When Kirihara claimed victory in the first set, most of the Japan Team members broke into smiles. They high-fived one another, celebrating the hard-earned win. Yet amid the cheerful atmosphere, Yanagi Renji stood out. His brow was slightly furrowed, his sharp eyes fixed squarely on Kirihara.
Yanagi knew Kirihara's data better than anyone. He could read every subtle change in the boy's condition. And right now, he noticed something that made his expression tighten—the amount of sweat running down Kirihara's face was far beyond normal.
"According to previous data, Kirihara's stamina consumption should be over 60% by now… could it be that his abilities have advanced again, enough to make my data projections inaccurate?" Yanagi muttered quietly to himself.
"No. That burst state of his drains stamina fast. Add in the earlier Muga no Kyōchi and Angel Mode… I'd say his physical energy's nearly spent," Mitsuya said grimly, not doubting Yanagi's numbers in the slightest.
"In the second set, the probability of Kirihara showing stamina depletion is 73.2%," Inui said calmly, running a quick mental simulation based on their analysis.
"Don't worry," Yukimura said softly as he stepped beside Yanagi without anyone noticing. "Kirihara probably knows that better than any of us."
Across the court, in Switzerland's coaching area, Henri sat with his eyes closed, regaining his strength. He replayed the last set in his mind, breaking down every mistake and angle, thinking through his next strategy. Neither Amadeus nor Coach Jin interrupted him—they both knew Henri was deep in concentration, searching for his breakthrough.
The three-minute rest flew by, and the referee's voice soon echoed through the stadium, calling the players back. Kirihara and Henri walked onto the court once again. Both wore calm, focused expressions—the stillness before the storm. They knew the second set would be even fiercer, and far more decisive.
As Kirihara served the first ball, the second set officially began. The rally ignited immediately—each exchange fast, powerful, and precise. Kirihara didn't use Angel Mode or Full Concentration Burst right away; he seemed to be waiting for the right opening.
Henri, on the other hand, sharpened his focus to the limit. Every one of his returns went to Kirihara's most uncomfortable zones—the angles he struggled with most. Clearly, from observing the first set, Henri had already mapped out Kirihara's weaknesses.
Under the growing pressure, Kirihara acted on instinct. He entered Full Concentration Burst, his speed soaring in an instant. Even so, Henri managed to barely keep up with the pace—pushed back, but still in the fight.
"15–0!"
"30–0!"
"30–15!"
Learning from his earlier mistakes, Henri no longer relied on spin patterns to predict ball paths. Instead, he watched Kirihara's movements directly. The shift in strategy paid off—he endured until Kirihara's burst phase ended, then capitalized on the opening to score a point.
"Game! Japan! 1–0!"
"Game! Switzerland! 1–1!"
"Game! Japan! 2–1!"
The set became a tug-of-war, the score rising alternately. While Kirihara still held a slight edge overall, Byoudouin and Akashi—watching from the bench—noticed something subtle.
"That kid can't trigger burst twice in a row within a short time," Byoudouin muttered with a frown. "The Swiss brat's figured it out. He's dragging this out on purpose, making the seaweed-head burn through his stamina bit by bit."
"Henri's returns are all aimed precisely where Kirihara struggles most," Akashi added evenly. "To counter, Kirihara has to expand his swing range—meaning extra motion, extra energy use. That noble boy… his attention to detail is impressive."
Just as they finished speaking, Kirihara stumbled back to the bench, drenched in sweat, his breathing heavy and uneven. The fatigue was written all over him.
No one said a word. No one dared to. Even Mifune stayed silent. At this point, all they could do was trust the player himself—to overcome this wall on his own.
.
After sitting down, Kirihara twisted open the cap of his water bottle and poured the entire contents over his head. The water instantly turned into a faint mist as it met the heat radiating from his body.
From the bench, Sanada watched quietly, his expression mixed. He wanted to scold him, but deep down he knew Kirihara had already done more than enough—there was nothing left to criticize.
