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Kovu had started to think he’d lived with Simba a little too long.
Long enough that some of Simba’s worse habits were beginning to rub off on him.
For instance, he hadn’t expected that after days of tearing through the jungle, they would stumble one afternoon straight out into a new stretch of open plain.
His kitty looked utterly delighted. Under a sky like this, there wasn’t a place this boy wouldn’t dare to go. Next to Simba’s bright, reckless curiosity, Kovu’s low-voiced warnings about possible danger sounded rather dull and boring.
“Or you can wait here!”
Kovu could only watch as that reddish gold figure bounded out of the sheltering trees and straight into the glare of the sun, coming to a stop in the middle of an endless, exposed plain.
It was unwise to let Simba wander wherever he pleased. Who knew what trouble this little menace would stir up.
And the moment Kovu stepped out after him, three or four paces in, he knew it.
Trouble.
Real trouble.
He caught the scent of other lions.
Kovu broke into a quick trot and reached Simba just as he was craning his neck beneath a crooked, half-dead tree, peering around with bright interest.
“Simba! there are—”
“You smell them too?” Simba flashed him a grin. “I knew my nose wasn’t lying.”
Simba’s instincts were getting sharper, which Kovu could hardly complain about. What he wasn’t pleased with was how Simba chose to use that information.
“Where are they? Why can’t I see them?”
Kovu rolled his eyes toward the sky and yanked at Simba’s paw.
“Alright, that’s enough. We’re leaving.”
“But I haven’t said hello yet!”
Another eye-roll. His kitty was endlessly surprising — and not always in a good way.
“What, you want to go make friends?”
The way Simba smiled and nodded almost made Kovu want to scream. Before he could snap back, a sharp crackle came from the grass ahead, pulling both their attention forward.
Three lionesses stepped out.
In the few minutes they’d wasted talking, the lionesses had already closed the distance.
Simba started toward them with bold confidence, and was immediately met by bared teeth and coiled, bristling muscle.
“Who are you?” The one who looked oldest spoke first. “What do you want?”
Kovu stayed tight behind Simba as he cheerfully explained that they meant no harm, that he’d only come closer out of curiosity. Emerald eyes swept over the three lionesses, gauging their ages, then flicked past them, over the tall grass—
Now Kovu could see it. Several more lionesses held back in the reeds, ears pricked, watching. And behind them, something small and restless shifted.
Cubs. Four or five of them, still young enough to be counted in months.
No wonder the three in front were wound so tight. They knew perfectly well that three lionesses would not stand a chance against two males — but with cubs behind them, they had no choice but to hold their ground.
In moments like this, Simba’s easy warmth actually became useful. By the time Kovu pulled his focus back, the tension had thinned. The lionesses still looked wary, but the youngest among them had already begun trading a few cautious words with Simba. Kovu found himself thinking, not for the first time, that his kitty had some kind of ridiculous magic — drop him anywhere, and he would always find a way to make it feel like home.
It was hard to ignore those glances, sliding past Simba and landing on him. There was nothing in them but naked hostility.
But Kovu couldn’t care less.
He was used to being looked at that way.
In this whole world, Simba might be the only one who didn’t.
“Your friend looks kind of terrifying.”
The young lioness murmured it under her breath. The others nodded in quiet agreement. Simba only smiled and called back over his shoulder—
“How long are you planning to just stand there?”
The lionesses who had been lingering at a distance were beginning to move closer. Perhaps they no longer sensed any threat. Perhaps curiosity had won.
This only bothered Kovu more.
“Simba, you’ve already said hello, we—”
The rest died in his throat.
Among those approaching faces, one was so familiar it made Kovu’s skin crawl.
An old lioness. Every breath would be her last one — ready to slip back into the circle of life at any moment. A deep claw-mark had brutally twisted her face, leaving it swollen and warped. Her right eye was clouded white — blind — and one ear was torn. She walked at the very back, slow and limping.
Kovu dropped his head at once, letting his mane fall forward to hide his face.
One surviving proof of Scar’s victory.
Back when the king was still in his prime — still mad with conquest, still delighted to show Kovu how to devour a pride that refused to submit.
They rarely bothered with lionesses. They would fight back, yes — but the difference in strength was too great for it to last. Their real targets were always the adolescent males. And when Scar had led them in to surround that desperate young lion, the pride’s matriarch had charged, roaring—
Kovu squeezed his eyes shut.
It had been a suicide run. She hadn’t saved her son. And she almost lost her own life as well.
Kovu had never imagined he would see that face again.
