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“Um… Monkey King?”
No response. Around MK, the many resident monkeys seem to have paused in their usual activities, waiting for something to happen at the mention of their king. No response again- the air is still, and despite the calm waters and gentle weather, such a response worried the protégé. The boy frowns, wondering where his master was. They were supposed to be training right now, and usually the Monkey King went out of his way to pop up in some surprising way and catch the upper hand as some part of his lesson, though today didn’t seem to be one of those days.
MK wanders the grounds of Flower Fruit Mountain, eyes darting around cautiously. Maybe he was waiting to draw out tension? Ya, that had to be it. These sacred grounds were perfect in atmosphere for learning, and it took MK a marvel of time to get there each day for training, so of course Sun Wukong, the Monkey King himself, would take advantage of the scenery to try and catch him off guard.
So, he stays at the ready, looking around and checking behind each tree, looking up and peering through the leaves. A long few minutes later and still no mentor, which has the young adult huffing.
Then it clicks. “Oh, I’m dumb! Sight of Truth!”
He closes his eyes, concentrating. He wonders idly if the Monkey King always sees in the gold tinge, or if he has to manually turn it on as well. It takes only a second- he’s getting much better at it- before his vision is consumed in a shining golden light, and he can see through each distinctive shape in the garden within his eyeline, maybe even past with some more practice. He tilts his head around until it lands on his master’s house- inside, he can see many monkey-shaped motions, one larger than the others (though still abundantly small. Really, he expected the Monkey King to be the size of Sandy, if anything; the real thing just barely scraped over MK as it was, and he was still growing, only turning twenty in a few months himself). The individuals, cloudy and unfocused, seemed to be swishing but otherwise static. MK frowns, wondering what his master was up to.
He makes his way over to the house. He’d been inside before, but only to shower after a long day of training. Whenever Wukong gave him food, they’d sit outside to eat it, the weather always somehow perfect. MK had gone in once or twice to use the washroom for other washroom-related reasons, too; but he’d only seen the living room and kitchen respectively on the way. He wondered, noting how few doors there seemed to be, if Wukong even had a bedroom. Maybe there was an underground room he slept in?
A bit wary of simply entering a house that wasn’t his, especially of someone so esteemed, he knocks before sticking his head inside. “Uhhh… Monkey King? We still training today?”
He can hear a scuffling sound in the living room screech to a halt. Then, his master responds, sounding somewhat flustered; “Uh- yeah Buddy, just- come on in, I’m in the TV room!”
TV Room? Oh, MK blinks, realizing that the Monkey King meant the living room. Odd to think he didn’t call it that, but the boy lets himself in anyway, closing the door behind him somewhat gently before making his way towards the sounds of scratching.
He blinks at the chaos that the room had become upon entry.
A bookshelf he knew should have been neatly lined up along the wall was toppled over; couch cushions were tossed amok, strewn each and every way even in their few numbers, and a blanket was crumpled depressingly at the door entryway. A few gewgaws that were likely priceless artifacts despite their somewhat hazardous placement were also tossed carelessly on the floor, a show of purposeful disorganization that didn’t feel right to MK, and his concern grew with each new displaced material he observed. The delivery boy frowns, leaning down to pick up the blanket closest to him from the ground, folding it instinctively as he asks, “Monkey King? What... happened?”
The man sticks his head up from the couch, which was facing away from MK. He turns until he spots him, and MK doesn’t miss the quickly dismissed look of frustration on the older man’s face. “Kid!” The monkey greets, sounding pleased to see him. MK would be fooled, if not for the slight flicker of the man’s tail, barely visible from where it stood just over the eyeline of the couch backing. “Good thing you’re here. We’re still training, I promise. And you can start by helping me find my TV remote.”
MK holds the now-folded and ridiculously soft blanket in his hands gingerly, thumbing the fabric as he thinks of a way to respond. “Your… TV remote?”
Wukong disappears behind the couch once again. The digging resumes, a tail striking the air in disarray. “Ahhhhyep. I can’t find it anywhere. I wanna record the new episode of Gossip Gals but I can’t without it. Let me know if you see it anywhere, okay?”
Gossip Gals? MK has to hold a hand over his face so the Monkey doesn’t turn around suddenly and catch sight of his grin. Not even Mei liked that show- said it was ridiculously scripted, and that the drama was all fabricated and too romance-based. But Monkey King liked it?
Well. He wasn’t judging, just… caught off guard. He chokes down his grin and places the blanket in the open rack that it’s meant to go on before walking around the couch to get a better look. As he expected, there wasn’t a cushion left on the sofa, and it looked like Wukong was feeling around the couch lining as though the remote had fallen in there somehow. MK could see a tear near where the man’s hands were, so he supposed it was possible. After another moment of digging, tongue out in concentration, he pulls his hand out of the couch from a second slit and inspects the object he’d pulled out with a, “Aha!” which was broken off into an “Oh,” when he realized what he was holding was decidedly not the TV remote but rather, a pair of sunglasses with green lining and a golden inscription on each side.
