Sun Wukong lounged on his stone throne at the peak of Flower Fruit Mountain, tossing a peach into the air and catching it lazily. The journey to the West had been completed ages ago, and now life was... boring. No demons to fight, no gods to outwit. Just endless days of peace and quiet.

"Peace is overrated," Wukong muttered, chomping into the peach. "Not a single fight in months. What's the point of all this power if there's nothing to do?"

He stood, stretching. "Time for a walk. Maybe the mountain's hiding something interesting."

With a leap, he landed in the dense forest below, his golden staff resting on his shoulder. The trees whispered as he passed, but nothing caught his interest. Not until he heard faint cries ahead.

"Eh?" Wukong frowned, his sharp ears twitching. He pushed through the bushes and stopped.

There, on the forest floor, were three small bundles, barely moving. Their cries were weak, but they were alive.

"Babies? Here?" Wukong crouched, poking one of the bundles with his staff. A tiny hand shot out, grasping weakly at the air.

He scratched his head. "What kind of parent leaves their kids out here? Humans are weird."

For a moment, he thought about leaving. Raising kids wasn't his problem. But as he turned to walk away, the cries grew softer. Too soft. He hesitated, glancing back.

"They're not gonna make it, are they?" he muttered. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Now I'm a babysitter."

Scooping up the bundles, he summoned his cloud and flew back to his mountain. The infants squirmed as the wind rushed past them, but Wukong held them steady.

"Don't get used to this," he said. "I'm not some saint. You're just lucky I've got nothing better to do."

Back at the mountain, he found an empty corner of his cave and dumped the bundles on a pile of leaves. The babies didn't cry this time, just stared at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Guess you're tougher than you look," Wukong said, smirking.

The days passed quickly. Wukong hunted fruit and roots for the babies, grumbling the entire time. "Can't believe I'm feeding kids," he muttered, smashing a peach into a paste. "I used to fight gods, you know!"

But despite himself, he started to notice strange things. One of the babies kept grabbing sticks, waving them around like she was trying to fight. Another couldn't stop staring at the fire he made, her little hands reaching out like she wanted to touch it. The last one just watched him, her quiet gaze making him feel like she was reading his thoughts.

"Alright, you're all weird," Wukong said, crossing his arms. "Guess you'll fit in here."

He didn't know why, but something about these kids felt... different. Special, maybe. Not that he'd admit it. For now, they were just a distraction from the boredom. But deep down, a spark of curiosity flickered.

"Let's see what you're made of," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.

Back on Flower Fruit Mountain, the days blurred together as Sun Wukong tried to adjust to his unexpected new role. The three infants demanded more attention than he expected, crying at all hours and requiring constant feeding.

"Never thought I'd miss battling demons," he grumbled, mashing more fruit into a paste with a flat rock. He dipped his finger into the mixture and offered it to the smallest girl. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing his hand and biting down—hard.

"Ow!" Wukong yanked his hand back, glaring at her. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" She stared at him with wide eyes, her tiny teeth showing as if she was challenging him.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," he muttered, smirking. He shoved the mashed fruit toward her again, and this time, she ate without protest.

The other two were less trouble. The one who was always reaching for sticks seemed content to chew on anything wooden Wukong handed her, while the one obsessed with fire just watched the flames dance every evening as he prepared their meals.

Wukong leaned back against a rock, watching them. "You're a strange bunch, I'll give you that," he said. "But I guess it's not so bad having some company around here."

He wasn't about to admit it out loud, but life on the mountain was a little less dull with them around.

A few weeks passed, and the girls grew stronger. They stopped crying as much, started crawling around the cave, and—much to Wukong's dismay—got into everything.

"Hey! Get out of there!" he shouted one morning, snatching the smallest girl away from his stash of peaches. She giggled, clutching one in her tiny hands.

"You're lucky you're cute," Wukong muttered, plucking the fruit from her grip.

The other two weren't any better. The one who loved sticks had started climbing anything she could find—rocks, trees, even Wukong himself.

"Do I look like a jungle gym to you?" he asked, peeling her off his back for the third time that day.

And the one who loved fire? She'd gotten bold enough to crawl right up to his cooking flames, reaching out with curious hands.

"Hey, no! That'll burn you!" Wukong scooped her up, holding her at arm's length. She pouted, waving her arms toward the fire as if demanding it come to her.

"You're all gonna give me gray fur before this is over," Wukong grumbled, setting her down a safe distance away.

Despite the chaos, Wukong couldn't help but notice how quickly they were learning. The one who loved sticks had figured out how to balance on a thin tree branch, her little legs wobbling but steady.

"Not bad," Wukong admitted, watching her from the shade of a nearby rock. "Maybe you'll make a decent monkey after all."

The one who loved fire had started stacking rocks around the flames, as if trying to contain them. Wukong didn't think much of it at first, but then he noticed how precise her movements were, her little hands placing each stone with care.

"Alright, firebug, what're you up to?" he asked, crouching beside her. She ignored him, focused on her work.

And the smallest one? She wasn't climbing or building, but she had a knack for finding things—peaches hidden high in the trees, water trickling from cracks in the rocks, even Wukong's staff when he wasn't paying attention.

"You're a sneaky little one, aren't you?" he said, watching her carry a peach twice her size back to the cave.

They were still just babies, but there was something about them Wukong couldn't ignore. They weren't like ordinary humans. There was a spark in them, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Maybe you're more trouble than you're worth," he muttered, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountain, Wukong sat by the fire, the girls asleep nearby. He stared at the flames, his mind drifting.

"What am I even doing?" he asked himself. "I'm the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. I fought the best warriors in the heavens, tore through armies of demons, and now... I'm raising kids?"

He looked over at the sleeping girls, their tiny chests rising and falling with each breath. For all his complaints, he couldn't bring himself to leave them. They needed him, and—though he'd never admit it—maybe he needed them, too.

"Guess you're stuck with me," he said softly, poking the fire with a stick. "But don't think I'm gonna go easy on you. You'll grow up tough, just like me."

And with that, the Monkey King made up his mind. He wasn't just going to raise them—he was going to train them. After all, life on Flower Fruit Mountain wasn't easy, and the world beyond was even harder.

"They'll need to be strong," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Stronger than anyone else."

The thought brought a grin to his face. Maybe this wasn't so boring after all.