[3rd POV]
(The Congo - 3 years ago)
"What's wrong, kid?" Timon asked with a worried tone at the lion cub they had adopted.
Simba was lying in the forest, his ribs pressing against his skin with every breath he took. He had grown weak and thin. He had recovered quite a bit since they found him in that desert a week ago, but he was not getting better.
"I don't know. I'm just extremely tired," Simba answered with a tired voice. "Could you maybe let me sleep in a bit today?"
"Sure, kid, take however long you need," Timon said, softly patting the lion cub which he had come to be fond of over the week.
Timon walked away to give space to Simba under the shade of a tree. He walked towards Pumba, who was looking at Simba from a distance. His eyes had the same worry, if not more.
"What are we going to do, Timon? We can't let the kid die like this. We promised to take care of him," Pumba said as Timon came up to him with droopy shoulders.
"I don't know. What do you want me to do? I am not his mother," he said with a sigh.
Silence prevailed as the two watched Simba from a distance. His breathing was getting weaker and slower. It felt like they were watching him die in real time, and it was heartbreaking for the two friends.
A week. They'd had the lion cub with them for a week, but they had quickly come to care for him. They thought they could change him in their image, but that seemed to be impossible.
"You know what we have to do," Pumba said suddenly, his voice surprisingly firm contrary to his goofy character. "A lion cannot live off worms and insects."
"No, I don't know what we have to do. Tell me, Pumba. Do you have any bright ideas?" he asked.
"We need to give him meat."
"Are you insane?!" Timon said immediately. "Do you even realize what you're saying? Meat? MEAT?! Do you realize meat comes from living beings? Heck, you are meat! I'm sure you'd make for a delicious fatty steak, so why don't you offer yourself to him then?"
"No, I mean other meat, not us obviously. What if we give Simba the meat of someone no one loves? Someone who is hated by everyone?" Pumba said.
"Okay, now you're just making it sad," he said. "So who do you suggest we feed Simba?"
Pumba was silent for a while and stared intently at Timon.
"Bushmaster," Pumba said.
Timon's eyes widened, then he released an "Ooooooo."
"I see the vision," Timon said.
"We'll teach Simba to only eat the bad animals, not the good guys. That way we get rid of all the bullies, and Simba gets his meat!" Pumba said.
"No, wait! I have a better idea!" Timon said before he hopped in front of Pumba and grabbed his face.
"What if we let Simba eat only the bad guys while teaching him not to hurt the good guys! That way we get rid of the bullies of the forest, and Simba will have his meat and be healthy!"
"Uhhh, that's what I just said—"
"It's genius, Pumba. I am a genius!" Timon said, ignoring him completely. "I don't know how I even come up with such great ideas. I may be small, but I guess I have quite the large brain."
"Hey, Simba! Simba!!" Timon called to the cub lying down in the distance.
With an annoyed growl and droopy ears, Simba propped himself up.
"Let's go! We are going to hunt meat for you!" Timon said with an excited wave, and this time, Simba's ears perked up and it was like life was returning to him.
He knew his new friends didn't allow him to hunt any living beings, that was why he had held back all this time. But he was extremely happy and excited to see the change in their minds.
"Okay, I'm coming!" Simba said and ran towards them.
The lion's body had made itself weak to conserve energy, but when the brain knew he was going to hunt, the body suddenly allowed Simba to access all his energy reserves.
The trio then headed towards the stream immediately. They traversed through the thick jungle. Simba was having trouble doing so, but Pumba was patient and taught the prey how to move in the forest.
After an hour or so, they reached the stream. And there, they found the prey they were looking for.
Bushmaster. He was a Bay Duiker. They were not large prey, averaging around 20–26 kilograms. He was the perfect prey for the 8-month-old Simba, who weighed almost twice that.
The Bushmaster was hated by all the animals in the vicinity.
"Why though?" Simba asked. The three of them were hiding behind a bush while the Bushmaster was playing around in the small stream.
"He looks kinda adorable," Simba said.