After a moment, he places them over his face and shows them off to MK with a grin. “I lost these soooo long ago. I’m surprised they’re not cracked after the amount of times I’ve flopped down on this couch right above them,” he laughs, taking it off his face and admiring it with a pout. “Have you seen my remote, Glasses?”
In a half-lidded voice, the Great Sage Equal To Heaven shakes the glasses and says in the way of them, “Haven’t seen ‘em down in the sofa, Dear Wukong, but keep looking!”
The Monkey King frowns at the object, then sighs, placing it on the table at the foot of the couch and returning the search while MK stares dumbly between the eyewear and the living room reckoning. “Uh,” he says intelligently, unable to conjure words after watching his idol and mentor talk to a pair of sunglasses with a puppet voice. He blinks a few times, then does his best to keep his stupor (and amusement) out of his voice when he next speaks. “Um… Master? I gotta ask, if you uh, checked with your monkeys? They might have… seen it,” he says, trailing off from his intended taken it when a monkey on a close bookshelf gave him a glare.
The Monkey King shakes his head. “I checked with them. Besides, they come with me everywhere around here and would have seen if I put it down somewh- wait. Wait,” he freezes, then flips off the couch masterfully and zips down the hallway. It's a matter of seconds later when he returns with the remote in his hands, looking both relieved and irked.
“Oh, you found it,” MK awkwardly notes, trying to be encouraging. He’s not sure if it works. “Where was it?”
His mentor rests it on the table and surveys his messy living room. Books were tossed around, the couch’s cushions were astray and some toppled to the floor, and even the TV had been pulled out to see if the remote had somehow ended up behind it.
He sighs. “In the washroom.”
“... Oh.”
Wukong rubs at his temples. “Take note, kid. Be aware of what you’re holding. You shouldn’t be learning from me how to misplace things. Rather, how to find them- retrace your steps! Or just don’t lose the thing in the first place. Focus, you know?”
“Oh, you mean, that thing you told me you were a master of?” MK can’t help but mention, biting off a smirk.
The monkey pouts, and MK gives in, unable to stop the smile from plastering itself onto his face.
With the lost TV remote found (and the Monkey King’s living room tidied), training begins.
“Impulsivity,” says the Monkey King in a booming voice, “is a formidable force. It’s a battle you have to fight against yourself. It’s a voice that will carry you further than your legs and might even lead you off a cliff. You with me, Kid?”
MK nods. He does his best to pay attention, stance ready and heart fully in it, but he can’t help but pick away at the thought of irony such a lesson held. After all, they had spent the better half of the morning looking for a TV remote… plus, at least to MK’s knowledge (which was fairly vast on this one particular topic), the Monkey King was commonly known as the ‘God of Impulsivity’. He recalls telling Pigsy about it several times, recounting the many stories over and over with rigor, distracting him from work but somehow managing to keep Pigsy’s eyes soft as he explained the many different situations that Sun Wukong managed to get himself into for jumping headfirst into battles.
He has to mention it. “And you… can control this?”
The Monkey King raises an eyebrow. “Uhh, yeah. Why do you sound surprised that this is the lesson for today? It can't be blocking and mystic training every day, kid.”
“N-No, I know! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
The monkey puckers a lip in distrust. “You were thinking about the legends behind my own impulsive nature, huh?”
MK flushes and digs at the ground with his toe. Wukong rolls his eyes before marching closer and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Here’s the thing, Kid. While I am incredibly proud of some of the things that I accomplished by acting impulsively, some of which were, if I do say so myself, too funny to regret- they’re what got me into so many sticky situations. For instance, I once peed on the great Buddha’s hand,” he says with a giggle, “which, honestly, I’m proud to see kept in majority of the Monkey King adaptations that have floated around along the years. I didn’t think about the consequences, though. I got a mountain tossed on top of me for 500 years because of that little stunt. Believe me when I say it’s something I wouldn’t wish on another living soul.”
MK tilts his head. “But didn’t you slice a mountain in half and lock the Demon Bull King in between the plates-”
“In between. Not the same thing as under.”
MK raises an eyebrow, unsure of what the logistical difference really meant in the fundamental long run, and the Monkey King sighs. “Look, my point is if you don’t manage to recognize what your impulses look like on you and how to assess them properly, including the potential consequences, it’ll come back to bite you. Such as, say… bringing a remote with you into the washroom during a commercial break and then forgetting it in there, leaving you scouring for it the next day when you have a guest over.”
