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Published:2024-08-10Updated:2025-07-28Words:125,808Chapters:21/?Comments:314Kudos:787Bookmarks:280Hits:29,773
Great Sage, Equal to Heaven and Above Brockton
DarkscytheDrake
Chapter 5: Sotāpanna 1.05
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
YES, IT IS I!
You know the drill, read review moo, yodelayheehoo. I own nothing except my OCs.
Huge thanks to MentalForge, QAI521, storybookknight and bookie for beta-reading/helping! So without further ado, read on!
"Where did you go, Great King?" they cried. "We never expected that you would acquire such skills!"
"The year I left you all," Wukong said, "I drifted with the waves across the Great Eastern Ocean and reached the West Aparagodānīya Continent. I then arrived at the South Jambūdvīpa Continent, where I learned human ways, wearing this garment and these shoes. I swaggered along with the clouds for eight or nine years, but I had yet to learn the Great Art. I then crossed the Great Western Ocean and reached the West Aparagodānīya Continent. 17 After searching for a long time, I had the good fortune to discover an old Patriarch, who imparted to me the formula for enjoying the same age as Heaven, the secret of immortality."
"Such luck is hard to meet even after ten thousand afflictions!" the monkeys said, all congratulating him. "Little ones," Wukong said, laughing again, "another delight is that our entire family now has a name."
"What is the name of the great king?" "My surname is Sun," replied Wukong, "and my religious name is Wukong."
-Journey to the West, Chapter 2
As Sun Wukong stared at the thin girl as the metal carriage left in a roar, no words came to him. Not even in his mind.
Being left speechless was for lesser beings. If anything, he was the one who robbed others of their words once they saw his magnificent self and prowess. He had only been rendered speechless one other time…and never again. Now twice in one day? Absurd!
But what he saw was unmistakable.
'How can this be?'
He locked his gaze on the girl's apparition even as she began to walk away. Its brightness was as before, only a smidgen stronger than the other wisps he had seen. He flew to a nearby tree with naked branches and perched on it, trying to glimpse the golden shape from before.
'That was no hallucination or trick of the mind. The power behind that form was no lie. But how? The Golden Cicada…here!?'
He changed his focus to the girl. Her overshirt was baggy and faded, with only faint traces of its original color. Her brown eyes looked downwards, occasionally flitting to their edges, as if she watched for some unseen foe waiting to snap its jaws upon her should she lose her focus. The strange glass pieces, connected by a wired frame and rested upon the bridge of her nose were an odd piece of jewelry, but he assumed it was a local favorite of the womenfolk here. She wore no dress, but rather a pair of dark pants. Combined with her hunched shoulders and withdrawn head, she painted a picture of a weary and scared girl to whom life was not kind.
Yet all of this remained a minor detail for Wukong, for he still focused on the sliver of an anathema connected to the girl's head, trying to glimpse the golden insect as it flickered between shapes.
'The Golden Cicada was a disciple of Buddha, reincarnated over ten generations until he was reborn as Master Tang. It is not unheard of for a man to be reincarnated as a woman, though some see it as a result of bad karma. Heh. Bad karma? From Master Tang? After he achieved nirvana!? I'd be howling with laughter now if I wasn't trying to comprehend the situation!'
Wukong kept staring at the apparition, and even as he glimpsed tendrils, wings, and even flies, the cicada didn't appear.
'When Master was granted Buddhahood he was liberated from the samsara cycle…Is this a sign? Is the Buddha telling me that he isn't done with me yet? The work of some god I offended deciding to mess with me using my master's memories? Or is this some cosmic joke, because if it is, it has gone past the boundaries of humor the moment it instigated!'
He chirped and ruffled his feathers. 'Bah! Focus, Wukong! Do not lose your head and cluck around like some farmer's hen after the chop!' He returned his gaze to the girl, who was walking further away. 'Hm. She hardly looks like a nun or a priestess. Why her?'
