Naruto: The Boogie Woogie Shinobi

Raiden—or rather, the soul that had once belonged to Raiden Kuroshi—floated in darkness, a thick, suffocating blackness that pressed against him from all sides. He had no sense of sight or sound, no limbs to move, no air to breathe. And yet, he was aware.

Thump.

There it was again—that faint, rhythmic sound. It echoed in his mind, a steady beat that refused to be ignored.

Thump. Thump.

"What the hell is that?" Raiden muttered—or at least, thought, since he didn't have a mouth anymore. He concentrated, trying to focus on the sound. It was faint, muffled, like hearing music through a wall. Slowly, the realization dawned on him.

'Oh, you've got to be kidding me,' he thought.

The rhythmic thumping wasn't some cosmic drum or divine signal. It was a heartbeat.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no." The darkness around him, the way he seemed to be suspended in fluid, the muffled sound of rushing blood—it all clicked into place.

"I'm in a womb," Raiden groaned. "That bastard actually sent me back as a baby. I'm floating in baby soup right now. This is disgusting."

He flailed—or at least, tried to, since his limbs were tiny and uncoordinated. "God, you smug suit-wearing jerk! You could've given me a full-grown body, but no, I've got to start over from scratch! I'm gonna find a way to clap you into next week for this!"

As he stewed in his frustration, another thought struck him. "Wait a second … if I'm in a womb, that means … oh no. Oh no. That means I'm gonna have to be born. Like, born born. This is gonna suck. At least, God should have reincarnated me as a already born baby"

Time passed—how much, Raiden couldn't say. The thumping heartbeat became a constant companion, and occasionally he'd feel movement as his host—or, well, mother—shifted or walked around. He tried to keep his mind occupied, thinking about his Boogie Woogie technique and how he'd start training once he had hands big enough to clap properly. But no amount of mental preparation could brace him for what came next.

---

The world around him tightened, squeezing him like a vice.

'Oh crap,' Raiden thought. 'It's happening. It's freaking happening!'

The pressure increased, and he felt himself being pushed downward. There was light now—blinding, glaring light that pierced through the darkness.

"I changed my mind! I don't want to be born! Put me back! PUT ME BACK!"

But there was no going back. With one final push, Raiden was expelled from the womb and into the cold, harsh world. He gasped as air filled his tiny lungs for the first time, his cry of indignation coming out as a high-pitched wail.

"I hate this! I hate this so much!"

"Congratulations," a gentle voice said, pulling Raiden out of his internal rant. "It's a boy."

Raiden blinked—or tried to, since his newborn eyes were barely functional—and felt himself being lifted and swaddled in a warm blanket. He was placed in the arms of a woman, and despite his initial rage, he found himself calming down as he looked up at her.

His mother was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with soft features and long dark hair tied back in a simple braid. Her eyes were warm and kind, and her smile was full of love as she gazed down at him.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Welcome to the world, little one."

Raiden felt his tiny body relax. For all his complaints about being reborn as a baby, there was something undeniably comforting about the way she held him. He felt safe, cherished, and … strangely emotional.

"I'll name you Kenta," she said softly, brushing a finger against his cheek. "It means to grow well and strong."

"Kenta," Raiden thought, rolling the name around in his mind. "Alright, not bad. I can work with that."

His mother kissed his forehead, tears streaming down her face. "Kenta Madoka. My little miracle."

Raiden froze. 'Madoka? That wasn't a name he recognized. It didn't belong to any of the major clans from Naruto. No Uchiha, Hyuga, or even a minor clan like the Akimichi or Aburame. But I swear that I have heard the name somewhere.'

'Madoka,' he thought, his mind racing. 'Where the hell is that from? Is it a hidden clan or something? Or worse …'

A wave of panic hit him. If he wasn't part of a known clan, there was no guarantee he was even in Konoha. What if he was born in one of the more dangerous villages?

'Oh no. Oh hell no,' he thought. 'I swear, if I'm in the Hidden Mist, I'm screwed. The Blood Mist Village loves throwing kids into death matches for fun. And the Hidden Sand? Their shinobi are third class shinobi. They are the weakest.'

He tried to calm himself. "Okay, think logically. If I had to pick, I'd prefer Kumo. The Hidden Cloud is solid. They've got strong ninja, decent living conditions, and they're not as insane as the other villages. Konoha wouldn't be terrible, either, but with all the politics and Danzo lurking around, it's a headache waiting to happen."

As he pondered his fate, his mother handed him to an older woman who began cleaning him up. The older woman smiled down at him. "He's a strong one," she said. "Look at those clenched little fists. He's ready to take on the world already."

Raiden now Kenta smirked internally.

'Damn right I am.'

As the commotion of his birth settled, Kenta found himself swaddled and placed in a small crib beside his mother's bed. The room was modest but clean, with simple wooden furniture and a small window letting in the soft glow of moonlight.

His mother hummed a lullaby as she rested, her voice soothing despite her exhaustion. Kenta stared up at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

'So, I'm Kenta Madoka now,' he mused. "New name, new life, new world. Alright, fine. I'll roll with it. But I swear, if I find out I'm in some backwater hellhole of a village, I'm going to clap so hard this world will never recover."

Despite his frustration, Raiden—now Kenta—couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement. This was a fresh start, a chance to grow stronger, to master his abilities, and to carve out a new path.

And if he had to start by pooping in diapers and babbling like a fool, so be it.

As sleep began to claim him, one final thought crossed his mind. "God, you smug jerk, if you're watching this, I hope you're enjoying yourself. Because I'm going to make sure this life is at least entertaining enough for you to make me reincarnate as Saitama in my next life."

Somewhere in the cosmos, a certain deity in a white suit chuckled, raising a glass of tea to the infant's unspoken promise.