Great Sage, Equal to Heaven and Above Brockton Sakadāgāmi 2.01

We shall now tell you about Pilgrim Sun, who asked Tripitaka to mount his horse. He himself, stark naked, carried the luggage on his back and led the way. In a little while, as they were passing the Mountain of Two Frontiers, they saw a fierce tiger approaching, growling and waving its tail. Tripitaka, sitting on his horse, became alarmed, but Pilgrim, walking at the side of the road, was delighted. “Don’t be afraid, Master,” he said, “for he’s here to present me with some clothes.” He put down the luggage and took a tiny needle out of his ears. One wave of it facing the wind, and it became an iron rod with the thickness of a rice bowl. He held it in his hands and laughed, saying, “I haven’t used this treasure for over five hundred years! Today I’m taking it out to bag a little garment for myself.” 

Look at him! He strode right up to the tiger, crying, “Cursed beast! Where do you think you’re going?” Crouching low, the tiger lay prone on the dust and dared not move. Pilgrim Sun aimed the rod at its head, and one stroke caused its brain to burst out like ten thousand red petals of peach blossoms, and the teeth to fly out like so many pieces of white jade. So terrified was our Chen Xuanzang that he fell off his horse. “O God! O God!” he cried, biting his fingers. “When Guardian Liu overcame that striped tiger the other day, he had to do battle with him for almost half a day. But without even fighting today, Sun Wukong reduces the tiger to pulp with one blow of his rod. How true is the saying, ‘For the strong, there’s always someone stronger!’” 

“Master,” said Pilgrim as he returned dragging the tiger, “sit down for awhile, and wait till I have stripped him of his clothes. When I put them on, we’ll start off again.” “Where does he have any clothes?” asked Tripitaka. “Don’t mind me, Master,” said Pilgrim, “I have my own plan.” Dear Monkey King! He pulled off one strand of hair and blew a mouthful of magic breath onto it, crying, “Change!” It changed into a sharp, curved knife, with which he ripped open the tiger’s chest. Slitting the skin straight down, he then ripped it off in one piece. He chopped away the paws and the head, cutting the skin into one square piece. He picked it up and tried it for size, and then said, “It’s a bit too large; one piece can be made into two.” He took the knife and cut it again into two pieces; he put one of these away and wrapped the other around his waist. Ripping off a strand of rattan from the side of the road, he firmly tied on this covering for the lower part of his body. “Master,” he said, “let’s go! Let’s go! When we reach someone’s house, we will have sufficient time to borrow some threads and a needle to sew this up.”

• Journey to the West, chapter 14

-x-

“Hurry up, you fucks!”

Kei ushered his friends into the room while he kept an eye out behind them. Once the last of them passed the door, he slammed it shut. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he leaned against the worn door and glanced at the ceiling. The windows were shut, boarded up even, but he didn’t dare to tell anyone to remove them. Not even the barely functioning lightbulb was on, and he wanted it to stay that way. The others shuffled around in the darkness, their labored breaths echoing in the room.

Too loud, too loud. 

“Um-”

A dull smack cut off whatever the idiot was about to spew. Kei gritted his teeth and felt his blood kick into high gear as it rushed down his veins. They couldn’t afford one screw-up.

He pressed his ear to the door, and he heard everyone take a collective breath. No sound came. A minute passed and he allowed himself to speak again. “How much did we grab?”

Someone unzipped the bag - god, why did it sound like a chainsaw!? - and dug inside it. “We got the emeralds and the jade - wait, I think it’s the sapphire.”

Fucker, we needed to grab the jade! Kei almost roared, but swallowed down his rage and nodded, despite knowing no one could properly see him, or anyone else in the room. “And the cash?”

“...maybe? Let me get the flashlight-”

“No!” he hissed, in tandem with the collective inhale of his associates. “No, just…leave it. Once we’re back home, we’ll do a proper count. At least we’ll have something to show Lee.”

“You think he’ll accept it?” one whispered. Kei bit his lip, unwilling and unable to provide an answer. Since Lung got his ass whooped and his beatdown was spread across the internet, the ABB was running around like headless chickens trying to retain their turf from the Empire and every gang seeking to profit off their shame. If that wasn’t bad enough, dissension was quick to follow, with one captain splitting from the ABB and forming his own gang. 

It didn’t take a professor to know their days were numbered. Lung’s presence protected the ABB from itself as much as the other gangs. With him gone, it was only a matter of time before the gang would break into factions and devour itself.

They were on the verge of losing everything when the captains were summoned via text to one of the older hideouts, including Kei, the youngest among them. Much to their surprise, Oni Lee stood in the middle of the room, holding a burlap sack. Kei thought he hightailed it out of the city the moment their leader was kicked to the curb. 

Whatever questions the captains had were silenced when Lee tossed a severed head out of the sack: the traitor captain’s. His rictus was forever frozen, with eyes wide and a hanging jaw. His left side was completely melted, exposing the skull underneath. As the captains gazed in terror, Lee said one thing:

“The dragon lives. He will return to reclaim his kingdom. His army must wait and persevere. All traitors will perish by his hand or mine.”

