Chapter Text
On the ground, you lay there quietly, listening to the breeze. How it swayed the trees and other plant life; how the birds sang along with it. Your eyes stayed closed, as if they were glued shut. To a bystander, you’d look dead if it wasn’t for the way your chest rose and fell with your breaths. Everything was muddy to you; this world foreign. You still couldn’t get yourself to move, so exhausted you weren’t even sure which way was left.
Footsteps were heard just near your head, yet you still couldn’t tell if they were real. Someone touched your forehead as they began reciting something that made no sense to you. Suddenly, they were silent. Then you sat up in a cold sweat.
“It’s okay.” The person shushed you as your eyes darted around, taking in your surroundings.
Everything was so unfamiliar and different from the urbanized environment you’re normally in. The nature was undisturbed and peaceful, as if untouched by foul pollution. The air even felt cleaner, almost refreshing.
“Peace be with you, traveler. You are far from home, yet the heavens bring you here for a purpose. Tell me, what troubles your heart?” The man kneeling beside you was almost ethereal. A calm aura surrounded him like a halo. He was dressed in humble rags, which was a stark contrast to the expensive looking headwear and scepter he adorned.
“Who are you?” Was all you could muster.
Your mouth was exceedingly dry, as if you hadn’t had water in days. As if noticing this, the man handed you a gourd. You took it and inspected it, sniffing the opening. It didn’t seem dangerous, so you took a sip. Then another, and another until it was half empty.
"I am Tang Sanzang, a humble monk on a sacred pilgrimage. Though this land may seem strange and unfamiliar, you are not alone. The heavens have guided your path here, and I will help you find your way." He spoke as you drank. You almost spat out the water.
“What are you talking about?” Laughing nervously, you hand the gourd back to him. Tang stands, tying the gourd to his waist before offering a hand to help you stand. You accept, despite your worries.
“All will be explained with time. When you are ready, share your burdens with me, and together we will seek the light in this journey.” It seemed even he didn’t know. “Now come, we have little time.”
You followed him in silence, your bare feet brushing against the grass and soft soil. With every step, the buzzing of insects and the song of birds filled your ears—not the dull hum of air conditioners or distant sirens, but life. Wild, ancient, honest.
The monk moved gracefully, his robes swaying like reeds in the wind. Every now and then, he glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure you hadn’t vanished.
The small camp came into view. Three bedrolls. A half-extinguished fire pit. A pot hanging from a wooden tripod, still warm. A scroll unfurled beside it, ink drying in the sun.
This wasn’t a reenactment. It wasn’t cosplay. There were no plastic buckles or nylon straps. This was real.
You sat down slowly beside the fire. Tang Sanzang poured another small cup of water and placed it beside you without a word. You sipped, still watching him carefully, still trying to piece together what you were supposed to do.
“So,” you finally began, voice hoarse. “This sacred pilgrimage of yours. Where exactly are we? And what year is it?”
He paused, as if weighing the question, then knelt across from you. His expression was patient, but something flickered in his eyes—a knowing uncertainty.
“We walk westward, toward the Thunder Monastery in the land of Buddha. The journey is long, and full of trials, but we are guided by compassion and purpose.” He folded his hands calmly. “As for the year…” He smiled gently, “I fear I cannot tell you in the way you would understand. The world measures time differently here.”
You stared, dumbfounded. Somewhere in your brain, alarm bells were ringing, but everything still felt muffled, like you were underwater.
Before you could ask more, a rustling came from the trees—fast, deliberate, heavy. Like something running. Tang Sanzang turned calmly toward the sound.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “The others return.”
The rustling grew louder—branches cracking, leaves stirring—and before you could stand, something leapt from the treetops, landing just a few feet from the fire. A figure covered in slightly matted fur—clothed in rags just like the man beside you—adorning a tail. The stranger landed in a crouch, one hand on the earth, the other gripping a long staff that gleamed even in the shade. His presence was impossible to ignore—part demon, part storm.
Sun Wukong.
He looked straight at you.
Then at Tang Sanzang.
Then back at you.
His nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed the air, and his brow furrowed.
“Master,” he said, straightening up and gesturing with his staff, “you’ve picked up something strange. This one smells of metal, flowers, and... dog hair?”
“Excuse me?” You blinked dumbly.
Wukong took a step closer, squinting, inspecting you like a puzzle. “What is she? She’s not a demon. Not quite. But definitely not from here .”
Tang Sanzang calmly raised a hand. “She is a traveler, Wukong. A guest. And she means no harm.”
Wukong snorted. “‘Guest’? What if she’s a spy from the Fox Spirits? Or worse—some celestial test again?”
“I’m right here, ” you muttered. Wukong turned back to you, arms crossed now, golden circlet glinting under the sun.
“Where are you from, then? Speak plainly. Don’t think a sweet face will fool me.”
Your instinct was to snap at him—but something about those ancient eyes made you pause. You sat a little straighter. Did he just call your face sweet?
“Earth,” you replied flatly.
Wukong blinked. For once, silent.
You continued, despite the pounding in your chest. “I don’t know how I got here. One minute I was at home and the next—I woke up in the dirt, with a monk hovering over me.”
