Chapter Text
It was the perfect evening for a festival. The chill of the night should have crept behind the setting sun, but instead, a comfortable warmth filled the plaza. A protective bubble seemed to wrap around the area as the day's heat — still clinging to the walls and roads — mixed with that radiating from the grills, fryers, and other cookers within the scattered stalls. Smells from the plethora of foods being cooked and provided created a flavorful atmosphere within the space. The joyous sounds of laughter and chatter flowed through the air, only broken up by the sporadic shout of a stall worker calling out for the attention of new customers. The fading light had not delayed the festivities for a single second. It was effortlessly replaced with glowing lanterns and flickering holographic signs shining alongside the bright, full moon that looked down on the event.
It seemed impossible to be part of this exuberant occasion and not feel the same delight as the other attendees. Which may be why an irritated pig demon stalking down the path stood out like a splotch of grey in a world of color.
Festivalgoers who had never met the pig man quickly moved out of his way and carefully avoided meeting his eyes out of fear of facing his ire. Visiting stand workers first noticed the paper bag crumpled within his fist. Yet their attention was immediately drawn to his other hand, gently cradling the actual food as he slowly chewed and savored each bite. It was clear to them that, despite his demeanor, the demon knew how to appreciate cuisine. Although any impertinence would not be accepted, the workers could ignore the hostile air surrounding the man and invite him to partake in their own fare, trusting he would show it the same respect.
Those among the crowd and booths familiar with this particular pig demon were more nonchalant when they came across him during the festivities. Some responded with a small smile or by rolling their eyes, while others simply ignored him. After all, it was only Pigsy, and Pigsy was always angry.
Pigsy was not always angry, although certain people may describe him as such.
Like strangers off the street, capable of pointing him out if asked to find a snappish pig demon with a vein throbbing on his forehead. Or customers from his noodle shop, who were known to throw out words ranging from furious to testy to just plain grumpy in relation to the chef. Even those close to him tended to think of it as a major characteristic of his.
MK seemed to believe he loves being angry as much as he loves noodles. Mei recently started snatching any art supplies she could find to draw an outline of Pigsy's silhouette mostly filled in with red. Apparently, it was meant to reflect his rage level or something. She told him it was unusually high for someone his size before laughing as if she had said the best joke in the world — one he still doesn't understand. Sandy constantly recommended “soothing” and “calming” teas, which were more and more often followed by suggesting a session with the big guy's therapist. At least Tang tended to barely bat an eye when Pigsy lost his temper, but Tang’s always been special. A special kind of crazy, that is. Knowing Pigsy the longest, and likely the best at this point, also gave him a bit of an advantage. Honestly, Pigsy himself would admit his blood tends to run on the hotter side, and his fuse is a little shorter than most.
However, none of that changed the fact that Pigsy was not always angry.
Only, like, some of the time…
Half of the time…
60%...
Let's just say, like 7 or 8 times out of ten, Pigsy is probably experiencing some form of anger. (But he thinks it should be noted that he’s being generous with some of the stuff he's including. So, there.)
It wasn't as if he wanted to be angry that often anyway. Anger was just easy.
No matter what has happened or will happen, Pigsy had his rage to fall back on. It was familiar. It was reliable. It was safe.
And given the turn his life had taken, can you really blame a demon?
If you had asked Pigsy all those years ago what he was expecting to come with taking in a dirt-covered child that showed up on his shop’s doorstep, he would have told you that the little punk would bring him nothing but trouble. But it was supposed to be the normal kind of trouble — like toddler tantrums or puberty or teenage angst and attitude — that anyone in his place would have anticipated. Back then, if he were trying to picture MK at the age he is now, Pigsy could have predicted the laziness and reluctance when it came to his delivery job and the kid placing his own interests over it. (Though he may have expected it, that didn’t mean MK would ever be allowed to do so without some chastising, plus a flying wooden spoon or two.) He had thought the next step would involve discussing what MK wanted to do with their life, maybe hinting at the possibility of them taking over the store someday.
That’s the kind of stuff Pigsy had been prepared for, and what had he gotten instead?
