A bright white light flashed across his eyes.
The coach's roar filled his ears, mixing with the heavy pounding of his own heart.
Sweat dripped down his temple and stung his eyes.
"Kei! Watch your blocking form! A second later and you would have missed their attack! Focus! No one gives you second chances on the Olympic court!"
'Right, the Olympics...'
His last memory was of his body twisting to its limit, making a desperate dive to save a tricky straight shot.
Then came darkness and endless silence.
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar air.
It smelled like dust and sunlight. The normal scent of hospital cleaner, mixed with gym sweat and rubber, was gone.
Kitagawa Kei opened his eyes.
He saw a strange wooden ceiling above him, looking old and peaceful.
He turned his head stiffly to look around.
He was in a standard, small Japanese bedroom. The tatami mats gave off a faint grassy smell. On the wall hung a faded poster. It showed a short player in a black uniform with the number "10" on his back.
He was jumping high above the net, looking like a soaring bird.
Below the poster, an open magazine showed bold black letters.
"The Fallen Powerhouse, 'The Crows That Can't Fly' – A Look Back at the Karasuno High School Volleyball Club."
'Karasuno?' The name acted like a key, unlocking a flood of memories that didn't belong to him.
A sharp headache hit him as chaotic images rushed into his mind.
The fifteen-year life of a Japanese high school boy, who was also named Kitagawa Kei, played in his head like a fast movie.
The boy was sickly, weak, shy, and had average grades.
His only passion was volleyball.
This started when he watched the "Little Giant" play a match on television as a child.
From then on, he dreamed of joining the Karasuno High School Volleyball Club.
Even though the former champion team had lost its glory, the boy still enrolled there without a second thought.
"What a joke..." Kei whispered.
He pushed himself up, feeling weak and tired all over.
He looked down at his hands. They were pale and thin. They lacked the thick calluses and hard skin he'd built from years of setting and tough training.
These weren't his hands.
This wasn't the strong body that had survived endless trials to fight against monsters on the world stage.
This new body was fragile like glass.
He was the youngest reserve player for the Japanese National Men's Volleyball Team.
People called him a genius with "Magician's Hands" and a "Future Brain."
He'd been preparing for the Olympics.
But somehow, he'd transmigrated to this world, waking up in the body of a high school student with his exact name.
Everything he'd fought for over the past ten years—his teammates, his coach, and his Olympic dream—was gone because of that accident.
As he sat on the futon, the original owner's memories swirled in his mind.
The boy's pure and clumsy love for volleyball burned like a small flame inside him.
'Go to the gym,' a voice echoed in his heart.
It was the original owner's body deepest wish.
Just hearing the sound of a volleyball hitting the floor would draw this body in.
He pushed himself to his feet and put on the unfamiliar Karasuno High School uniform.
The mirror showed a pale, delicate face. However, his eyes didn't match the weak body at all.
They were sharp and calm, showing the look of a person who had fought in intense matches and planned endless tactics.
'Fine, I'll go take a look,' he thought. 'Consider it a final farewell to my past.'
Following his new memories, Kei walked to the school's second gym.
With every step, he judged his body like a professional athlete.
His core strength was poor, his lower body was unstable, and he was physically weak overall.
Even his walking posture needed fixing.
It was a complete disaster.
Still, when the loud thump of volleyballs echoed down the hallway, his heart beat faster.
He walked quietly to the gym doors and peeked inside.
Two boys were having a loud argument. Their voices echoed in the large, empty room.
One was a short boy with bright orange hair.
His face was red as he yelled, "Why didn't you set to me! I was already in the air for that ball!"
The other boy was tall with black hair and a cold glare.
His voice was cold. "You can't keep up with my sets. That kind of wild spiking might've worked in middle school, but in high school, it'll just make people laugh at you."
"What did you say?!" the orange-haired boy snapped, bristling like an angry cat.
"Just stating facts," the black-haired boy replied.
He turned away and picked up a volleyball. With a smooth, easy motion, he sent a perfect set flying toward the net on the other side.
Kei's eyes widened in shock.
'What a fast set!'
The release point was perfect, the path was steady, and the spin was under tight control. The ball flew like a guided missile in a fast, straight line toward an empty spot.
Even in the professional leagues, this level of skill was amazing.
"Did you see that? My toss, no spiker could ever..."
Before the black-haired boy could finish, an orange blur flashed past him like lightning!
The orange-haired boy moved with wild instincts and amazing speed.
He ran from the other end of the court. His legs pushed off the floor with scary power, launching him high into the air.
He stretched his body out, soaring above the net, and swung his right hand down hard.
Thump!
He hit the volleyball solid.
However, because his angle and timing were off, the ball slammed straight into the net.
Standing by the door, Kei was stunned.
His mind started racing like a fast computer.
'That orange-haired boy...'
His explosive power, jumping skills, and reaction speed were all top-tier raw talent.
But his technique was very rough. His jump timing and arm swing had too many extra movements, wasting at least thirty percent of his power.
'And that black-haired boy.... A genius setter, for sure.' His sets were perfect art, but his eyes only cared about the art itself.
He couldn't see, and didn't want to see, his clumsy partner trying to catch up to his passes.
He was a lonely king, not a team leader.
One was a blind runner with amazing physical gifts. The other was a dictator with perfect technique.
Two geniuses had met here in the worst way possible.
Inside the gym, the fight kept going.
Kageyama Tobio yelled his harsh judgment at Hinata Shoyo, "With me here, you won't score a single point in all three years of high school!"
'How arrogant, and how... foolish,' Kei thought.
Kei leaned against the cold door.
The weak heart of the original owner beat in his chest.
At the same time, his own soul—the soul of a volleyball genius—caught fire with a new feeling.
Despair, stress, and anger were all thrown into a furnace.
Seeing such a huge waste of talent changed those bad feelings into something new and burning hot.
It was a flame of desire.
He wanted to polish these raw gems and train the geniuses.
He wanted to take these messy pieces and build them into a perfect machine that could shock the world!
He'd lost his chance at the Olympics.
He'd lost his strong body.
But here, in the gym he thought would be his final goodbye, he saw an empty field full of endless chances.
Kei slowly stood up straight as a bright spark lit up in his dull eyes.
'Perhaps... it's too early to say goodbye.'
A brand new, bigger stage was opening up right in front of him.
And he, Kitagawa Kei, was standing right at the door!