He followed the girl as she walked down the street, always keeping one eye on her apparition. The wisp took no notice of him, content to float above her head. In fact, Wukong doubted the wisp took notice of…anything, other than the girl. '
Can these apparitions perceive me, even though these mortals do not perceive them?' Wukong thought, recalling the warped bodhisattva-like phantasm from his earlier fight. 'Such spirits can easily hide from humans. Glory Girl certainly made no mention of it, and the fact that my Golden Eyes were needed to see it strengthens that theory.' He quickly scanned the area around him and frowned internally. Despite Glory Girl's phantasm being exponentially stronger, only this weaker apparition had reacted to him. Why?
'As if that wasn't enough, the foul qi of this city does not affect these beings at all. Gah, to call them 'spirits' is confusing enough…and why would this one shift into the Golden Cicada?'
The girl soon stopped in front of a shabby house. It squatted two stories over the ground and was made of that strange stone these people were fond of using. Said stone was cracked and patches of mold were scattered along its face. The red-tiled roof had lost most of its coating and the wooden roof over its porch looked a moment away from rotting. She took a few deep breaths and headed up the stone walkway until she reached the flaky wooden door. The girl pulled a key from her pockets and entered the house, closing the creaking door behind her.
Listening to the dull thuds from within the house, Wukong flew to the second story and perched near a dirty glass window. Peering inside, he soon saw the door creak and the girl enter the room. An assortment of strange objects was inside, but the, sheet-covered large bed and desk took up most of the space. She took off her bag and flopped onto the bed, a choked sob escaping her muffled lips. 'So this is what mortals sleep on these days? She is no noble, that is certain. At least it seems more comfortable than those dreary mats.'
But as the girl curled up on herself, Wukong spotted the apparition…bloom, for lack of a better word. For a mere moment, it swelled in size and luminosity, and its shape grew more defined as it cycled through -
'There!'
He swore he saw it; the wings, the legs. But there was no gold. Unfortunately, another shape took its place in the blink of an eye. Then more came, even faster than before. Calm, yet rapid. His feathers bristled as he observed it.
'It was not the same as before. Did I imagine it?' the monkey-turned-swallow tried to recall the moment and shook his head again. 'Eighteen hells, this has been quite a day.'
The apparition had returned to its normal, iridescent glow. 'So, negativity fuels these wisps, or at least makes them react…like èguǐ, in a way.' Wukong stared at the twilit sky, the strings of his thoughts weaving into tangled webs, yet always missing the final branch to latch onto.
'The fact that these aberrations exist at all is disconcerting. Those uptight fools in the Celestial Court would never allow such things to exist.' If he had a mouth, he would've frowned. 'Anything outside their precious order must be bound or slain. So why?'
He then shifted his gaze to the miserable waif through the window. 'We might meet again soon, xiǎo mìmì.'
With those words, he took to the skies. The bay was drenched in a crimson hue, and already he could spot the rolling blanket of darkness that would soon envelop it. Strangely, few stars had begun their nightly shine, with only the Evening Star - how long has it been since he spoke with that crafty old spirit? - taking his rightful place in the heavens. Lights of blue, yellow, and white shone from the endless windows of the glass spires, even to their metallic pointed rooftops. Wukong recalled the people scurrying away from himself and Glory Girl when he had thrown her through one of the spires. Were the towers the dwellings of the local nobles, and the people their servants? He spotted the glowing domed island on the Eastern Sea, allowing him to view it in all its strange glory; a fortress of metal, capped by a shimmering blue hemisphere. It was similar to some of the castles he had seen, surrounded by magical barriers. 'Many of the powerful apparitions are congregated there,' he thought. 'Is that the castle of the city's lord? Was Glory Girl his heir, or one of his sorceresses? Her crown spoke of royalty.'
He pondered the matter for a moment before mentally shrugging. 'Oh well. Hardly the first noble I've pissed off. Though if she was a sorceress, her methods still elude me, as well as this whole matter with the apparitions. She was no immortal though.'
