Chapter 20: New Ways

As Zira stepped into the lair, her amber eyes widened in shock at the sight of King Ahadi standing in the center. Her fur bristled instinctively, her tail twitching with nervous energy. She wasn't prepared for this. Being in the king's presence always left her feeling exposed, as though every flaw and shortcoming was magnified under his unyielding gaze. She had always felt judged by him—and she wasn't wrong. Ahadi had never hidden his disapproval, not of her, not of Taka's decision to make her his mate, and certainly not of her role in the Lion Guard.

Still, she knew better than to show weakness. Zira straightened her posture, trying to remember the proper etiquette for addressing the king. Should she bow? Salute? Speak first? Her mind raced, and she ended up attempting all three at once—saluting with one paw, bowing too quickly, and then trying to adjust her stance mid-motion. The result was an awkward stumble that made her feel more like a bumbling cub than Taka's fierce and capable second-in-command.

Ahadi's piercing green eyes locked onto her, and she froze. His expression was unreadable at first, but then his brow furrowed, and a faint leer curled at the edge of his mouth. It wasn't a kind smile, nor was it outright disdain—it was the look of a lion who was always appraising, always weighing others against his own impossible standards.

"Zira," Ahadi finally said, his deep voice carrying the weight of command. "You seem... flustered."

She swallowed hard, her ears flicking back as she tried to compose herself. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice steady despite the heat rising to her face. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"No," he replied coolly, his gaze briefly sweeping over the lair again before returning to her. "I imagine you weren't. Tell me, Zira, is this the state in which you usually keep the Guard's quarters?"

Her heart sank. Of course, he would focus on the mess. "The lair is... functional," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Each member has their own space tailored to their strengths and needs. It may lack the... rigidity of the past, but it serves us well."

"Rigidity," Ahadi repeated, his tone carrying a faint hint of mockery. "You mean discipline. Structure. Order."

Zira bristled at his tone but forced herself to remain calm. "Respectfully, Your Majesty, we are not the Guard of your era. Taka has given us the freedom to express ourselves, and it has only strengthened our unity as a team."

Ahadi's eyes narrowed slightly, and she felt the weight of his gaze intensify. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Then, to her surprise, he let out a low hum, as though considering her words.

"You're loyal to him," he said, more a statement than a question.

"Always," Zira replied without hesitation, her voice firm. "Taka has proven himself to be a leader worth following."

"Has he?" Ahadi countered, his voice sharp. "Or is it simply that you see in him an opportunity? A place for someone like you—a stray, as you were—to belong?"

Zira's claws flexed against the stone floor, but she held her tongue. She knew better than to rise to his bait. Instead, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze directly.

"I see in him a lion who cares deeply for his pride and his team," she said. "I see a leader who is willing to fight for those who others might overlook. And yes, Your Majesty, I see a lion who gave me a place to belong when no one else would."

Ahadi's expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or grudging respect. Before he could respond, a voice broke the tension.

"Father," Taka's voice rang out as he entered the lair, his tone edged with both surprise and wariness. "What are you doing here?"

Ahadi turned slowly to face his younger son, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Observing," he said simply. "And, perhaps, understanding."

Taka's eyes flicked to Zira, who gave him a subtle nod, her confidence restored. Whatever test Ahadi had intended, she would not falter—not for herself, and certainly not for Taka.

Ahadi let's out a sigh as he walks over to taka leering down at him as their emerald eyes met, "I want to spend the day with you my son, I want to get a better understanding of you and these new ways of yours, you have been admirably working hard in your duties at protecting the Pridelands and even additional training with your uncle, it is impressive." Ahadi explained, he had come merely to see Taka and spend the day with him, to try and get to know him better as he had noticed Taka trying to change, trying to be better and how he had indeed been helping the Pride Lands.

Taka froze, unsure how to respond. His father—the same lion who had dismissed and belittled him at every turn—was now standing before him, offering what sounded suspiciously like… praise? It didn't feel real. His emerald-green eyes locked with Ahadi's, searching for any hint of mockery or ulterior motive in the older lion's expression. But Ahadi's face, though stern as always, carried a weight Taka couldn't quite place.

"Spend the day with me?" Taka echoed, his voice laced with skepticism. "Why now? You've never—" He stopped himself, realizing how bitter he sounded. Clearing his throat, he softened his tone. "I mean… you've never wanted to before."

Ahadi let out a deep sigh, his massive shoulders rolling as if shaking off some invisible burden. "You're right," he admitted, his voice unusually subdued. "I haven't. And that was a failing of mine, one I can no longer ignore. I see now that I've been blind to certain truths… about you, about myself, about what it means to be a father."

