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brookiebee23 · 3 days ago

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They Don't Call Him the "Great Sage" for Nothing

Summary: MK isn't new to being frustrated when it comes to learning "Mystic Monkey" abilities. But of all things, he never thought shrinking would take four hours to finally learn.

...now he just has to learn how to return to sweet, tall, 5'9" MK before Macaque comes to bother Monkey King. That should be easy enough, right?

(Yeah, no. It's not.)

Warning(s): Peril, Fear of death, Cursing

Word Count: 3560

Blame finally made me write a G/t prompt for Lego Monkie Kid (And may have helped me with writing it).

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MK isn't...new to being frustrated.

"Mystic Monkey Business" is difficult, and MK understands that- he really does! It hadn't taken Monkey King centuries to master his abilities for no reason; if anything, MK should be grateful it'd only taken him a few months to understand the basic teachings of Buddhism compared to the usual year.

The slight advantage still doesn't make failing any less disappointing.

Three hours. He'd spent three hours chanting phrases and attempting to put himself "in the perspective of the little guy" and he's still the same old, 5'9" MK. If he wasn't already at his wits end with the exercise, he might've laughed over spending so much time trying to become something so small.

MK growls as his latest attempt to shrink even just one inch fails once more, flopping unceremoniously onto the ground. His hands unclench, small crescents indented within his palm from where his nails had pressed a little too hard.

There's a crunch before a familiar face of auburn fur pops into view, the crumbs of a peach chip falling from Monkey King's hand. His mentor almost looks guilty staring at MK's limp body and it takes everything for MK to stop himself from commenting that he doesn't find the expression fitting. "C'mon bud, don't give up so early."

"Early," MK echoes. His arms flail, useless. "It's been three hours!"

He should've gotten this down after the second time Monkey King excused himself to grab another bag of chips, the monkey clearly bored with the uneventful training session. MK would've rather preferred a sparring match- or hell, getting beaten into the ground by some demon terrorizing the city in comparison to this torture.

A sigh tugs from between his gritted teeth. "It's just not working!"

"I mean, it's not magic, bud."

MK's eyebrows raises because oh, totally. Monkeys and humans are just naturally able to fly and lift nine tons so they can pick up some stupid staff.

Monkey King blinks, as if coming to the same realization himself.

"Okay, okay. Maybe it is sorta kinda magic, but that's not important! Point is, you can't just shrink 'cause you want to or because you said the right stuff; it takes practice. But you've got this, I believe in you."

MK can only stare, trying his hardest to combat his mentor's puppy-dog eyes with his own ten-mile stare of exhaustion and utter despair. He doesn't even want to get the ability down anymore; he just wants to relax on the ground, surrounded by pebbles and rock. It's comfortable down here, the dirt's coldness much more forgiving than the frozen wasteland of failure.

"...we could grab lunch after this next attempt. Take our mind off everything, yeah?"

...

Okay, maybe that does sound nice.

"Fine."

MK ignores the giddy expression on his mentor's face for "winning" the conversation, forcing himself back onto his feet and into a comfortable pose. His eyes close, welcoming the calming dark green scenery once he finds his posture is to his satisfaction.

Even in such a relaxed state, it's difficult to ignore the way his lungs squeal over each deep breath he forces through his nose, as though anxiety had begun to overtake MK's initial frustration. At least the tightness in his chest was kinder than thinking about the three hours he'd wasted on this dumb exercise.

Nope. Nope. No negative thoughts.

Brand new ability. Brand new attempt.

...a giant lunch would be the coolest thing, though. If he could shrink on a whim, he wouldn't have to bother Pigsy for a second bowl of noodles, a single helping almost too much for his small body. It'd be the greatest thing ever, leftovers for weeks.

Heavens above, MK would even be able to swim in that delicious broth. Ooo, and a carrot stick would be the perfect diving board, half of an egg transformed into a flotation device. Who knew swimming in a pool you could drink would be enticing?

"I can see you drooling."

Monkey King's playful jab is enough to break through MK's daydream, the envisioned pool of noodles nothing more than a shattered wish.

"Sorry, sorry." Right, brand new attempt. Focus on shrinking.

One inch at a time.

5'8".

5'7".

5'6".

All the way until he's just as short as the other monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain. Until he's shorter than a peach.

MK gasps when it feels as though the ground he'd once sought comfort within rises up to meet him, his arms flailing if only to keep him from face-planting. He chokes, because he's pretty sure he forgot to breathe the whole time he'd been "focusing".

"Look at you, bud!"

Y'know, MK likes to think he's not someone that's easily scared. He's faced demons far more comfortable with their own powers without blinking an eye, boldly faced scoldings from both Monkey King and Pigsy that'd have the average person digging their own grave.