More mortals were out on the streets, and Wukong took a few moments to goggle at their queerness. When he had awakened, he had only noticed the most glaring differences of these new mortals, but now, under a shower of lights and sounds, the colors and details each stood out. Their clothes were so different, for both the men and the women. Skirts, shirts, and coats in all manner of colors and styles adorned their bodies, even their pitiful tufts of hair were all arranged with different styles. And their faces! Their postures! Their skin colors! The mortals of his land all bore similar features, with small variations. But here, it was a smattering of moustaches, tresses, bald heads, the familiar slanting eyes of his homeland's mortals right next to long noses and square jaws. The languages too were varied; as he flew closer, the most prominent one was what he read on signs and spoke to Glory Girl with - Yīngwén, the mantra told him - but he also heard smatterings of other tongues, even some stray words and phrases of Hànyǔ, though they sounded a tad different to what he remembered.
Many people held strange metal cases in their hands or held them up to their ears. Looking at one, he saw a glowing panel on it with images and words that changed as the man holding it touched each one. A few even had peculiar strings connected between the boxes and their ears, occasionally bobbing their heads. A strange fashion accessory, like pocket mirrors? He flew past one and heard a voice emanating from the box. The woman holding the box spoke to it, and when the box answered back, his eyes widened.
'Extraordinary! Whatever is inside the box, she is talking to it - no, him! Are these machines…is that a spirit in the box? But she sounds so worried about it - a mortal then? Is she communicating with another mortal? He sounds young - a lover? Remarkable!' a chitter escaped from his beak. 'So much for carrier pigeons! The Court would chafe at lowly mortals having such divine means of contact! How are they made? How do they work? I must know more - what is that smell?'
He was hit by a spicy aroma wafting from a colorful bag carried by a child with black skin, clutching his mother's hand. 'Ah, this lands street food. Looks tasty! Hmm, should I…?'
He thought about it for a second before swooping down and snatching the bag from the child's hand. Chucking at the child's surprised squeal, he flew upwards, landed on a nearby rooftop, and tucked his head into the bag, nibbling a piece from the yellow snack. Immediately he was hit with a wave of flavors that made him transform back to his normal self.
"How piquant! The spices are…what an odd combination. Is that peppercorn?" His mouth puckered and his tongue darted around his teeth as he looked at the flake closely. "And sourness too, all in one! What unnaturalness is this?... I must have more!" He raised the bag above his head and proceeded to dump the entirety of its contents into his waiting mouth. As chewed on the snack with gusto, he looked at the towering buildings around him, with all their lights, colors and sounds. He could even see flickers of red and blue near one of the spires, dancing away in those tall windows. This city was unlike any city he had seen before, the food so fascinating, its people so different that twice they caught him by surprise, in two different ways. The Monkey King, the great traveler, felt his gut bubble as the smile on his face formed and grew bigger and bigger, barely noticing he dropped the bag. Eventually, the bubbling grew so great that he could no longer contain himself, so he threw back his head and let it loose upon the world.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh truly, I am blessed beyond the heavens, to walk the earth and experience such marvels! If only those fools in the heavens could see me now! If all my travels led up to this, then all the hardships and trials were worth every ounce of misery! HAHAHAHAHAAA!"
Eventually, his cackling died down and he picked stray flakes from his fur. "I must learn more about this land and all its wonders! The food, the clothes, the devices, the sorcerers, everything!" He then looked northward, following the coastline. "Time to go treasure-hunting, for the bounty here is endless!"
"You okay there?"
Peizhi blinked and turned to his friend, the stupor quickly vanishing. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Just the heater sending a hot flash."
The half-shaven man gave him a side-eye, yet accepted his excuse and sipped his beer. The bartender placed a small dish of peanuts in front of him and he murmured a quick thanks. "You've been a little jumpy since you came here. Somethin' bothering you at the store?"
The Chinese shopkeeper shook his head and glanced at his half-full mug, but ultimately put it down. He surveyed the bar around him, listening to the clinking of glasses and muted murmurs of the patrons. The bar was a well-known hangout for the local workers of the Asian district, and while Peizhi wasn't a frequent patron, there were times when he met up and chatted with his fellow working men.
"Not really. Mostly jitters from the last attack."
His friend hummed. "I heard. Was loading up the stock when it went down. Anyone we know got hurt?"
"Mr. Wu's sister. Wrong place, wrong time. I saw her last week; said she wanted to buy one of those lucky cat statues for her brother."
His friend chuckled sardonically. "Fat lot of good it did her. I've half a mind to think those things turn off in this city."