Taka blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Was this truly coming from his father? The lion who had always favored Mufasa, who had dismissed Taka's ideas and ambitions as foolish, who had never once shown interest in Taka's dreams or struggles?

"Why the sudden change?" Taka asked cautiously, his claws instinctively flexing against the stone floor. "You've spent my whole life looking at me like I was… less. Like I'd never be good enough, no matter what I did."

Ahadi's emerald eyes softened—just slightly, but it was enough to make Taka's heart ache with a confusing mix of emotions. Regret, perhaps even guilt, flickered across the king's face. "Your uncle Obasi has a way of saying things… bluntly," Ahadi admitted. "And he's made me see that I've been so focused on preparing Mufasa for the throne that I've neglected my other son. I thought I was doing what was best for the Pride Lands. But now I see… I was wrong."

Taka's ears flicked back, and he couldn't help the sharp laugh that escaped him. "It took Uncle Obasi telling you that to figure it out?" His tone was bitter again, but he didn't care. Years of resentment bubbled to the surface, impossible to contain. "Not my mother? Not Zira? Not anyone else who's been trying to tell you the same thing all this time?"

Ahadi didn't flinch at the words. Instead, he stood tall, his gaze steady as he said, "Perhaps I am slow to learn. But I am trying to learn, Taka. And I want to understand the lion you are becoming. You've been helping the Pride Lands, working hard to prove yourself, and I can see that. You deserve recognition for your efforts, even if I was too blind to give it to you before."

The words landed heavily in Taka's chest, threatening to crack the walls he'd spent years building around his heart. He wanted to believe his father—wanted it more than anything—but he didn't know if he could. "And what if I fail?" he asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer. "What if I can't live up to… to what you expect of me?"

Ahadi stepped closer, his imposing figure casting a long shadow. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm. "Then you will get back up and try again. Failure isn't what defines a lion, Taka. It's what you do after. That is something I failed to teach you, but it's something I'm learning myself."

For a long moment, silence filled the lair. Zira watched from the corner, her amber eyes flicking between father and son. She said nothing, knowing this was not her moment to intervene.

Finally, Taka nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you're serious about this… then I'll give you a chance. But don't expect me to just forget everything."

Ahadi inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fair enough," he said. "I don't expect you to forget. But perhaps we can start to move forward."

Taka hesitated, then gestured toward the open savanna beyond the lair. "So… what do you want to do? You said you wanted to spend the day with me."

Ahadi glanced at the horizon, the first rays of dawn casting a golden glow over the Pride Lands. "Let's walk," he said simply. "Show me what you've been working on. Let me see the Pride Lands through your eyes."

And for the first time in a long time, Taka felt a glimmer of hope—a small, fragile thing, but there nonetheless.

Taka hesitated before nodding slowly. "Alright. Follow me," he said, his voice measured. He cast one last glance toward Zira, who gave him a small, reassuring nod. With that, he stepped past his father, leading him out of the Lion Guard lair and into the open savanna.

The morning air was crisp, the golden grass swaying gently in the breeze. Taka walked ahead, his posture tense, but he occasionally glanced back to make sure Ahadi was still following. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, until Taka finally broke it.

"So," he began, his voice cutting through the quiet, "what exactly do you want to see? Or is this just some excuse to… I don't know, spy on me?"

Ahadi chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that surprised Taka. "Spy on you? No, Taka, I'm here because I realized I've never taken the time to see the Pride Lands through your eyes. Show me what you've been working on. Show me what you care about."

Taka frowned, unsure how to respond. He had spent so much of his life trying to gain Ahadi's approval, and now that his father was offering him the chance, he didn't know how to take it. Finally, he gestured toward a distant cluster of trees near a watering hole.

"Fine," Taka said, starting toward the spot. "I've been working on something over there. You might as well see it."

Ahadi followed in silence, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. As they approached the watering hole, Taka began to explain.

"There's been a drought," he said, motioning toward the shrinking pool of water. "The herds were starting to fight over what little was left. I couldn't just sit back and watch them tear each other apart, so… I tried something."

He led Ahadi to a spot where rocks had been carefully arranged to redirect the flow of a small stream into the watering hole. The result wasn't perfect—the water flow was slow, and the pool wasn't as full as it once was—but it was clear that Taka had put thought and effort into the solution.

"I dug a well and used my roar to fill it with rain, I call it the Oasis Roar," Taka said, his tone a mix of pride and uncertainty. "Uncle Obasi taught me how to focus the Roar to move clouds and draw rain. It doesn't always work, and it takes a lot out of me, but… it's something, I figured I could use it to make small reservoir wells that can run to the watering holes."

Ahadi studied the scene, his expression unreadable. Taka braced himself for criticism, for some dismissive remark about how it wasn't enough. But instead, Ahadi nodded slowly.

