Forty minutes.
The scoreboard stood at six-six.
The air inside the tennis hall had grown hot and stuffy.
The students watching around the court were silent. Only the dull thuds of tennis balls striking the synthetic surface broke the stillness.
L stood at the baseline.
His loose white T-shirt clung to his body, outlining his thin back.
Sweat dripped from his unruly black hair onto the court at his feet.
His breathing had noticeably quickened, his chest heaving.
His already pale face now bore a sickly flush.
Serving from a crouch and moving in erratic patterns put tremendous strain on his core.
This style defied human biomechanics, relying entirely on explosive power and muscle memory.
L's left leg gave an almost imperceptible twitch.
It was a physiological response to lactic acid buildup reaching its limit.
He ignored it and crouched again.
Kannazuki stood on the other side of the net.
He bent over, braced both hands on his knees, and gasped for breath.
In reality, his heart rate was only ninety.
The physical capabilities granted by his brain's evolution meant this high-intensity match did not even qualify as a warm-up.
His muscle fibers were brimming with vitality and needed no additional oxygen.
But he had to pretend.
Kannazuki forcibly lifted the inhibition on his sympathetic nervous system, sending commands to the sweat glands on his forehead and back.
Beads of sweat instantly seeped through his skin, slid down his cheeks, and dripped onto the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses.
He simulated the spasms of oxygen-starved lungs, making his breathing heavy and erratic.
He even controlled the quadriceps in his right leg to produce a slight tremor, perfectly reproducing the outward signs of physical exhaustion.
"Yagami." L's hoarse voice carried across the net.
"Your stamina is unexpectedly good."
"Yours isn't bad