Chapter Thirty: A Bite of Humility

The golden sunlight stretched lazily across the Pride Lands, casting a rich, honeyed glow over the waving grass and scattering wildflowers. A breeze swept through the open clearing, warm and full of the soft perfume of the savanna. Laughter and light chatter echoed as Simba, Nala, Kovu, Kiara, Vitani, and the Lion Guard wandered through the open fields, enjoying a rare moment of peace. 

They were so accustomed to seeing Jitu only in the misty sanctuary of his hidden forest, a quiet specter among shadows, that when they turned a bend and saw him in the full, open sun, they stopped dead in their tracks. There, beneath the generous shade of a wide acacia tree, sat Jitu. The massive, frost-marked lion reclined against the trunk, his great body sprawled with the relaxed indifference of someone with nowhere to be. His usual stoic presence—calm, unreadable, regal—was utterly undone by one hilarious detail. Jitu was eating fruit. Bright red, sticky fruit. It stained his paws, smeared across his chin, and dribbled through the pristine frost of his mane in wide, syrupy trails. With the same calm detachment he applied to everything else, he took another bite, juice squishing loudly in the silence.

The group stood frozen. Until Kovu fell over. “Oh… good grief…” he gasped between howls of laughter. “Jitu! You look like you lost in a berry patch!” Simba tried valiantly to preserve his dignity, but the rumbling chuckle broke free from his chest. Nala’s melodic laughter joined his, soft and unrestrained. Kiara snorted mid-giggle. Even Imara collapsed beside Kovu, her deep laughter echoing off the nearby rocks. Vitani tried to hold it together. “You… you’re supposed to be this weird, mysterious... now you… you look like—” 

“Like a smoothie!” Imara howled. Jitu’s reaction? Nothing. His massive face remained utterly neutral, eyes half-lidded and tranquil. His berry-streaked chin didn’t flinch under their laughter. He merely regarded them, silent and unbothered, and took another massive, messy bite.The laughter intensified. “Oh—this is priceless,” Kovu wheezed. “Conquered by a fruit.” Simba stepped forward, trying to offer some dignity to the moment. “Here,” he said, reaching out to dab at Jitu’s mane with a paw. But the fruit Jitu held tilted, and a fresh drip of red juice splashed down Simba’s chest. He blinked. Jitu blinked.More laughter.

“Full of surprises, this one,” Nala said, wiping a tear from her eye. Jitu responded by licking a paw, wiping it slowly across his muzzle in what might have been an attempt at cleaning—but it only smeared the juice further. Vitani stepped closer, grinning ear to ear. “Do you realize how ridiculous you look?” Jitu met her eyes. He did not smile. He did not blink. He simply… was. From the bushes, Rafiki emerged, staff in hand, his expression gleeful. “Oh-ho-ho! So it is true! Silent mountain has sweet tooth!” Jitu looked at him. Licked another paw. And resumed eating. 

Simba chuckled and leaned against Nala, watching the scene with a warm, steady gaze. “He should come more often.” Jitu’s eyes flicked toward him. He didn’t nod. He didn’t move. He just kept chewing—slow, steady, and completely unaffected. Vitani stared at him, the laughter fading from her voice, replaced by something else. “You really are impossible.” Still no answer. But for those who watched closely, there was a softness to the way he shifted his weight. A glimmer of something content beneath the stone. And as the sun bathed the land in gold, Jitu—fruit-stained, silent, and serenely ridiculous—continued eating, unbothered by the world’s noise.