Needless to say, anyone with funny ideas got the message. 

But while the ABB survived an internal fracture, that did little to stop the encroachment of the other gangs and the PRT. The other captains lost chunks of territory or had to straight-up abandon them. Thankfully, the heat died down and the criminals of Brockton Bay reduced the intensity of their attacks, enough for ABB crews like Kei’s to return to their usual routine…on a lesser scale. Brothels and tax collection were done under the table. Acquiring new turf and open crime were a no-go unless they got an OK from Lee.

Like this heist they just pulled: valuable gems in a low-security store with some bonus cash on the side. Grab in, get the goods, get the fuck out, lay low. Oni Lee’s happy, the boys get a cut, and they go home for food and bitches.

It went down like clockwork -

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Until he came.

The room became so silent that Kei could hear himself sweat. Eyes trailed to the door behind him. He slowly looked down and saw a shadow blotting out the light beneath the door. Through the musty darkness, Kei saw one guy’s knees buckle and another snap to his semi-auto.

Casually munching on a bag of party-sized ranch nachos. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

They all wanted to bolt or go guns blazing. Kei channeled all of his ‘shut-your-fuckholes-or-we-die’ energy into his stare and prayed that his idiot crew would get the message. 

Desperation birthed speed, and Kei thought his legs would fall off from how fast they carried him. One of them had an actual good idea and they ditched the van midway, carrying all but one of the goods.

When they reached the hideout and locked the door, Kei honestly thought he’d lost him.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck his past self and his drug-addled fantasies.

Silence. No further knock came from behind the door. The guys stared at him, completely lost on what to do. Kei wanted to scream at them, to rave about how screwed they were, when he noticed something beneath his feet.

The shadow below the door…had completely vanished.

And a deep inhale rang in his ears.

Fuck me sideways.

Kei flung himself forward right as a tearing sound and light flooded the room. He kissed the ground hard, but he righted himself up and felt his stomach drop to the deepest pits of hell.

For standing there, holding a door by the side with one hand like a twig, was Sun fucking Wukong, and positively happy to boot.

“Salutations, bottom-feeders! I am here to liberate the ill-gotten spoils of your burglary!” 

The fucking monkey stood there, chip bag in one hand and door in the other, with a fang-filled grin on his face. 

“I’d hoped we could discuss the acquisition of your misplaced wealth in a civilized manner, but you displayed such rudeness when I called out to you! This Old Sun’s honor was gravely wounded by your insult!”

He pitched his head back and dunked a heap of nachos into his mouth. The crunches sounded like the cocking of a thousand guns aimed right between their eyes. Or a countdown clock.

“An offer of peaceful negotiation was on my mind’s table, but even monkeys must respect schedules and I have an appointment to keep.” He swallowed and licked his lips. “That being said, recompense of honor is owed to the poor jeweller and me, so…”

He tossed the bag aside and leaned forward, red eyes glinting and his smile growing a tad too wide. For the first time in years, a certain thought voiced itself in Kei’s mind:

Maybe the ABB isn’t worth it.

“Please resist.”

-x-

Sun Wukong whistled a merry tune as he walked down the street. His tail swished back and forth, and he breathed in the morning air. 

‘The sun is shining, the sparrows are singing their dulcet tunes, and the moans of reprobates tickle my ears!’ he thought. ‘Oh, what a wonderful day!’

He hadn’t planned on knocking some manners into the local ruffians; they just had the unfortunate luck to encounter him as he tried a new flavor of nachos. The sheer variety of flavors offered…’twas more intoxicating than incense.

‘This ‘ranch flavor’ was not of the spicy variety. Tingly and laden with herbs, with a strong dash of garlic. And the kind vendor said there was even a ‘ranch’ sauce! Ooh, I must try that.’

Regardless of his continued appreciation for Meiguo cuisine, Wukong knew he wouldn’t be a proper Monkey King if he allowed those ruffians to go about as they pleased. Robbing the poor people of their livelihoods, shame on them! Yet he was also a magnanimous king, and offered them a chance to lay down their arms and apologize to the jeweller when he returned from his meal.

Fortunately, they refused. 

Chuckling, he shook his head in fondness. ‘Ah, Master Tang would lecture me on compassion and showing mercy to misguided souls like them. Alas, when your opponent is of an unpleasant disposition, it is proven that the gentle palm’s lesson lasts for a year. The lesson of the iron fist lasts for a lifetime.’

Wukong paused, contemplating the overzealousness of his punishment on clearly weaker beings before shrugging. That was then, this is now!

A few mortals nodded at him as he strolled by, with one eager child waving and calling out his name. His parents pulled him back, but there was no fear in their eyes when they glanced at him, only caution. As a parent should.

