A/N: You might have noticed that I'm blatantly mixing Buddhism with African shamanism in this chapter and in the story in general. However, I feel that I'm totes justified in this because A) I don't know anything about African shamanism and B) The movie blatantly does this too, with Rafiki taking the seiza meditation pose for example. So there!

A Tirthankara is a spiritual teacher of the correct Inner Path (Dharma), and often someone who himself has escaped Samsara by attaining Nirvanna.

"King Scar! You'll never guess who's back!"

Scar shot up, nearly tumbling from his stone dais as the growing weight of Nala jumped up against him. She was practically bouncing with excitement. "What, who? Is it Zira?" Hope and relief washed over him at the thought – the Pridelands could not survive much longer with this interminable drought.

"No silly, look!"

Scar groaned as a blue-and-red hornbill flew into the royal den, wearing a decidedly exasperated expression on his avian features. "And a jolly good morning to you too, Sire. I am relieved to see you are still composed and dignified enough to conceal your excitement, unlike some lions I could mention."

"Uncle Scar!" Following right after Zazu, Simba bounded into the great hall, looking considerably larger than the mere cub who had left. "I'm back from my mission! Notice anything different about me?"

"Hm." Scar clambered off his dais and gave his nephew an exaggerated inspection. "Oh no! Don't panic, Simba, but some kind of disgusting crimson parasite appears to have attached itself to your scalp. I will need to use my claws to excise it."

Simba rolled his eyes even as he laughed – revealing a far lower tenor than the childish giggle Scar had come to know so well. "No uncle, I have a mane! That means I'm officially an adult." He shook his head to illustrate, but the few measly crimson strands failed to tumble and wave majestically around him as it would for a full-grown lion. "Hey, does this mean I get to be king now?"

"I would say you still need to grow a few more hairs," said Sarabi, who was just now rising from her spot on the dais. She smiled benevolently at her son. "How was your trip?"

"It was amazing," said Simba. "I was really great!"

Zazu idly landed on Scar's head, once again revealing a complete lack of will to live – understandable, Scar supposed, given his pitiful existence. "I would say it went about as well as could be expected, your majesty. All across the Pridelands, your subjects are suffering from thirst and malnourishment as a result of the drought. Still, the young prince's speeches – if I am to insult the noble art of oration by referring to them as such – seem to have at least encouraged them to wait a while longer before vacating."

Scar nodded. If even a few species started to migrate, it would all be over: The more herbivores moved away, the more their natural predators would follow, breaking the dam that prevented the entire Pridelands from becoming a barren desert. If not for Simba – if he had actually banished the boy back then, or worse… He shook his head. It did not bear thinking about, in more ways than one.

Zazu fell off his head with a squawk, and immediately flew out of swiping range. "If I may be so bold, Sire…" He almost seemed apologetic, though that was ridiculous. "Now that I have returned–"

"I know," Scar sighed, already moving towards the cavern's only exit. "Time for the morning report."

"Hey dad – could I come with you?"

Scar turned around. "What?"

"I asked if I could come with you, uncle Scar." The adolescent shot him a wide grin. "I'm really good at speechifying now, so if I go with you I could talk to the animals here and learn more about the kind of kingly things you do each day and such."

"Ah," said Scar. "That's… I mean, if your mother approves?" Sarabi favoured him with an enigmatic smile. "Fine then, I don't see why not."

"Yes!" The two lions and the bird passed through the short tunnel leading out of the cave, and Scar blinked against the sudden light and heat. The merciless sun was blazing down on him as if to incinerate him on the spot, and the pressure in the air instantly doubled the headache which was already a constant factor in his life. You really do want me dead, don't you, brother? But is it for doing too much, or too little? He almost wished his brother would just come down from the sky to roar at him as a ghost – it would be more familiar at least than this alien approach.

"All right," said Zazu, flapping next to his head in a way that added less to the breeze than it did to his headache. "It's been a while since I gave any reports, so let's see… first up are the buffalos, I think."

