It shouldn’t be this hard, but it is.

MK is trembling head to toe, tail lashing as his figure glitches out of existence, glowing light replacing the human skin down his arms for brown, dark fur, and Wukong is trying, really, he is, but he doesn’t know too much about all… this.

“Just breathe, buddy, in and out,” he says, retracting his hand away from where it's hovered over the boy’s back, stomping on the urge to ruffle the kid’s hair as his successor’s closed eye twitches, “get all the oxygen in your body, picture a flowing river, calm and peaceful,” Wukong instructs gently, mirrored from where he’s cross-legged beside the kid’s right. It's been a few weeks since the fall of Azure, and his kid - no, not his kid - has been more tense. Last week he crashed at Wukong's mountain just because fur started growing on his arms.

Xiaotian shudders, ears flicking as his snout wrinkles, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"You're doing great, kid," he manages. "Just visualize."

"I'm trying.” MK growls, pinching his fingers together even more, his wrists resting on his knees as he tries to reach peace, and Wukong quiets down. They'll have to work on MK's meditation sessons, no matter how much the boy hates it.