While his words were harsh, Peizhi knew the man meant no ill. "It's still a nice thought. Junjie, your peanuts."
"Hm? Oh, sorry." Junjie pushed the dish away from the counter's edge. "Not sayin' that," he continued, grabbing a peanut and chewing on it. "But it makes you wish for once that good luck they're supposed to bring actually happens, y'know? Otherwise, what's the point?"
"Getting through life in one piece, I guess," replied Peizhi. He eyed the faded characters on the paper lanterns and the musty old bottles decorating the shelves across him. Has anyone in recent memory opened one of them, the ones on the top shelves?
"Okay, what's the deal, Peizhi?" Junjie's coarse Mandarin cut his musings. "This is more than just casualty news. I've seen you through enough of those, and this ain't it."
Peizhi felt his lips grow clammy as he tried to think of words to tell his friend. While part of him wanted to tell Junjie about the sheer insanity of the morning, a smaller part whispered to him that it was nothing more than a particularly vivid dream, brought about by stress and rotten beef. Maybe if he kept thinking that, it would turn out to be one.
"Just…saw a cape fly over my store this morning, almost crashed against my roof. Still trying to get it out of my system."
His friend's eyes widened and he froze right as he was about to munch on another peanut. Startled by the strong reaction, Peizhi quickly continued. "Nothing happened! He took off before I could even get a look at him!"
Junjie looked at him for a few more moments before huffing, the folds under his cheeks creasing like paper. "Alamak, don't feel bad, that could make anyone jumpy. What did he look like?"
"Uh, he was too fast, but he looked kind of old," Peizhi replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. While his Hokkien was almost nonexistent, even he knew the swear words, laced with concern as they were. "Don't think I've seen him before."
"Old huh?" Junjie squinted then shook his head. "Nah, don't know of anyone like that. Don't think I've seen him on the news either." He tapped the counter with a slow, almost rhythmic pace. "You think he's from a gang?"
Now Peizhi had to force any overt emotion from forming on his face. "Dunno."
His friend hummed again. Looking at his peanut plate and then his empty mug, Junjie sighed and slumped forward, making the dirty stool underneath him creak. His smile was wan and laced with contempt. The bags under his hard eyes sagged further, and his strands of gray hair made him look older than his senior of a few years who Peizhi knew him to be.
"What kind of a place this city is, where we have to worry whether or not we'll get blown to bits by some psycho come morning?"
Sometimes Peizhi wondered about that too. He'd asked his father a similar question several times when he was alive. Business and the rewards of one's efforts meant little when your shop could get torched or cratered out of existence. But his baba had always chuckled and lightly rapped him on the head, telling him not to ask rhetorical questions. Whatever answer his father thought he already knew, Peizhi didn't understand. It was probably one of those 'it's my home, so I gotta stay' answers he'd pull from an old book. Although…he did say one other thing:
'When you've built a home with your own two hands, you don't just protect it, you strive to make it better. Otherwise, what is the point of building it at all?'
…he still didn't understand, even after all these years. What was the point of building a house in a city that could destroy it at a moment's notice?
"A shithole?"
Junjie guffawed. "You got that right!" His smile had regained some warmth, which crinkled the corners of his eyes. "So, anything else interesting happening or was that the highlight of the month?"
The two chatted their way over light drinks and more peanuts. Despite his earlier desire to drink himself silly, he refrained from ordering the stronger spirits and stuck to beer. Others who came and went were not so restrained; he'd spotted a bottle of high-grade sake, the one worth a good month's wage being delivered to a raucous table. Some acquaintances came and went, and the two bid them waves and farewells. Time passed and the streetlights came on, shining through the windows.
"Well, I should go back, otherwise I'll start drinking you under the table," said Peizhi.
"Hah! You wish!" Junjie replied, sending him a one-finger salute as he put on his coat. Peizhi returned the gesture and headed out of the bar.
The streets were quiet, with only a few people out and about. Peizhi pulled on his coat tighter as he briskly headed back to his shop. The streetlights did little to illuminate the darkened streets and musty alleys, with half of them flickering on and off. The shopkeeper didn't focus on the shadows, where a gangster or druggie might jump him. The thought alone made him retreat into his coat like a turtle in its shell and speed-walked the whole way, not pausing for a single moment. He didn't run though, that would attract attention - the last thing any sane person wanted in Brockton Bay.