A magic staff, mystic powers, ancient demons, constant battles against an ever-growing line of enemies, and his kid turning into a literal monkey.
Naturally, things hadn’t stopped there. That stupid staff came with a special accessory: a mentor in the form of a condescending, cocky, reckless hermit of a celestial primate.
That's what he would have said in the beginning, at least. You know, back when he had only known the Great Sage as the guy who gave his kid a powerful stick and some measly advice before throwing him at a bunch of demons that happened to be the sage’s old enemies. Unlike Tang and MK, blinded by their hero-worship, Pigsy never let the grandeur and legacy of the Monkey King stop him from finding and pointing out any of the primate’s faults. Then there was the whole — barely could be called a — plan to defeat an icy demon bitch who will not be named, which had involved a bit too much abandonment, secret-keeping, and general endangerment for the chef’s taste. That certainly had not helped to endear the monkey to the pig.
While these past grievances hadn’t necessarily been forgiven, recent events — such as some time spent in a certain scroll — paired with newfound efforts on the part of the monkey demon may have softened up some of Pigsy’s harsher criticisms. Although he still had plenty to rebuke the Monkey King for, since his list of complaints was probably long enough to reach the Celestial Realm itself.
Such as the fact he’s still capable of being a no-good, lazy, peach chip
eatingapebrained___stealingmonkey, as Pigsy was reminding himself as he stomped through the festival.
However, this particular bad-mouthing stemmed from a more recent issue Pigsy had with Sun Wukong.
After all, this was supposed to be a trip for two.
So much had happened in such a short amount of time. (See the aforementioned mentor, magic, monsters, machinations, and monkey son.) And while they were all still recuperating from their latest battle-slash-world-ending event, MK’s road to recovery was clearly longer and more difficult than any of theirs’. The physical wounds may be healed and gone, but the mental ones? Those don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Sure, the kid was putting on a decent face for now, but they could never hide these things from old Pigsy.
He saw the way MK’s eyes dulled in the quiet moments without distractions. He heard him shuffle around his room during sleepless nights which seemed to be happening more and more often. He even noticed the subtle way MK had started shying away from his reflection.
The kid needed a break. A real break. Not a beach party celebrating the fact that they didn’t die and the universe is still managing to stay held together or working on a so-called island paradise that still was wrecked from the same fight they didn’t die during or anything else that reminded them that, hey, they all almost died.
Again.
Pigsy had been working on a plan for a couple days when he came across a flier tucked away in one of his drawers. It was handed to him out on the street a few months ago but had been shoved aside almost immediately. And it wasn’t just for any old festival, this was a flier for The Festival of Flavors.
It was a shock to realize he had forgotten about the upcoming event. The Festival of Flavors was held for just one night every 8 years, moving to a different part of the country after each one. Pigsy had only been able to attend once as a piglet, and it was one of his most treasured memories. When he found out about it coming to Megapolis, it seemed like destiny (you know, before the use of that word sent a chill down his spine every time he heard it). This was the chance for Pigsy to sell his noodles at the most famous food-centric festival in the country and give those attending from far and wide a chance to try them. He had already been planning the perfect menu as he walked back to the shop but then some disaster or another had come up, and any thoughts about the festival were lost amongst a bunch of crazy hijinks and dangerous fights. By the time the flier resurfaced, it was too late to apply for a booth spot. That realization had been pretty disappointing and filled the chef with regret. Then it hit Pigsy that this was the answer he had been searching for.
After all, he remembered attending the festival with his grandmother as a child. The two of them hopped from vendor to vendor, trying new foods for the first time along with familiar dishes prepared in ways they had never seen before. Among the shining lights and high-spirited atmosphere, the flavors seemed to dance along his taste buds following the noise of festivities as if it were music.
