Hiro stepped into his familiar training clearing, inhaling the crisp morning air. Over the past few days, his once-peaceful training ground had gained a new resident—Yamiha, who had cimed a section of the trees bordering the clearing as her territory. Hiro gnced toward the far edge, where massive webs shimmered in the light, stretching between branches in intricate patterns.

  She had picked the spot carefully. The webs were positioned near a patch of sunflowers, ones that had sprouted from the countless seeds Chūta had dropped while training over the weeks. The flying squirrel had an annoying habit of munching on them mid-flight and letting the rest fall to the ground, and now, thanks to his careless eating habits, a small sunflower grove had flourished beneath Yamiha’s perch.

  Hiro smirked as he watched Yamiha rest zily in her web, her dark bck body streaked with violet markings, her legs twitching as a gentle breeze stirred the silken threads around her. The webs weren’t just for decoration. Hiro had watched them snag an arming number of insects and even the occasional small bird that strayed too close. Yamiha had set up a perfect little hunting ground.

  Chūta, however, was not amused.

  From the moment Yamiha had joined them, Chūta had made it his mission to hog every bit of Hiro’s attention. Whenever Hiro approached the edge of the clearing to check on Yamiha, Chūta would immediately swoop in, chirping loudly and nudging Hiro’s face. The jealousy was impossible to ignore. If Hiro praised Yamiha for a particurly well-spun web, Chūta would immediately start showing off, performing unnecessary glides and aerial tricks.

  It escated even further during a training drill that morning.

  Hiro was running through dodging exercises, weaving through a set of moving targets while Chūta provided assistive bursts of wind to push him off bance. It was an intense but effective way to develop agility and reaction speed.

  Then, Chūta went too far.

  Mid-flight, the squirrel released a sharp wind burst—directly into one of Yamiha’s webs.

  The bst ripped a gaping hole in the intricate structure, sending shattered silk strands fluttering into the air. Hiro skidded to a stop, watching as Yamiha’s previously fwless web hung in tatters.

  Chūta nded on Hiro’s shoulder, looking far too smug.

  Hiro sighed. "Really? That was unnecessary."

  Yamiha remained motionless. Unlike Chūta, who constantly reacted to every slight inconvenience, the spider simply sat still, unbothered, watching.

  Hiro rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry about that, Yamiha. I’ll help you fix—"

  A soft breeze stirred the clearing, rustling the sunflowers below. A single, nearly invisible thread of webbing floated zily in the air, drifting toward Chūta.

  The squirrel, still caught up in his self-satisfaction, glided past the sunflower patch—right into the stray strand of web.

  The moment it touched him, his body went limp.

  Hiro’s eyes widened as Chūta suddenly plummeted, spiraling out of control before crashing onto the ground with a soft thud.

  Hiro sprinted forward, his heart pounding as he knelt beside the unmoving squirrel. "Chūta?!"

  He carefully lifted him, turning him over, bracing for injury—but there was none. Chūta’s breathing was steady. His body was fine.

  He was just… asleep.

  Carrying Chūta in his arms, Hiro made his way back to the orphanage. Kaya greeted him at the door, arching a brow at the sight of the limp squirrel.

  "I don’t even need to ask, do I?" she said dryly, crossing her arms.

  Hiro sighed. "You’d be surprised. I need you to take a look at him. I think Yamiha’s web put him to sleep."

  Kaya’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine curiosity. She reached out and gently ran her fingers over Chūta’s fur, pausing when she noticed a faint strand of silk still clinging to his leg.

  "Huh," she muttered, rubbing her chin. "I have a theory. Hold on."

  She focused a small pulse of chakra into her fingertips before tapping Chūta lightly on the forehead.

  The squirrel jerked awake instantly.

  Chūta shot upright, squeaking furiously, his tail puffing up as he scrambled onto Hiro’s shoulder, chittering loudly about whatever grievance he was suffering.

  Hiro exchanged a gnce with Kaya, and she let out a soft ugh. "Yup. That’s definitely genjutsu."

  "So Yamiha’s silk doesn’t just trap things—it can induce sleep like a genjutsu?" Hiro asked, still processing the implications.

  "Looks that way," Kaya confirmed. "A well-pced web like that could make an enemy drop mid-battle before they even know what hit them."

  Hiro looked toward the open window, where Yamiha had taken up her usual spot on his shoulder, perfectly still. "That’s… actually kind of terrifying."

  Kaya smirked. "And now, you have access to two completely different types of jutsu."

  Hiro blinked. "Wait, what?"

  "Chūta has wind-based techniques. Yamiha now gives you genjutsu. You might not be able to use them yourself, but your summons are giving you a more diverse skillset than most ninjas ever get." Kaya folded her arms, nodding approvingly. "That’s kind of impressive."

  Hiro looked between the still-fuming Chūta and the unbothered Yamiha.

  He smirked. "You two are going to make my life very interesting."

  Chūta huffed and crossed his tiny arms, sulking, while Yamiha simply curled back up, ignoring his tantrum entirely.

  Hiro sighed, shaking his head as he walked out of the orphanage.

  With a mischievous squirrel and a calm but deadly spider both at his side, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

  And somehow, he was completely fine with that.