‘It speaks much of the people that they do not flee in my presence, or deny it to their children,’ he thought, glancing at a faded poster for some strange thing called ‘insurance’. ‘My poor heart couldn’t bear it if I could not entertain young Thao and his band of cubs. Buddha knows the unpleasant attention this Old Sun brought upon their lives.’

“Halt!”

Speaking of unpleasant attention…

He turned around to the police officer who shouted those words. Wukong thought the city watch’s uniforms were funny. Blue as the summer sky and strewn with pockets and baubles. Not even a hint of armor; how would they defend themselves?

The man grabbed a box next to his breast and spoke into it, while his other hand held the strange thunder weapon the Meiguo folk favored. “Dispatch, this is Officer Jenkins. I have eyes on the villain Sun Wukong. Requesting PRT backup immediately-” 

Wukong huffed as the man kept jabbering. It was a repeating occurrence since the school incident a week before. The police regularly tried to stop him when he was doing no harm or enjoying his day. Apparently, the higher powers didn’t take kindly to the rescue of a wounded girl. Called it ‘kidnapping’, ‘property damage’ and other nonsensical words. The nerve! The Celestial Court could craft better trumped-up charges by spilling ink!

Without waiting for his tirade to finish, the Monkey King leaped into the air. He bounded across the rooftops, determined to avoid any further confrontation. 

‘I wouldn’t mind giving them a good verbal thrashing, but this Old Sun swore to Peizhi-xiansheng he wouldn’t disturb the law enforcement too much.’ He stopped on another roof and surveyed the street below. ‘Besides, as amusing as it would have been to mess with him, I have an appointment to keep. Let it not be said that Sun Wukong is a tardy monkey!’

Jumping from the roof and landing on the street, Wukong turned to the shop behind him and opened the door. He took a moment to appreciate the colors and scents of cloth and yarn before the owner’s voice cried out from behind the counter: “Hold your horses, I’m right -” She rose and turned around, before her eyes widened. “Oh, it’s you.”

Wukong grinned and curtsied to the old woman. “A fine morn to you, seamstress Xiuying!”

Xiuying huffed a lock of hair from her face and sent him a flat glare. “Close the door. Did anyone see you come in? I don’t want the cops tearing through my merchandise.”

“You wound me, my lady!” he gasped, clutching his breast as though mortally struck. His tail reached out and pushed the door closed. “I am the pinnacle of stealth, a whisper in the wind! Have you no faith in this Old Sun?”

“And what happened at that school is your stellar example?” she shot back, her aged eyes narrowing at him. “If that’s what you call the pinnacle of stealth, then my nainai lying in her grave is square dancing!”

He shrugged. “Fair, but there were…extenuating circumstances behind that incident.”

Xiuying snorted, not at all convinced. She held her gaze for a few seconds before sighing. “Just watch where you’re stepping. There are enough headaches in this city without you doing,” she waved at him. “This…whatever the hell you do.”

Wukong dipped his head in acquiescence. A sharp tongue hiding a caring heart. Such folks always spouted gems worth heeding. “I have come to care for the people here as much as you do, so do not fear.”

“We’ll see. Now, you’re here for your order, right?”

Clapping his hands, a wide grin split his face. “Oh yes! I am most eager to see your creation! I rushed over the moment Peizhi-xiansheng told me!”

“With a snack stop on the way?”

Wukong blinked. How did she know? Was she secretly in possession of mental magics?

She pointed at his face. “You left a little party on your chin.”

He ran his hand through his chin fur and sure enough, yellow crumbs stuck to his hand. Chuckling, he bowed his head. “Apologies, Lady Xiuying. I shall clean myself the moment I return.”

Xiuying huffed, then reached under the counter and pulled out a large paper box. “This was a tough one, I’ll admit it. You’re not my conventional customer, and I haven’t done a hanfu for everyday use in,” she smacked her lips. “Many, many years. Not to mention you’re gonna be doing much more than walking around town in this. But I think I managed.”

Wukong giggled and zipped up to the box. Grasping the lid, he almost tore it off. A faint gasp left his lips. “My word…”

“The curtain in the back doubles as a changing stall,” she gestured to the side room on his right. Wukong immediately dashed to the room in question and cast off his old robes, leaving only the armwraps. He put the box down and unfurled the new robes, fully taking in Xiuying’s craftsmanship.

At first glance, it was little more than a traditional shan with a youren, a right-hand lapel, yet that was where its simplicity ended. A thin line of fur lined the lapel’s edges, and along the seam, he spotted a familiar hair strand embroidered to blend in with the rest of the seam. The fur was peculiar, and its scent did not remind him of any beast or creature he’d ever encountered. Its texture was akin to…paper, if he had to compare. How odd, yet not unwelcome.

The shan’s ebon silk almost gleamed under the artificial light, the color of kings standing prominent amidst its cluttered surroundings. Rubbing it, he marvelled at the softness of the fabric, matching that of the finest tailors of imperial courts. Layers of silk caressed his digits, thick enough to defend from the elements, yet not coarse and heavy as leather peasant garments.