If Pigsy were asked if he believed in magic — before it had been thrown in his face like a staff straight to the eye — he would have said no. Then, if he were told to try and imagine a world where it did exist, he would have told the guy to get out of his face and to talk to Tang if they wanted someone who would play along with all that mumbo jumbo. Once he was finally alone, his thoughts would fill with memories of that night at the festival by his grandmother's side. For him, if anything could be described as magical, it was that remarkable world of color, cheer, and cuisine. Even now with their current lives, he still stands by that point. And that was precisely the kind of magic that MK needed. Something simple. Something pure. Something that doesn’t come with a whole load of baggage right along with it.
So, that was what Pigsy was going to give him.
At least, that was the plan.
The shop was closed for the evening. The last customer had just left, the shutters were down, and the signs were shut off. That only left a bit of cleanup to finish up. MK and he were trying to do so when Mei declared that all “their” hard work deserves a reward. She shoved a finger in Pigsy’s face when he tried to point out that all she did was play on her phone and try to distract MK during his shift. And wouldn’t you know it, the boba shop across town was hosting a late-night event for the release of a new flavor. Pigsy hadn't put up a fight to get her to stay because one, it wasn’t a fight that he would win, and two, he figured it would be better to get her out of the way while he finished up. Thankfully, Tang offered to go with her, a decision which also increased the chances of the boba actually making it back to the noodle shop.
It took a minute for it to sink in that he and MK were alone, and he realized it was the perfect opportunity to bring up the festival. Suddenly, the folded-up flier in his pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It took a moment for Pigsy to find his words. He’s never been the most elegant in situations like this, but lately, it feels like it’s been more of a struggle for him when it comes to MK. Something that’s truly frustrating because that’s his son, and there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to talk to his own kid!
Pigsy took a deep breath. Getting derailed now certainly wasn’t going to help. It was only one little question, he’d ask, the kid would say yes, they’d have a fun night together, and then they’d move on with their lives. Easy.
He turned away from the dishes he was putting up. Pulling the flier out, he took an extra minute to flatten out the creases. He leaned forward on the counter and called out to MK, who was sweeping on the other side.
“Hey kid, so there’s this food festival happening this weekend, and—”
“Oh no,” MK dropped the broom on the floor, letting his body slump forward with his arms hanging down towards the floor. “Is this you telling me I’m about to be working more this weekend? Does this mean I’m losing my day off, too?!”
“What?” Pigsy stood up, caught off guard by the kid’s pouting, but quickly corrected them. “No, no. It’s the day before your day off. Plus, we aren’t working the festival. The booth application date had already passed. Wasn’t even possible even if— uh, even though I wanted to.”
The delivery boy straightened up and brushed off his distress, going as far as to wipe off their forehead, “Wooh, okay. That’s great!” Pigsy raised an eyebrow at the response, and MK immediately cringed before their hands started fluttering around in the air like they were trying to physically wave the words away. “I mean not great, of course. It sucks you couldn’t get in and all. But there’ll be other chances, with this one and like other festivals and stuff, right?”
Pigsy let out a sigh through his nose and gently jumped in to put the kid out of his misery. The whole point of this thing was to help MK feel better, not stress them out more.
“Yeah, yeah. And it doesn’t change the fact that there are other ways to be part of the festival. Not being able to go and share my dishes shouldn't stop me from going and enjoying everything else this thing has to offer. I was even considering closing the shop up a bit early—”
“Really!”
All of a sudden, MK was much closer. Pigsy stepped back as the delivery boy was leaning over the counter with his face right in front of the others, his eyes practically sparkling from the news. Thoughtlessly the chef felt his mouth start to curve upward. Sometimes it was impossible not to get swept up in the kid’s enthusiasm, though it probably helped that the pig demon was already pretty excited too.
It probably slipped into his words as Pigsy continued, “Yes, really. If you would let me finish what I was saying. We close up a bit early that day, get everything cleaned and cleared, and then—”
“And then I get to head over to Flower Fruit Mountain even earlier than I had planned!” MK shouted, striking a ridiculous pose.
Pigsy’s head dropped into his hand, and he pinched the area between his eyes, a little exasperated at another interruption. “Kid, seriously would you let me get this out.” Then MK’s words registered with him. He whipped around to face the younger, “Wait, wait. Flower Fruit Mountain?”
