Naruto: I am Uchiha Shirou

A Small Town

Under the curtain of the night rain, even the vagrants sought shelter to rest. Yet, the streets of this small town echoed with persistent knocking sounds.

"Sorry to bother you… Could you spare some food?"

A frail, small figure wandered the streets, knocking on every household with a lit lantern, weakly whispering pleas for food. However, the townsfolk, weary from war, huddled together inside their homes, anxiously staring at their doors. Armed with axes or kitchen knives, they shouted in harsh tones at the person outside:

"There's nothing left! We're starving too!"

Only after a long silence from the other side of the door did the families inside heave a sigh of relief. It wasn't paranoia—it was survival. War had brought countless tragedies. Not long ago, a kind family had offered food to a vagrant, only to be slaughtered that very night by those they had helped.

On the rain-soaked streets, a red-haired boy in a tattered cloak trudged weakly, a skinny yellow dog following closely behind. Together, they drifted from house to house. After being rejected by the last home, despair filled the boy's dull, lifeless eyes.

From the shadows, pale, corpse-like heads began emerging from the soil—it was the White Zetsu.

"Lord Madara will use Nagato to test Uchiha Shirou."

"If Uchiha Shirou shows even a hint of greed for the Rinnegan, we'll use the sealing jutsu planted in Nagato and seize the opportunity to take him."

Hiding in the darkness, the White Zetsu muttered to himself. Ever since Nagato had the Rinnegan implanted, his every move had been under surveillance. His life was already predetermined.

...

Meanwhile, in a hidden underground cave, Uchiha Madara sat on a stone chair, eyes narrowed as he listened to White Zetsu's constant updates, occasionally letting out raspy chuckles.

"Heh heh, this Shirou is even prouder than I imagined, and his ambition is unwavering. Such a person wouldn't crave the Rinnegan. I'm certain of it!"

Madara's confidence in Uchiha Shirou resisting the temptation of the Rinnegan stemmed from Shirou's deep-rooted Uchiha pride. Someone like Shirou, who carried the clan's arrogance in his very bones, would never covet someone else's power—even if it was the Rinnegan.

Uchiha Shirou's character and his writings only strengthened Madara's belief.

"Pursuing peace, but with a more open mind than Hashirama or myself..."

"Respecting everyone's ideals of peace without imposing your own... Is this because he's seen Hashirama's failure?"

Madara muttered, staring at a crimson book in his hands. Within it lay an unpublished manuscript by Uchiha Shirou, brimming with thought-provoking ideas.

"Hashirama... this descendant of ours surpasses you in every way. Why were you so certain your way was right and dismissed everyone else's? Look at the shinobi world now. Haha, Hashirama, you were wrong. Even your granddaughter agrees..."

Madara's raspy voice carried a mix of emotions: nostalgia, bitterness, and, surprisingly, a sense of relief and excitement. Never before had he felt such joy—not even when he awakened the Rinnegan.

The fact that someone had pointed out Hashirama's failure—and that this person was a Uchiha, even convincing Hashirama's granddaughter—filled Madara with glee.

"Hashirama, even your granddaughter acknowledges your failure. Back then, you were so convinced of your ideals, but where is your peace now?!"

In the echoing darkness of his cave, Madara's laughter rang out, mingled with fury.

"You thought your dream was right, but what gave you the right to impose it on others? You denied my vision without even giving it a chance. Look at the shinobi world! Wars have never ceased, and peace remains elusive. Clan conflicts simply escalated into battles between shinobi villages. Konoha still sends children to the battlefield!"

Madara's anger boiled over as he imagined summoning Hashirama to confront him.

"Where's your peace now, Hashirama?! You stabbed me for your ideals—what do you have to show for it? My vision never even had a chance, yet you dismissed it outright. Just because you shouted louder than me?!"

After venting, Madara calmed, turning his attention back to the manuscript. Shaking his head, he sighed in admiration.

"This Shirou… as he said, it's not that he's strong—it's that he stands on the shoulders of giants. Hashirama's mistakes taught the shinobi world that understanding between people is a failure, and that naive peace is impossible."

"The transition from the Warring States to the shinobi villages was progress, but only slightly. Instead of six-year-olds going to war, now it's twelve-year-olds. It's an improvement, but incomplete proof that the village system works."

The more Madara read, the more engrossed he became. He was eager to see Uchiha Shirou stir up the shinobi world, to witness the changes he could bring.

At the very least, before his Eye of the Moon plan came to fruition, Madara wanted to see if his vision for the world had been correct—or if it could be improved.

Perhaps Shirou and Hashirama's descendants Tsunade still needed his help.

"Hashirama... what would you do if you saw your granddaughter in the arms of a Uchiha? Tsunade...!"

Madara's excitement grew as he muttered Tsunade's name.

"Since she hasn't inherited the Senju name, it's perfect for her to join the Uchiha clan. Uchiha Tsunade—what a fitting name! Hahaha!"

The image of Tsunade bearing the Uchiha name, perhaps even giving birth to a child with the Sharingan, filled Madara with uncontrollable glee.

...

The Small Town

The red-haired boy collapsed weakly into the mud, the yellow dog beside him whimpering softly. As despair consumed him and he awaited death, a figure suddenly appeared in his vision.

A girl with light blue-purple hair stood over him, shielding him from the cold rain with her umbrella. She smiled—a radiant smile like that of an angel.

"Here, eat this."

Holding the umbrella, Konan extended a piece of bread toward the fallen boy, her smile full of kindness. She seemed to see a reflection of her past self in him, recalling the angel who once saved her life.

