In the third game, it was Kirihara's turn to serve again. Without hesitation, he launched another Knuckle Serve, but this move no longer fazed Henri in the slightest. With ease, Henri countered with a clean half volley, sending the ball straight back.
Kirihara didn't immediately activate Total Concentration Burst; instead, he chose to engage Henri in a high-speed rally. The two exchanged fierce shots, neither yielding an inch. However, to Akashi watching from the sidelines, something felt off.
By now, Akashi was certain Henri wasn't showing his full strength. He seemed to be studying Kirihara's Total Concentration Burst, testing it carefully. Several times, Henri had clear chances to score but intentionally passed them up.
"That Swiss middle schooler seems suspicious," Irie remarked, having also noticed Henri's strange behavior.
"Henri Nobel III—Switzerland's young noble genius," Inui added, reading from his gathered data. "He's exceptionally observant and analytical. His playstyle is meticulous—he'll seize and exploit even the tiniest detail."
"He's already caught on to the subtle signs when Kirihara enters his burst state," Akashi said, eyes sharp as he watched Henri. "But he's still in the observation phase. His next move… I can't read it yet."
On court, after about seven or eight intense rallies, Kirihara inhaled deeply. His aura surged as he exploded forward with lightning speed, appearing at the net in an instant. His racket flashed, and before Henri could react, the ball blazed past and landed on the sideline.
"15–0!"
'Breathing rhythm… duration of bursts… recovery interval… stamina drain… I see. So that's your weakness,' Henri thought, a faint smirk curling at his lips.
Unaware of Henri's analysis, Kirihara fired off another Knuckle Serve. Henri's eyes gleamed as he rushed to the bounce point. The instant the ball popped up, he swung hard, returning it with a heavy topspin that curved sharply toward Japan's side.
Kirihara stepped forward, leapt, and smashed down fiercely. The ball shot like a beam of light toward Switzerland's midline—but Henri was already there. He raised his racket and tapped it lightly, redirecting the ball's path sharply back over the net.
A harsh squeak echoed as Kirihara's shoes scraped the court. With a burst of incredible speed, he lunged forward, scooping the lightly bouncing ball up and sending it toward Henri's left corner.
Henri had anticipated that. As soon as Kirihara reached the landing point, Henri shifted left to intercept. This time, he managed to make contact—but the force behind Kirihara's shot was far beyond expectation. Henri's return fell short, hitting the net.
"30–0!"
'So it's not just speed—his power increases too,' Henri realized. Losing another point didn't bother him. On the contrary, his understanding of Kirihara's burst state was deepening rapidly.
Kirihara caught his breath a few times, then stepped back to the baseline and tossed the ball high. This time, he didn't use the Knuckle Serve—just a regular, fast diagonal serve.
The moment the serve ended, Kirihara performed a light hop in place—a one-footed split step. When Henri returned the ball, Kirihara immediately read its trajectory. Using that quick step, he moved into perfect position ahead of time.
As he prepared to swing, a faint milky-white aura rose from his body. His racket came down in a smooth, controlled motion, sending the ball spinning upward in a lob-like arc. Henri tried to retreat, but suddenly noticed the ball's spin was unnaturally strong.
Sure enough, once it crossed the net, the ball began to drop rapidly. Henri sprinted forward, barely reaching it as it landed—but then froze.
The ball didn't bounce normally. Instead, it spun in place for a second, rose slightly, and slid forward across the court, gliding all the way out of bounds.
"Muga no Kyōchi! Phoenix Return!"
"40–0!"
After scoring, Kirihara immediately released Muga no Kyōchi. The technique consumed far too much stamina; it wasn't something he could maintain for long. In his mind, using Muga no Kyōchi only at critical moments was the most efficient strategy.
"You used my topspin from earlier? But if I recall… that technique doesn't belong to you," Henri said, recognizing it from the match footage between Fuji and Greece's Orion.
"Who cares whose technique it is? As long as it wins points, that's all that matters," Kirihara replied with a cocky grin, completely unbothered by the accusation.
