Black Rebirth – Asta’s Journey in Soul Society

Asta's blade tore through the last Hollow in his immediate vicinity, its body dissipating into the night air. His breathing was heavy, but his grin never faded. The thrill of battle always fueled him, but something else had stolen his attention now.

That surge of energy.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—a sudden, raw explosion of spiritual power, unmistakably that of a Shinigami. But the strangest part? It didn't feel like Rukia's.

"What the hell was that?" Asta muttered, wiping some sweat from his brow.

More Hollows lurked around him, their piercing red eyes gleaming in the darkness. But now, Asta wasn't interested in them anymore. Something more important was happening.

He planted his foot against the rooftop and kicked off, launching himself toward the source of the energy. His body blurred through the air, moving faster than ever.

He needed to see what was going on.

Back in the park, the dust began to settle.

Ichigo Kurosaki stood in the center, his newly acquired Shinigami uniform rippling slightly in the wind. In his hands, a massive Zanpakutō rested on his shoulder, its size absurd for a first-time wielder. Yet, somehow, it felt natural in his grip.

Across from him, Grand Fisher loomed, his grotesque form twitching with frustration. He had expected easy prey—an ordinary human who would be nothing more than a satisfying meal.

Instead, he was staring at something far more dangerous.

Ichigo's eyes burned with something unfamiliar. A fire. A resolve. He didn't understand what had just happened, but it didn't matter.

All he knew was that this monster had hurt Rukia.

And he wasn't going to let it get away with that.

"You…" Grand Fisher growled, his voice dripping with hatred. "You are no ordinary human."

Ichigo pointed his sword at the Hollow. "And you're just another ugly monster that's about to regret picking a fight with me."

Grand Fisher roared, lunging forward with blinding speed.

Ichigo moved.

His instincts carried him faster than he thought possible, his sword already slicing through the air. Grand Fisher barely had time to react before Ichigo's blade met flesh.

A deep gash tore through the Hollow's arm, sending him stumbling back with a pained screech. Ichigo didn't stop—he pressed forward, swinging again. Grand Fisher barely dodged in time, the sheer force of the attack splitting the ground where he had just been standing.

"This… this isn't possible!" Grand Fisher spat, his eyes wide with fear. "You shouldn't be this strong!"

Ichigo didn't respond. He simply adjusted his grip and readied himself for the next attack.

From the sidelines, Rukia watched with wide eyes. She had expected Ichigo to gain some power—but this? His speed, his strength, his instincts… he was fighting like a seasoned warrior.

And that was terrifying.

But she had no time to dwell on it. She was still weakened, her energy drained from the transfer. If more Hollows arrived, she wouldn't be able to fight.

She had to trust Ichigo.

Asta finally arrived at the scene, landing on a nearby rooftop. His eyes scanned the battlefield, quickly taking in the situation.

Rukia was on the ground, clearly weakened. Grand Fisher was wounded but still alive. And then—

Asta's eyes locked onto Ichigo.

His grip tightened on his sword.

"The hell…?" he whispered.

That was no ordinary human. That was a Shinigami. A brand new one.

And he was fighting like he had been doing it for years.

Asta didn't know what had just happened. But one thing was certain—

This night had changed everything.