Black Rebirth – Asta’s Journey in Soul Society

Asta stepped through the stone archway, leaving the morning light behind as he entered the trial grounds. The moment he crossed the threshold, a heavy silence filled the air. The sounds of the Seireitei—the distant chatter of Soul Reapers, the rustling of trees, even the soft breeze—vanished completely.

The path before him stretched into a dimly lit corridor, lined with ancient stone walls. The deeper he walked, the darker the surroundings became. At first, it was a subtle change—the warm glow of the entrance fading into a cool twilight. But with each step, the shadows grew thicker, swallowing what little light remained.

Asta narrowed his eyes, his senses on high alert.

"Okay… this is different from the last trial."

There was no crushing reiatsu like before. No powerful presence looming over him. Just silence and an overwhelming sense of isolation.

His footsteps echoed against the stone, the sound bouncing off unseen walls. He reached forward, hoping to feel something—maybe a torch, a doorway, anything—but his fingers met only empty air.

And then…

A voice.

Soft. Faint. Almost a whisper.

"Help me..."

Asta froze. His heartbeat quickened. The voice was distant, but it was there.

"Someone's in trouble!"

He broke into a run, chasing the sound. His boots hit the stone floor harder, faster—but the darkness thickened with every step. Soon, he couldn't even see his own hands. It felt like he was running through a void, with no sense of direction.

Then—

A flicker of light.

Asta skidded to a stop. Up ahead, a faint glow pulsed like a dying ember. He sprinted toward it, and as he did, the darkness around him peeled away, revealing a vast, open chamber.

At its center, two figures lay on the ground.

Asta's breath caught in his throat. A young boy and an older man were both injured, their clothes torn and stained with blood.

The boy clutched the man's arm, his face pale and desperate. "Please… help him," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Asta didn't hesitate. He ran to their side, kneeling beside them. "Hang in there! I'll get you both out of here!"

But as he reached out, a sudden shift in the air stopped him cold.

Another light flared up behind him. A second path—led to another injured figure lying in the distance.

Asta turned, eyes widening.

It was a young woman, barely conscious, her breathing shallow.

He spun back toward the boy and the man, then back to the woman.

His stomach twisted.

"Wait…"

Something wasn't right.

This wasn't just a test of his ability to help others. This was a choice.

There was only time to save one.

Asta's hands clenched into fists. His mind raced. If he tried to carry all three of them, he might not make it in time. If he hesitated too long, they all might die.

No fair! He thought. There has to be another way!

But no matter how much he searched for an answer, there was only one truth—he had to choose.

Asta's breath came in short bursts. His chest felt tight. He wasn't used to this. He was used to fighting—to pushing through no matter what. But this? This was different.

What do I do?

The boy's tear-filled eyes locked onto Asta's.

The woman let out a weak gasp, her body trembling.

The choice pressed down on him like a weight far heavier than any attack he'd ever faced.

And he had to make it.

Now.