MK doesn't scare easy.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't utterly terrified at the way Monkey King's voice seemed to make the air rumble. MK whirls to face his mentor before he freezes, unable to combat the recognizable bout of fear short-circuiting his brain.

Monkey King looms from where MK sits, that familiar prideful and suddenly massive face upholding an uncanny resemblance to the thousands of "Great Sage" billboards across Megapolis. Scratch that, the monkey's more like a living skyscraper- taller than any MK had bared witness to. Now capable of being Flower Fruit Mountain rather than just living on it.

He doesn't know whether to accept the unspoken praise for MK's achievement or run.

Monkey king never mentioned anything about how scary it is being so small. The pebble MK had once been able to squeeze between his fingertips is now the size of a boulder, one that could be used as camouflage against this unwinnable battle should his mentor use this moment to test MK's reflexes.

He feels crushable, vulnerable from his rapidly thumping heart to a butterfly soaring across the sky like a jet.

"So?" Monkey King grins, taking up most if not all of MK's peripheral vision just by leaning forward. "How do you feel?"

Is that a trick question? MK feels like that's a trick question because there's no way he'll admit he feels like his own mentor is about to flick him away, forgotten like a piece of dust that'd clung to Monkey King's fur.

MK shakes the thought from his head, forcing a stuttered laugh from his throat like his lungs aren't squeezing in panic. "Uh, tiny."

Monkey King physically waves aside the comment, an action that totally doesn't make the now significantly smaller flinch. "Meh, you'll get used to it. I say we snag lunch anyway; on me. I'm starving!"

Faintly MK registers a pang of disappointment hidden beneath his unbridled fear- "on me" could only mean one thing and one thing alone.

He's not getting that five-course bowl from Pigsy's Noodles as he'd originally hoped. Nope. His fate had been sealed to drown in a bowl of peaches.

"Is that alright with you, bud?"

MK's nod is mindless, his sleeve wiping a bead of sweat from his eyebrows. He can't tell if it's from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins or because it'd taken so much energy to shrink in the first place.

...

"Uh, how exactly do I grow?"

Monkey King only blinks, a response that isn't what MK had been praying for.

"You can't do it yourself?"

MK stares, certain his silence is enough of an answer. No he can't just grow. It'd taken him nearly four hours to shrink, only Heaven knows how long it'll take for him to learn how to return to normal size.

"Eh, you'll figure it out eventually. In the meantime..."

MK barely has time to formulate a thought before four meteors crash beside him, the ground rumbling as one lands a little too close to MK for his liking. As much as he wants to curl in on himself- rolly-pollys are making a lot more sense nowadays -he forces his head to lift and make sense of the situation, eyes wide at the scene.

Monkey King remains knelt before the ground, rough palms calloused with millennia of fighting pressed firmly to the ground beside MK. Screw the idea of his mentor being the size of a skyscraper, this is like watching the sun hover above Earth.

His fear barely subsides enough for familiarity to scrape at MK's brain, uncertain why the pose strikes a sense of...comfort?

Oh, wait, no he's seen this play out before. Well, he's never been a participant, but he knows how this goes.

Monkey King did this whenever the little monkeys of Flower Fruit Mountain wanted to climb aboard their king, tiny hands scaling the marigold-colored sleeves with ease. It'd kept the little ones from disrupting training exercises, while also opening the door amidst moments of peace for Monkey King to bask beneath tiny hands that combed through his fur.

A far-too-warm breeze ruffles his hair and MK startles, hands grasping desperately at his bandana to keep it from flying away.

He's barely given reprieve before Monkey King taps a finger, the dirt beneath MK's shoes bouncing. Impatient much. How is this even supposed to work?

Surely MK isn't expected to climb up his arm-

Oh, who is he kidding? Of course that's what his mentor wants.

The cuffs of the sleeve hover awkwardly over MK, large enough for a single fold to encase his entire body like some odd blanket. He can see how convenient the offer of an arm is for monkeys that have claws and experience scrambling up trees. It's just a shame that it's not so useful for a three-inch tall MK.

"I don't have all day, bud."

He knows Monkey King is just teasing. Knows his mentor always makes comments like that.

But it's terrifying now that MK could be swatted like a fly, or left on his own if his mentor decided to get lunch without having to share with his shrunk successor.

Now that thought spurs him to leap up and grab onto the sleeve. It's almost uncomfortable how bulky the fabric is, almost two thick to grab onto securely enough.

But he got it! And now is...currently dangling a good two inches off the ground unable to do anything else.

"A little h-help, please?"

MK doesn't know if the amused look that's broadcasted is good or bad. He wants to say good because that means no more monkey mischief.

