Both Henri and the rest of the Swiss team were startled by Kirihara's transformation. At that moment, he looked like a completely different person—not just in appearance, but in presence and aura as well.
It was Kirihara's first appearance in Devil Mode, and it truly shocked the Swiss team. But Henri quickly regained his composure. No matter what form his opponent took, he believed he could still win.
"Turn me red? Like that purple-haired high schooler before? If you think you can, go ahead and try!" Henri sneered as he tossed up the ball.
With a sharp swing, the ball cut through the air toward the right sideline of the Japan team's court. Kirihara moved in a flash, appearing near the landing point. Though not as fast as when he used Full Concentration Burst, his speed was still impressive.
Kirihara tilted his racket slightly downward and sliced at the ball as it bounced. The ball spun oddly and shot straight toward Henri's feet.
'Changing his entire playstyle, huh? Let's see what tricks you've got,' Henri thought, his eyes narrowing as he stood his ground, waiting for the ball to land.
The ball hit the ground and wobbled rapidly back and forth for a moment before suddenly shooting toward Henri's right knee. His expression changed instantly, and he hurriedly raised his racket to block.
At the last second, he managed to shield his knee, but the impact was powerful. Because he reacted in panic, he failed to keep his balance and staggered from the force.
The ball ricocheted high into the air above Japan's court. Kirihara leaped up with a wild grin and swung down hard, smashing the ball mercilessly toward Henri.
"Hahahaha! Now let me dye you completely red!" Kirihara laughed maniacally in midair.
Henri instinctively turned his head to dodge, but the ball still grazed his cheek, leaving a red mark before bouncing off the court and out of bounds.
"0–15!"
"That bastard's gone into Devil Mode again!" Sanada growled under his breath, clenching his fists in anger.
"Nice one, seaweed head! That's the way—take him down completely!" Tōno shouted from the sidelines, cheering excitedly. But when he noticed Mifune's sharp glare, he awkwardly shut his mouth.
"Who the hell are you calling seaweed head?! Want me to dye you red too?" Kirihara snapped, his eyes filled with violence as he glared at Tōno.
Kimijima covered his face with one hand. He had once thought Tōno's Tennis High state was the height of madness, but now, watching Kirihara's Devil Mode, he felt the two weren't all that different.
Only Akashi had the faintest trace of a smile. Through the Emperor Eye, everything Kirihara did appeared perfectly calculated—not like someone who'd lost control. In Akashi's experience, Devil Mode shouldn't allow for that kind of precision.
Henri's eyes grew cold as he stared at the white-haired Kirihara. His impression of the Japan team plummeted. He hadn't expected their players to favor direct body attacks. Violence wasn't rare in the world tournament, but few were as ruthless as Tōno and Kirihara, who deliberately aimed for the opponent's body.
Wiping the side of his face, Henri tossed another ball into the air—a fast, heavily spinning serve once again. Kirihara stepped into position, slicing sharply with his backhand, neutralizing all the spin instantly.
The ball flew straight toward Henri, who was charging the net. Expecting it, Henri lowered his center of gravity and bent back to dodge as the ball whooshed past his face. In the same motion, he angled his racket upward and returned a diagonal shot.
Kirihara dashed sideways at lightning speed, intercepting the ball in front of him. With another fierce swing, he drove it straight toward Henri's abdomen. Henri frowned and quickly held his racket in front of his body, lifting it slightly to deflect.
The ball arced high, spinning violently as it soared over Japan's court and dropped rapidly toward the baseline—a deep, high lob. Henri continued rushing the net after returning it.
Kirihara had already retreated past the baseline. Without waiting for the ball to fall, he jumped high and smashed it down at Henri mid-run.
Henri didn't expect Kirihara to counter like that. For an instant, he froze, but his instincts kicked in, and he barely dodged the shot. The ball slammed into the court and bounced out of bounds.
"0–30!"
"Seems we've neglected Henri's training against body shots. Players who aim directly at the opponent aren't exactly rare," Ranbiell said gravely from the Swiss bench.
"It's fine. After taking a few more hits, he'll naturally figure out how to deal with it," Amadeus replied coldly. To him, this so-called violent tennis wasn't a big deal—as long as Henri didn't end up like Campbell and Cape, completely helpless.
Anyone who's made a name for themselves in the professional circuit has faced violent tennis before. Strictly speaking, this U-17 World Cup doesn't see it often—that's all.
Amadeus's earlier anger wasn't because of Tōno's Execution Law Tennis, but because their middle school player had shown zero resistance. A one-sided match like that was what he truly couldn't accept.
On court, the Devil-Mode Kirihara kept hammering shots at Henri's body. Though Henri looked overwhelmed, both the Japan and Swiss teams could see that he was slowly getting used to the attacks.
"0–40!"
Kirihara scored again with his relentless offense, but this time Henri's defense had clearly improved compared to the last two points—proof of his outstanding talent.
Soon Henri launched his fourth high-speed serve. Kirihara charged in like before, attacking furiously, but now Henri could counter while keeping himself safe from injury.
Their rally grew more and more intense. When Henri drove a fast passing shot to the baseline, Kirihara immediately chased it down and prepared for a powerful smash. Seeing his posture, Henri tensed up, slowed his run, and lowered his center of gravity in anticipation.
But the expected heavy shot never came. Instead, Kirihara faked the swing and dropped the ball short. Under Henri's startled gaze, the ball drifted gently over the net and fell softly to the ground.
"Game! Japan! 4–2!"
"What's wrong? Did you really think I'd only attack your body?" Kirihara's voice echoed across the court as Henri stood stunned.
Henri looked up to see that Kirihara still looked like he was in Devil Mode, but his eyes were clear—none of the violent madness from before remained.
In truth, Kirihara hadn't entered Devil Mode at all. He'd activated Angel Mode. The trick was his red-eyed state—by combining Angel Mode with his crimson eyes, he made it look identical to Devil Mode on the outside.
"So, what do you think now, Genichirō~?" Yukimura asked from the sideline with a teasing smile.
"Too… too careless!!!" Sanada pulled his cap down, hiding his expression as he shouted irritably.
'Rikkai sure has one honest guy left, huh? The rest are all schemers in their own ways. Must be tough being him. Oh, and Kirihara too—I finally get where "Papa Sanada" came from!' Akashi thought to himself, amused by the exchange.
———
In the endless desert, Ryōma trudged forward, wrapped in a yellow cloth, exhaustion written all over his face. He still couldn't comprehend what had just happened. When he entered Ten'i Muhō, he had completely taken control of the match.
But at some point, Zeus began scoring on him again. If there hadn't been so many people watching, Ryōma would have thought Zeus had rigged the score.
"I can see the confusion in your heart, young one. Tell me—what are you truly lost about?" Zeus said with a gentle smile as he tossed the ball into the air.
The ball shot toward Ryōma at incredible speed. He barely reached the landing spot and returned it, his eyes burning with defiance. But Zeus's counterattack came faster than he could imagine.
The moment the ball struck the ground, the azure glow around Ryōma's body began to fade until it completely vanished into the air. In contrast, the pure white light surrounding Zeus grew blindingly bright, shimmering faintly with rainbow hues.
"Olympus Rainbow Light!"
"40–0!"
"Can't maintain the Light of Pride anymore? Seems your heart has wavered too, young one," Zeus said in a tone of mild regret, watching Ryōma fall out of Ten'i Muhō.
In the next instant, the sound of the racket rang out again. The ball turned into a streak of light, passing Ryōma's side before he could even react, bouncing once, then flying out of bounds.
"Game! Greece! 3–0!"