‘And the threads!’ he thought, tracing the cloth with delicate fingers. ‘Multitudes of them, and each one with the exact length as its sibling! No hint of creasing or even a hint of impure yarn! This is pure silk! The good lady was not exaggerating as to her abundance! Such uniform stitching…no mortal hands could achieve this level of finesse. How did she do it?’ 

Throwing the robe around his shoulders, he put his arms through the long, wide sleeves and shook them. ‘A perfect weight balance. I feel the cloth’s presence, yet not so cumbersome as though loaded with stones.’

Wukong reached down and grabbed the next garment, a pair of baggy trousers, or ku. As he did before, Wukong basked in the near-perfect construction of the garment.  To his delight, an opening was formed at the hindquarters for his dear tail. The shan also parted a third of the way from the bottom hem to allow it greater wiggle room. The ku’s pockets were deep enough to hide a quarter of a forearm, perfect for hiding things. Donning them and rolling up the ends so they would just crest over his greaves, he turned to the accessory which would complete the set: a thick ochre sash, embroidered with white geometric patterns and lined with the same strange fur, dyed in black. Atop it was a thin belt. Naturally, they were all pure silk. 

Folding and fastening the sash and belt around his waist respectively, Wukong fixed the last touches to his new outfit. ‘Now, if I had a mirror…perhaps one of the large glass panes on the city spires will do. They’re more polished than any handmaiden’s mirror.’

He saw something glint behind him, and he swiftly turned around. Was that his reflection, peeking from beneath cluttered boxes?

Pushing them aside and letting them fall in a heap, he ignored the now-bestrewed floor as he gazed upon his full reflection, resplendent in his new robes. 

‘...perfect. Beyond my wildest expectations.’

It wasn’t just the visual flourishes, like the open collarbone. There was no chafe or itch, nor were there signs of patched-together scraps dyed to appear uniform. No, the whole of the shanku were woven from only three rolls of the finest silk he beheld upon the Earth; one for each component of the shanku themselves, and the one for the accessories. Evenly weighted, fitting his size with no needless sag or wrinkling, and layered thick enough to give some padding.

Unbelievable.

His form trembled. The corners of his lips curved higher and higher.

“Oi, you okay back there?” Xiuying called out. “If you need help, just say it! I don’t want you wrecking my closet like some -”

Wukong threw his head back and bellowed out a peal of laughter. He couldn’t help himself, it was too much. Here he was, garbed in a robe that would draw the envy of the heavens themselves, worthy of being an imperial heirloom. And the dear lady’s concern was that he didn’t know how to dress himself.

“Oh, joy of joys! How blessed is this Old Sun, to clad himself in such raiments! Mistress Xiuying, your efforts have exceeded my wildest hopes!”

“Eh?” she asked in bewilderment, which only made his laughter grow. “Well, come out here and let me get an eyeful! And quit the cackling while you’re at it!”

He slapped his knee and walked out of the back room, his laughter slowly receding. Xiuying scanned him and down, her narrow eyes boring in on every fold and detail.

“Hm, not bad.”

A guffaw lurched from his mouth. “‘Not bad?’ You mortals and your humility! Acknowledging a successful creation is no shame, and ‘successful’ is the least I can call this!” he said, gesturing to the robe.

“Bah!” she waved him off. “If I got excited over every little victory, I wouldn’t bother sewing clothes. There’s always room for improvement.” She paced around him, occasionally prodding and pulling the silk. “But I’ll admit, you have some nice design ideas. The traditional styles aren’t common these days, even for the holidays. And it’s the first time I’ve done clothes for a cape, much less one with a tail.” 

“I merely gave suggestions, dear lady; as the seamstress, you chose which ones to implement.”

Xiuying grunted and stopped before him. Crossing her arms, a glimmer of amusement shone from behind her flat stare. “Whatever you say, monkey. How does it feel around the arms? Too loose? Is the collar too tight?”

“No, no, it is perfect! Wide sleeves have plenty of uses! The youren as well, all quality!” He then gestured to the fur lining the collars. “Pray tell, what manner of beast is this?”

She blinked and her eyes widened by a fraction. “Huh, you really do know your hanfu. I haven’t heard anyone use the word youren in ages. And that’s fake fur, real ones are a pain to weave into clothes.”

Fake fur? “What do you mean by ‘fake’?”

She gave him that puzzled glance he was used to receiving by now. “It’s not from any animal, it’s fibers dyed and mixed to mimic fur. Much easier to work with and it doesn’t smell as much.”

Blinking for a moment, he didn’t stop the chuckling.

Xiuying’s eyebrow twitched. “What’s so funny now?”

He swallowed the remaining laughter and composed himself, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Nothing, just counting my blessings.”

