Hiro stood in the clearing, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees, dappling the grass beneath his feet. He clenched and unclenched his hands, rolling his shoulders as he gnced at Kaya. She stood with her arms crossed, observing him with the calm patience that he had come to associate with her serious side. Today was his first real training session, and he felt both excitement and apprehension.

  He took a deep breath, steadying himself. This is it. My first step to becoming a real ninja. But underneath the excitement was a creeping uncertainty. What if I fail? What if I can’t do it?

  “Alright, Hiro,” Kaya said, breaking through his thoughts. “We’re going to start with the basics. Hand signs are the foundation of almost all jutsu. They help mold and direct chakra. Watch me first.”

  Hiro nodded and focused as Kaya moved her hands fluidly, forming a series of basic hand signs with precision. “Now, try it,” she said, stepping back.

  He mimicked her movements, his fingers forming the same shapes, but the moment he attempted to channel chakra, something went wrong. A sharp, erratic pulse surged through him, and instead of flowing smoothly, the chakra jolted like a snapped wire. He barely had time to react before a small burst of energy exploded from his hands, sending a puff of dirt flying into the air. He stumbled backward, coughing as dust settled around him.

  Kaya frowned, stepping forward. “Are you alright?”

  Hiro clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “I followed the steps exactly.”

  “Try again,” Kaya encouraged, her voice calm. “Don’t force it—just focus on channeling a steady flow.”

  Hiro inhaled deeply, steeling himself. He formed the hand signs again, carefully aligning his fingers. As he reached for his chakra, the same wild sensation erupted from within him. Before he could contain it, another burst of energy exploded outward, this time sending him stumbling onto his hands and knees.

  Why won’t it work? His breath came in short, frustrated gasps. Isn’t this supposed to be the first thing every ninja learns?

  Kaya crouched beside him, watching closely. “You’re not failing,” she said, her tone gentle. “Your chakra isn’t responding the way it should, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn to control it.”

  Hiro swallowed hard, gripping the grass beneath his fingers. He wanted to believe her, but each failure felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

  After multiple failed attempts, Kaya changed the approach. “We’re going to try something different,” she said. “Instead of forcing chakra into a jutsu, let’s focus on sensing it.”

  She raised her hand and performed a simple wind jutsu, summoning a gentle breeze that swirled through the clearing. “Feel the wind around you. Imagine your chakra moving the same way—flowing, not bursting.”

  Hiro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The breeze brushed against his skin, cool and soothing. He tried to match that sensation inside himself, picturing his chakra as a steady current instead of a violent surge.

  Then, something unexpected happened.

  Chūta, who had been perched on his shoulder, suddenly leaped off and glided into the moving air. Hiro opened his eyes just in time to see the flying squirrel twisting and dipping in the breeze. But something was different—Chūta wasn’t just gliding. Small bursts of air seemed to push him mid-flight, adjusting his path in unnatural ways.

  Kaya’s eyes widened as she observed. “That’s... not normal.”

  Hiro watched in awe. “Is he... using chakra?”

  Kaya quickly pulled out a piece of chakra paper from her pouch and performed a chakra affinity test on Chūta. The moment she pced his tiny paw on the paper, it split cleanly in two.

  Hiro’s mouth dropped open. “He has a wind affinity?”

  Kaya nodded slowly. “It seems like your summoner link is doing more than just creating a bond—it’s allowing Chūta to develop chakra manipution.”

  Hiro looked at Chūta, who chirped as if proud of himself. A small grin formed on Hiro’s lips despite the lingering frustration from earlier. If Chūta can grow stronger, then so can I.

  They continued training for several more hours, but no matter how much Hiro concentrated, his chakra remained unstable. Every time he formed a hand sign, his chakra would react violently, bursting outward in unpredictable ways.

  Kaya observed him carefully, deep in thought. “It’s not that you don’t have chakra control,” she mused. “It’s that your chakra won’t stabilize when using traditional hand signs.”

  Hiro wiped sweat from his brow, breathing heavily. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Kaya admitted. “But I will find out. There has to be a reason why your chakra reacts this way.”

  Hiro stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. What kind of ninja can’t even form a proper jutsu? The doubt returned, coiling around his thoughts like a shadow.

  Sensing his frustration, Kaya pced a hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Hiro. You’re not failing. You’re different. And different isn’t bad.”

  Her words were soft but firm, and they struck something deep within him. He exhaled slowly, nodding. She believes in me. So I have to believe in myself too.

  As they finished their training session, Kaya finally called an end to the lesson just before lunch. Hiro was exhausted, but something had changed. Despite his failures, despite the uncertainty, he felt a flicker of determination reigniting inside him.