Sunshower

II: Lukewarm

Ch2: Lukewarm

A/N: 
▸ [adj]: moderately warm
▸ [adj]:  feeling or showing little interest or enthusiasm.

'Was he finally released?'. It was a little surreal, him being able to just depart after everything. It seemed odd too, letting a redeemed demon go back to their origins of evils. But obviously, he's not complaining. 

(Still, he couldn't help but be paranoid, doubts of a false reality slithering in the creeks and corners of his mind, haunting, taunting him). 

Forgotten had his old names (Red Boy, The Boy Sage King, Shancai), now he only bore "Red Son", a new title for a new him. A sign of maturity, he had liked to think. (He supposed he should keep Hóng Hái Ér regardless, since it was his birth name).

Snapping out of his train of thoughts, he hurried, fast on his feet. He didn't keep track of time and Guanyin never tells, so he was clueless about how many years did he make his parents wait. He was certain it hasn't been 2 centuries yet, though. (One century was closed). 

—~×~—

Upon his return, Mother was beyond ecstatic, dull onyx eyes lit up with shock and delight for the son years ago she had mourned for. Everything felt okay in that brief second, him being so enveloped in the presence of his mother that he had temporarily forgotten about Father.

For the special occasion, he decided to personally cook, hoping to rekindle old relationships by the one talent that does not involve violence. Dismissing the servants, he immediately began his tasks, already knowing what extravaganzas he would prepare for today's feast, humming softly while doing so, blissfully ignorant of the news awaiting him only hours later.

—~×~—

The two sat, the air vacant and barren, the long table stretched out, many delicacies cold, untouched. Flickering candles lit only a small section of the hall, making the room almost overbearing, spreading to hollow darkness. The tense atmosphere pricked his skin, a chill crawling his spine. Swallowed, Red Son gave in to his suspicions and raised his voice, his words echoing off empty chambers. 

(Everything's okay, his father is alright, maybe he just went off for some time, travelling the world, conquering lands, establishing his territory, strengthening his reign,... He was just overreacting, overthinking, all for nothing-)

His joy only lasted until his mother, softly, whispered in choked sobs that The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong, had sealed his father under the mountain. (And was that karma on his behalf, he pondered).

His happiness after being reunited with his old life immediately turned sour, trampled over, and obliviated into smithereens instantly just learning about the fact. 

That night ended with tears and fake reassurances as the younger demon lured his mother into rest. 

—~×~—

Heavy footsteps among deserted corridors, his mind wandered to the time Mother was completely alone, her husband and son being ripped away from her. He dared not to lament on the thought, guilt gnawing his insides. (Everything was his fault, he caused this, how idiotic-).

—~×~—

After a while, his mother has been cold and distant, seemingly avoiding him. It was as if he reminded her of her husband. He did, with his twin horns, hooves for claws, fluttering pair of ears and swaying bull tail. He refused to dwell on his reflection for too long after that realization, twinges of guilt stabbing his body like pins and needles. 

'To mask himself', it was the only way he could regain her love once more, he concluded. He was still young back then, craving for attention, yearning for affection. He couldn't possibly imagine being so close yet so far away from Mother's embrace. (Well, isn't that such a cruel irony? He chuckled darkly, looking back). 

He had never felt the need to disguise in front of demon kinds, let alone his parents, and why should he ever? His real form is his roots, the truest tie to his mighty Father and he prided on the similar features they shared.

He was no stranger to the sense of veil over his being, however, (as he was accustomed to it during his time as Shancai, already understood how even before that), the magic cloaked his body, tucking away most of his bull resemblances, leaving him to appear uncanny to Mother.

He had always used this glamour since then, as often as if it was his second skin. Soon, it was his reality, his True Form became a twisted image of him instead of a natural one despite the hindrance and irritation from putting it up all the time. 

—~×~—

While he was still following Guanyin, while he was titled Shancai, reciting, meditating, observing the mortal world, there were endless mundane tasks that needed to be tended to. All those good deeds have been distracting. They offered him an escape from the reality of his helpless state. 

Now that he had ended up in the same situation, it's best if he found himself a distraction, a new goal to follow.

(All this time he remained a weakling, pathetic being that could not protect his parents from harm. How could he dare call himself their son? Where was his honour? He was such a humiliation, a disgrace to their legacy. He had to change).

The grief motivated him, prompted his search for power, setting light to his dimmed fire of wicked desires. (Still, out of fear or hypocrisy, he wasn't sure, he prayed to the Bodhisattva as often as before, as if he wasn't betraying her every teaching).

Days and nights, he began to learn, building up all his previously lacking knowledge. He picked up machinery at some points, fascinated by the mechanics, realizing he was good at it somewhere throughout the process. 

The fire in his workshop warmed his ever frigid body, soothed the tension he carried from days of spiralling shame. 

He wondered if his mother noticed her son's visits had decreased, or that eventually, he had stopped going.

—~×~—

It began little, sparks ignited from dim candles in his studies when he was excited.

It took years for it to take form again. It was a glorious sight when it did, fire flourished from his palms, hungry and eager. His eyes sparkled in amazement at his success.

It wasn't long after the first breakthrough that familiar flames tickled his feet and even sooner that he could set his hair ablaze with just one swift thought.  

Yet… "It's lacking", he grimaced, almost a sneer. 

Despite the steadfast progress, he mulled over the fire with the colour of ice yet infernally scorching than these dancing embers of bright orange and red.

' His fire would become whole and perfect again one day. Just not today.

...not yet ', he mused bitterly while finalizing the blueprint of the goblet that would accomplish the impossible, to help him lift Sun Wukong's staff. To free his Father. To complete his family. (To be loved again).

A/N: To sum it up: I'm sick, more midterms and life just sucks in general. Yay.

A very rough time estimate here: Red's sort of 1,706 years old. Guanyin's teaching took 987 years = almost a millennia. First chapter he's around the age of 219+ years old. In this chapter, he's pretty much 1206+, he was released 5 years after DBK got sealed. I'm being lenient, he could be older. I read somewhere that he was born exactly 200 years after SWK was sealed, so ultimately that made Red somewhere close to 2k years old, 1,8k???- but that site also stated that RB was not the blood son of DBK so. Overall, this boy is so ancient.