The three of them traversed the Pridelands under the blazing sun, and it did not take long for Simba to spot a tower of Giraffes attempting to graze from the last few yellowed leaves high up in a baobab tree. Its prodigious size had evidently allowed it to store enough water to last a while, or perhaps it was tapping into a source from further below. Something to look into later, he supposed.

Simba leaped up onto a nearby ridge, allowing him to address the giraffes at eye-height. "Hey, listen," he said. "How're you all doing? Yeah, I know, am I right? Things sure are tough right now, but listen – see my uncle Scar over there? He's the smartest animal in the Pridelands, and he's got a plan…"

Scar stared at the sight in wonder. Giraffes were barely even smart enough to understand speech, and yet Simba's words still seemed to be making them less agitated. Some even stopped trying to reach for the leaves in order to lean in closer. "I don't get it," Scar said eventually. "He's not even saying anything new, and yet it's still making a difference."

"He's giving them hope," Zazu said, interrupting his briefing to land besides him. "That's not nothing."

"When I make people believe in things that will never happen, they call it lying."

Zazu gave him a savvy look. "Ah, but that's only because when you do it you always look like you're plotting to strangle the person you're talking to."

Scar smiled despite himself. "Zazu, that's just with you, and I'm quite open about that." I wish I really were plotting something: All this having to wait is maddening. There has to be something else I can do…

Zazu soon completed his report, and the two lions continued onwards by themselves. After traveling for a while in companionable silence – aside from Scar's occasional cursing at the sun – their thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a young lion's growl.

A jolt of recognition shot through Scar as he realized just where his mindless ambling had taken them, followed by a stab of panic. No – she wouldn't have. There, hidden in the briar bushes, crouched amongst the last plants left near the cave's entrance except for a few blackened vines and weeds, a mangy cub sat as though preparing to pounce. It snarled at them with an animalistic fervour.

"Nuka?" He was almost afraid to wait for a reply. I'd completely forgotten…

Simba gave him an uncertain look. "Uncle Scar? Who's this lion? Is he from a different pride?"

It was Nuka who answered. "Get off! This is our turf. You don't belong here."

"Nuka, have you been here by yourself all this time? What have you been eating?"

"I can hunt," the cub growled, affronted. It had been living off insects and the occasional field mouse, no doubt. "Mother trusted me to keep our turf safe from intruders."

"I don't doubt it," Scar said, still trying to gather his thoughts. "Listen, Nuka, here's what you need to do. Go to Pride Rock, and try to look as wretched as you can manage." Shouldn't be too hard, in his case. "No doubt one of the lionesses there will fawn over you, and provide you the sustenance you need."

"Yeah," said Simba, moving closer to the cub without regards for its snarls. "I'm sure mum wouldn't mind helping you out if you just ask! Just tell her I sent you, and she'll–"

"I don't need your stinkin' handouts!" The cub shot Simba a glare full of resentment, and Scar instantly did a double-take. He gaped at the sight, which seemed so nostalgic as to be painful: The larger and healthier Simba looking down at the smaller and uglier cub with such pity, and the shabby younger cub staring back with so much bitterness and hate.

No… no, I reject that comparison. This is not my fault. These are not my cubs…

He stepped closer, moving slowly so as not to startle the boy. "Nuka…" What was he to say? Everything his own father had told him had only ever made things worse. What was it that he would have wanted Ahadi to say to him, all those years ago? "Listen to me," he said, an idea forming in his head. "Your loyalty to your mother is admirable, but it's wasted on her, I think."

"Why do you care?" The cub glared at him, suspiciously. "It's not like you're really my dad, or anything."

"Right, I'm not," said Scar. "So there's no point in you trying to be like me or Simba. The fact of the matter is that I'm the king and Simba is the crown prince, and you're neither of those things, so you should probably put any thoughts of being like either of us out of your head right now."

Simba gaped at him, horrified. "Uncle Scar!"

