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Maybe there was a time when Macaque was gentle.
Maybe there was a time when his nails weren't so sharp or his smile wasn't so sinister. Maybe once, a long time ago, his hands were soft and kind and he would have held the people that call him a friend with care and worry, but too much has happened for that anymore.
He's not Mei or Tang or Pigsy or Sandy, who can all wrap their arms around their loved ones and hold them in place, who can use their words when they count. He's certainly not Wukong, who can snap his fingers and save whoever he wants in the blink of an eye.
He is the Six-Eared Macaque, he was Liu’er Mihou, he is the warrior, and his hands are more like claws and struggle to hold anything that isn't a weapon, except for, occasionally, stone fruit in the shade of only one tree.
He was a villain, and he knows he's not quite a hero yet. He's not sure he ever will be. It's as easy to fall back into muscle-memory methods as it is to fall into the shadows, that is to say it is the most natural thing in the world, so when MK goes careening toward the Pillar of Heaven itself, Macaque reaches out with razorblade hands and yanks him back roughly.
MK fights, and he fights well, and Macaque is proud and terrified because he taught him, for a short period, and all of those dirty tricks are kicking him in the ass now and there is nothing he can do to stop it. He can only delay, and so delay he does.
Macaque kicks and pins and grabs and throws and he warps the light to give himself just enough shadow to move through like water, just enough to slow MK down, just enough to send a futile prayer up to no one at all that maybe, maybe Wukong or Mei or Sandy or Pigsy or even Tang will show up and hold MK back the way he needs to be.
They don't, because they have the Nine-Headed Demon to deal with, and what a pain he is. Macaque is more of a pain though, and they beat him with less; he knows they'll be alright. He's less sure about MK, which is why he needs someone else to show up, and quickly. He is not the one who can fix this, and he knows he never was.
He almost bites the kid, once or twice, because he's running out of options. MK is just too strong, and far too determined to get himself killed for the greater good of a world that won't stop beating him down at every turn, and Macaque doesn't think he'll ever understand that. Not that it matters right now.
MK hits back just as hard, and Macaque thinks if he wasn't covered in fur, he'd have nasty bruises from it. He gets a good look at MK, one of his own fists raised, and sort of regrets the purple blooming wherever he touches. Only sort of. His hands have painted people purple many times before, and it is not a new sight.
It's whatever; they all know he's incapable of docility anyway.
MK is strong. MK is stronger than Macaque is prepared for, especially when he's apparently fighting two fronts when the Nine-Headed Demon’s own shadow tricks force him to his knees and leave MK unfairly free.
Macaque had told MK once, seconds or maybe years ago, that he didn't have to be the hero. He'd also told him once that he could be so much more. Maybe a part of this is his fault, he thinks, knows , as he watches MK take off again. Maybe his role in this was not as small as he thought.
He cannot stop MK. It's not what he was made for. He tries anyway, and no one is surprised when he fails, least of all himself.