“...Capes,” she muttered, shaking her head before looking him in the eye again. “This should keep you warm in any weather outside of a rainstorm or blizzard. If you feel sweaty under there, you can always pull open the collar. I wove the hair you gave me into the youren, so if what you said is true -”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“We’ll see,” she swiftly replied. “If you’re using a washer, then set it to delicate, and be careful with what goes in with it.”

“Washer?”

Her eyebrow twitched again, and she waved him off. “Never mind, ask Xiao Peizhi when it gets dirty. If that’s all, I’ve got other orders to deal with, so shoo! You can leave your old robes in that room, I’ll give them a look over. Don’t expect miracles, though; I’m surprised it’s still in one piece.”

She hunkered back to her desk and began writing in her notebook. Wukong paused, then shook his head, though the smile never left his face. ‘No miracles, she says. What else would you call these fine creations?’

He returned to the back room and gathered the few items left inside. Once he did, he moseyed back to the door. Stopping at the threshold, he bowed deeply to the old woman.

“Ten-thousand thanks to you, Mistress Xiuying! This Old Sun will treasure these robes for eternity hence! May the spirits above and below shield thy shop from all harm and misfortune!”

She grunted and he rose, a hand reaching for the door -

“Hey, monkey.”

He turned his head. Xiuying hadn’t raised her head, but her pen had stopped writing. “That girl from the school…is she with you and Xiao Peizhi?”

Hoh?

“Yes, she is. Part of her recent misfortune is my doing, so I’ve decided to help her.”

She raised her head, fixing him with a stare that held unknown emotions and feelings. Finally, the seamstress gave a curt nod and returned to her work. Smiling, Wukong bowed his head and left the store. 

‘A soft heart indeed. No shame is needed, clever Xiuying.’ Anticipation churning in his gut, he bounced in place. ‘Let’s see how these robes fare in my usual environment.’

He leapt to the nearest roof and began jumping around, from roof to roof to street. All the while, he watched the raiment on his body flowing with the wind. 

‘No snagging or uneven weight. Even the sash doesn’t dangle that much.’ A breeze sailed into his open collar and he shivered with delight. ‘Hah, even better! Worthy of the heavens indeed!’

After a few more minutes of jumping about, Wukong landed on the rooftop overlooking his host’s store. He would normally somersault his way down, but a few people were strolling down the street. So like any good monkey, he would honor his host’s wishes of obscurity. He transformed into a cicada in a puff of smoke and flew down. A small window was fixed above the door, cranked downward, and rather inviting. 

Flying through the window and into the shop, he beheld Peizhi lounging behind his counter, smartphone in hand and utterly focused.

One flash of gold later -

“Hello, Peizhi-xiansheng!”

The shopkeeper yelped and dropped his phone. Stumbling back, his head swerved to Wukong, who stood in his shop with open arms.

“You really should improve your awareness, my friend.”

Peizhi clutched the countertop as his labored breath slowed. “W-Wukong! Why did you do that?”

“I intended to knock on the door, but you instructed me to remain discreet regarding our friendship,” Wukong replied, scratching his chin. “The mortals outside would certainly take notice.”

Peizhi’s eyes darted to the door before they widened in realization. “Right. Yeah, good call.” He nodded. Clambering up, he dusted himself off. “Just…warn me before you pop in like that. I know you can transform.”

Wukong shrugged in acquiescence. His dear host had the nerves of a rabbit at times, but who was he to argue?

The shopkeeper moved to address him again, only for him to pause.

“Are those your new clothes?”

Wukong pulled his sleeve, showcasing it with pride. “Aren’t they magnificent? Xiuying has made this Old Sun weep with exultation over her craftsmanship.”

With careful steps, Peizhi approached him and examined the robe, eyes trailing over the fur-lined youren down to the ochre sash. His hand reached out, silently requesting permission, which Wukong granted with a nod.

A low whistle blew from his lips as he rubbed the cloth between his fingers. “I can see why she charged a thousand bucks for it. This is high-quality, even for her.”

“She has earned her pay a lifetime over, and a new loyal customer.” 

Releasing the sleeve, Peizhi leaned against the counter. Wukong sauntered into the aisles, eyeing the baubles lining the shelves. 

“A lack of customers yet again, Peizhi-xiansheng?”

He sighed. “Someone came in to buy a doll, but that’s about it. More customers come during the holidays, but slow days are common.”

“Shame. This store is quite charming.” He picked up a girl’s doll and focused on the stitches along its neck. What technique could produce such even stitching? “Was there anything interesting in your magic box?”

“Sort of. It actually concerns you.”

Wukong turned to him, the doll still in hand. “Oh?”

Peizhi snatched the phone from the counter and turned it around, prompting him to draw closer until he could make out the picture.

Ah yes, there were phones raised at the school…

“Hmph, I look ridiculous.” He snorted. “I prefer the one where I saved young Thao.” He gestured to his robes with a flourish. “Honestly, I understand why the city folk avoided me back then. A gutter vagabond when compared to this resplendent state!”

