Chapter 1: A New Beginning
The 2022 Men's Volleyball World Championship.
The legendary arena, PalaLottomatica – Rome, trembled under the footsteps of tens of thousands of fans.
The sounds of horns, drums, and collective chants created an endless wave of noise, like a raging sea ready to swallow any player who dared to step on its court.
The glaring white spotlights shone down on the arena, turning it into a stage greater than mere sport—
a stage of destiny.
At one end of the court stood Hinata Shoyo.
His fiery orange hair glowed under the lights like a spark of flame, and his wide eyes burned with the fire of ambition.
He was no longer the small boy who only dreamed of flying.
His body had gained strength and solidity from years of training, but his determined smile remained the same—innocent yet filled with the madness of challenge.
Hinata, who had carried the banner of São Paulo on his shoulders throughout the season, knew that everything he had lived through had led him to this very moment.
On the other side stood Kageyama Tobio.
His tall, upright figure, his cold, unyielding features, and his blue eyes that resembled an unreadable sky.
He was no longer the arrogant boy who knew only how to bark orders; he had become a true leader of Rome's team, imposing his presence with silence more than with words.
He had mastered controlling the tempo, orchestrating his teammates, and setting every ball with a hand so precise it left no room for error.
The only moment of silence within the storm was when their gazes locked across the net.
A silence that lasted no more than a second, yet felt far longer.
Hinata took a step forward, fire blazing inside him.
On the other side, Kageyama advanced with the same composure.
And at the very point where their wills collided, words burst from both their mouths at the same time—with the same tone, the same force, as if they were one voice that could not be separated:
"I'll win!"
It was a direct promise, the beginning of a battle in which there was no room for mercy.
The commentator's voice boomed with passion through the loudspeakers:
"Ladies and gentlemen… it's time!
The final match of the 2022 Men's Volleyball World Championship!
São Paulo of Brazil versus Rome of Italy!
The clash of dreams between Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio!"
The entire stadium shook with applause and cheers.
The first serve drew near, and every breath was held in anticipation.
But… before the sharp whistle could sound, before the first ball could be tossed into the air, Hinata was struck by a strange feeling.
It was as if the world itself was drifting away.
The sounds around him grew faint, as though they came from far in the distance.
The lights blurred before his eyes, and his body suddenly burned with heat.
"What the…?" He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
A sudden heaviness crushed his head, his legs failed to hold him, and his vision drowned in a blinding white haze.
He didn't even feel the moment he collapsed.
All he knew was the darkness that closed over his eyes, and the complete silence that replaced the roaring chaos of just seconds ago.
The noise was gone.
There was no crowd, no sound of shoes pounding against the hardwood, not even the referee's whistle that he had been awaiting.
The first thing Hinata felt instead was the weight in his head, as if iron hands were pressing down on him.
Then came other sounds—not the chants of millions, but the chirping of a distant bird.
"…Huh?"
He cracked his eyes open, only to shut them again immediately as the bright daylight pierced his vision.
His heart was pounding wildly, as if he had just sprinted a marathon, and his clothes… were not the São Paulo uniform he had been wearing moments earlier.
Slowly, he sat up on the bed, his breathing ragged as his eyes wandered across the room.
Plain white walls.
A small desk cluttered with open textbooks.
A sports bag tossed carelessly in the corner.
The room was tiny, yet hauntingly familiar.
"No way…" he whispered, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the fog in his head.
He reached out to touch the blanket on his bed, its ordinary texture confirming that this wasn't a dream.
His fingers trembled as he ran them across the sheets and the old pillow he knew so well.
He stood up on shaky legs, one hand pressed against the wall for support, as though his body refused to believe.
Step by step, he made his way to the small mirror hanging on his closet door.
What he saw made his breath hitch.
Staring back at him was the face of a teenager—
orange hair sticking out in a messy tuft, features not yet matured, and a body far slimmer than the one he had grown into over the years.
He leaned closer, lifting his hand to touch his own reflection, his fingertips grazing his youthful skin as if to confirm it wasn't an illusion.
"This… this is my face from middle school…" he muttered hoarsely.
His legs gave way slightly, and he sat back down on the edge of his bed, pressing a hand against his forehead.
Memories clashed violently in his mind:
a moment ago, he had been standing on the court in Rome, about to face the final of a lifetime against Kageyama…
and now?
He was back in his old room from years ago.
He struggled to catch his breath, his head heavy with thoughts:
Is this some long dream? Did I faint and I'm still there in the arena? Or did I really… go back?
His gaze drifted to the desk, where his eyes caught on an old piece of paper.
Scrawled on it were the words:
"First match against Kitagawa Daiichi – one month away."
His heart lurched violently.
There was no room left for doubt.
He had truly returned to the time before his very first showdown with Kageyama.
Leaning back against the wall, he exhaled a long breath, trying to absorb the reality that was slowly setting in.
Confusion still weighed heavily on his mind, torn between wanting to scream and being overwhelmed by the truth he could no longer deny.
Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of fear and determination.
His fists clenched so tightly that his fingers shook.
Then, with a small, nervous but resolute smile, he whispered as though declaring the start of a brand-new battle:
"I'm back."