But nothing could've prepared him for the feeling of being yanked into the air, an action that happens so quickly he nearly loses his grip on the sleeve. His vision swims and he can only curse vertigo for making it seem as if he had lost his grasp.

And then MK nearly does let go. His arms feel like jelly as he gazes at the growing distance between him and the ground, no safety net provided in the circumstance he falls. The ground feels miles below, and as comforting the fact he's invincible is, he doesn't want to learn what falling from that height and surviving feels like.

MK clenches his eyes shut as the fabric bunched within his arms suddenly pulls taut, his fingers slipping from the thread. And then he really is falling.

The howl of wind tears aside his screams, chest heaving as he lands on something soft only a beat later. He scrambles to figure out where he is before tripping forward as the ground beneath him moves. He might've hated being so exposed on dirt, but at least that stayed still.

MK's arms flail, desperate to make contact with the nearest stable object. What he doesn't expect is said object to be a soft bundle of what suspiciously looks like Monkey King's fur.

Before the dots can connect, the sky darkens as a shadow moves over him, the sleeve MK had previously been clinging to disappearing from view.

...he's on Monkey King's head.

Okay, okay. He can do this. He's ridden Monkey King's cloud for Heaven's sake, soared hundreds of miles above the actual unaltered ground. Who's to say this won't be just like that?

With fur bundled tightly within his grasp, MK forces his eyes shut. He doesn't want to look at the fall that still awaits him.

You're invincible. You're invincible. Monkey King made you invincible-

Monkey King takes a step and MK can't do this.

"STOP!"

MK's designated mode of transportation leaps a solid foot in the air and MK screams, terrified. His strangled grasp on Monkey King's fur may offer safety from the ground, but it's useless in preventing whiplash.

"Sheesh bud," Monkey King scolds, like it's MK's fault that the giant moved too fast. "You're gonna destroy my eardrums at this rate!"

"S-Slower-!" MK pleads, voice much softer if only to appease the one person responsible for his safety. "Just go slower!"

He can practically feel his mentor's pouting about being told to go slower. Still, the giant complies. The only issue is that while his mentor might be going slower, the footsteps are certainly heavier. He's nearly thrown against a flicking ear as the giant makes his way back into the hut, but at least MK isn't thrown off.

Okay, yeah, yeah. MK can do this.

"Uh, Monkey King?"

The head below his feet bobs and MK curses his mentor's naturally exaggerated reactions.

"Hm?"

"I'm not hurting you, right?"

"Pfft," the giant shrugs and oh wow, that should not feel like an earthquake. "Just like havin' a couple fleas in your fur."

That's fun. Everyone likes being compared to a flea.

"Of course of all people, you'd know."

Monkey King's head snaps to greet the new voice, and MK's scream is very manly, thank you.

"Not you," his mentor groans. As if said moment of surprise hadn't almost just caused MK to fall.

"Uh, yes me," Macaque's grin is vicious and smug as per usual. MK nearly flinches at the fangs at least double his size being displayed, a nervous chant falling from his throat that the daggers aren't meant for him. Like a switch the demon's grin falls, eyes narrowing onto MK's best attempt at cowering behind Monkey King's tangled fur.

It didn't take a genius to understand the situation at hand. Still, Macaque dares to ask.

"Wukong." It's spoken cautiously, far too gentle in comparison to how Macaque usually speaks. It's terrifying.

"Macaque." Harsher, with a rumble in it that shakes MK's core.

Nevermind, that's more terrifying.

"Why's the kid sitting in your fur?"

"Bonding time."

A weak excuse, MK thinks miserably.

"Bonding time?"

"And uh, y'know, protection! He's the safest when he's with me!"

There are a lot of ways to describe MK's state of mind. "Safe" is not one of them. His hands have long abandoned their hold on Monkey King's fur, now clasped at his ears in the hopes to get rid of the booming voices.

Macaque makes an odd hissing noise, not unlike that of an angry cat. Or a spider. And there better be neither. "Stop yelling."

The head beneath MK's shoes jostles once before it falls unnaturally still, patches of fur not far from his position dented as large, tan fingers hold it still. "You're gonna destroy both of our eardrums."

For a moment, MK sits mesmerized by the piece of sun that'd managed to sneak into his mentor's house, a bright yellow orb lifting from Monkey King's forehead to greet him. Ah, nope, nope, nope.

That's Macaque's eye. "H-Holy shit-"

"Sorry, kiddo," the shadow murmurs, totally unapologetic with the smirk in his voice. "How'd you get yourself into this one?"

Weakly, "Mystic Monkey B-Business?"

"Shoulda known," Macaque mutters, rolling his eyes. "Classic Wukong, can't teach for the life of him."