"This is… impressive," the king said, his voice genuine. "You saw a problem, and you found a solution. It may not be perfect, but it's a start. You've given the herds a chance to survive."

Taka blinked, taken aback. "You really think so?"

Ahadi turned to him, his emerald eyes meeting Taka's. "I do. And I see now that you've inherited more from me than I realized. You have the heart of a leader, Taka. It's time I started acknowledging that."

The words hit Taka like a thunderclap. For years, he had longed to hear something like this from his father, and now that it was happening, he didn't know how to feel. Pride? Relief? Anger that it had taken so long?

Before he could sort through his emotions, Ahadi spoke again. "But being a leader is about more than just fixing problems. It's about building trust, earning the respect of those you lead. That's something I've failed to do with you, Taka. But I hope… I hope we can change that."

Taka stared at him, his mind racing. Could he trust his father? Could he really believe that Ahadi was willing to change?

"I don't know if it's that easy," Taka admitted. "There's… a lot you've said and done that I can't just forget."

Ahadi nodded. "I understand. Trust isn't built in a day. But I'm willing to put in the effort, if you'll let me."

For a long moment, Taka was silent. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. "Alright. Let's see if you mean it."

Ahadi smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually stern features. "Thank you, Taka. I won't let you down."

As the two lions stood by the watering hole, the sun rose higher in the sky, casting its golden light over the Pride Lands. For the first time in years, Taka felt a flicker of something he thought he'd lost—hope.

Taka led Ahadi to a nearby hill overlooking a stretch of open savanna. From this vantage point, they could see herds of zebra and wildebeest moving in orderly lines, their paths weaving across the land like carefully drawn patterns.

"Look down there," Taka said, his voice a mix of pride and nervousness. "That's another thing I've been working on. The herds used to follow the old migration routes, but those paths haven't been safe for a long time. Predators had learned where to wait, and it was turning into a slaughter. So I started guiding them to new routes—paths that are harder for lions, hyenas, and leopards to ambush."

Ahadi's emerald eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. The herds did seem more organized, their movements purposeful and calm. He noted the strategic placement of natural barriers—fallen trees, rocky outcroppings—that Taka had clearly used to create choke points and redirect the animals.

"How did you manage this?" Ahadi asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Taka shrugged, though there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. "I spent time observing them. Figured out their habits, their needs. Then I used the Roar when I had to, but mostly, I relied on patience. It took weeks to get them to trust the new paths, but now it's almost second nature for them."

Ahadi glanced at Taka, a hint of surprise crossing his face. "You've always been observant," he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "Even as a cub, you noticed things others didn't. I see now how you've turned that into a strength."

Taka stiffened at the compliment, unsure how to respond. "It's not just me," he said quickly. "I've had help. Zira's been there every step of the way, and so have the rest of the Lion Guard. Even Uncle Obasi and Aunt Eshe gave me advice."

Ahadi nodded, his gaze returning to the herds. "Still, it takes a leader to bring those pieces together. To turn a vision into reality. What you've done here… it's impressive, Taka. You've found a way to balance the needs of the herds with the safety of the Pride Lands."

Taka looked at his father, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all he saw was quiet admiration. It was an unfamiliar expression on Ahadi's face, and Taka wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"I just wanted to help," Taka said finally. "To make things better. For everyone."

Ahadi turned to him, his gaze steady. "And you have. This isn't just a small achievement, Taka. It's the work of a lion who understands the bigger picture. The kind of lion who could… one day… lead."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Taka's heart raced, his mind reeling. Was this his father's way of acknowledging him as more than just a shadow of Mufasa? As more than just a failure?

"I don't know about that," Taka said, his voice cautious. "Mufasa is the one who's going to be king. I'm just trying to do my part."

Ahadi sighed, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, Mufasa will be king. But that doesn't mean your role is any less important. The Pride Lands need lions like you, Taka—lions who see things others overlook, who think outside the traditions."

Taka stared at the herds below, his thoughts swirling. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of something he had always wanted but never believed he could have: his father's respect.

"Maybe," Taka said quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the wind. Then, with a small, hesitant smile, he turned back to Ahadi. "But I'm not done yet. There's still a lot more to fix."

Ahadi's lips curled into a rare smile. "Then let's see what else you've been working on."

Ahadi followed Taka cautiously into the dense jungle, the sounds of rushing water and birdsong growing louder as they approached the heart of Haluna Matata Falls. The jungle, lush and teeming with life, was a place Ahadi hadn't visited since he was a young prince under his father King Mahatu's reign. The memories were bittersweet, but his focus was quickly drawn to the sight ahead.