"See?" said Scar. "He even is nicer than you. Sure, it's possible that you'll develop some incredible talent like being spiritually attuned that'll allow you to compete with him, but I wouldn't count on it." He stroked his mane, trying to put his thoughts together. The cub seemed too bewildered to growl at them anymore, so that was an improvement at least. "Look, my point is, comparing yourself to other people is only ever going to make you unhappy, so you should just focus on your own development instead."

"That's not true," the cub protested. "I could totally be like you! You know – if I wanted to."

Scar shook his head as he regarded the stubborn look in the boy's eyes, trying vainly to determine what he should do with the lad. Zira… what on earth were you thinking?

Zira was thinking about pouncing. It was a difficult habit to break: After spending her whole life as a huntress under queen Sarabi, the smallest movement in the grass was enough to set off her instincts and get her ready to leap to the attack. This target, however, could in no way be described as 'small'.

"…it's our problem free ~ philosophy…"

At last Zira's hindbrain ran out of patience, and she felt herself leap out of the undergrowth to land in front of the dancing pig and rat, causing the two of them to yelp and duck for cover. "Okay," she growled, "what the hell is this supposed to be?"

"Oh geez it's a lion!" The striped rat jumped on top of the pig's head and grabbed its ears. "Run, Pumbaa: Fly like your wind!"

"Wait Timon, I don't think she's gonna eat us." The pig bowed awkwardly towards Zira, and motioned to the great tree and the gushing waterfalls behind him. "The name's Pumbaa, and this is Timon: We are the protectors of Hakuna Matata falls."

"Hakuna mawhatnow?"

"Hakuna Matata," said the striped rat, clambering off his pig when it became clear she was not about to attack. "It's our motto: It means we don't give a shit."

"Timon," the pig said doubtfully, "I thought it was an ancient mystical philosophy about letting go off your earthly worries in order to attain enlightenment."

"Pumbaa, Pumbaa, Pumbaa," the rat chuckled, as it reached up to pat the pig on the shoulder. "I don't give a shit."

None of this was doing much to calm Zira's hindbrain, which insisted that these overly talkative walking steaks were in need of a good pouncing. "I am looking for the royal mjuzi, Rafiki. Is he here or not?"

"Ohoho, indeed he is!" From out of a gap between the roots of the great tree an old bearded monkey hopped forward, leaning on a staff in a way that clearly indicated he had no need of it. "Well, well, well, a visitor for old Rafiki? What gives such a noble lady cause to come all the way over from Pride Rock?"

Zira suppressed a glower – she had the distinct impression that she was being mocked. "Honoured mjuzi," she recited, "the crown Prince has been suffering from strange dreams full of portent and veiled meaning. The royal family begs you to return to the Pridelands to offer your spiritual guidance."

"Oho, has he indeed? You had better come inside then, so we can discuss." The monkey beckoned her with his long arms, and before she could say anything he had slipped back inside.

Grunting, Zira squeezed through the narrow opening between the roots and found herself inside of a tall open space filled with tribal artefacts – the tree was completely hollow, as it turned out. There were countless baubles, wooden tokens and dried fruits dangling from long strings attached to the roof, which clattered against each other as she brushed past. The walls of the tree were filled with incomprehensible scribbling and mural paintings picked out in shades of red.

She was just glancing towards a crude representation of a pride of small lions when a hand grabbed her by the neck and pressed her face against it. "Come, come, look closer! Tell me, what do you see?"

She drew back with a grunt, and blinked to clear her vision. When she opened her eyes again, she saw to her amazement that the shapes were moving. "It's – they're lion cubs," she whispered. "Their little paws are wriggling. They… they need their mother." She blinked again, and the painting was still once more.

"Ohoho! You can see quite clearly already, for one so recently introduced to Hakuna Matata." She stared at the monkey, who was grinning at her. The blue markings on his cheeks lent him a decidedly mischievous air. "This is the art of spirit-sight, of Darśana. It allows you to see the past and the present, but never the future."

"Oh man, I love this place," said Timon, who had followed her inside. He held his nose above one of the pots on the ground and wafted the air upwards with both hands, inhaling deeply. "Just the smell of these paints… hmm-hmm. This is great. Life is great. Everything's great."

