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With a gasp, Mihashi awoke, his heart still beating rapidly and the tension in his body only slowly dissolving as he realized it had only been a dream.
He let himself sink back into his pillow and took a deep breath. The sunlight shining into his room was still dim, but a quick glance at the clock told him he had less than two hours before he had to get up. With a sigh, he turned around and tried to sleep again. However, every time he closed his eyes, it didn’t take long until his mind returned to the nightmare he woke up from. The cold looks from people he hadn’t seen in forever. The whispers behind his back that were far too often within earshot. He didn’t want these memories to resurface.
Eventually Mihashi fell asleep once more, but when finally his alarm clock rang, he didn’t feel nearly as rested as he would have liked on a game day.
Reluctantly, he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, trying his best to steer his thoughts from the nightmare.
“It’s not the same anymore,” he told himself; “We’re really a team this time.”
At breakfast, his worries already seemed more distant again. Only the quiet let some fragments of doubt creep back into his mind, but more than anything he just felt tired. Leaning back against the chair, even if he couldn’t see it, Mihashi thought about the “1” drawn on his uniform. That he had earned it. That no one opposed his being the team’s ace. His shoulders relaxed a little.
His mind soon wandered back to the strategies they discussed the previous day. It was only a practice game, but he wanted to do his best. He looked forward to it.
On his way to school, his resolve only strengthened. It was still early, but the sun shone brightly. He relaxed in its warmth and decided to just forget about the nightmare.
Close to the school grounds, a familiar shout pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Mihashi!”
Tajima jogged up to him, the usual smile on his face even if it wavered for a second when he caught up.
“Can’t say I’m a fan of going to school on the weekend, but at least there’s no actual school involved today, hehe.”
Mihashi quietly laughed in response, reassured this was all that concerned the other.
“Ready to show them what we’re made of? I’m super excited we’re finally getting to play an actual game again!”
“Y-yeah!” he replied earnestly.
They walked the last few meters to the baseball grounds and could see most of the others already gathered there, warming up and getting ready. Mihashi smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to start pitching.
Not long after, once the other team arrived and everyone finished warming up, Abe waved Mihashi over.
“Are you okay? You look pretty tired.”
“I-it’s nothing,” Mihashi said, not wanting to worry the other.
Abe gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push it further.
“Well, the other team’s not bad, but their batters won’t be a problem for you if you just focus.”
As the game began and the top of Nishiura’s batting order took their turn, Mihashi stayed with Abe in the bullpen to throw some extra warm-up pitches.
“Are you holding back? You had a lot more power yesterday,” Abe asked after a while.
Mihashi wasn’t sure what to make of it. He still felt a little sluggish after not getting enough sleep, but he hadn’t thought that his pitching was drastically different.
Before he had time to reply, the call to change sides came.
“Well, your control seems good, so there shouldn’t be a problem unless they figure out your pitches,” Abe tried to shrug it off as they made their way onto the field.
Mihashi took the mound, immediately taking a deep breath to fight the rising tension in his body. The batter got into position and Abe gave his sign. A fastball, low and to the outside. Nothing too difficult to start out. Mihashi nodded and wound up.
As the ball left his fingertips, Mihashi felt good about the speed. It wasn’t his fastest, but probably about the same as he threw at practice yesterday. The batter watched. Abe caught it, the sound reverberating across the field, and Mihashi’s mind already moved on to the next pitch.
“Ball!”
The call caught him by surprise. Had he been too focused on the speed and got the trajectory wrong? It seemed fine at the moment. Was it the umpire just strict?
Abe threw back the ball and promptly gave his next sign, as if to tell Mihashi not to dwell on it. Another fastball. This time high and inside. Mihashi nodded and took another deep breath. They were just getting started.
Once more, the batter didn’t move and Mihashi felt good about the pitch. This time he anxiously waited for the umpire’s call.
“Strike!”
With a sigh of relief, Mihashi caught the ball that Abe returned to him. He really needed to stop worrying about every little thing. Abe asked for a slider, probably hoping the batter still thought about the fastball if he planned to swing now.
