Mei in and they went with the anxious man out of solidarity.
MK was expecting it to be a semi-entertaining, but definitively somewhat boorish day.
Then he spotted Macaque among the crowd, tucked in a corner admiring some old tapestries. With Macaque being Monkey King’s weird rival…counterpart…dark half -every one of Tang’s explanations just made it all worse- it is MK’s duty to keep watch for his scheming.
Except Macaque didn’t look very schemy today. He’s wearing a fluffy turtleneck and some loose pants. Extremely comfy and stylish, something MK would buy if he had his next paycheck. Definitely not the look of someone ready to scheme.
Maybe it’s the sneaky kind of schemy.
The schemiest type of scheming.
MK will just need to keep an eye out as the day progresses.)
Unfortunately, he was so caught up in Tang’s rambling and keeping a eye on Macaque that he almost didn’t notice Jin and Yin sneaking in -or rather, bursting their way in, as they seem to have gotten into a argument with the ticket booth operators and decided to simply skip over the line.
And ten minutes later here is MK, watching those two demons skulk away as quickly as they can, empty handed and bruised. The gallery is smashed, people have fled, all that remains is himself, Mei, and a weeping Tang who looks at the ruined collection and cries even further.
Overall, not the best day.
But I might not be having the worst! Part of MK thinks nervously as he stares at the sight before him.
There’s a pile of clothes on the floor, and no Macaque.
I repeat, not a single Macaque in sight.
Not even a wisp of shadows.
Nothing.
Next to it though is the smashed remains of the artifact one of the demon brothers managed to chuck at the irate Six Eared Macaque’s head. The shadowy demon hadn’t left with the crowd upon the beginning of the duo’s rampage, and had actually helped MK against them. He’d been pissed, too.
Probably because of how expensive the entrance fee was.
Alright, MK thinks as he tries to claw back the rising urge to scream. No panic, just a common case of disintegration. You can handle it!
…that is not helping.
Why did it only poof Macaque, though? Part of him that isn’t screaming if he’s just become accessory to manslaughter wonders. Why are the clothes still here?
-the clothes that are moving?!
MK looks at the pile in horror; it is moving, oddly so, rising slightly before dropping back down. There’s something in there, and MK can only shudder with fear as he lifts the Monkey King’s staff and slowly pokes the pile, fearful of what might be under there.
“So…” Mei slowly approaches his side, hesitating as she sees MK’s visible panic. “Is he…?” She wiggles a hand towards the pile.
“I think so?” MK’s voice is even higher pitched than he expected it to be. His insides squirm with panic because goodness, he doesn’t like Macaque, but death by Jin and Yin is something he would never wish upon anyone. “...oh god….I really think that-” he points at the artifact’s remains, an innocent looking brown vase. “-straight up poofed him.”
Mei, of course, is elegant about it.
“Well, fuck.” She says, flat and almost completely without interest. “...what’s in there now?”
“I don’t know.” His hysterical giggle echoes through the empty museum.
“Well, you might as well look!” Mei suggests, then glances back at Tang -who is still weeping over the remains of an old statue. “We’re not…really going anywhere, might as well make sure the dude croaked.”
“Mei.” MK hisses reproachfully as he bends down, slowly pushing the clothing-
A flash of white emerges from the depths of the clothes -and then something smashes into his nose.
MK howls and stumbles back, falling on his ass.
“OW!” He howls, trying desperately to protect his face. “What the fuck-?!”
“You little thief!”
This feels oddly familiar, part of MK thinks.
Why is Macaque so small, another part of him wonders.
And then both halves meet in the middle with one thought.
Wait, what.
There’s a small, white monkey absolutely swimming in a familiar dark turtleneck as he stumbles towards MK with shaky legs. Gold eyes blazing purple with energy as he leaps at MK again, landing on his lap and grasping the collar of his shirt tight as he rears his other hand back, balling it up into a fist. His little face with that identical red marking across his eyes is twisted into an expression of fear, anger, and pure outrage.
“-thief!” MK yelps and scrambles to catch the incoming fist, easily grabbing the monkey’s hand and ending up with a flailing, highly furious little monkey on his lap. “Conniver! Bastard!” Tiny Macaque all but howls, enraged. "How dare you?!"
Mk watches on dumbly, stumped as to what to do. This is Macaque -but small. Tiny Macaque. Itty bitty tiny Macaque, as tall as his damn hip at most, if MK estimates correctly. A Tiny Macaque with pearly white fur that shines under the lights that remain within the museum, and with six ears on either side of his head. It’s the first time MK mentally takes a step back and realizes that the title Six Eared Macaque is actually quite truthful.