Tang glanced at you, amused. Wukong looked genuinely baffled for a moment, then let out a loud, almost delighted laugh.
“Hah! Incredible. You’ve picked up a madwoman, Master.” He grinned at you, then added, “or maybe a prophet. You smell of the future.”
You stared at him, unsure whether to be insulted or terrified. But deep down, something tugged at your gut—some primal recognition that this loud, chaotic being was something ancient. Something mythic. And, for better or worse, real.
“Come, Wukong. Sit. Let us not rush to judgment. The heavens bring who they will—no matter how strange they may seem.” Tang Sanzang stood and gestured toward the fire.
“Fine. But if she turns into a talking goat at midnight, I told you so.” Wukong grumbled but obeyed, plopping down across from you with a dramatic sigh.
You stared at him.
He stared right back.
Then he smirked . “So, who has Master picked up this time?”
You introduced yourself as he leaned back on one hand, twirling his staff lazily with the other.
“Alright, ___. Welcome to madness.”
The fire crackled quietly between the three of you. You shifted on the ground, still trying to make sense of everything. Wukong’s energy was like a lit fuse—tense, unpredictable, but strangely not hostile. His attention lingered on you, sharp and calculating, like a cat trying to decide whether you were prey, threat, or just interesting enough to watch.
“So… what happens now?” You look at Tang, to which he answers without hesitation.
“Now, we rest. When the others return, we will continue our journey west. Until then, you are safe here.”
“And after that?” You hesitate, almost fearing the answer.
“After that? We walk. Fight demons. Argue. Maybe get swallowed by a mountain spirit or cursed by an immortal. Depends on the day, really.” Wukong interrupted with a smirk, clearly trying to freak you out.
Your stomach churned; It was working. You looked at your hands; they were trembling slightly. You didn’t know what you had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. No one could ever expect this. Tang watched you quietly, sensing the storm behind your silence.
“If you are afraid, speak it. Fear, like confusion, is natural when the soul is torn from one life and dropped into another.”
You took a breath. “I’m not afraid,” you lied.
“Sure you’re not. You’re just shaking because you’re thrilled to be here.” Wukong chimes again. You shot him a look, to which he smiles wider. Then, suddenly, his eyes flicked past you, toward the trees again. His expression changed.
“Someone’s coming,” he said, low and serious. Tang stood as you followed his gaze.
From the trees emerged two more figures—one tall and broad, the other silent and looming. They looked like men, but there was something not quite human about either of them.
“The gang’s all here.” Wukong grinned again.
You swallowed hard, heart racing, eyes darting from one ancient figure to the next. This wasn’t happening; this was impossible. You surly had to be dreaming. Right! That’s what this was! A dream! You’re just dreaming.
The broad one stepped forward first, his footsteps surprisingly light for someone so large. His clothes were dirt-stained and simple, his skin tanned from sun exposure, and though he walked like a man, his features gave him away—boar-like tusks protruded from beneath his lip, and his nose was slightly snoutish.
“New face?” he asked, scratching his head with one meaty hand. “We picking up strays now, Master?”
“She is a traveler from far away, Bajie. Show her kindness.” Tang Sanzang greeted him with a nod.
“Well, she’s prettier than the last demon we fought. Got any food, miss?” Bajie gave you a curious look, then grinned.
“She’s not here to feed you,” Wukong scoffed. “Keep your snout in check.”
“I’m just asking!” Bajie threw up his hands in mock offense, then winked at you. “Name’s Zhu Bajie. You can call me Bajie. Or handsome. Either works.”
The silent one hadn’t moved closer. He stood near the trees, tall and still, almost like a statue carved of river stone. His robes hung heavy and damp, like he’d walked straight out of a lake. He carried a monk’s spade strapped across his back, but his eyes—dark, steady—were the most striking part of him. Eyes that had seen too much.
“That’s Sha Wujing,” Tang said, motioning to him gently. “He speaks little, but his loyalty runs deep.”
Wujing gave you a respectful nod. You nodded back, not knowing what else to do. Words felt too fragile for this moment.
You sat frozen, watching them exchange greetings and banter like old friends reunited. It felt too normal , considering the circumstances. You were surrounded by beings from ancient Chinese legend—creatures and warriors spoken of in temples and fables. And yet, here they were. Real. Tangible. Chatting over a fire.
“I don’t get it,” you finally said, voice small. “How is this real? How did I get here?”
Wukong glanced at you, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “Maybe a trick of the heavens. Maybe a crack in time. Or maybe,” he pointed the blade of grass at you like it was a dagger, “you did something in your world that got their attention.”
You shook your head. “I was just… studying. I just graduated college. I was working on my law school applications. I have pets. I had pizza in the oven. This doesn’t make sense.”
Bajie plopped down beside you, a sympathetic look on his porcine face. “Sounds like you were taken in your prime.”
“I want to go home,” you whispered.
Silence settled around the fire. Even the birds in the trees seemed to quiet.
Tang looked at you with infinite patience.
“Perhaps you will. When the journey is done. But until then, you walk with us.” The words should have been comforting, but instead, they settled in your chest like a stone. You were not dreaming. You were here, and this—whatever this madness was—was real.