Kirozan

You see Kirozan taking a small prey item to an injured lioness. So gallant!

( •̀ ω •́ )✧












After the fall of Scarface and the sacrifice of Kivuli, the pack entered a new era of stability under the leadership of Matabele. Despite her hybrid origin, she managed to earn the respect of the remaining lions and, over time, found in Senile, a strong and wise lion, a companion who helped her guide the herd towards a more peaceful future.

Eventually, Matabele gave birth to her first cub, Kirozan, a lion with fluffy mane and an ordinary golden fur, without distinctive markings, without the strength of his mother or the fierceness of his jaguar lineage. The only thing that made him stand out were his bright pink eyes, an unusual trait that, instead of making him feel special, constantly reminded him that he was not like others.

Since childhood, Kirozan grew up under the overprotection of his mother and Senile. Matabele, having lost so much in her life, did not want her son to suffer the same fate as her or to become a victim of the inordinate ambition that destroyed her grandfather. But, in her eagerness to protect him, she pulled him away from any kind of danger or challenge, preventing him from developing a true connection with his role in the pack. He never had to fight for anything. He never had to prove his worth.

While his younger brothers were growing up and showing extraordinary abilities, Kirozan felt that he was left behind. One had a majestic coat, another was an amazing hunter, and another possessed a brilliant intellect. He, on the other hand, was only... normal. He was not especially strong, fast or cunning.

In an attempt to find his own value, Kirozan began collecting strange objects that he found in the savannah: colored feathers, bones with unusual shapes, shells washed away by the current of rivers, and anything that caught his attention. For him, these trinkets were treasures, unique things that only he knew how to appreciate. Although the pack saw it as a silly and purposeless distraction, for Kirozan it was the only thing that made him feel that he possessed something special.

But inside, the truth was different: I was envious.

He constantly compared himself to his brothers, wondering why they seemed to receive everyone's admiration while he went unnoticed. Secretly, sometimes he looked at himself in the reflections of puddles and wished he had been born with a more striking coat, with a more imposing mane, with a skill that made him stand out. He hated himself for being envious, because deep down he also loved his brothers and cared about them.



As he got older, Kirozan began to feel that his mother's overprotection became suffocating. She always kept him away from danger, insisting that he shouldn't take risks, that he didn't have to prove anything.

"I don't want you to suffer like I suffered," Matabele was telling him. You have to understand that power is not the most important thing.

But Kirozan didn't see it that way. For him, it was not about power, but about meaning. He wondered if he would ever be able to prove that he was worth something for himself and not just for being Matabele's son.

One day, after an argument with his mother, Kirozan disappeared for a few hours, walking aimlessly among the hills of the savannah. I didn't want to go back to the cave with empty claws. I didn't want to be just a lion.

It was then that, in the shadows of the dusk, he found something... different



Kirozan was walking alone, with the night breeze caressing his still growing mane. He felt trapped in a cycle of insecurity and resentment, but he couldn't express these feelings out loud. I didn't want to be seen as weak. He wanted to prove to himself that he was worth more than just being Matabele's son.

That night, while exploring a terrain he had never trod before, he found a valley hidden among the hills. The tall grass moved like a sea of shadows in the moonlight, and a shiver ran down his spine when he noticed that the place was eerily quiet.

As he cautiously advanced, his pink eyes caught a strange glow on the earth. He dug with his claws and found a black jewel embedded in a rock. It wasn't like the bones or the feathers I used to collect... this was different. He had an ancient air, a strange energy that seemed to whisper in her ear.

Without thinking, he took the jewel and, as he did so, he felt a vibration on the floor. A low, almost imperceptible roar echoed in the air. He was not alone.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. He was an old lion, with scars that crossed his face and a fur dark as the night. His mane was untidy, and his eyes, bright as embers, fixed on Kirozan with a mixture of curiosity and recognition.

- That stone is not a simple ornament, puppy. It belongs to those who came before you.

Kirozan felt his throat go dry. I didn't know who that lion was, but his presence was imposing.

- Who are you? - he asked in a trembling voice.

The old lion smiled slightly, as if he had been waiting for that question.

- I'm someone who knows the history of your blood. And I know that something is burning inside you that you still don't understand.

Kirozan felt a chill run through his body. He didn't understand what the lion meant, but inside, something woke up. Was this what you had been looking for? A sign that his destiny was bigger than he thought?

The night progressed, and Kirozan knew that, at that moment, his life was about to change forever.



Kirozan felt his heart beating hard in his chest. That mysterious lion had an overwhelming presence, as if his mere existence bent the air around him. The black jewel on its paws seemed to absorb the moonlight, pulsating with an ancient energy.

- What do you mean by "the story of my blood"? - Kirozan asked, his voice mixing fear and curiosity.

The old lion smiled with an enigmatic air.

- You're Scarface's grandson, aren't you?

The name made Kirozan tense up. Scarface. The tyrant. The one cursed by the gods. Something that his mother never talked about openly. His legacy was a forbidden subject.