Finally, he reached the familiar walls of his shop. Closing the door behind him and locking it tightly, he groaned and leaned on it. The unseen tons of stress from the whole day faded away within seconds.
"No point in cleaning now," he mumbled. "A light sweep'll be fine."
So he snagged a broom and dustpan from the closet and began sweeping. He idly hummed a tune as he cleaned the aisles and straightened the odd figurine on a shelf. The morning seemed a distant dream now…and maybe it was.
'It had to be the beef. I thought the expiration date looked fishy. I'll have to get a fresh packet from the market early tomorrow.'
When he finished, Peizhi put the tools away and climbed the stairs to his room. When he checked the time on his nightstand, he was surprised by how early it was. '7:30 PM? Huh, that felt longer.'
He threw his coat on the bed and was about to prepare for a shower when he paused. 'Maybe some tea will end this day on a better note.'
Nodding to himself, he went to the small kitchenette and prepared a pot of water. After he turned on the stove, he sat in his chair and sighed, all while a content smile blossomed on his face.
'Huh, maybe it really was a bad dream. Well, nothing to be done about it.'
When his mental timer went off he picked up the pot and slowly poured the boiling water into the teapot. Using the special blend Mrs. Bao gave him at the spice store, he blended the tea and poured himself a cup.
Peizhi lifted the cup, took a deep whiff of the tea's earthly scent -
There was a knock on his window.
"Peizhi-xiānshēng!"
-and went stock-still.
'No…no, please, no…'
He slowly turned, his face frozen in a rictus of surprise, terror, and a pinch of despair to the window, only for the memory of the entire morning to come careening right in his face, full-throttle.
There he was, perched cross-legged on his staff, with a plastic bag and a toothy smile, right outside his window.
The monkey cape who'd eaten his stew and almost sent him into a drunken fit, the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong.
"How lovely to see you again! I have had the most spectacular day, and I am brimming with questions! May I enter?"
Peizhi's eye twitched as the monkey stared at him, the smile never leaving his face. This had to be a nightmare, or the beer, because there was no way he was that unlucky -
Wukong rapped on the window. "Peizhi-xiānshēng? Hello? Can you hear me?"
'It's not a nightmare…' Peizhi thought, internally sagging with hopelessness. 'Why…why me?'
Maybe he could run? Fat chance. Make up an excuse? And risk offending the crazy monkey-man? 'Of course! Simply sign your name on the dotted line for an express ride to the morgue and we'll be all set!'
…it's no question, is it?
He slowly put his cup down and walked to the window. Slowly opening the latch, he lifted the panel, meeting the monkey's gaze head-on.
"Ah, W-Wukong, wonderful to see you too," he said with a smile that most certainly didn't tremble. From the corner of his eye, he thanked his ancestors that no one else was on the streets. If anyone saw this…
He stepped back and gestured to his room. "M-Might you come in? I've just prepared a p-pot of tea."
Wukong nodded, that smile ever-present. "I would be honored to join you. Pardon the intrusion!"
He hopped through the window and stood ramrod straight. Then, he reached out the window and tapped the staff, making it shrink until it vanished in his hand. The monkey tucked the now-tiny staff into his ear and bowed with his hands clasped before him. Peizhi stared dazed at the gesture - one he had only seen in some old Chinese dramas -and made a clumsy little bow of his own.
"Y-you should have told me you would be c-coming later," the shopkeeper said as he went to his cupboard and pulled out another cup, forcing his hands not to shake. Unfortunately, his stuttering remained unaffected. "I would have p-prepared more sub-substantial offering than this t-tea."
Wukong waved his hand. "Bah, the fault is mine. I was so wrapped up in my activities that I forgot to notify you. I shall have to partake in your stew another day."
Peizhi placed the new cup on the table and reached for the teapot before his eyes widened. He quickly gestured to his chair and Wukong sat upon it, his tail drooping between its wooden rails. The shopkeeper finally took the pot and, mustering every bit of his self-control, gently poured his…guest…tea.