That pulled MK from whatever he was doing, “Huh?” They settled into a stool in front of the counter. “Oh,” fiddling with their headband, a small look of guilt flashed across their face.
“I guess I forgot to mention it. Monkey King invited me over the other day when I was trying to help clean up the Island. He’s still waiting a bit more before we start back with training but suggested we have a day together for some fun and relaxation. I tried to remind him we already had that with the beach day get-together, but Monkey King said that wasn’t enough. We, heh, needed some monkey-bonding. No training, no cleaning, no responsibilities. You know, some time together just us, uh,” MK cleared his throat, hesitating over what he was about to say. Pigsy could see the discomfort hiding in the shadow of their eyes as they tried to push through with a wobbly smile, “just us monkeys monkeying around and stuff. Basically, he thought I deserved a break. Which is pretty nice of him and all, although I’m like totally fine. The timing worked out with my day off coming up, and that meant we could make it a sleepover. Of course, then I asked if this super special monkey time would include Macaque, who’s you know also a monkey, and that got him started on a whole rant as to why that would not be happening…”
Pigsy tuned out the kid for a moment as he recounted Monkey King’s tirade. (He still isn’t a fan of MK’s investment in that “relationship”, but as long as the two simians kept the worst of it away from the young man and it doesn’t become an actual threat to him again, he’s decided to stay out of it for now.) He took the time to hide the disappointment he was feeling before the other caught on.
When he focused back on MK’s words, the younger had moved on from the mystic monkey match-making mess and was now talking about what he and Monkey King might get up to over the weekend with growing elation. Of course, Pigsy would have loved listening to what the kid was about to say, but it was admittedly a bit of a relief when Mei crashed through the door right then. They were able to move on from the conversation, finish cleaning up the shop, and have the boba that was miraculously intact. Tang hadn’t been quite so lucky given the scorch marks on his clothes.
However, when he turned in later that night, the chef found himself unable to fall asleep. He kept repeating to himself that this was still a good thing. Pigsy thought MK needed a break and apparently Monkey King did too. Just because the simian beat him to the punch in this specific instance didn’t mean anything. The monkey demon was simply stepping up to the occasion, not stepping over Pigsy and his plans. The immortal was proving he wanted to do right by the kid and treat him better. Exactly what MK deserved. And it wasn’t like Mk was actually choosing Monkey King over his father. There hadn’t even been a choice because the pig man had never asked his question.
Pigsy was and is still there for MK, helping and supporting him with whatever he needs, whenever he needs it. Having another person — monkey, celestial, demon, whatever — doing the same wouldn’t change that. Nothing would change that.
This was fine, he told himself.
Now, Pigsy was thinking he had to admit that this was not fine.
He should be out here relishing everything this rare occasion had to offer. Instead, he was stuck thinking about that stupid sage. He was falling back on his anger once again because that was still easier than admitting…
“UGH!” The pig demon took a bite out of the kebab in his hand. He really was distracted considering he didn’t remember buying the damn thing. The sweet glaze coating the well-cooked tofu helped to placate him for a second and he briefly got lost in the flavors until he swallowed the final piece. He dropped the stick in a trash can and scanned for another stall to stop at. It was ultimately an unhelpful diversion from his current consternations, especially when he caught a glance at one stand selling Monkey King-themed cookies.
Briskly quickening his pace, Pigsy hadn't realized he started to mutter out loud as he lost himself to his thoughts. “That Monkey King, why's he showing up here too? As if he needs anything else to feed that ego of his. All those ridiculous titles already keep his head plenty inflated. Great Sage of Steel Pride and Iron Vanity, now that’s a fitting name for the chimp. Seriously, isn't it enough that he got MK for the night, can't he at least stay out of my festival?" Pigsy huffed, “Speaking of which, does he honestly think one measly night will make up for everything he put MK through? Well, he’s got another thing coming. He better be ready to put that immortality of his to good use, because he already owes my kid more than one lifetime of apologies. And I’ll make sure he does it too, or we’ll see how indestructible he truly is.”
“Well, that certainly sounds like quite the show. You wouldn’t mind an audience, would you?”