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The moment he saw DBK arrive at the base of the Mystic Mountain, Wukong jumped off his cloud to greet him.
“Heeeey, DBK! How are you feeling ol' friend?”
DBK grunted in annoyance, not sparing Wukong a glance as he walked past him.
“Bad.”
“Yeeaaah...” Wukong said, scratching the back of his head and biting down on his tongue. What a stupid thing to ask a father who hadn't seen his son in forever while the Celestial Realm had been trying to figure out said child's destructive powers. A child that was currently still in peril, and whose fate lay – in part – in Wukong's hands.
Wukong tried to cough out the awkwardness. “Hey, at least you'll feel better in a bit, right?”
He nudged DBK, who had yet to show any reaction to his words.
“Riiiiight?”
“Spare your breath, simian, I am only here for the good of my son, I do not have time for you,” DBK said, his voice a rumble of frustration. “And you would be wise to focus on the task at hand - it is the only reason I am holding back from returning your flesh and bones to the earth and sky.”
All the cheer left Wukong.
“You’re still mad about me impersonating your little Princess Iron Fan, huh?”
“Amongst other things," DBK said, huffing through his nose, his teeth on display as he did his best to look intimidating. “Such as stealing her fan. And my steed. And the dismay you’ve brought to the household of my friend, the Rocky Mountain Dragon King. And how you’ve chased my sworn brother, Ruyi, off of his lucrative business with the Kingdom of Women.”
“Aw, c'mon now! You know why I did all this! ‘Sides, your dragon friend and your taoist bro were both thieves, all I did was bring them back on the right path,” Wukong said with a pout. “I’m sorry that those people I fought happened to be family, but it’s not that big of a deal, I mean, they’ll live-”
DBK paused in his steps. “You’re right. After all, you could have shown them far worse of a fate.”
He stared down at Wukong with a frown. “Remind me again what happened to our brothers? Do not assume I haven't heard of the role you played in sealing away three of them in that horrid torture chamber...”
His expression grew more somber, as he stared straight into Wukong's eyes.
“Not to mention the one whose life you took. And after he had freed you, too.”
Wukong could see the way DBK's stare moved to land a little higher, at the top of his forehead, where the weight and painful grip of the circlet had been absent for an amount of time Wukong refused to let himself think about.
The reminder that Macaque was gone, dead and buried by his own hands, had the effect of a gut punch. Wukong had to cross his arms to steady himself - and hide his hands.
Breathless, he tried to argue his case, a little desperate for his oldest friend – the only one he had left from his past life – to see and understand him.
“I didn't... Bull King, I didn't mean to-”
“As always. But actions hold far more weight than intent,” DBK said with an assured calm. Wukong wished he had been faced with anger instead.
DBK shook his head as he let out a weary sigh. “Now, do you finally understand my unwillingness to fraternize, or are you still ignorant as to why I would be wary of what you’ve shown yourself capable of?”
Wukong's blood went cold. His next words came out in a horrified whisper.
“...You think I would kill you?...”
“You killed him. And if you could do this to someone so important to you, where does that leave me?”
“I-” Wukong could not stop his hands from trembling as he lifted them up. He felt like he was going to puke. “DBK! I-I swear I’d never-”
“Didn't I tell you? Spare your breath, and keep your empty promises.” DBK frowned, looking away. “Now come. That blasted fire could take hold of my son at any moment. And this is what you're here for, are you not, hero?”
Wukong tried to speak again, but all that came out was a strangled sound. DBK turned his back to him and walked to the peak of the Mystic Mountain – to his son.
Stuck in place as he watched him go, Wukong's hands were still trembling. He balled them up into fists and punched at nearby boulders, heaps of dust falling to the ground as he let out his frustration.
And his pain. The tears came next, against his will, and only fueled his rage. He screamed out as he pulverized more rocks, hoping to calm himself down before the ritual.
Because if he didn't, he could risk making another mistake. Risk ending another life, and rip away the last bit of trust that one of his dear friends might have still been holding, if the fact he was letting him anywhere near his child was any indication.
He could not afford to mess this up.
The sky lit up in dark and red hues, as the scream of an infant filled the silence of the mountain.
“Wukong!” He heard Nezha yell. “If you don't come here this instant-”
Alas, his time was up. His current state of mind would have to do.
Fixing up what he could about his appearance, Wukong forced a confident smile upon his face, heading toward the chaotic glow of the Samadhi fire. He took in the strange familiarity of that sight. He took in the phantom cackles that rang as an echo to the child's own.
He took in everything, all to better ignore them and focus on the difficult task ahead.
Things would turn out okay, if he only believed in himself.