Timon gave an answer. "Bushmaster and his kind are extremely territorial, and for some reason, he's claimed ownership of the whole stream. The nearest watering hole after this is far, so other animals have to travel long distances just to get water."
"Huh? But he's so small. Can't Pumba chase him away?" Simba asked.
"Yes, but he always comes back. He bullies the smaller animals, and when a bigger one comes, he does this really nasty thing to make sure no one drinks from his stream," Timon said.
"He pisses and shits in the stream," Pumba said with hate.
"Oh... ew..." Simba said.
"You don't know half of it, kid. The Bushmaster has greater firepower than even Pumba," Timon said.
Simba made a face. He knew firsthand how horrible Pumba's fart smelled, so he couldn't even comprehend how horrible his must be.
"Stay here. We'll lure the Bushmaster to you, and you'll do your... umm... lion thing, I guess," Timon said.
"Okay. Don't worry. I know how to hunt. Leo taught me," Simba said. (Leo had actually taught Simba how to hunt rabbits if you refer to Chapter 11.)
After that, Pumba and Timon went out from their hiding spot.
"Hey, big ass!!" Timon called while standing on top of Pumba.
Bushmaster looked towards them and frowned. "You again, Timon? I told you, I don't allow others to drink from my stream."
The moment he said that, he crouched down and dipped his rear into the flowing stream, threatening to piss, or worse, shit in the water immediately.
"No no no no! Don't do that! We come in peace!" Timon said, raising his hands. "I thought about our encounter last time and realized we were wrong."
"You're the owner of the stream; you should decide who drinks and who doesn't," he said.
Bushmaster narrowed his eyes. "What's your game, Timon?"
"Absolutely nothing! I just want to make peace. And I even brought fruits for you. Not fallen ones, but fresh ones plucked right from the tree," Timon said.
Bushmaster was incredibly suspicious. "I don't smell anything."
"Obviously your nose has been wrecked by all the godly shits you've taken," Timon scoffed. "I can't bring them to you because there are too many. And if Pumba carried them, he would've eaten them already because the fruits are that ripe and delicious."
"I put them behind that bush," Timon said, pointing at the bush where Simba hid.
Although incredulous, the Bushmaster couldn't resist heading towards where Timon pointed. It never crossed his mind that they could be working together with a predator to take him down.
And when Bushmaster came close to the bush, Simba leapt out.
There were screams, and howls of pain, but the rest was history.
...
...
"Do you think we did the right thing?" Pumba asked, eyes wide as he looked at the gory scene of Simba eating the Bushmaster.
Simba was starving and tearing away at the flesh like a savage. Blood didn't even flow as Simba quickly licked it clean. That was how hungry he was.
"Who knows... I'm gonna puke," Timon said.
"Yeah, me too."
The two turned around and vomited in the other direction.
But no matter. They had begun something they couldn't stop. They were raising an apex predator.
But you would hear about them as heroes in the jungle though, the trio who put away bad animals in the Congo.
..
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(Congo - Present Day)
"Simba!! Simba!! Wake up!!" Pumba and Timon nudged at the giant apex predator they had raised since he was a cub.
"Hmmm?" Simba slowly woke up from his sleep. It was early in the morning — so early, in fact, that it was still dark.
"There's trouble in the south forest!! The Red River Hogs are on the move again. They're destroying the nests and have eaten all the eggs," Pumba said.
"Huh? How do you know this? It's the middle of the night," Simba asked groggily.
"Miss Tula came," Timon said, moving aside to show the Guinea Fowl that was right behind them. She was ragged, out of breath, and seemed to be mourning.
"Please, they've destroyed all my eggs," she said with a pleading voice.
Simba could only get up with a yawn. He had fought a rock python that ate their friend only a few days ago, but trouble was already here. No land lacked villains in nature, after all.
"Okay, lead the way, Miss Tula," he said.
And so, the story of Simba, the king and protector of the Congo, continued.
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[IMAGE]
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Author: Maybe this is too silly, but it's kinda how I imagine Simba would live in this version of the world. Also the only plausible way Timon and Pumba would be okay with killing other animals.
Hope this answers the questions you might have.