In the chaos of the Fourth Shinobi War, a ninja wearing the headband with the word "Shinobi", crouched behind the remains of a crumbled tree, his heart pounding in his chest. The battlefield in front was a storm of chakra, steel, and screams. Every breath felt heavier as exhaustion gnawed at his muscles. The relentless waves of White Zetsu clones seemed never-ending, and the battle had become a brutal test of survival.

Haruto's hand tightened around his kunai, fingers trembling with fatigue. His squad had been scattered, and the world around him blurred in the frenzy of battle. But even now, he couldn't falter. Konoha, no...the world was depending on shinobi like him to hold the line.

Suddenly, a massive White Zetsu clone charged toward him, its pale, monstrous face contorted into a vicious snarl. Haruto's heart leaped into his throat as he instinctively clasped his hands together, forming a string of seals.

"Shadow Clone Jutsu!" he called out, two identical copies of himself appearing beside him. They lunged at the Zetsu, engaging it in a brief struggle, but it cut through them like paper. 

Haruto took advantage of the distraction. "Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!" he shouted, releasing a massive ball of flame that consumed the Zetsu. The creature staggered back, charred but not defeated. Before Haruto could react, the Zetsu lunged forward again, faster than he expected.

The blade pierced through his stomach, a cold, sharp agony tearing through his body.

Time seemed to slow as Haruto gasped, his breath shallow and ragged. Blood poured from the wound, staining the ground beneath him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto his knees, the world spinning as pain overwhelmed his senses.

And then, memories. They flooded back in. His life flashed before him, flickering through moments long gone.

He was a child again, standing outside his home. The silence was thick, the house colder than usual. His parents had been gone for years, killed on a mission, leaving him alone. He stood in the middle of the empty room, the quiet gnawing at his heart, until finally, he formed the seals.

"Shadow Clone Jutsu," he whispered. In an instant, he wasn't alone anymore. His clone stood beside him, smiling weakly back at him. They sparred, laughed, and for a while, it felt like the house was filled with warmth. But he knew, the emptiness never truly left.

Another flash and now...he was standing in the rain at the funeral of the Third Hokage. The entire village had gathered, their heads bowed in mourning. Haruto had been young, barely able to understand the weight of the loss, but he had felt the sorrow of those around him. The old man was their protector for more than four decades and now he was gone leaving the village lost in sorrow.

More memories. He saw Tsunade-sama taking her place as the Fifth Hokage, the village still recovering from Orochimaru's attack and the loss of the third. She had been strong, commanding, yet there was a sadness in her eyes as she accepted the responsibility. Haruto had looked up to her, hoping to one day have even a fraction of the strength she carried on her shoulders.

The war returned to him, the pain flaring as the battlefield came back into focus. The Zetsu clone twisted the blade in his stomach, and Haruto gasped, his vision blurring. He could feel his strength slipping away, the warmth of life slowly fading from his body. But his mind was still clinging to the memories, refusing to let go.

The Pain Invasion. He had been on the outskirts of the village when it happened, the tremors from Pain's Almighty Push shaking the ground beneath his feet would paralyse people in fear. By the time he had made it back to the village, Konoha was in ruins. Buildings were reduced to rubble, fires burned in every corner, and the screams of survivors echoed through the streets. He had fought, pulling survivors from the debris, desperately trying to hold onto hope. And then, with one person's return, the village saw hope like a beacon in the dark. Haruto had watched, his heart swelling with awe as Uzumaki Naruto saved the village, cementing his legacy as the hero of the village.

The memories came faster now. He thought of Madara Uchiha, or rather the Ghost of the Uchiha, as the legends called him. Haruto had only heard stories—myths of the man who had once terrorized the shinobi world. But when the myth showed up on the battlefield, the stories from his childhood had come to life in a form of nightmare. Haruto had seen him from a distance, the way he tore through entire battalions with ease. Susanoo, a force of nature that none could stand against. Haruto had never known fear like that before.

Another shift in scene and now, he was standing in front of a ramen shop with Aiko. The girl who's been with him since childhood. It had been a rare moment of peace of no missions, no battles. Just him and his closest friend, laughing over bowls of ramen, talking about their futures, their dreams. He had never told her, but in those moments, she was the closest thing to happiness he had ever known. 

His vision blurred again as the battlefield returned. Haruto could hear distant shouts—his comrades, still fighting, still holding on. He tried to call out, but the pain was too much. His body felt heavy, the world growing dimmer with every passing second. He could feel the life draining from him.

Suddenly, footsteps. He heard someone running toward him. Shinji, one of his squadmates, skidded to a stop beside him, eyes wide with horror as he knelt down. "Haruto! Hang on!" Shinji's voice was desperate, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding. 

But Haruto knew. It was too late.

He smiled weakly, his hand trembling as it reached out to grasp Shinji's arm. His voice was faint, but there was a steady resolve in it. "Shinji… don't waste this," he whispered, his breath shallow.

Shinji's eyes filled with tears, but he shook his head, gripping Haruto's hand tightly as tears fell. "I won't… I promise."

Haruto's grip loosened as his strength faded, but a sense of peace washed over him. He had done his part. Now, it was up to them.

Haruto's breath grew shallow, his vision darkening. He thought of Konoha, of the village he had sworn to protect. The faces of his comrades, his parents and... Aiko flashed through his mind one last time.

As the darkness closed in, he felt a strange sense of peace.

He had given everything.

And with that final thought, Haruto's eyes closed, and the world fell silent.

The war raged on without him, but his fight had ended.

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Author Note: So emotional...I should just let him go back in time instead! Maybe. Heh.

Word Count: [1157]