Chapter Text
“Breathe,” Tripitaka told Wukong, gripping his shoulders tightly, “Just breathe, it's… it’s going to be okay.”
The Monkey King was breathing alright, heavy gasps of panic. Tripitaka didn’t understand; this had all come out of nowhere.
Only a couple of moments ago, Tripitaka had been watching his eldest disciple bounce and leap between tree branches as he always did when he had too much energy. So much energy, where did he even get it all, when it was all Tripitaka could do to keep himself from falling asleep in the saddle most days. He had voiced this complaint, and requested that Wukong please share his secret. Wukong had laughed in reply, closing his eyes as he did, and he missed the next branch and fell.
It was a decent height to fall, but Tripitaka doubted it could even bruise the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. But Wukong hit the ground and… struggled. He’d tried to pull himself upward and crumpled back down, with an animalistic noise that sounded like pain.
Tripitaka reigned in the horse and dismounted the moment he realised something was wrong, but even when he was moving as quickly as he could, his disciples were faster.
“Give him some space!” Tripitaka pushed aside the hovering Bajie and Wujing— more like they felt his feather-light touch and parted for him, but matters of strength were not important now. Wukong was sitting up now, and hyperventilating, and Tripitaka grabbed his shoulders and stupidly told him to breathe.
Wukong didn't seem to be listening… or was he not hearing? His eyes were unfocused, too; Tripitaka, shaking, searched him for injuries, and felt relief wash over him when he failed to turn up any lumps, lacerations or tenderness. What would he have even done, if Wukong's brain had been damaged, or he’d gone into shock, or had hurt something really vital? But— but that wasn't what had happened, so he wasn't going to think about it—
Wukong began to cry. Real, ugly tears of… fear?
Wukong was not one to be afraid.
“Pilgrim!” Tripitaka shook him a little, and helplessly looked to Bajie and Wujing. His two younger disciples were looking helplessly to him— okay, okay, he was the one in charge here, okay, just follow your own advice, breathe, there’s no reason to panic— panic! That was it, that was Wukong's affliction! He’d recognised that already, why hadn't it registered sooner? Oh, focus, you idiot!
“Wukong,” He gently took his eldest disciple by the hands, “I’m here. Just… just follow my breathing.”
Tripitaka began to breathe as he did when he was meditating. Measuring each inhalation and exhalation back out to what was normal, counting each breath until he got to ten and then starting over. He was good at meditation, he knew, and did his best not to brag, but if his mastery could help…
It was helping. Wukong stopped crying as his breathing evened out, and he pulled out of Tripitaka’s grasp, looking embarrassed.
Tripitaka didn't think he’d ever seen his eldest disciple look embarrassed before. Sun Wukong was not the type to be ashamed of himself. Tripitaka knew that because years ago he’d asked him if he was, and Wukong had told him that being ashamed was not something he did.
Well, he looked pretty ashamed now.
“Master, I’ve frightened you,” He put on a smile, getting up and dusting himself off, “Sorry.”
And he turned and began to stroll away.
“Hold up!” Bajie yelled after his brother, “Just where do you think you’re going?”
“India, Idiot,” Wukong replied, rolling his eyes, “That's where we’re travelling to, remember?”
“Yeah— I— you're dodging the conversation!” Bajie raged.
Wukong ignored him, and Tripitaka picked himself up in order to stop the pig demon from walloping Wukong over his possibly injured head.
“Pilgrim, please tell me what happened.” He pleaded quietly, holding back the snarling Bajie with a single quelling movement of his hand.
Wukong appeared to think it was okay to ignore him, too.
“Right now.” Tripitaka demanded, but Wukong still kept walking down the road. He wasn't even bothering to summon his cloud.
“Sun Wukong!” Tripitaka cried, distressed and unable to do anything to stop him, “At least just tell me if you are hurt!”
“Elder brother,” Wujing called in his quiet way, “Is this to do with how you died?”
Tripitaka felt his heart do something it wasn't supposed to. Wait, what? Wukong hadn't died! He couldn't die!
But Wukong flinched and hunched in a way that told too much.
“You WHAT?” Tears seared up Tripitaka’s throat and burst out in what could only be described as hysterics, “You died?!”
“Oh, Master.” Wukong sighed, and came back towards them.
“I don't believe it!” Tripitaka keened, “My eldest disciple, Sun Wukong, dead!”
“I told you he would cry if he found out.” Wukong said, as Tripitaka gathered him up in his arms and wailed, “Master, it's alright, I'm alive now. Pull yourself together.”
“Don't you dare speak to me that way, I'm in mourning!” Tripitaka laughed soggily, then started sobbing again, “What happened?” He asked.
“You know that Red Boy kid that kidnapped you about a fortnight ago?” Wukong said, “Yeah, well, at one point my beloved nephew hit me with fire, but that was fine because I had a dragon army to put it out with rain,” Tripitaka nodded as he followed along; he’d stopped questioning these sorts of details in Wukong's stories some time ago, “But it wasn't enough. So I jumped into a nearby river, and the change in temperature was so extreme, it… uh, it…”
“Stopped his heart instantly,” Wujing said gloomily, “He was going stiff and blue by the time I fished him out.”
“I revived him.” Bajie added, not at all helpfully.
Wukong was doing a marvellous job of pretending he was hugging his Master for his benefit alone. Tripitaka would have believed it, if he couldn't feel how his eldest disciple clung.
“And you didn't tell me?” He whimpered.
“It doesn't matter,” Said Wukong, “I’m alive now, and I didn't want to upset you.”
“Well I am upset!” Tripitaka snapped, “And it does matter! You just scared me half to death, Sun Wukong!”
“Well— well, I thought I was fine,” Wukong said, “It was just that, when I hit the ground, it reminded me of the impact, and I panicked.”
It was so simple, and almost silly, put into words. But—
“Yeah well, you scared the shit out of us,” Bajie said, summarising Tripitaka’s sentiments nicely, “I think we deserve a better apology than—”
“No one needs to apologise!” Tripitaka said before this became a fight, even if he’d like an apology himself, “Just… if one of you dies, I would like to hear about it.”
“I’ll let you know the next time it happens.” Wukong said, and Tripitaka gave a small laugh. Which meant that they were fine. So he should let go. Wukong was letting go now. The hug was over. He had to let go.
Tripitaka pried his hands off Wukong. It took more effort than it reasonably should have, and made him realise just how scared he had been.
“Master?” Wukong realised something was wrong, “Are you okay?”
“I am fine,” Tripitaka said, and he was, “Just a little shocked, is all.”
He was fine. He’d always clung to the idea that his disciples were unkillable, and maybe that perception had changed now, but Wukong was still here, the others had been able to rescue him. So… so even if they weren't indestructible on their own, they were indestructible together. Yes, yes, that was right! There was no reason to worry.
He wasn't going to lose them too.
“He's real lucky he’s alive, though,” Bajie said, as Tripitaka got back on the horse, “If I hadn't been there, who knows what could have—”
“Yes, Bajie, I am very proud.” Tripitaka said, and his second disciple seemed satisfied with the validation. And then, not knowing for whose benefit he was speaking, Tripitaka quietly added, “Thank you.”