As he poured it high like he had seen his father do with some guests, the trickling liquid sounded like sand tumbling down an hourglass, with each drop symbolizing a grain. What if he didn't like the tea?
Peizhi tried to push the worst outcome from his mind as he finished pouring and handed the teacup to Wukong with both hands. The monkey grasped the cup the same way and after sniffing it, gave it a sip.
To Peizhi's great relief, his guest smacked his lips and his smile grew wider. "Oh, how long has it been since I had a refreshing tea? Is this blend yours?"
Peizhi shook his head, some of the tightness loosening from his limbs. Wukong shrugged in response and after a couple more sips, set the cup aside.
"Now, I've been out exploring this magnificent city and I saw many intriguing things! Nothing like back home, dare I say it would make any lord there weep blood!" He raised the plastic bag he had been holding from the floor. "I stumbled upon some wares and goods of this fine city, but I confess I have no clue as to what they are and their purpose. When I thought of who to ask about their nature, I remembered you and your delicious stew. So, being a resident of this city, I humbly ask that you teach me all about it and its secrets."
For a moment, silence reigned. The shopkeeper's mind halted as he processed the unbelievable words.
"You…want me to…teach you? About Brockton Bay?"
Seeing Wukong's nod, Peizhi quietly drummed his fingers on the underside of his chair. This was…completely out of the blue, to be honest. "W-what exactly did you have in mind?"
Wukong reached into the bag and placed a small black object before him. "I've seen other mortals talk into these little black cases. What are they?"
Peizhi blinked and looked at the object. "Um…that's a phone." Maybe he really was a Case 53? Then why did he call himself Sun Wukong? "People use them to talk to each other?"
"How is that done?"
The man picked up the phone and slightly cringed. It was an older model, and it was stained with brown spots. No question as to where his guest got it from. Peizhi put down the phone and pulled his own one from his pocket.
He turned the device on and showed the screen to Wukong, who leaned in. "Every phone has a number. If you want to call someone, you just type in their number like this," he demonstrated. "Then you can save it under the person's name to call them again."
Wukong stroked his chin and nodded. "I see...yes, I had suspected so when I saw them, but now…and who can you call with this 'phone'?"
"Anyone in the world I want, as long as I have their number."
"Anyone in the world…" Wukong whispered, a gleam in his red eyes. "You are not being poetic, correct?" At Peizhi's nod, he laughed merrily. "Oh, how wondrous! To speak to a friend over oceans and mountains…" he trailed off and giggled, "If the messengers of the heavenly court would see this, I'd wager they'd either throw a fit or prostrate themselves before this device! And they are commonplace, yes? I hardly saw anyone without one on their person."
Peizhi nodded and saw the monkey's tail wag briefly. Why was he acting like a puppy? "So anyone can speak to anyone…how are they made?"
"They're made in…factories?"
"What is a 'factory'?"
"A giant house where people can make lots of things very quickly. As in, in less than a day, they can make hundreds of phones." Was he truly unaware as he claimed to be?
Wukong examined the dirty phone with the care of a jeweller. "I have so many more questions…but later! Can you make this work like yours does?" he asked, pointing to the cracked screen.
"Um, sorry. That one is broken."
"Broken?" he looked at the phone from all sides. "Hmm, yes, that does make sense, otherwise who would throw out such a treasure?"
Withdrawing the phone, he pulled out the next item from the bag. "What is this?"
"Um, those are boxers. Underwear."
Wukong looked at the dirty rag and took a sniff. His eyes widened and he recoiled before flinging it out the open window. Hoping no one saw that, Peizhi kept his eyes on the bag.
"I tried these and my tongue fell in love! What are they called and what are they made of!?"
"Those are nacho chips and I think they're made from flour and cheese…" and chemicals but Peizhi had no idea how to explain that to him. He watched with confusion as Wukong tore open the bag and shoved its contents into his mouth. Wait, where did he even get a bag of chips from?
"Blessed be the makers of this treat!" He threw the bag over his shoulder. "Where are they sold?"
"Er, in groceries, supermarkets." At his questioning look, Peizhi added, "Food shops. They have all kinds of flavors."