….what the hell is this day?
“Die! Die die die!”
“M-mei-” MK hisses as he grabs Tiny Macaque’s other hand when it goes for his eyes. Stuck trapped holding the flailing monkey, he looks at his best friend imploringly.
Mei, the traitorous dragon, sheepishly pulls away the phone she’d been using to take pictures of the struggle and smiles weakly at MK’s panicked glare.
“At least he’s alive?” She offers, and MK makes a pitiful whining sound as the Tiny Macaque’s screams and curses only grow louder. “Well at least he didn’t change too much, he just condensed his anger issues-”
Tuning her out, MK turns back to the monkey in his lap and shakes him slightly.
“Macaque stop!” He barks out.
Tiny Macaque flinches, eyes wet, but still angry. The sight makes MK want to hug him -but unfortunately said monkey is still trying to kill him, so he can’t do anythig but wince as the little one yells into his face.
“-liar! Thief! I will take your head for this!” Tiny Macaque yowls like an angry cat. “-how dare you steal my brother’s staff, foul human!”
MK freezes, nearly letting go of his wrists.
“What.” He all but manages to croak.
“WHAT?” Tang’s voice echoes behind them like a thundercloud.
“Huh.” Mei mutters, lifting her phone up and taking a picture of Macaque.
The little white monkey flinches back at the scholar’s scream, suddenly clutching his head -not, his ears, MK realizes as he watches the colorful little appendages vanish beneath those small hands. He turns his head towards Tang, finding the scholar looking at them aghast. MK can’t help but glare at the man, wrapping his arms around the monkey in his lap and tucking him against his chest as he hisses reproachfully:
“Tang.” He growls, feeling and hearing the child in his arms whimper. “Volume.”
Tang takes a step back. Macaque hisses his way and turns to look at MK, more considering now, eyes wet and shiny, brimming with unshed tears.
It makes something within MK’s chest soften. He makes eye contact with the little monkey and slowly, carefully, lets go of those small wrists, before holding his own hands up before slowly reaching for his staff.
Tiny Macaque growls, but does nothing. Mk swallows and thinks of his next words carefully.
“Look, it’s a little bit convoluted-” Those golden eyes blink up at him, squinting. “-but! The staff can only be lifted by those worthy, so that shows that I’m not a threat, right?”
More squinting.
“Hm.”
“-a-and I was given permission by the Monkey King!”
“Hm.”
Extremely judgmental squinting.
…alright, small or not, Macaque is still Macaque.
Good to know.
“You can a-ask him yourself,” MK tries, already thinking of how much of a disaster that is going to be, not to mention the sudden revelation of what exactly is the nature of the relationship between his mentor and the shadow demon. “...we can go to Flower Fruit Mountain together and you can see him, okay?”
Tiny Macaque’s hands slowly drop to his lap. His ears perk up, his eyes alight and almost sparkling at the mention of MK’s mentor. It makes his stomach churn. Macaque looks so happy, so relieved to hear this suggestion.
It makes MK wonder what exactly the hell happened between the two of them.
“...fine.” Macaque decides with a tiny imperious sniff to match his tiny appearance. MK tries very hard not to squeal. “Onwards, ‘uman!” He beckons as he leaps off MK, and stares down at him with hands on his hips. The turtleneck reaches all the way past his knees. “To Flower Fruit Mountain!”
The turtleneck is definitely not helping his commanding tone. MK tries hard not to devolve into fits of hysterical giggling -something Mei seems to completely lose, and the clicking of her phone’s camera is not helping, oh man when this is over MK needs copies-
Instead of asking how much blood and tears Mei wants for those frankly, very likely soul-meltingly cute photos, MK stumbles to his feet and grabs his staff -then looks down at Macaque.
Who reaches just about slightly below his hip.
Yet still has his own hands on his hips and is looking at him most imperiously.
“Hurry up, I need to talk to the king!” Tiny Macaque hisses, before jumping up. MK yelps at an embarrassingly high pitch when the little monkey climbs up his body like a dreadful spider and perches on his left shoulder, looking at him expectantly. “Well?”
Oh no, he’s pouting. MK fails to abort the little giggle that escapes him.
“O-Ok -ow!”
As it turns out, even small, Macaque still likes to flick him on the head.