"Uh, Timon?" There was a loud grunting sound behind her. "I think I'm stuck again."

"Not a problem, good buddy! Let me just giva ya a little push. Hang in there…"

Zira stared at the sight, the sheer absurdity of it finally managing to overpower her more aggressive instincts. "So… why can't it show the future?"

"Why, because it has not happened yet!" The monkey guffawed, and the dried fruits that dangled from his staff rattled and shook along with his laughter. "What a foolish question!" He searched around on the floor, and picked out a small pot which he shoved in Zira's face. "Here. These iboga leaves should help the young prince with his troubled dreams. Tell him to inhale their vapours each evening before rest, and to meditate upon the infinite: That should help him make sense of his visions."

"You can tell him yourself," Zira said, shoving the pot away. "We need your help at Pride Rock."

"Oh no, not possible." The monkey shook his head. "I need to stay and offer guidance to the animals of this land, and teach them Hakuna Matata. Trust me: Inhale vapours, meditate on infinite. There is no more I can do – enlightenment must come from within."

"There are other problems afflicting the kingdom," Zira growled. "There is a drought which is killing all the plants and animals in the Pridelands." There was no telling how bad it had gotten, in the time since she went away.

"A drought," Rafiki repeated, stroking his beard. "Very troubling. What does this have to with spirits, exactly?"

Zira cursed – she knew there had been a reason why Scar told her to use the nightmares story instead. "Some animals are saying the Kings of the Past abandoned us because they take issue with King Scar's… unique leadership style. We need you to conduct the traditional ritual ceremony for our new king to put their minds at ease."

"Scar." Rafiki's brow furrowed. "He is the one who sent you, yes?"

"I didn't say that." She could already hear Scar chastising her for failing to bring Rafiki back. But no, that could not be allowed to happen. "I came here out of love for my kingdom."

"Ah, love, is it?" The monkey crossed his arms and nodded sagely. "To feel such strong love is admirable indeed, but it can also be blinding. Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding, as they say."

She glowered at him. Her urge to pounce was back at full strength, but the thought of failure bade her restraint. "What do you have against Scar, anyway?" Sometimes it seemed like everyone hated him, except her.

"What do I have against him? What do I have against him?" The monkey leaped towards her, his face livid with fury, and she jumped back on sheer instinct. "He stole my stick!"

She blinked. "He… what?"

"My bakora stick! That ruffian, in his mad thirst for power, sought not just to wield the power of the spirits but command them. And to do so, he stole my almighty stick!"

Zira stared at the staff Rafiki was shaking at her, the dried fruits rattling against the wood as he waved it around. "But… if he stole your staff, then what are you holding right now?"

"Oh," said the monkey, staring at his staff as if seeing it for the first time. "Well, I found a new one the next day. Very lucky! Normally, bakora staff is holy artefact which is found only once per lifetime."

Zira pinched her eyes closed. The paint fumes in the room were giving her a headache, and she was starting to develop severe doubts concerning this shaman's abilities. Possibly the two were related. "Look," she said, suppressing her murderous urges as well as she could manage, "I'm sure his majesty is very sorry for borrowing your staff. But the kingdom really does need you."

"Indeed." The monkey started pacing around, stooping so low that his beard almost touched the ground as he walked. "The king dies, the crown prince has troubled dreams involving spirits, a drought strikes the kingdom and now Scar sends you here in secret. It does indeed sound like I am needed!"

"So you'll come?" she asked, feeling faint relief. "You'll return to the Pridelands?"

"Oh yes," he said. He took a deep breath, and a fierce determination settled in his eyes. "It is time."

There was a large crashing sound behind her as the pig broke apart the entrance with a squeal, and both he and the rat rolled into the room with a loud clamour. The monkey cursed at them, screaming and waving his staff as he chased them around the place. Zira was not sure why, but even though her mission had been accomplished, she could not shake the feeling that Scar would not be pleased.