"I'm not like him," Kirozan growled, squeezing the jewel with his paw.

- Don't you? The lion bowed his head. And yet here you are, looking for more than the world has given you. Tell me, puppy... have you ever felt insignificant? Have you ever wondered why you were born with nothing that makes you special?

Kirozan felt his throat tighten. This stranger could read inside her with a terrifying ease.

"I can help you," the lion continued. I can show you the true meaning of greatness. But first, you must accept the truth: you are not like others. And that stone in your claws... it's no coincidence that you found it.

Kirozan looked at the black jewel. Something in her was calling to him, like a distant echo in his blood.

- What is this? - he whispered.

- A fragment of Scarface's lost power. Something the gods tried to bury, but has been waiting for... a worthy heir.

A shiver ran down Kirozan's back. Power? Heir? Everything he had felt until now, his longing to be more than just a lion, to find his purpose... was this what he had been looking for?

He looked the old lion in the eyes.

- Show me.

The old man's smile widened.

- As you wish, cub.



The night breeze was blowing hard in the valley as the old lion led Kirozan through a hidden path in the undergrowth. The shadows seemed to move around them, as if something else was watching them.

"My name is Mzitho—" the old man said without turning to look at him. And if you really want to learn, you must be prepared to leave behind who you are now.

Kirozan did not immediately respond. She didn't know exactly what those words meant, but something inside her was burning with the excitement of the unknown. If this stone contained Scarface's power... perhaps this was his fate.

They walked for what seemed like hours until they reached a hidden cave in a rocky hillside. Inside, the walls were engraved with ancient symbols that Kirozan did not understand, but that seemed to vibrate to the rhythm of his own breathing.

"Power is not something that is simply inherited—" Mzitho said in a low voice. It is conquered. He suffers. It is understood. Are you willing to do what it takes to get it?

Kirozan swallowed hard. Envy, insecurity, the feeling of not belonging... everything I had repressed until now was screaming for a chance to be something more.

- Yes.

Mzitho smiled with satisfaction and walked up to him.

- So, let's get started.


The days turned into weeks. Kirozan trained under the guidance of Mzitho, who taught him about ancient stories of power, about how the gods gave and took as they pleased, and about how will could shape fate.

"Your grandfather was punished because the gods feared his greatness—" Mzitho was saying. But you can be different. You can control fate instead of submitting to it.

The physical training was brutal. Kirozan learned to move quickly, to hunt undetected, to fight mercilessly. But the hardest part was the mental tests.

One night, Mzitho took him back to the valley where he found the black jewel and ordered him to stay alone until dawn. No food. No water. Unaccompanied.

Kirozan accepted, but when darkness fell, the atmosphere changed. Strange shadows seemed to move among the trees. Unintelligible whispers surrounded him. The spirits of the past.

- You're not worthy.

- You're just a lost cub.

- You'll never be anything.

The voices tormented him throughout the night. Kirozan fought against the fear, but inside, those words were digging like claws into his mind. What if they were right? What if he was just a simple lion?

When the first sunlight appeared on the horizon, Kirozan could barely stand up. Mzitho appeared in the shadows with a smile.

- You survived. That's a start.

But something had changed in Kirozan. The voices had not gone away. Now they lived inside him, repeating his deepest fears over and over again.

And inside, the darkness was beginning to grow.



The air in the cave became heavy, as if the very space around him was closing in on him. Kirozan felt his body go numb and his vision darken as a strange energy coursed through his blood.

Suddenly, everything turned black.

When he opened his eyes, he was not in the cave. He was in a place without sky or ground, surrounded by a fire of green flames that rose like dancing spectres.

He looked at his paws and felt a shiver run up his back. His fur was no longer golden. It was black now, as dark as night, and those green flames were coming out of his skin as if he himself was burning from within. His reflection was showing in the distorted flames, and what he saw made him hold his breath.

Scarface.

The reflected face was not entirely his own. He was a mix between his own face and his grandfather's, with the same scar on his eye and the same empty, power-hungry look.

- This is your destiny.

The voice echoed in all directions, deep and cold, like an echo coming from the same abyss.

"No..." Kirozan whispered, feeling his own heart beating in panic.

He tried to move, to get away from the reflection, but the flames surrounded him, trapping him in that vision. His paws were shaking. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be like him.

— I DON'T WANT THIS! - he roared with all his might.

And then... he woke up.


Kirozan gasped, his body soaked in cold sweat. The echo of the vision still burned in his mind.

Without thinking twice, he left the cave.

He ran without stopping, his heart beating like a war drum. He had to get away from there. From Mzitho. Of the jewel. Everything.

It wouldn't be Scarface.

He wouldn't be a monster.

But even as he walked away from that forbidden valley, something inside him whispered that fate was not so easy to escape.

And although he hid the stone deep in his hiding place, making sure no one saw it, inside he knew that someday, when he was foolish enough, when the temptation was too great…

he would use it.