“...right. Because of the robes. Of course,” Peizhi muttered. “Well, it’s another article painting you as a clear-cut villain. They claim you assaulted students with no remorse and that the PRT should lock you up before any more innocent children get hurt.”

Scoffing, Wukong flippantly waved him off. “Please, I informed you there was nothing innocent about that thuggish girl. I am well acquainted with your police’s efforts to catch me; they will stumble and sink as the rest did.”

His host paled. “Wait, don’t tell me you -”

“No, I keep my word. I avoided any altercations.” He stared at the ceiling and giggled. “Honestly, I find their frustration more amusing than any notion of fighting them.”

“...oh. That-that’s good.” Peizhi’s eyes flickered to the window before biting his lip. A relaxed silence descended upon them as Wukong examined the threads on his new robes.

“How is young Taylor doing?”

Peizhi’s eyes flickered to the stairs. “She’s still upstairs doing those exercises you told her.”

Wukong perked up. “Excellent! I shall show her my new raiments! Any master must look good before his disciple.” He removed himself from the counter and dipped his head. “Thank you for the compliments.”

He bade to leave -

“Um, Wukong?”

“Hm? Yes?”

Alternating between him and the stairs, Peizhi tapped his fingers as uncertainty marred his features. “Taylor…she’s not going home?”

‘Ah. Yes, that is a good question.’

“...she hasn’t expressed a desire to return so far,” Wukong replied, crossing his arms. “And I have concerns of my own. It is no secret I rushed to defend her; you’ve shown me more than one image. This Old Sun fears for her safety should she venture out untrained. For now, she stays with me, but I will ask her opinion nonetheless.”

“That’s…okay, you have a point. I still can’t believe a Ward bullied her; no wonder she doesn’t feel safe.” The shopkeeper grimaced. “But…she’s staying here then?”

Wukong tilted his head. “Where else?”

Peizhi rubbed his neck, and whatever words he wished to speak chained his tongue. 

“What troubles you, dear friend?” the Monkey King asked, leaning closer.

“It’s just…well, I’ve actually wanted to talk about this before, but I never had the chance to bring it up…” he swallowed and his gaze wavered.

A matter from before? But what could he possibly refer to? There weren’t any urgent - 

“Ah!” Wukong cried out. Peizhi grew startled as he slapped his forehead. “Of course! Forgive this Old Sun’s neglect! I should have addressed this matter sooner!”

Peizhi blinked. “You…you know?”

“I have been the most inconsiderate guest!” he exclaimed and bowed. “Here I am, bringing my problems upon your doorstep while leaving you high and dry! Did I not say I am a monkey of my word?”

“Um, yes, you said - wait, what are you referring to?”

“Your chair and cup, of course! Prized heirlooms, broken because of a fit!” 

Peizhi paused, open-mouthed. Any wider and a fly would claim it as a new home. 

“My…chair and cup?”

“Do not blame young Taylor for their damage; she had undergone harrowing tribulations and her emotions were unbalanced.”

“I-I know, I told her that, but that’s not-”

“Do not fear! As her master, I have prepared reparations!” 

Wukong reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of paper money, almost as thick as his little finger. He presented it before his honored host on both hands and lowered waist. “I know this amount is meagre compared to their value in your heart, but this should provide enough for new ones.”

…

…

“...Peizhi-xiansheng?” Wukong asked, lifting his head. Had he erred in his delivery?

Lo and behold, another impression of a fish! ‘Does Peizhi-xiansheng hail from sea folk?’

“...w-where did you get that?” he shakily pointed at the money. 

“‘Twas liberated from unworthy hands. Pockets are deep only when the soul is clean of clutter.” 

“Liberated,” he repeated. “R-right.” His head swerved back and forth between the door and Wukong. “How much is that?”

“I haven’t counted, but many are marked with the number one hundred.” Wukong rifled through the slips. “Shall I place it on your counter?”

“NO!” Peizhi shouted, hands in the air. His eyes were glued to the cash, and his lips trembled. “Um…thank you, Wukong. I appreciate your…offering. Could you put it on the…kitchen table? I want to take a look at it later.”

Wukong smiled. “Of course!” 

Finances required the utmost attention! A task suited for the study rather than a shop’s front! But the kitchen table would do in these circumstances. With that sage advice in mind, Wukong headed up the stairs.

‘As always, your wits save you again, Old Sun! To leave your host speechless with joy is one of life’s great honors!’ As he reached the second floor, Peizhi’s mumblings reached his ears. Something involving ‘hundred’, ‘where’, ‘laundering’ and ‘why me?’

Oh Peizhi-xiansheng, may your happiness remain abundant.

After leaving the money in the kitchen, Wukong headed down the hallway until he reached his room. Hearing panting on the other side of the door, he knocked thrice and switched to English, for he had spoken with Peizhi and Xiuying in Mandarin. 

“Young Taylor?”