When the break ended, the match resumed. Kirihara continued to score through sheer explosive bursts, but Henri occasionally seized chances to counterattack. The match gradually fell into a strange equilibrium.
"Game! Japan! 3–1!"
"Game! Switzerland! 3–2! Change courts!"
When Kirihara returned to the bench again, his condition had worsened. His seaweed-like hair hung wet and limp over his forehead, his breathing erratic and uneven.
"That's odd… why isn't Kirihara using Angel Mode? Sure, it's not as powerful as Full Concentration Burst, but it lasts way longer~" Shiraishi said, frowning as he watched Kirihara gulp down water.
"It's not that he doesn't want to use it. He can't enter Angel Mode right now," Akashi replied calmly, his pupils faintly glowing red.
"What?!" Sanada's face changed immediately, eyes wide in shock.
"It's probably the most critical moment now. Didn't you notice? His last burst lasted over 10 seconds—well past the limit," Akashi said evenly, glancing at Sanada.
"Akashi-kun… you mean…" Yukimura began softly, realization dawning in his tone.
"Yeah. The question now is whether he can take that final step," Akashi answered, his expression serene.
When the sixth game began, Kirihara seemed to recover a bit of strength. He pushed his offense harder, his power and speed in Burst Mode climbing higher than before. Henri was caught off guard at first, unable to match the pace.
"Game! Japan! 4–2!"
Kirihara secured the sixth game, and the Japan Team thought he might ride the momentum straight to victory. But then, his movements began to slow. He couldn't even trigger Full Concentration Burst anymore.
"Game! Switzerland! 4–3!"
"You've done better than I expected," Henri said, looking at Kirihara, who was bent over with his hands on his knees. "But in the end, victory will still be mine."
Kirihara was too exhausted to reply. He staggered toward the bench, his steps unsteady. Before he could fall, Sanada and Niō appeared on either side, supporting him to his seat.
Mifune immediately stood up, giving Kirihara space to lie down. The timeout was barely half a minute, but every second mattered now. The entire Japan Team's eyes were fixed on him.
Even so, when Kirihara returned to the court, his condition hadn't improved. His vision blurred, his movements sluggish. Henri took full advantage, launching a flurry of attacks and scoring point after point.
"Game! Switzerland! 4–4!"
"Game! Switzerland! 5–4! Change courts!"
Watching Kirihara's fading strength, the Japan Team's faces darkened. Only Akashi remained calm, the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of his lips—because he could already see the power inside Kirihara beginning to awaken.
Within Kirihara's consciousness, things were reaching a breaking point. A massive demonic statue and a shining angelic figure clashed violently—blood axe against holy sword—and with every impact, his spirit trembled.
"Ace! 15–0!"
"Ace! 30–0!"
"Ace! 40–0!"
As the tenth game began, Kirihara stood motionless, head down, offering no resistance. He didn't even react as Henri's serves zipped past him.
"There's still one more set, but I already know how this ends," Henri said calmly, tossing the ball into the air. "So… goodbye, middle schooler from Japan."
The serve came fast, rocketing toward Kirihara's right baseline corner. Seeing him still standing still, Henri's lips curved into a victorious smile.
But in the next instant, something unbelievable happened. A figure with white hair and red skin suddenly appeared at the right baseline of Japan's half—Devil Mode Kirihara.
Henri's eyes flew wide. His brain refused to believe what he was seeing, because the normal Kirihara was still standing motionless in his original spot. Then who—what—was this other Kirihara?
The sharp crack of racket meeting ball snapped him out of it. Henri instinctively rushed forward to intercept, but it was too late—the ball struck the net and dropped. Devil Kirihara's return hadn't made it over.
"Game! 6–4! Second set over! Winner, Switzerland! Total score: 1–1!"
As the referee's voice echoed across the court, the Devil Kirihara on Japan's side vanished into thin air before everyone's eyes. The entire crowd gasped in shock—no one could explain what they had just witnessed.