Chapter no.75 To Err Is Human, To Forgive, Divine

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Michiya Ota had never aspired to greatness; all he wanted was a simple life.

When Konohagakure opened its doors to civilians by decree of the Daimyo, Michiya saw his chance.

Known as the loser in his own village, he seized the opportunity to escape that label and start afresh in Konoha, where he hoped to grow his business.

Once settled in the village, Michiya realized that becoming a ninja was beyond his abilities.

Instead, he took on various odd jobs, and it was during this time that he met the woman who would become the love of his life. Together, they navigated the complexities of life in Konoha, and for a while, things were looking up.

However, as often happens, tragedy struck with the onset of the Third Great Ninja War. Though Michiya wasn't called to the front lines, he and his partner found a different way to contribute to the village's war efforts.

They devised a plan for Michiya to act as a spy, though he was nothing more than an ordinary merchant.

He traveled from place to place, selling clothes embedded with secret codes intended for Konoha's ninjas stationed across the nations.

The role was fraught with danger, yet Michiya managed to turn a tidy profit, allowing him to buy significant tracts of land and build many apartments in Konoha.

Life was good, but it felt like the calm before the storm.

Michiya's happiness was short-lived, as his wife tragically died during childbirth.

Then, just a week later, catastrophe struck the village itself-the Kyuubi attacked Konoha, plunging Michiya and the entire village into chaos once more.
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In the aftermath of the Kyuubi attack, Konoha was a shadow of its former self. The streets were littered with debris, and civilians, some injured yet alive, either sat despondently or made their way to the scattered medical tents for treatment. Above Michiya, ninjas leaped between the remnants of buildings, trying to assist where they could.

"Help!" Michiya's voice was hoarse as he limped through the debris-strewn streets, clutching an injured baby in his arms.

The baby, his week-old son, was wrapped in a blanket now stained with blood.

The child was silent, too silent, a terrifying sign.

Passersby cast pained looks toward Michiya.

"Oh!" they murmured, their eyes filled with sorrow, but they hurried on to seek help for their own injuries and loved ones.

"P-Please help!" he whispered desperately upon entering the medical tent.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptics and blood.

Ninjas, some groaning in pain, others too weak to make a sound, filled the cramped space.

Michiya stood there, feeling out of place and struggling for breath as the chaos of the medical emergency overwhelmed him.

Suddenly, a hand gently touched his shoulder.

Michiya looked up, hope igniting his face like a firework, but it quickly faded when he saw the grave expression in the medical ninja's eyes.

"I am sorry, your son has died," the ninja said softly.

The words crushed Michiya.

His knees buckled, and he felt a profound emptiness swell inside him as he collapsed to the ground.

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