Chapter Text
Wukong could still remember the first time he’d ever seen all six of Macaque’s ears. The wild orchids were barely starting to sprout in the spring, the air still sharp with the last wisps of winter as they clung desperately to the earth, ultimately defied by the delicate blossoms. The Brotherhood had been formed years ago, but so much time had passed since then it was hard to remember exactly how long it had been. Long enough to start calling themselves brothers, certainly.
He wasn’t even sure how Macaque was even asleep, out cold on the steps that led down into their training courtyard in a horrific position, like he’d fallen asleep halfway through unwrapping his hands, the sheen of sweat already cooled along his brow.
It was the perfect setup for a prank, and who would Wukong be to pass up such an opportunity? He’d probably get punched for it, but who cares, really?
So, he leaned down, pushed the thick mane away from the available…
Wukong froze.
… Ears?
Instead of one, there were three ears, the shells of each one a normal peach-y color, but the insides were different colors, glowing faintly against where Wukong’s fingers were still stuck in place, caught mid-action of brushing the black hair away.
“Uh.”
One of the ears twitched, and then all three shimmered, fading back into one as Macaque stirred.
Startled, Wukong shuffled back and tried to look as innocent as possible as his friend sat up, rubbing his eyes before stiffening when he realized he wasn’t alone.
“What,” the other said, flat, “are you doing?”
“Uhhh, nothing!” Wukong managed, too quick.
Macaque squinted a little, suspicious. “Were you about to prank me?”
“Psssshhhh, what? I’d never,” Wukong scoffed, rubbing his neck and waving Macaque off, before realising how bad that lie was, and dropping his hands into his lap. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little, but in my defense, I didn’t think you’d hear me coming.”
“Ah, you underestimate me,” Macaque drawled, a sly grin picking at his lips. “I hear everything.” Then he stood up, back popping as he did, scooped up his supplies, and left.
And maybe, if Wukong hadn’t just seen what he’d seen, he’d chalk it up to his friend being dramatic, as usual, but it actually put almost every odd behavior Wukong had ever seen from his friend into perspective. Flinching from loud noises, avoiding close-up fireworks, standing to the side whenever anyone got too rowdy, because of course he did. Three times the ears, three times the noise. Wukong wasn’t sure how Macaque handled it all—because the brotherhood tended to be a lot sometimes—but from then on, he was careful to keep his volume lower when his shadow was around.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell Macaque what he’d seen, right then and there, but something felt off about it. Like he wasn’t supposed to see, like it was a secret. And sure, it was, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. Instead, he kept quiet and waited for Macaque to feel secure enough to show him himself.
Until then, he only looked up at the orchids, pink and soft, and mumbled, “Huh.”