[ Rise regards him for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to catch her breath as she also catches the ball. There's nothing searching in her expression, nothing expectant, just a quiet, stubborn acknowledgment: This is my answer.
In terms of tennis, he's got the upper hand. He's taller, faster, more experienced, stronger, more skilled-- she doesn't need her ability to read the unvoiced things to know that much. Next to Yagyuu - next to any of them - she's tiny, delicate, fragile, inexperienced, weaker.
Physically. She has no doubt that Rikkai's strong, and she respects them, knows they've carried the weight of countless victories on their shoulders, how hard they fought to win this time. And Yagyuu, she suspects, carries the additional burden of that mask for whatever reason, keeping things repressed until provided the proper catalyst. What she's seen of him today was both unexpected and unsurprising, because she's seen the sort of things people hide, she's hidden them herself.
And eight of them had hidden them until their Shadows said otherwise, and eight of them had faced formidable obstacles to save the entire world.
She might not have their stamina, but she can last longer than most girls her age, more than most idols. Something like this certainly won't keep her down (you don't know true exhaustion or pain until you've faced everything ripped from inside of you, welcomed it back, changed it into your own power, and even then, she'd stood back up and told the others to get ready), and since Yagyuu had so kindly extracted the part of her that she rarely showed to many people...
She's not releasing the tension now. It's like the burst of adrenaline that the stage gives her, the music blending with her movements, except now her only beat is the thundering one in her chest, the one she can hear, and Rise exhales softly, backs up, and serves.
From this point on, she won't stop moving; slowing down, stopping, not giving it her all, it means she's given up, and she won't. Not until he ends it. ]
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In terms of tennis, he's got the upper hand. He's taller, faster, more experienced, stronger, more skilled-- she doesn't need her ability to read the unvoiced things to know that much. Next to Yagyuu - next to any of them - she's tiny, delicate, fragile, inexperienced, weaker.
Physically. She has no doubt that Rikkai's strong, and she respects them, knows they've carried the weight of countless victories on their shoulders, how hard they fought to win this time. And Yagyuu, she suspects, carries the additional burden of that mask for whatever reason, keeping things repressed until provided the proper catalyst. What she's seen of him today was both unexpected and unsurprising, because she's seen the sort of things people hide, she's hidden them herself.
And eight of them had hidden them until their Shadows said otherwise, and eight of them had faced formidable obstacles to save the entire world.
She might not have their stamina, but she can last longer than most girls her age, more than most idols. Something like this certainly won't keep her down (you don't know true exhaustion or pain until you've faced everything ripped from inside of you, welcomed it back, changed it into your own power, and even then, she'd stood back up and told the others to get ready), and since Yagyuu had so kindly extracted the part of her that she rarely showed to many people...
She's not releasing the tension now. It's like the burst of adrenaline that the stage gives her, the music blending with her movements, except now her only beat is the thundering one in her chest, the one she can hear, and Rise exhales softly, backs up, and serves.
From this point on, she won't stop moving; slowing down, stopping, not giving it her all, it means she's given up, and she won't. Not until he ends it. ]