"Hey!" Monkey King protests, albeit much quieter than before. MK can't help but sigh with relief. "I'm perfect at teaching."

"...maybe we could work on that a little bit?"

Much to MK's terror, Monkey King's head rears back.

He can barely hear his mentor's iconic "psh" as MK scrambles to grab onto literally anything to keep himself from falling. A hand grabs at fur while the other pinches at skin, a gasp jolting through his chest when it feels like gravity will finally win and throw him to the ground.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him levels out and he lands on his stomach hard enough for his lungs to heave with how heavily he exhales. And then the mountain he stands on drops.

"Do not do that," Macaque growls, a warning that MK swears both he and his mentor will listen to. MK's limbs tremble as he looks up to see the shadow had forced Monkey King to sit down, hands on the giant's shoulders to keep him on the couch. "You will hurt him if you do something careless like that again."

"He's fine."

There's a long moment of silence until Macaque sits down as well, crossing his arms before pretending to feign interest in his claws.

Monkey King bristles, the fur around MK suddenly puffing out. "What are you doing?"

"Ensuring you don't traumatize your successor."

MK can't help but sigh in relief at the promise of someone capable of keeping Monkey King in one spot sticking around. He offers a gentle pat against his mentor's skull, one he's almost certain has barely any weight behind it. "Wh-What's one more 'mentor'?"

"...fine."

Oh thank the Heavens-

"But do you really have to hover the whole time?"

"Duh," Macaque snarks. "Least till MK's back to normal."

Monkey King’s head moves once more, presumably to glare at Macaque making himself cozy on the opposite end of the couch. “Overprotective,” his mentor mutters.

Even from atop his mentor's head MK barely picks up on the uttered comment, praying that Macaque had been far enough away to not pick up on the taunt. He really needs all the help he can get right now and two angry, giant monkeys would not be ideal.

Much to MK's panic, it seems Macaque did hear it, the demon's ears flicking toward monkey King before they flatten against his head in clear disdain. Yeah, he definitely heard that one.

But Macaque doesn't move to tear the other's throat out. A small win for a small MK.

"Well, if you're hoping to be a storm cloud raining on my day," Monkey King huffs. "How about a little bit of grooming, bud?"

It takes a moment for MK to realize that he was the implied party to start grooming. Red rushes to his face, embarrassed because why on earth did he think Monkey King would ask Macaque for help?

He glances at the dark-furred monkey, uncertainty a stone in his stomach over the curious expression that greets him. In an instant MK can already tell that Macaque understands his plight. "Wha'? Don't know how to groom, kid?"

MK quickly shakes his head. "No! I-I mean yes, of course I know how to groom!"

He just never thought a flea itself could do it. But...he can do this. It can't be that hard, right? He already had experienced grabbing onto clumped fur from today's "adventure", surely he can maneuver it enough to methodically groom.

He slowly manages to make his way through the sea of auburn, stopping only whenever he sees a knot he can untangle. The task's actually quite calming, if he's being honest. Who knew small hands would finally be helpful in something; if not climbing sleeves then in appeasing Monkey King through grooming. It only takes about five minutes to untangle the knot before he's moving onto another bundle of fur.

Okay, yeah, MK could get used to this. Piece of cake.

That is, until Monkey King growls. It's a scary thing, a loud rumble that vibrates the fur MK had been combing his hands through. If the sound weren't so paralyzing, he might've laughed over his mentor getting angry, probably over something small Macaque did.

At least until the body beneath him moves. It's not a violent jostle, like how a shake of the head had felt or how a careless shrug of shoulders could toss MK like a ragdoll. It feels more like he'd just sat down in a massage chair.

Macaque's voice acts like a balm to his panic; collected and a fraction louder than Monkey King's rumble. MK still frowns; either Macaque had gotten suspiciously good at ignoring the other's growl or he didn't feel threatened whilst a hostage was in the room.

"Relax, kiddo. What's the hold-up?"

"Why-" MK shrinks at how small his voice sounds. "Why is Monkey King growling?"

Macaque blinks, eyebrows furrowed in what MK can assume is confusion. A wave of bewilderment over something flickers in those yellow eyes before it warps into pure amusement.

"Wukong's not growling. He's purring."

Right, right. That makes total sense; no big deal or anything. Monkey King's just...purring.

"What?"

Monkeys aren't supposed to purr! Er, they aren't really supposed to talk either, but MK can't even fathom the possibility that their vocal cords are capable of producing such a sound in the first place.

Celestial primates work a touch different than normal primates, sure, but purring? Purring?

"Macaque?"

"Hm?"

"...do you also-?"

"Don't push it, bud."

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