"For… for me?"

The boy's voice trembled as he looked at her, swallowing hard.

"Really?"

Konan nodded gently, and the boy's eyes welled with tears. He took the bread, retreating under the eaves. Just as he prepared to take a bite, he noticed the yellow dog gazing at him with hungry, glowing eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, the boy broke the bread in half and offered a piece to his companion. Smiling brightly, he shared his precious food with the dog that had stayed by his side.

Under the cold rain, the boy and his dog ate hungrily, sheltered by the eaves. Watching this, Konan's smile grew warmer. She saw his gentle nature—someone who, even in his darkest moments, wouldn't harm a loyal companion.

"Konan! What are you doing? We're supposed to be patrolling!"

From a distance, an orange-haired boy, Yahiko, called out, puzzled by Konan's delay. Though they weren't yet full-fledged shinobi, they had already started carrying out simple patrol duties in the war-torn town.

"Hey, is that the dinner you gave him? What about you? Don't you know how exhausting chakra refinement is?!"

Yahiko complained as he approached, though his eyes betrayed no hostility—only concealed sympathy. Konan, ever gentle, smiled back without a hint of regret.

"I couldn't just leave him to die."

"Even feeding the dog... Really?" Yahiko grumbled, though seeing the boy share his bread with the dog softened his expression. The war left orphans hardened, but this red-haired boy wasn't cruel.

"What's your name?" Yahiko asked loudly. The boy, having overheard their earlier conversation, hesitated before softly replying:

"Little one."

"Little One? That's quite a strange name." Yahiko shook his head, as if amused, after hearing the boy's reply. It didn't sound like a name for a person.

The red-haired boy raised his head slightly and whispered, "No, that's the dog's name. My name is Nagato."

Nearby, Konan smiled and interrupted their conversation.

"Nagato, you don't want to keep starving, do you? For tonight, stay under this roof and wait here. We still need to finish our patrol. After two hours, when our shift is over, we can take you to meet Lord Shirou. If you have the talent to train in chakra, you can join us in the future. Even if you don't, it's okay. There's a mine outside the town. It's hard work, but at least you'll have food."

Konan smiled warmly as she spoke, her delicate hands folding the wrapping from the bread into the shape of a small dog. She then turned to the scrawny yellow dog and playfully teased it, holding up the folded paper.

"And you, little one, the mine or patrol duties might need a clever dog too. Your ears and nose are sharp enough for the job."

She placed the origami dog under the eaves and waved goodbye to Nagato with a cheerful smile.

"Don't wander off. Stay here and keep dry from the rain. We'll come back for you in two hours."

"Let's go, Konan."

Though Yahiko grumbled in mild annoyance, there was a faint smile in his eyes. The kunai strapped to his waist marked their growing competence; they were no longer helpless orphans but patrol members capable of contributing to the town's safety.

Their patrol duties were simple—maintain order in the town and signal for reinforcements if anything unusual occurred.

...

The Next Morning

"Lord Shirou, this child has the talent to train in chakra."

Hearing the report from his subordinates, Uchiha Shirou smiled and nodded.

"Starting tomorrow, Nagato will join your training."

At Shirou's confirmation, Konan's face lit up with joy.

"Nagato, did you hear that? From now on, we're teammates!"

Unlike Konan's excitement, Nagato's eyes trembled beneath his red hair, his emotions well-hidden. His gaze fixated on the Konoha forehead protectors worn by the ninjas around him. It was these forehead protectors that adorned the ones who had killed his parents. These were the symbols of the people who destroyed his home.

"Haha, I can't believe you're one of us now," Yahiko said, laughing heartily as he slapped Nagato's shoulder, taking on the role of a big brother and welcoming a new companion. Nagato flinched slightly at the touch, his body tense with fear. But when he looked again at Konan and Yahiko's kind smiles, something in him wavered.

Unseen by the others, Shirou silently observed, his thoughts racing. The Rinnegan has arrived. If that's the case, then Uchiha Madara must be watching. However, Shirou remained calm.

It should be fine. I've prepared for this moment for a long time. With some luck, I have a seventy-percent chance of success. The advantage lies with me.

At that moment, Nagato croaked out a hoarse "Thank you," his red hair obscuring his trembling eyes, concealing his emotions. Shirou smiled warmly and gestured reassuringly.

"Konan, teach him the rules here. For the next few days, you don't need to patrol. Focus on guiding Nagato and sharing what you've learned."

Among the trio, Yahiko was the leader and the heart of the group. Konan's gentle nature made her protective of her companions. And Nagato? Though chosen by Madara and gifted with the powerful Rinnegan, his personality lacked decisiveness. In the future, his drive to make the world feel pain would stem more from guilt and a sense of obligation to fulfill Yahiko's dying wish than his convictions.

For now, Nagato was timid and uncertain—a blank slate. This dynamic, however, was advantageous to Shirou. Shirou's gaze lingered on the trio, noticing their smiles—each filled with naive hope. Nagato, saved by Konan, now harbored deep gratitude and a growing sense of safety around her. Meanwhile, Konan, rescued by Shirou, clearly trusted him wholeheartedly.

As for Yahiko? Shirou's eyes flicked toward him briefly and shook his head inwardly. A pity. He has all the traits of a protagonist but lacks the fate to match. His potential is limited.

"Shirou, there's new intelligence," Uchiha Mikoto and Uzumaki Kushina approached, their expressions serious. They exchanged meaningful glances before signaling to Shirou.

With the trio now settled, Shirou's expression grew serious as he prepared to deal with the unfolding situation.

PS: Unhinged Madara.