"Then I shall try all of them!" Wukong leaned forward and drummed his hands on the table. "The metal wagons outside, are they cart yaoguai that the mortals have enslaved?"
"Wha - no!" Peizhi replied with alarm. "They're machines! They work on gasoline - not plant oil - and we make them in factories!"
'The hell? Yaoguai? Like, from the old stories? Where the hell did that come from!?'
"Ah, the place you spoke of earlier…do you have one?"
Peizhi shook his head. "No, I don't really need one. And the good ones are expensive."
While the monkey pouted at first (pouted!?), he then nodded. "Understandable, that such marvels come at a cost, even if it is as superficial as wealth."
The man looked at Wukong as he hummed and scratched his fur. He didn't act like an amnesiac. He was too sure of himself, too casual, like he'd been doing this for a very long time.
'It's like he really believes he is Sun Wukong.'
Peizhi felt himself slack and leaned forward. The air had lost much of its former tension and felt less like a gang visit…and more like a casual meeting…between old friends.
'I've just met him and was nearly shitting myself a moment ago.'
His guest chuckled playfully and reclined on the chair. "Oh, what fun! This Old Sun hasn't learned so much in so little time!" His smile grew more relaxed as he looked at the lightbulb above them. "Even the sun has been tamed and stored in little bottles…the lord of your city is generous."
"Uh, we don't have a lord. A mayor leads the city, and the people elect him."
"'Mayor'? Odd title. Is that like a governor?" he asked. "Hmm. What a novel thought. My kin crowned me in a similar fashion. Did your leader fight a demon and display his corpse to the people to gain their favor?"
"Wha- no, he didn't!" replied Peizhi, though the thought made him chuckle internally. A politician who actually got off his podium, in Brockton no less? He might as well ask for pork chops to rain from the heavens.
"Then how did he gain their favor?"
"He made speeches and promises, and in the end, enough people believed him over the others."
"Did he keep any of those promises?"
"That's a…" Peizhi looked away. "Different matter."
Wukong chuckled. "Good to see officials stay the same, no matter the lands they're from. Still, he must be a mortal of great influence, to dwell in such a splendid magical fortress."
The shopkeeper blinked. "Fortress?"
"Yes, the one out on the water. I have never seen a barrier so obvious. Haven't your sorcerers more subtle means of protection?"
What on earth was he - oh.
The dread from before was starting to churn again. "That's not his…fortress. That's where the…" he bit his lip. How to explain the PRT, with all of his gripes toward them? "Heroes work."
Wukong tilted his head before his eyes widened. "Ah yes, that's what she called herself. Is this how the sorcerers of this land are referred to? Was she trained by a Celestial Envoy?"
The last question puzzled the shopkeeper. "Celestial Envoy? What do you mean?"
"You know, the powerful beings who descend from the heavens. They are numerous, but surely a few of them visited this city. I sensed a great deal of sorcerers in that magic dome. Judging by the poor qi around here, a Celestial must have taught them some secret technique. Awfully generous of them."
Peizhi tried to form a reply. So much weirdness was in that sentence that he didn't know where to start.
"Wukong…when you say a Celestial Spirit, do you mean like," he briefly hesitated, "the Jade Emperor?"
The monkey's eyes widened. "That lazy, upstart miser was here!? He actually removed his overweight self and descended upon the Earth!? Well, this explains many things -"
"No! No, he wasn't," interjected Peizhi, licking his lips with worry. "No Celestial Spirit ever visited this city or anywhere in the country." 'Or the world.'
"I don't think anyone believes they exist."
He knew there were people in the District who still prayed. They had small shrines with incense sticks and performed rituals during the Chinese New Year. But it was tradition, nothing more. How could you believe in stories like that considering the world?
"...'they don't exist'?"
Now Wukong really paused. He looked at Peizhi for a while in a manner that made him want to back away. He then pressed his hand over his mouth and hummed - or mumbled - something inaudible to him as his other hand tapped the table with its claws. Peizhi wanted to ask him more but he recognized that stormy look - no one wanted to be interrupted when they were thinking like that. So he kept silent.
