Kendrick Reincarnated as Naruto uzumaki (ON HOLD UNTILL MARCH 29,2025)

Reincarnataion

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Chapter 1: From the Throne to the Jinchūriki's Cradle

The world was watching. The lights were blinding, but Kendrick Lamar stood still, soaking in the adulation like a warrior after battle. He felt the familiar surge of energy coursing through his veins as thousands chanted his name. His name. He used to dream about moments like this when he was hustling, grinding, praying for a way out of Compton, but now-now he had it. All of it.

Standing on stage at the height of his career, Kendrick could barely hear the beat of his own diss track ringing through the stadium. The crowd was electric, the cheers blending into one continuous hum of excitement. "Drake got cooked!" someone shouted from the front row, and he smirked, lowering his mic, letting the line simmer before finishing the final verse. He had won. No one could touch him in the rap game, not anymore.

But as he stared out over the sea of people-over the hands raised high, over the flashing lights-something heavy, something dark tugged at his chest.

The verse was fire, but what had it cost him? All the nights he spent crafting the perfect lines, pouring his soul into the lyrics, trying to capture the complexities of life and fame in words-was this really all there was? Kendrick's crown felt heavy on his head, not just metaphorically but literally, like the weight of being king was slowly sinking into his skull.

The music faded. The show was over. His crew gathered around him, congratulating him, slapping him on the back. They were already talking about the next big move, the next track, the next tour. But Kendrick wasn't listening. He was lost in thought, his mind swirling with the same question that had been haunting him for weeks.

What now?

He had reached the pinnacle. Every verse, every rhyme-it all pointed to this moment. And yet, the emptiness remained. Fame was a funny thing-it made you believe that once you had it, everything would make sense. But Kendrick knew better. He had fame. He had money. He had respect. But the fulfillment? The peace? That wasn't there. Not yet.

As his team shuffled him backstage, the lights fading into the background, Kendrick's chest tightened. It was subtle at first, just a discomfort, like maybe he'd pushed himself too hard. He shrugged it off.

"You good, K.Dot?" someone asked.

Kendrick nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah. I'm good. Just need some air."

The backstage area was a blur of people moving, talking, planning the next steps. He slipped out, needing to escape the noise. But the further he walked, the heavier that tightness in his chest became. His breath was coming in shorter bursts now, like something was squeezing his lungs. His heartbeat raced-faster than usual, faster than it should.

He leaned against a wall, sweat beading on his forehead. "Nah," he whispered to himself, "not like this."

The lights around him dimmed, the noise faded into a muffled echo. And then, without warning, his knees buckled. Kendrick hit the ground hard, clutching his chest as the pain flared through his body like fire.

No...

His vision blurred. The faces around him started to warp and twist. He could hear people shouting his name, but the voices felt distant, like they were underwater. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. This wasn't exhaustion. This was something else. Something... final.

And then everything went black.

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When Kendrick opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was nothing. Just... darkness. A void that stretched on forever, thick and endless. For a moment, he wondered if he was still alive, if maybe he was stuck in some fever dream. But no. This didn't feel like life.