In a clearing near the base of a tall waterfall, Dio the panther lounged on a low-hanging tree branch, his sleek black fur shimmering in the dappled sunlight. Below him, Shenzi and her small cackle—Banzai, Kamari, Azizi, and Ed—were busily arranging what looked like a makeshift garrison. Wooden spikes, scavenged bones, and other crude defenses were being erected around a central fire pit. It was a far cry from the polished elegance of Pride Rock, but it had a certain rough practicality.

"Dio! Shenzi!" Taka called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the waterfall. "How's the progress?"

Dio stretched lazily on the branch, his piercing yellow eyes flicking to Taka and then to Ahadi. "Taka, my friend," he purred, his tone dripping with charm. "Progress is steady. Your little plan for the western border is coming together quite nicely."

Shenzi glanced up from where she was instructing Banzai and Kamari on the placement of some sharpened sticks. "Yeah, we've got eyes and ears on everything that moves through here," she said with a sly grin. "Ain't nobody sneaking past us."

Ahadi, standing stiffly beside Taka, surveyed the scene with a critical eye. His disapproval was evident in the way his nose wrinkled slightly and his tail flicked in agitation. "Taka," he said, his voice low and firm. "You've entrusted the security of the western border to them? A lazy panther and a pack of scavenging hyenas?"

Dio's ears twitched, but his grin remained. "Oh, come now, Your Majesty," he said smoothly. "Don't underestimate us. Hyenas and panthers may not be lions, but we have our talents. Besides, this jungle is as much my home as it was your father's. I know every vine, every rock, every shadow."

Shenzi chimed in, her grin sharpening. "And we hyenas? We're loyal to Taka. He's the first lion who ever treated us like we were worth something. We won't let him—or the Pride Lands—down."

Ahadi's emerald eyes narrowed as he looked between Dio and the hyenas. He was clearly unconvinced. "Loyalty and skill are two different things," he said coldly. "A garrison is only as strong as the ones who man it."

Taka stepped forward, his voice steady but with an edge of frustration. "Father, Dio and the hyenas have been nothing but reliable. They've proven themselves time and time again. They know this jungle better than anyone, and they're dedicated to keeping the Pride Lands safe."

Ahadi turned to his son, his gaze sharp. "You're placing a great deal of trust in creatures most lions wouldn't give a second glance. That kind of trust can be dangerous."

"And it can also bring change," Taka countered, his voice firm. "We can't keep dividing the world into 'lions' and 'everyone else.' The Pride Lands are stronger when we work together. Dio and Shenzi have shown they're willing to stand with us. Isn't that worth something?"

Ahadi was silent for a long moment, the sound of the waterfall filling the space between them. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. "Perhaps," he said grudgingly. "But know this, Taka: if they fail, it will be on your head."

Taka nodded, his expression resolute. "I understand, Father. But they won't fail."

Dio leapt gracefully from his branch, landing softly beside Taka. "Well, I must say, it's been an honor to have the king's attention," he said with a mock bow. "But we've got work to do. Come, Taka. Let me show you the patrol routes we've set up."

As Taka followed Dio and Shenzi deeper into the jungle, Ahadi lingered for a moment, watching them go. He still had his doubts, but a small part of him couldn't help but admire Taka's determination. Perhaps his younger son was more capable than he had ever given him credit for.

Ahadi paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing, his gaze drifting back to the waterfall cascading down the rocky cliffs. The sunlight caught the spray, creating a faint rainbow that shimmered in the mist. Memories of his youth flooded back, unbidden and bittersweet. He could almost hear the laughter of his younger self and Obasi echoing through the jungle, their paws splashing in the shallow pools beneath the falls.

He remembered the first time his father, King Mahatu, had brought him and Obasi here. Mahatu's deep voice had rumbled with pride as he explained the significance of the jungle and its waterfall, a hidden sanctuary within the Pride Lands. "This place," Mahatu had said, "is a symbol of balance. The wild and the peaceful, the strong and the gentle. Protect it, and it will protect you."

Ahadi's chest tightened at the memory. Back then, he and Obasi had been inseparable, racing through the trees, chasing each other's shadows. They had seen this place not as a responsibility, but as a playground—a world full of wonder and possibility.

Now, as he watched Taka disappearing into the underbrush with Dio and the hyenas, a begrudging respect stirred in Ahadi's heart. Taka had chosen this place, not out of nostalgia, but out of strategy and a desire to protect. Despite his reservations about his son's methods and his choice of allies, Ahadi couldn't deny that there was something admirable in Taka's actions.

"Taka," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "perhaps there's more of Mahatu in you than I thought."

With a final glance at the waterfall, Ahadi turned and followed after Taka and the others, the sound of the rushing water fading behind him. The jungle felt different now—less like a distant memory and more like a living, breathing part of the Pride Lands that Taka was working to preserve. For the first time in a long while, Ahadi wondered if he had underestimated his younger son.

To be continued…