Not here. And certainly not in front of Simba.
Some small, cowardly part of him clung to the hope that back then he had been little more than a cub, swallowed by the seething, battle-hungry pride, with Scar leading the charge — that she wouldn’t recognise him so easily.
He hurried to Simba’s side. “We really need to go.”
Simba pouted, still looking disappointed. The lionesses, for their part, seemed relieved, and offered them a polite farewell.
Just as they turned to leave, the young female closest to them happened to meet Kovu’s gaze.
Her eyes widened.
Kovu moved at once, stepping in front of Simba and herding him toward the trees.
Whatever she had seen in him — whether she recognised the scar or not — he would not turn back to meet those eyes, not to hear any low, frightened whispers.
More than anything, he needed Simba gone.
Now.
Back in the shelter of the jungle, Simba immediately launched into an excited retelling of his new friends.
“They said prey is kind of scarce out there, but the water’s good,” he went on, padding ahead and glancing back over his shoulder. “They’ve got four cubs to raise, so it’s pretty tough…”
Then he added, a little pouty, “Why were you in such a rush to drag me back? They might have let me see the babies.”
Kovu snorted under his breath. “Why bother? Just find a puddle and admire your own reflection.”
“Because I’m not a cub anymore!”
The black lion glanced back at him. That smug tilt to Simba’s head made something prickle beneath his skin.
“And what gave you the nerve to walk right up to a strange pride?” he snapped. “Did you even think about what would happen if there were adolescent males there — or if some rogue lions happened to—”
He cut himself off, flicking a paw in defeat.
“Never mind. I forgot who I’m talking to.”
Of course Simba had no way of understanding what those things meant. His kitty had no real sense of what being a male lion put at risk.
So Kovu let the anger go. He didn’t even bother trying to explain. Because that gold-and-red body bounded back to him, rubbing his forehead against his chin, soft and familiar.
Sunlight spilled through the leaves, scattering across Simba’s warm coat. Kovu stared at him for a moment — then looked away.
“You’re still mad?”
“No.” He blinked. “You seem to be having fun, though.”
“Of course I am! Do you know how long it’s been since I saw other lions?” Simba laughed, utterly pleased. “I mean — other than you.”
“Oh, really.” Kovu felt something sour twist in his chest. “And the way those ladies were looking at you was practically worshipful.”
He took off without waiting. This time it was Simba who stared — and then laughed even harder.
“Hey… exactly what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing important.
Simba bounded after him and cut him off.
“Please, you can’t be seriously sulking over that… Come on, Kovu—”
He leaned in again, all affection, but Kovu stiffened and pulled away.
“As if I’d dare sulk over you.”
That still sounded sharp. Simba tilted his head, thinking for a second — then, ignoring Kovu’s resistance, leapt forward and wrapped himself around the black lion.
“I think if you smiled a little, they’d like you too,” he whispered against Kovu’s ear. “Or if you let out one of your roars — I promise that would really make an impression…”
But Kovu only shoved him back. “Roar?! You want me to do that out there— Simba, are you out of your mind?”
This wasn’t teasing anymore. He was genuinely afraid Simba would get himself killed the moment he stepped into open land.
“Now listen to me,” Kovu said, his voice tight. “That is a unfamiliar territory. You don’t wander. You don’t leave marks. Do you understand? Especially not a roar.”
That was the same as announcing yourself to the whole plain. Suicide, in everything but name.
Kovu knew he must have looked serious, because Simba finally let the grin fade and nodded slowly.
…Though the quiet didn’t last long.
“I think you look scary because you’re always frowning. Timon and Pumbaa think so too. Why can’t you smile a little more?”
Kovu shrugged, feigning indifference.
“Don’t I smile at you enough?”
“But I want others to see you the way I do…”
Simba leaned in and pressed a kiss to the scar across Kovu’s eye, then lingered there, silent, until Kovu murmured—
“What way? You didn’t finish.”
Simba only looked at him. The thick black mane cast sharp shadows over that smooth-lined face. The scar made him look dangerous, powerful — and yet all of it softened in that shimmering emerald.
Simba blinked, a little dazed.
“…I changed my mind. Just smile for me.”
That finally pulled a smile from Kovu. “What are you even talking about?”
But Simba kissed him again, and slipped past him.
Whenever that gaze rested on him, he felt waves of green warmth roll in, washing over him, wrapping him so gently it made him want to drown in it.
He wanted others to like Kovu — but not too much.
Certainly not the way he did.
Most of all, he could not bear those eyes better looking at anyone else that way.
