The first rays of sunlight filtered through the orphanage windows, spilling warmth over the yard outside. Hiro stood in the soft morning light, taking in the stillness of the world around him. It was a moment he cherished each day, the quiet just before the vilge fully woke, when the only sounds were the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird.

  Today, something different caught his attention—a faint rustling in the trees near the edge of the yard. It wasn’t the wind, but something deliberate, alive. Hiro tilted his head, listening carefully. The sound came again, a series of soft scrapes and shifts in the branches. Quietly, he stepped closer, his green eyes scanning the canopy above.

  A small shape clung to one of the branches, its gray fur blending almost seamlessly with the bark. Hiro narrowed his eyes, studying the creature. It was a squirrel, but not like the ones he had seen darting through the vilge streets. This one had a thin, translucent membrane stretched between its front and back legs—a flying squirrel. Its tiny cws gripped the bark, and its dark, beady eyes stared back at him, full of caution.

  Hiro crouched, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He knew better than to make any sudden gestures that might scare it off. For a long moment, he and the squirrel simply watched each other, neither one making a move.

  Reaching into his pocket, Hiro pulled out a small pouch he had taken to carrying during his walks. Inside were sunflower seeds he had collected from Kaya’s garden. Without breaking eye contact with the squirrel, he picked out a single seed and set it carefully on the ground a few feet away.

  The squirrel didn’t move at first, its body tense and ready to flee. But as the seconds ticked by, its posture shifted slightly, curiosity winning out over fear. It climbed down a little lower, pausing on a branch closer to the ground. Finally, it leapt, gliding effortlessly to a rock near the seed. It sniffed the air cautiously before inching forward, its small paws making barely a sound as they touched the earth.

  Hiro remained completely still, his heart beating a little faster as the squirrel picked up the seed and retreated back to the rock. It held the seed in its tiny paws, nibbling at it with quick, precise movements. A faint smile tugged at Hiro’s lips.

  Over the next few days, Hiro returned to the same spot during his morning walks, always with a handful of sunflower seeds in his pocket. The flying squirrel—which he had started calling Chūta, after a character in one of Kaya’s bedtime stories—began to recognize him. Each time, it ventured a little closer, its trust growing bit by bit. Hiro never rushed the process, content to sit quietly and wait as Chūta made the choice to approach on its own terms.

  Kaya noticed Hiro’s new routine. One morning, as she passed by the yard, she saw him sitting cross-legged near the trees, holding out a sunflower seed as the small squirrel crept toward him. She didn’t interrupt, simply watching from a distance. There was something endearing about the way Hiro interacted with the animal—calm, patient, and without any hint of expectation. Kaya smiled to herself before moving on.

  The breakthrough came a week ter. Hiro sat on his usual spot near the trees, a small pile of seeds in his palm. Chūta had grown bold enough to take the seeds directly from his hand, its tiny cws brushing against his skin as it grabbed the food. Hiro barely moved, letting the squirrel’s trust solidify.

  Today, Chūta lingered longer than usual. After taking the st seed from Hiro’s palm, it didn’t retreat to the trees as it normally did. Instead, it stayed perched on a rock nearby, watching him with a curious tilt of its head. Hiro remained still, his calm presence inviting the squirrel to stay.

  As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Kaya walked into the yard, her arms crossed as she observed the scene. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend,” she said, her voice warm with amusement.

  Hiro gnced up at her, a faint but genuine smile crossing his face. “I think so,” he replied softly, looking back at Chūta. The squirrel twitched its nose, seemingly unbothered by Kaya’s presence.

  Kaya walked over and sat beside Hiro, the grass rustling beneath her. “It takes patience to earn an animal’s trust like that. Not everyone has the knack for it.”

  Hiro shrugged lightly. “It just... feels right. Like it’s worth the effort.”

  Kaya studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Well, keep at it. But be careful. Wild animals can be unpredictable.”

  “I will,” Hiro promised.

  That night, Hiro y in bed, his room quiet except for the faint sounds of the orphanage settling into sleep. His thoughts lingered on Chūta, the way the squirrel had hesitated before finally deciding to trust him. It wasn’t much, but it felt... important. Like the start of something he couldn’t quite put into words.

  With a small sigh, Hiro closed his eyes, letting the calm of the day carry him into sleep. In the moonlit stillness of his room, the sunflower seeds sat ready in his pouch, a quiet promise for the next day’s meeting.