Finally, the monkey removed his hand from his mouth and exhaled deeply. He then sniffed from the teacup and around him before meeting Peizhi's nervous gaze again.
"Apologies, Peizhi-xiānshēng. I was merely lost in thought. It shouldn't trouble you for now. Where were we?"
He smiled and Peizhi knew right away it was forced, at least partially. One learns to act polite around Lung's men lest they suffer. But he didn't want to antagonize his guest, especially when he seemed to have calmed down.
"We talked about Heroes -"
"Yes yes, of course. Rather pretentious, no? Especially with a name like hers."
"But that's what they are; people who use their powers to -" he paused as part of that sentence blared in his ears. "Wait, hers?"
Wukong nodded. "Yes, the girl. I had thought her merely bratty despite her skills, but I see her words hold truth."
No.
Oh no. Please…
"She still has much to learn if she wants to live up to her title. 'Glory Girl' is a tad presumptuous, no?"
Peizhi's jaw dropped and his throat squeaked. "Y-you m-met Glory Girl?"
The monkey didn't notice his distress and replied in the affirmative. "I challenged her to a spar to see if she was all talk. Naturally, I won, though I did uncover something vexing. With what you've said to me now, this only raises more questions…"
If Wukong continued, Peizhi didn't hear it, because the sound of shattered glass echoed in his ears. He'd heard the news of a cape fight involving the teen hero and how it left several buildings damaged. No casualties or injuries were listed, but the reporter claimed that 'eyewitnesses saw the New Wave member getting smacked around like a rag doll.'
'That was him!?'
Great. He was harboring a criminal now.
The table thudding broke him from his haze and saw Wukong putting down his teacup. "I still have much to learn about this land, Peizhi-xiānshēng. I can rest anywhere I please, but I'm afraid I must acclimate further to this city's pungent air. For all its wonders, you mortals really messed up with that. Foul air begets foul minds after all. Would you be willing to host me for the time being?"
Peizhi couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had to be dreaming again, he just had to.
"H-host you? As in, sleep here?"
"Yes. I have grown rather fond of your company and would like our lessons to continue with as little interruption as possible. I promise to cause as little disturbance to your business as I can."
…
…
He didn't know how long he stared at Wukong, mainly because he was wracking his mind for an excuse, any excuse, to keep the monkey out.
"A-ah, while I would be honored to host you Wukong, I-I'm afraid that, well…" he swallowed. "Remember the m-magical fortress? Th-the sorcerers there are called Heroes because they f-fight Villains in this city, and there are a f-few here in the neighborhood."
He gathered his breath to continue, but Wukong interjected. "You are afraid of repercussions if I am discovered with you? Hm." He leaned back again and rocked the chair back and forth, balancing it on one leg. "I am not surprised. There will always be ruffians who will use magic for evil. It is mortal nature and inevitable. I will pay them their due visits of course, but I would not wish to trouble you with their trivial reprisals…" he stroked his hairy chin, akin to a kung-fu master from an old movie. After a few seconds, he turned to look at Peizhi.
"Is this whole house yours?"
The shopkeeper blinked, then nodded. "Y-yes. My father bought the whole building along with the apartment."
"Your father, eh? Very well."
Wukong stood up and hopped through the window. Peeking his head out, Peizhi saw the staff pop into the monkey's hand, who then proceeded to drag it on the ground and go around the house. Bolting from the room, Peizhi went downstairs and through the doorway just as Wukong came around the other side, still dragging the staff.
The moment Wukong crossed his path though, the air flashed red.
Peizhi jumped back as he stared at the ground. There, resting below the tip of Wukong's staff, was a long black mark that shimmered with tinges of red. He looked back up and saw the monkey looking at him with satisfaction.
"There! As long as I will it, no ruffian or troublemaker will be able to harm this humble shop or anyone within the circle."
He twirled the staff and swung it over his shoulder. "Would that alleviate your worries, Peizhi-xiānshēng?"
The poor man looked back and forth between the line and Wukong, his mouth stammering as he tried to form words.
'Say no, say no, absolutely not! You still have a chance, Peizhi Luo. You can still avoid having the gangs be after your sorry little head if you just tell the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong no!'
…
"...thank you?"