Otherwise, well…
it would be trouble.
Kovu followed that gold-and red figure quietly. He could feel every small shift in Simba’s mood, but right now his kitty clearly didn’t want to talk. From experience, this was when silence was safer.
Still — how long were they supposed to keep walking like this?
Kovu stopped and looked around. They were close to the plain again, separated from it by only a couple of thin layers of scrub.
Simba kept going, head down, not even noticing the other lion been fallen behind.
Until the brush rustled — and when he turned, Kovu was already gone.
Before surprise could even settle, a roar split the air.
Simba ran toward it, forcing his way through the tangled bushes, and then he saw—
The black lion stood backlit on the open plain, his low roar tearing through the air as if it could shatter every particle of dust within it. Simba wondered how far its power would carry. Probably clear across the plain.
He felt the vibration ripple through his skin, felt it in the thunder of his own heart, and let it draw him forward —
“Didn’t you say that was dangerous?”
Kovu turned, his emerald eyes glittering in the fading light.
“And didn’t you like me doing this?”
As if trying to lighten his mood, Kovu gave him a small, shallow grin.
“Wanna give it a try?”
“…What?”
Simba’s eyes widened a little. He stared at the blurring horizon, at the tangerine sun sinking toward it, and felt his stomach tighten.
Maybe he should wait until he practice a few more times by the waterfall. What if he made one of those humiliating little squeaks again?
“Relax. That won’t happen.”
Apparently Kovu knew exactly what he was thinking, and it only made Simba’s face heat up even more.
So the black lion smiled and walked a few steps ahead.
“Then I won’t look at you. That’ll help, right? Trust me — I’ve been there. I can tell if you’re ready or—”
He kept talking on purpose. And when the sudden roar rushed forward to cut him off, Kovu glanced at the falling sun, smugly thinking, see? That went just fine.
When he turned again, he ran straight into Simba’s glowing face.
“You— you heard that, right? How was it? Oh my… I can’t believe that came from me!”
Just as he leaned in to kiss those shining ambers, another roar rolled in from the horizon. Whatever gentleness had lingered in the air vanished at once. Both of them snapped their ears up together, straining to catch its meaning.
Simba thought for a while and frowned. It was still beyond his understanding.
“What did that say?”
Kovu listened for a moment — then decided to be wicked.
“They said they know there’s a young, pretty little thing out here feeling brave — challenge accepted…”
Simba’s expression was just too perfect. Before he could even react, Kovu went on, “And they said if you won’t go to them, they don’t mind coming to you instead.”
Simba looked like his jaw was about to hit the ground. He stammered something about “I never said any of that” and “maybe we should hide”, and Kovu was just about to tease him again — about who had been so eager to say hello earlier — when the same roar came again.
Closer this time.
Closing in fast.
Simba had made him reckless. Had made him forget to be cautious. Those bold, foolish roars had called down something far larger — far more dangerous — than either of them.
Kovu’s smile finally frozen.
“Run.”
“…What?”
“I’m not kidding. Run. Now!”
Kovu shoved Simba hard, and together they plunged back into the dark jungle. Wind roared in their ears. Branches snapped, leaves split beneath their paws, and all he could feel was their ragged breathing and the hammering of two hearts.
They didn’t know how far they had run before they finally stopped. Kovu lifted his head, tense, scenting the air. Simba, already out of breath, sagged crookedly against a tree.
“It’s okay. We’re safe now.”
Simba shot him a look, half annoyed. “I thought you were just messing with me…”
“I wish I had been.” Kovu stepped closer and touched his forehead to Simba’s. “I’m sorry. That was reckless. Next time—”
“It’s alright!”
After the long run, those amber eyes were still misted over, but now they shone again, bright in the dark.
“I really liked it…”
Simba pressed in close, until their uneven breathing tangled together.
“Kovu. I really did.”
When Kovu let out a low, restrained rumble and leaned his weight toward him, Simba tipped back silently, sinking into the thick, soft layer of fallen leaves. A familiar tremor ran through him again, starting from his spin and all the way to the tip of his tail.
Kovu brushed his nose against Simba’s chest as he looked up, emerald eyes glinting.
“So,” he murmured, “are you just tired… or a little too excited?”
A golden paw nudged him lightly, then pulled him into a warm, close hold. Kovu hid a small smile — so now his kitty remembered how to be shy?
He cradled Simba’s head, easing aside the red mane with careful claws, his mouth searching for the soft skin of his neck.
“Simba…”
He nipped there, gentle yet possessive.
Simba only held him tighter.