Luke scowled as he slapped the snooze button for the third time, grumbling at his alarm like it had personally wronged him. His phone screen glowed, showing 6:45 AM, and the stupid corporate wallpaper—a generic stock image of a business guy smiling—stared back at him mockingly.
"Ugh… another day of thrilling data entry," he mumbled sarcastically, rolling out of bed with the grace of a collapsing Jenga tower.
He shuffled into the kitchen of his cramped New York apartment, tossing some instant coffee into a chipped mug. The windows were coated with that special city grime, filtering in light that somehow made everything look more depressing. His fridge hummed like it was on life support, and the only thing inside was leftover pizza he was too lazy to reheat.
35 years old. No friends. No social life.
Just him, his anime, manga, books, and games.
Luke's eyes fell on the family photo stuck to the fridge with a faded One Piece magnet. His parents smiled warmly back at him—frozen in time. The dull ache in his chest flared up. It had only been three months since they were taken from him in the mass shooting. He clenched his jaw and ripped his eyes away, shaking his head.
"Don't think about it, not now."
He mechanically finished his coffee, tossed on his cheap office slacks and worn-out shirt, and grabbed his beat-up laptop bag. It was just another ordinary day. Or so he thought.
The morning commute was its usual chaotic mess. Horns blared. People yelled. Taxi drivers cursed in languages Luke didn't understand. Just your typical New York symphony of suffering. He crossed the street near 42nd Street, eyes half-glued to his phone as he scrolled through a "Top 10 Isekai Anime" list. He smirked slightly at the irony.
"Hah. Imagine getting isekai'd. That'd be the dream."
And then he heard it.
HONKKKKK!
Luke looked up just in time to see Truck-kun barreling down the street like it had a personal grudge against pedestrians. The driver's eyes widened in horror, his coffee flying out of his hands in slow motion.
"Oh, shi—"
The world exploded in a blur of metal, screeching tires, and white-hot pain.
Luke's eyes snapped open, but he didn't feel any pain. Instead, he was… floating? His surroundings were an endless white void, the kind of place that screamed "generic afterlife loading screen."
"Wait… did I actually just get isekai'd?" he muttered, voice echoing weirdly in the void.
He squinted into the nothingness, half expecting some goddess or overpowered deity to pop in and assign him cheat skills. Instead, he just felt a tug—a sharp pull in his gut—and suddenly, he was falling.
Spinning.
Plummeting.
And then—WHAM—face-first into the rough tatami floor.
"OW! What the hell?!" Luke clutched his now very much aching face.
The first thing he noticed was how small his hands were. Tiny, child-like hands.
He blinked. His vision was a bit blurry, so he stumbled toward the bathroom, feeling like his legs weren't quite the right size. The mirror was just above the sink, so he stood on his toes and—
"Oh… no way…"
A mop of orange hair stared back at him. Big brown eyes, round cheeks, and a slightly smaller nose.
He slapped his cheeks, then poked his face a few times. His reflection did the same.
"I'm… Hinata Shoyo?!"
The reality hit him like a volleyball to the face. He stumbled back, knocking over a cup of toothbrushes in his shock.
"No, no, no—this isn't real. This has to be some messed-up dream or some post-death hallucination," he babbled.
But when he looked back into the mirror, the wide-eyed, ginger-haired face stared back.
And then it hit him.
He was 11 years old.
He wasn't just in Hinata's body—he was in Hinata's childhood, years before he'd even set foot in Karasuno.
Luke's heart pounded in his chest.
"This… this isn't a dream."
His fingers dug into the tatami mat beneath him, feeling the coarse fibers beneath his hands. The sensation was too real.
"Holy crap. I actually got isekai'd… INTO HAIKYUU."
He sat there for a solid five minutes, knees pulled to his chest, brain trying and failing to reboot.
After the initial panic subsided, Luke stared at his tiny hands again. The reality of it settled in—the ultimate second chance. His old life had been one long string of monotony. His job? Soulless. His relationships? Nonexistent. His purpose? Nada.
But now?
He was Hinata Shoyo.
And this time, he wouldn't just be a plucky underdog.
"Screw being a background character," he thought, a grin pulling at his lips.
He dashed back to the mirror and stared at himself again. The bright orange hair. The determined brown eyes. The small frame that would one day become the "Little Giant."
He clutched the sink, staring at himself with a newfound fire in his eyes.
"I'm going to make something of myself this time."
That's when he remembered—volleyball.
The sport that had been his only escape in his old life. He wasn't any good at it, but he loved watching and playing it casually. It made him feel alive.
But this time, he wouldn't just play volleyball—he would train for real.
"Hinata was naturally athletic, but let's be honest… he sucked at volleyball for a long time," Luke thought, recalling the anime.
Hinata had to fight tooth and nail to develop basic skills, and even then, he had glaring weaknesses.
Not this time.
Luke clenched his fists, fire lighting in his chest.
"I'm going to become the strongest version of Hinata."
He started bouncing on his toes, trying to feel out the body. He was lighter, faster, but weak.
Tiny frame, zero muscle.
He would need to work on his physique hard.
And just as he resolved to do so, something flickered in front of his eyes.
A blue screen with pixelated text popped up, floating in front of his face.
[GOAT SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Luke blinked.
"Oh… you've got to be kidding me."