A feminine voice squawked and seconds later, the door swung open to reveal his young disciple. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she wore a gray shirt with black pants, courtesy of Peizhi’s generosity. ‘He said the vendor told him it was for women’s exercise. Infinite blessings upon the bachelor to ask for women’s garments.’

“Master Wukong!” she exclaimed, her countenance brightening. “You’re back! I mean, you said you weren’t gonna take long.”

Chuckling, Wukong entered the room. A pile of clothes lay folded beside the mattress, and her wooden brush was placed atop them. Wukong had graciously offered his room to Taylor, much to her protests. He waved them off, of course; sleeping on rooftops unnoticed wasn’t new for him, and the night air wasn’t that chilly.

“Good to see you retain your enthusiasm, disciple. How go the exercises?”

“I was on squats before you came, but I finished the breathing exercises and the stretches.” 

Wukong nodded. “With proper rest? And plenty of water? You nearly fainted the one time I didn’t stop you.”

She looked aside with obvious embarrassment. Driven was one way to describe his errant disciple. When he started her on physical exercises, she approached them with great zeal, stopping only when he told her to. When she couldn’t complete a set of exercises, she looked torn between curling up and violently screaming. Thankfully, he calmed her down, telling her it was fine to fail, especially at this early stage. 

“To know thy body, you must learn your limits, o disciple,” he had said. “Only then can you strive to surpass them.”

Time would pass before she took his words to heart. Stubbornness was a trait Wukong was very much familiar with, and it was another word he could use to describe Taylor Hebert.

“Are those new clothes?” she asked, gesturing to his robes.

“Why, yes, they are!” he twirled around and struck a pose, his left hand gripping the golden sash while the other was splayed downward. “Tell me your opinion. Is it not the most resplendent piece of clothing on Earth?”

Taylor blinked, doing as Peizhi did and looked him up and down. “It’s…beautiful. They look like fancy versions of your old robes.”

“Much more suitable for a monkey of my status, no? Seamstress Xiuying is the most skilled mortal weaver I’ve ever seen. A shining example of her talent, these robes are. While I will miss my old ones, the old must give way to the new. Also, they were starting to itch.”

Wukong then clapped his hands. “But enough about robes. We can admire their quality later. For now, I wish to see your morning progress.” He laced his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. “Draw an arrow.”

Taylor nodded and took a wide stance. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and extended her right hand, while raising her left to her chest. His disciple then swept the extended hand and turned right, before slowly drawing it toward her heart and extending the other hand in tandem, exhaling until her right arm was cocked to her side.

“An arrow’s draw must be swift, yet haste can break the string. Steady your right hand as it draws near your chest, and maintain an equal pace for both hands. Left side.”

She did as he said, facing left and pulling with her other hand. 

“Relax your knees. The breath will release more easily with less stress. Right side.”

Lightly bending, Taylor drew the arrow again.

“Impeccable breathing, disciple. Match it to your arrow.”

He resisted the urge to giggle at Taylor’s barely hidden smile. He was reminded again of a rabbit, perking up at the scent of food. Other masters might have offered only criticism, with scarcely the slightest acknowledgement of improvement. Wukong found that kind words were as good motivators as sharp ones. He hated lashing out at his monkeys, yet even they needed discipline in training.

They repeated the exercise a few more times, along with two additional ones. The faint din of the city blended with Taylor’s breaths and his instructions, weaving into an atmosphere he’d heard only in this strange land. Unusual, but not unpleasant.

“Um, Master Wukong?”

“Yes, disciple?”

“When can we start training with my powers?”

Ah. He’d expected her to ask that question on their first day. 

“Remember what I told you when I first gave you the exercises?” he asked. Her forehead scrunched up in thought.

“...yes. First body, then mind, and last spirit?” 

“Correct. Any spiritual skill is reliant on the body and the mind. Learning the foundation of any skill is always strengthened by honing the body. It clears the mind and calms your emotions. Your powers are tied to your emotions, as Peizhi-xiansheng’s chair can attest to.” 

Another wave of embarrassment came over Taylor, and she averted her gaze. 

“It is my hope that by strengthening your core foundations, control over your powers will come more easily. Not to mention that if you intend to combat the evildoers of your city, a fit body is a minimum requirement. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, you have a point. I’m not exactly an athlete,” she said, gesturing to her arms. Her body was not spindly, but she would barely qualify for any fighting sect.

‘And there are a few things I wish to confirm before delving into her new abilities,’ he thought and activated his Golden Eyes. The shapeless golden apparition hovered above Taylor, warping and distorting space as it thrummed. Yet Wukong focused on the golden motes of light that floated around the girl, drawing closer and farther with every breath she took. ‘A peculiarity which is the result of my interference. ‘Tis better she has the physical and mental strength to withstand any unfortunate side-effects from this.’

Not to say that there were no side effects already. Her progress, even after a week, was substantial…faster than he anticipated. Not at his rate of speed during his youth, far from it; but there was a higher margin.

I wonder…

“What now?” she asked, straightening her glasses.

