April 7, 1985

Glasses clinked and lights glittered as orchestra music filled the hotel ballroom.

"Pleeeeeease?" Simba asked. Mufasa chuckled, twirling his wine glass delicately in his great paw. His tuxedo was crisply pressed, but he still looked relaxed, smelling subtly of cologne. In contrast, Simba's suite was half a size too big, loose at the collar, and he looked tightly-wound, as always. Sarabi and Sarafina were off mingling, and Simba's uncle sat across the table watching in dry amusement. Nala saw that nobody was looking and used the opportunity to reach under her ruffled dress and scratch her ankle. The gown was too frilly for her, a deep green monstrosity her mother had eagerly picked out. At least it wasn't pink. She had been reluctant to attend the annual company gala, but Simba had begged. 'I'll die of boredom if you're not there,' he'd stressed.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Mufasa scooped a soup spoon into his glass and offered it to Simba. "Just a sip, don't tell your mother." Simba eagerly took a sip, but his face immediately soured and puckered. Mufasa laughed heartily. "Not quite what you imagined, huh?"

"I thought it was made from grapes!" Simba wiped his tongue on his napkin before shoving it back on his lap. "How can you drink that?"

"You'd be surprised how your palette changes as you age," Mufasa settled back in his chair, spotting Sarabi a dozen yards away, smiling fondly as she chatted with someone. Her champagne-colored headscarf was perfectly placed, matching her modest silken evening gown. She looked heavenly.

"You can't very well live on pizza and sugared drinks your whole life," Scar commented.

"Oh yeah? Watch me."

"If you'll all excuse me," Mufasa stood, folding his napkin and setting it on the table, "I have to go ask a very pretty lady to dance. Wish me luck."

"Have fun," Simba poked his fork at his food. "Hey Uncle Scar, how come it's called a black-tie formal but you don't have to wear a black tie?"

"I'm wearing one," Scar took a sip of his wine. His entire ensemble was black, save for a gold watch.

"Yeah but a lot of the guys are wearing white or blue ties, and Nala isn't wearing a tie at all."

"Neither are you," Nala pointed out.

"Yes I am!"

"Clip-ons don't count."

"They most certainly do not," Scar agreed dryly. "I'm surprised your mother let you leave the house in one of those tacky abominations."

"It kinda looks like a real tie," Simba tried to examine his own neck.

"Why don't you two kiddies run off and play?" Scar suggested without a hint of humor. "Release some insects onto the dance floor or spike the punch, whatever it is that you two get up to."

"What does spiking mean?"

"Shoo, shoo," he waved them off.

"Fine," Simba pushed his chair back. "I actually have something for you, anyway."

"I'm not trading my cards anymore, I finally have all the ones I want," Nala frowned.

"No, not cards, Mom said I couldn't bring those," he gestured for her to follow him. She did, ducking and weaving past the swaths of silk and lace as animals milled about. They ducked under the beverage table, hiding between the metal legs as heels and dress shoes treaded around them. "My mom gave me the buttons from my Grandpa's uniform," he fished something out of his pocket. "She said she'd been saving them for when I was old enough not to lose them. I thought they'd make cool necklaces." He produced two identical pieces of simple jewelry, just a brass inscribed button on a thin chain.

"Are you sure she won't mind if I have one?" Simba's grandfather had passed when they were both small, Nala didn't know much about him.

"No, she helped me, she said she was happy they weren't sitting in storage."

"Sweet," Nala put it around her neck. "Thanks."

"I don't have a game or story to go with them or anything," Simba admitted, stuffing his under his suit, "I just think they're cool."

"They don't have to be a game, they can just be cool."

"That's true," he scratched his neck. "Hey, I'm gonna go ask my mom if I can have seconds, I'll be right back."

"Alright, fatso," she sat more comfortably, content to examine the button. It was clearly old, and smelled faintly of mothballs and polish. Simba's home was full of weird old things, trinkets from decades ago. Simba was back shortly, looking distinctly put-out. "What," Nala smirked, "did she say no?"

"She said I have to ask you to dance," he muttered in frustration.

"Wow, you must have made her mad."

"Ha ha. Well?"

"Well what?"

"You know," he jerked his head, "come on."

"Wait, you're actually asking me?"

"I'm not, my mom says I gotta," he huffed.

"I think I'll pass."

"Cool," he sat next to her. "She can't get mad at you. Let's just not and say we did, deal?"

"Deal," she shook his paw. "So, are you and your dad and uncle going after this?"

"Yeah," he perked up, "Just the guys, it's gonna be so cool. I don't have to go to bed on time or anything, plus, my dad is gonna teach me to build a fire."

"Lord help us."

"Shut up, I was gonna teach you, but now I might not!"

"Matches are like, fifty cents at the gas station."

"Yeah but civilization might collapse when the zombies take over, and you'll wish you had me, then."

"As a body shield."

"You're the worst friend ever," he snickered.

"I know," she smiled primly.

The Zootopia Tribune

"Rivermouth CEO and Son Perish in Fire"

By Nigel White

Mufasa wa Mwamba-Kiburi, CEO and heir to Rivermouth Co. and son Simba, 12, perished in a deadly fire after the family cabin was engulfed in flames. The fire was reported by Mufasa's brother, Askari wa Mwamba-Kiburi, after he'd returned from fishing. Paramedics, fire and police were dispatched to the scene. Mufasa wa Mwamba-Kiburi was pronounced dead at the scene, the remains of his son and heir to their family business were too burned to identify.

"It's a real Shakespearean tragedy," Chief Bogo was able to comment. "My respects to the family for the loss, he was an upstanding citizen and a personal friend. The kid was bright, he had a good future. Some things never make sense, but we move on."

Widowed wife and mother Sarabi wa Mwamba-Kiburi has yet to release a statement. Dozens of employees have already expressed their remorse for the CEO, who was widely regarded as popular and well-liked.

It is assumed that Sarabi wa Mwamba-Kiburi will inherit both her late husband and sons' majority shares in the company, however insiders speculate that she has expressed little interest in the business and will sell the shares to Mufasa's brother, Askari wa Mwamba-Kiburi, who already holds minority shares. This would effectively give him unchallenged control over the company and enable him to buy back any remaining shares. What this will mean for stockholders has yet to be determined.

If the remaining wa Mwamba-Kiburi brother does buy the majority shares, major internal structural changes are expected to take place, with a possible total overhaul of management and business dealings. Several anonymous insiders have reported that the brothers had very different visions for the company, which will face much scrutiny in the months to come as the public watch for the coming changes.