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His chest heaves air and exhales on the next for every passing second. The air feels bitingly cool yet thick and humid at the same time as sweat drips down from each and every pore in his body. He feels himself moving yet also frozen in place, bones so stiff and as immovable as grand canyons. Trembling. Trembling is what his body is wracked with. Beaten and worn down to his blood vessels and inner life force.
His chest heaves. He feels like a giant gas turbine cycling through huge gusts of air to suck as much oxygen in him as possible. Everything feels too much and not enough all at once. He can feel his legs spasm from overexertion. His hands shake. With a burst of 101% of his energy, he moves. And then he lets his body go slack again, knees bent, to restore as much energy he can, knowing he would need to bring just as much power — if not more — in the next few seconds.
His chest heaves. The overhead fluorescent lights feeling way too bright. His calves spasm. His fingers twitch. Kenma knew his current energy reserves weren't enough to keep up and continue on yet the sluggishness he felt wasn't properly translating in real-time. As if he was playing in slow motion and not as everything around him blurs and changes with each passing millisecond.
His chest heaves. Sweat trailing down his face, then stopping in their tracks as the biting cold air rapidly evaporates them. He feels dizzy, yet his eyes are laser sharp; focused and precise in catching and processing even the most minute detail of everyone around him. He's a word even beyond the meaning of exhausted yet he wonders why he feels exhilarated at the same time. He wonders why he hasn't collapsed yet under pressure. Wonders why he's still playing.
The noise around him continues to buzz in his head. A shout. Kenna instinctively turns his head. He comes in eye contact with Hinata and then. He knew then, why he's still playing this game.