Rising Up

The weeks that followed were a blur. My track had gone viral, and the buzz around it wasn't just limited to TikTok or YouTube anymore. People were starting to recognize me. My name was becoming something people talked about. Kj was no longer just the kid from the block; I was the kid who went at Blaze, and now everyone was watching to see what I'd do next.

It wasn't just online either. The streets—the hood—was starting to feel different. The same people who had barely given me a second glance were now nodding when they passed me by, offering a handshake, a fist bump. Some even threw in a quick "Yo, that track was fire, bro." That kind of respect felt surreal at first. It was like the world I'd lived in for so long was starting to change, and in the blink of an eye, I was no longer invisible. I was seen.

It wasn't easy, though. It never is, right? Just because I got a little buzz online didn't mean everyone was suddenly on my side. There were still people out there who didn't give a damn about what I did. Some were even jealous. Blaze's crew? They weren't going to let me slide that easy, especially with the way his video had blown up. But for now, things were calmer.

That afternoon, I was walking home from school, the usual hustle of people walking in and out of shops and apartments lining the streets of our neighborhood. The hum of city life filled the air, and for the first time in a while, I felt good about where I was. Maybe not where I was headed yet, but for the first time, I could feel it—the promise of something more than the same old grind.

As I turned the corner to head toward my block, I spotted Rico leaning against a light pole, his ever-present blunt dangling from his lips. He pushed himself off and walked over to me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yo, you good?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and that familiar streetwise bravado.

I shrugged, the weight of what had been happening over the past few days settling into my chest.

"Yeah, man. It's crazy. I still can't believe how much that diss blew up." I glanced over my shoulder at the street as we walked. The neighborhood was quiet, but I could feel that tension—the streets always had that vibe, you know?

"Crazy? Nah, it's deserved, fam. You've been grinding for a minute now. The city's noticing." Rico took a long drag of his blunt, the smoke swirling around his face as he exhaled slowly.

"You're not just a local dude anymore. People are talking about you in the clubs, on the blocks, in the corners. Blaze can't hide from this." He laughed, a sound that was part amusement, part respect.

As we walked, a few heads turned. I recognized some faces from the neighborhood—people I'd seen around, but never really spoken to. A couple of guys that I'd known for years looked over, their eyes lingering on me for a second longer than usual. I nodded at them, and they nodded back, not just acknowledging me but offering a quiet respect.

One of the older dudes, Marcus, approached us as we were walking toward the corner store. He was a big guy, maybe mid-thirties, with a face that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of rough days. He had that kind of "I've been around the block" vibe, and back in the day, he might've been one of those who looked down on me. But today, he stopped me in my tracks.

"Yo, Kj," he said, his voice gravelly, a little worn but with a tone that held authority. He was holding a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other, but his eyes were focused on me like he was sizing me up.

I didn't flinch. I wasn't that same kid who had to hold his head down anymore.

"What's good, Marcus?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Marcus smiled—half like he was impressed, half like he had seen it all before. He took a step closer and slapped me on the back, hard enough that I almost stumbled.

"That track? That was something else, kid." His grin grew. "You're making noise. People are hearing you."

I didn't know what to say. For a second, I felt like I was being tested. You didn't get respect for free around here.

"Appreciate it," I finally said, trying to keep my cool.

Marcus nodded. "Keep at it. Don't let these people forget who you are. Blaze might've gotten the crown, but every king's gotta pass it to someone eventually. You got potential, kid." He paused, as if to see if I was going to back down. "Just don't forget where you came from."

I felt a surge of pride. It wasn't like Marcus was one of my best friends or anything, but there was something real about him. He didn't hand out praise lightly. If he said something, it meant something.

We stood there for a few seconds, the quiet hum of the street pressing in around us. Finally, he gave me a nod and turned to walk away. But before he did, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"And Blaze? He's a joke. You're the one people are looking at now. Just make sure you come with more heat."

With that, he was gone.

I stood there for a moment, my chest heavy with the weight of his words. It was like the floodgates had opened.

Blaze was done for, and now it was my turn to shine.

Later that night, I sat at my desk, looking at the empty space where my phone had been a second ago. I'd been thinking about what Marcus had said—the crown. It wasn't a position I wanted just for the fame or the hype. It wasn't just about the money. It was about respect. Real respect. The kind you earned through your own sweat and blood.

I grabbed a piece of paper and started scribbling. I was already thinking ahead—what was my next move? How would I keep this momentum going? I couldn't just rely on the diss track. That was only the beginning.

I had to be consistent. I had to keep my name in people's mouths.

My phone buzzed, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Yo, Blaze posted a new track," Rico's message read. "This is your chance. You ready?"

I grabbed my phone and opened the message. Blaze had dropped a response track, a whole video where he tore into me, but there was something different this time. His delivery was stiff, forced, like he was trying too hard. Like he was scared.

I watched the video once, and then I hit replay. Blaze wasn't on my level anymore. He was scrambling, trying to regain the respect he'd lost. He had no idea who he was messing with.

I tapped out a quick response in the group chat:

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's give him something he won't forget."

I didn't need to say much more. The streets were already talking. Blaze couldn't keep up with me anymore. The crown was within reach.

But I wasn't just going to take it. I was going to earn it.

Tomorrow, the grind started again. This time, I wasn't just fighting for my spot—I was fighting for the future.