Eager and driven. All good traits for a disciple. Yet there was an issue he needed to address, and Peizhi was right to bring it up.

“Taylor, do you wish to speak with your father?”

Her eyes widened and he saw her body tense up. ‘I suspected as much. She hasn’t brought him up since she agreed to stay.’

Wukong walked up to Taylor and placed a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, snapping her from her stupor.

“I know that your father is a sensitive subject for you, but from what you have told this Old Sun, he does care for you. I offered you shelter here, and you are welcome to stay as long as you please. But I am sure he would cherish hearing his daughter’s voice, and to know she is well.”

She bit her lip, her brown eyes avoiding his red ones. With clenched hands, she struggled with herself for a few moments before answering.

“...I don’t even know if he’s home. The PRT might’ve gotten to him by now.”

“I will guarantee your safety no matter what. If it is discretion you desire, then no one but us will know of your meeting.” 

She blinked in confusion. “You can do that? But they’re probably holding him in their headquarters.”

“Your point?” He’d never visited the island-fortress of the PRT, but breaking in to extract her father shouldn’t be harder than sneaking through the gates of the underworld. 

“...thanks,” she replied, after closing her dropped jaw. She then rubbed her arm. “But…can we wait a little before I decide?”

Stubborn indeed. 

“As you wish.”

But there was a deeper issue here, one that he wouldn’t pry into…for now.

She gave a tiny nod of thanks as her distressed face softened. That wouldn’t do.

“So!” he exclaimed, returning his hand behind his back. “I think we should start with a stronger set of exercises. Breathing and stretches are all vital, but you must accustom your body to greater motion.”

He looked around the room, noting its small size. Perfect for sleeping and private meditation, but less so for the wider range of exercises he planned. And when the time would come for sparring, it would never suffice.

“Hm, disciple. Do you know of any place in the city suitable for training? One where we shan’t be intruded upon?”

Taylor grasped her chin and hummed. “Um, I’m not sure. I don’t really know where capes can train if they’re not with the Wards or the Protectorate. There’s the boat graveyard, but it’s the most obvious place to look for new capes.”

Ah, the scrapyard with the metal ships. ‘Plenty of room and targets…yes, rather obvious.’

“That won’t do at all!” he exclaimed. “My disciple deserves the best conditions to train in! Stay put, I shall find us a location befitting us!”

He went to the window and swung it open, allowing the noontime breeze to flow into the room. “Meditate in silence for now until I return. I won’t be long. Oh, and tell me your favored flavor of nachos.”

“Wait, nachos?”

Before she could continue, Wukong leapt out the window and back to the rooftops. He hopped again from roof to roof, trying to pinpoint any possible location. There were many houses in the city and great swaths of land; the trouble was, he didn’t know if any of them were abandoned or uninhabited. 

It still baffled him how so many mortals could live in one city, and according to Taylor, this city was on the smaller end of the scale! One city had a population of 8 million! How was that even done?

But as Wukong pondered the quandaries of absurd mortal populations, he reached the end of the district, and a peculiar sight caught his eye.

A group of thugs was engaged in a clash with another group. One group he recognized as the bald ones, belonging to the same group who threatened the dark-skinned lad on his first day. The Empire Eighty-Eight, per Peizhi’s words. Among their usual crimes, they enjoyed preying on Peizhi’s countrymen. Foolish men, to use such an auspicious number for nefarious goals, no doubt hoping its luck will bless their endeavors. Shame on them. But they were commonplace, and he’d slapped a few of them silly days hence.

It was the group fighting them that drew the majority of his attention. Smaller in number, five compared to eight, they bore the garments of the false long’s men, including horned yaksha masks tied with bandanas. But something was unusual. The way they moved: precise, sharp, silent…these were trained men, not street thugs like the ruffians from earlier.

Wukong perched on the roof and observed as the battle continued. A younger bald one drew his thunder-weapon against one of the false long’s men and fired. Wukong winced at the sound, his sensitive ears ringing. To Wukong’s surprise, no grievous wound appeared as he’d seen on other men. The masked man was very much injured, but he managed to use his own thunder-weapon to blow a hole in the bald one’s head. Only then did he collapse hard against the black road.

His Golden Eyes detected no magic or apparition power. Armor then? One that could halt thunder-weapons?

Once they beat the last one down, the remaining four brought their legs down on each of the remaining bald thugs’ arms, breaking them and leaving the thugs crying in agony. Then they deprived the thugs of whatever was in their pockets before one tucked something in the bald leader’s jacket.

Finally, the warriors, for that was their nature when compared to the bald bandits, gathered their injured comrade and climbed into a big black car before driving off. Wukong rubbed his chin, curiosity welling up in his mind. Did the sudden loss of their leader embolden them to train? If so, why had he not encountered them? Surely they would seek revenge against the humiliation of their group.

How odd. And he hadn’t even found a proper training ground yet. 

‘Never a dull day in this queer city of Brockton Bay, eh?’