"I'll admit, that makes sense," Henri said with a calm smile. "But I've already seen through that move. You won't get another chance to use it." After speaking, he turned and walked back to the baseline.
"Ah, my bad~ I'm not Fuji-senpai after all," Kirihara muttered under his breath, grinning to himself. 'Still, I shouldn't use Muga no Kyōchi again too soon.' He found it amusing—these foreigners clearly had no idea what secrets lay behind that state.
Truth was, when he wasn't in Demon Mode, Kirihara's tennis sense was sharp. He had already realized that overusing Muga no Kyōchi would only make it easier for his opponent to adapt. Better to save it for key moments—a hidden trump card to strike when least expected.
He fired off another high-speed serve, and Henri returned it effortlessly. The rally began once more, both sides trading rapid-fire shots. This time, though, Kirihara could feel the pressure. Henri's shots came at sharper angles, forcing him into constant defense.
Just as Kirihara prepared to reenter his burst state, Henri suddenly shifted his swing direction mid-stroke. The abrupt change in rhythm threw Kirihara off. By the time he reacted, the ball had already bounced past the baseline.
"40–15!"
Kirihara's expression darkened as he walked to the baseline. He quickly tossed up the ball and sent it flying with a faint spin toward Henri's right sideline.
As Henri sprinted toward the landing point, Kirihara's aura surged. He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity, his limbs brimming with explosive energy. With a flash, he dashed forward to the net.
Henri reached the ball and returned it with a sharp crosscourt drive—but when he looked up, Kirihara was already in front of the net. The instant Henri swung, the ball vanished from his sight.
A heartbeat later, a loud thud echoed behind him as the ball struck the court. Henri's eyes widened, his body freezing in disbelief. It was too late to move. All he could do was wait for the umpire's call.
"Game! Japan! 3–0!"
——————
"Game! USA! 5–4! Change sides!"
Meanwhile, in the match between the United States and Greece, Kiko once again showed his unbelievable luck. Every crucial point somehow turned in his favor through sheer improbability.
"Is that American high schooler the son of Tyche herself? His luck defies logic!" said Orion from the Greek bench, staring in disbelief.
"Luck favors those who are prepared," Vulcan replied evenly. "For the strong, good fortune is never the foundation of victory—only an extra gift on top of effort. What looks like coincidence is often inevitability."
Back on the bench, Heracles was panting heavily. Even the Light of Olympus consumed stamina quickly, and his long duel with Kiko had left him with less than half of his original strength.
Zeus watched silently as his players rehydrated. His eyes, however, were fixed entirely on Kiko. Something about that boy unsettled him—but he couldn't quite place what it was.
When the short break ended, Heracles and Evan returned to the court. This game was their last chance—a decisive battle for survival—so both unleashed everything from the first serve.
Kiko, though pressured, managed to keep his composure. He steadied the rhythm without exposing any major openings. As for Rocky, he had learned his lesson: even when a chance appeared, he held back. Most of their earlier lost points had been his fault.
The rally intensified, thrilling the crowd. When Heracles struck a blazing down-the-line winner, Kiko rushed to the net. With a quick backhand block, he sent the ball floating lightly toward the Greek court.
Evan dashed forward to intercept, lunging to scoop it up—but just then, a gust of wind swept across the court. The ball bounced once, caught the air, and rolled back toward the net.
Evan could only watch helplessly as the ball clipped the tape and slid down, falling gently onto his side. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and even Heracles had no words left.
"15–0!"
Still, Heracles and Evan refused to give up. They fought back fiercely, exchanging points in a relentless rally. But the Americans steadily maintained the advantage.
"Game! 6–4! Match over! Winner, USA! Total score, 2–0!"
Greece's duo had failed to turn things around. The doubles match ended with America leading 2–0 overall. Now everything rested on the singles matches ahead. Not long after, the umpire's voice rang out once more.
"Next up—Singles 3! United States: Echizen Ryōma (First Year Middle School)! Greece: Zeus Iliopoulos (First Year High School)! Both players, please enter the court!"