MK smirks. “Riiight.”
“Right. So, that’s what we’re doing for today. Now, are you ready?”
MK supposes that makes sense. He’s aware of the stories acutely, after all, and though he wasn’t sure the truth of them all and was certain majority of the consequences were left out of what was public knowledge- he could see how each impulsive act had repercussions, some good and some bad, with many affecting the people around him as well. MK didn’t want anybody to get hurt because he didn’t take the time to learn how to do better. He was rather impulsive himself, he knew; he’d climbed up into the rafters above a demon family, not fully comprehending that if he didn’t have the powers of the Monkey King, they’d have killed him the second he was caught.
So, with a deep breath and an air of new understanding, he nods. The Monkey King smiles. “Good. Because I’m gonna show you something.”
Wukong leads him to a clearing. In the center is a bag of dried peach chips. MK raises an eyebrow as Wukong sits cross-legged on the grass and stares blankly at it.
After a few moments of silence, MK has to ask. “Uh… what are you doing?”
Wukong spins around, smirking at him and poking at his chest. “There, right there! What you just asked.”
MK raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the finger jab. “Huh?”
“You knew I was going to explain, but you didn’t want to wait for it. You wanted answers, so you asked, but you knew you were going to get them one way or another. That, then, is the impulsivity in you. The need to get something right away, even when you’re sure you’ll get it with just a little bit of patience.”
The kid’s eyes widen. “I… it is? I didn’t…”
“Mean to do it? Realize you were doing it? Expect to do it?”
MK nods. The Monkey King smiles widely. “Exactly. You won't be prepared for it, but you’ll be even less prepared to identify it. Which is why you need to work on conjuring the need so you can better understand it before you can seek to control it.”
With that, the monkey lowers himself back down to the floor, sat once again across from the bag of dried peach chips. He stares at it intensely, and this time, MK makes sure to not ask what he’s doing- instead, he feels his fingers itch, his jaw clench, his heart flutter as he realizes just how badly he wants to ask. All he can see is the Monkey King sitting in the grass across from a snack food. Why weren’t they training? Was this the training?
His eyes go wide. “Oooooh. Oh, I get it! I’m figuring out just how impulsivity feels when it’s restrained, aren’t I? Because I really wanna ask, but I know I can't, and I know you’re gonna tell me but you still haven't?”
Wukong smiles softly. “Partly. See, that tug inside your body to do things you know should be done slower, or more carefully, or not at all- it’s something I’ve felt from the moment I was born from celestial stone. Impulsivity is in my nature, I guess. Apparently, other people feel it on a need-by basis, but for me, everything I do is a-a distracting tug, something nipping at the back of my mind or driving me to act without thinking of the consequences. It took me a long time to train myself to withdraw the mind.”
He peers up at MK. “I’m hoping it won't take you as long.”
After a moment of consideration, MK’s mouth drops. “Wait, then- you didn’t lose your remote this morning at all, did you? That was just to show me the repercussions, the- the consequences of acting without considering?”
Wukong blinks at him for a moment before scratching his chin. “Uh… yeah…”
The delivery boy’s eyes widen, sparkling in admiration. Wukong stares for a moment before turning his head away, a soft smile there. Gently, he pats the grass beside him, and the boy takes a seat. He points at the bag once MK is settled. “You see, I need to eat an actual meal for lunch. I can’t just eat that bag of chips, or at least, not every night. I want to, though, and I want nothing more than to grab that bag and rip it open and eat the whole thing in one sitting like a couch potato but instead, I’m demonstrating a physicalization of self-restraint. It’s not telling yourself no; it’s issuing to your mind greater importance of what will happen next. For instance,” he waves a hand, “my appetite will be spoiled, I’ll probably get a stomach ache, might get hungry at night and then require more chips and then run low on chips and need to run to the store for groceries, could get annoying and fast, you catch my drift?”
MK nods slowly. “I… think so? So, for you, it’s about recognizing the urge to be impulsive, and mediating with yourself over it.”
“It might not be the same for you. But, if it is, it’ll take practice. I want you to practice this and see how it turns out for you, even at the shop or in your own place. It’s a battle of the mind, after all. You can take that to go.”
“Right… I’ll do my best.”
Wukong smiles. “Great. Well, we’ve still got four hours to kill before Gossip Gals comes on. We can work on this until then. You’re welcome to stay and watch if you want.”
“Uh,” he blinks, considering how it would feel to watch a relationship drama show in the Monkey King’s newly-cleaned living room. His mouth tilts upwards. “What’s it about?”
His mentor’s eyes light up. He grins, sharp teeth expressing a kind of warmth that MK didn’t realize he needed in his life. “Though you’d never ask.”