Mihashi wound up, fully focused on getting another strike. But just for a split second, as his tiredness robbed him of the focus he needed. His mind wandered just a little. When he realized, he tensed up and did his best to correct his pitching motion. The pitch wasn’t far off course, it just didn’t break nearly as much as it should have.
Mihashi felt the metallic clang of the bat making contact with the ball deep in his gut. The hit went right above him into center field. The batter advanced.
Around him, Mihashi could hear the usual reassurance to just get the next batter out. To his surprise, the mistake itself didn’t frustrate him that much. He was only worried that it might happen again. That he might lose focus more than once.
“They’ll support me. Even if I mess up,” he told himself and looked around at his teammates, seeing no trace of the disappointment part of him feared.
Mihashi still couldn’t meet Abe’s gaze as the other gave his next sign. The strategy hadn’t changed, he still believed in him.
His mind didn’t quite want to focus, but the pitch felt good. Strike. He could do it.
The at-bat dragged on, not all pitches quite like Mihashi wanted them to be, but the batter couldn’t make contact.
“Strike! Batter out!”
There were still two outs to go this inning, but the umpire’s call lifted a weight from Mihashi.
“There’s no reason to worry.”
The next at-bat was much the same. Mihashi’s pitching wasn’t bad, he was just tired enough to not quite reach his usual level. And deep down, a small part of him dredged up the nightmare and the memories it was about; fears he thought he’d left behind a while ago. It wasn’t even the doubt itself that distracted him. He knew that things were better. It was the effort it took to not let it take up space in his mind.
Mihashi looked at Abe’s sign but hardly processed its meaning at first glance.
“But what if just one bad pitch too many will — No. they won’t change their mind about me.”
“And if we lose because of me, then — Then we’ll try again next time.”
In an attempt to get rid of the worry he knew was unfounded, Mihashi involuntarily shook his head. As he realized what he was doing, a different kind of panic set in and Mihashi vigorously nodded just so Abe knew he didn’t disagree with his proposed pitch. The catcher looked at him, his brows raised in confusion, but he didn’t offer another sign. Mihashi’s heart still beat rapidly, but relief replaced his worries. Somehow this mishap saved him from getting any more lost in thought.
He wound up and threw another strike. Everything would be fine if he just focused. Abe’s words from earlier echoed through his mind again. It really was that simple, wasn’t it?
After his fourth pitch and second strike, the batter still made contact—not well, but Mihashi flinched as he watched the ball make its way through the infield.
But Suyama caught it and passed it on, ending the top of the inning immediately. Double play. As lonely as the mound sometimes felt, Mihashi didn’t need to pitch perfectly for things to turn out well. His teammates were there to support him, not judge his pitching. One of these days this fact wouldn’t have to feel like a realization. Mihashi let out a sigh of relief.
As the others already returned to the dugout, he jogged back too, a subtle smile on his face.
It didn’t take long until Abe approached him.
“Are you sure that nothing’s wrong? You’re not usually so inconsistent,” he asked as Mihashi took a sip of water.
“N-nothing is wrong,” he replied hesitantly, feeling a little bad to make him worry just because a nightmare shook him up this morning.
Abe didn’t seem to believe him, though.
“I won’t get angry,” he said a little too loud and awkwardly paused as he noticed.
After another second of silence, Abe sat down next to Mihashi and fidgeted with the wire of the mask in his hands as he continued.
“Look, I know I can be impatient, but you don’t have to be scared to talk to me.”
Not saying anything would probably just end up making Abe worry more. Mihashi mulled it over for a short while. Maybe letting his thoughts out of his head would help him, too.
“It’s w-well… I just had a nightmare. About my old team… And I didn’t get enough sleep because of it.”
Mihashi’s voice trailed off towards the end, but Abe still caught his words. He quietly looked at the pitcher with an expression the latter couldn’t quite read.
“You’re not worried we’re going to abandon you like they did, are you?” he eventually asked.
“N-no!” Mihashi replied with less hesitation than either of them expected; “I just can’t focus well today… And I don’t want to drag anyone down.”
“You won’t if you stop worrying about it,” Abe said, clearly trying not to sound too exasperated. He sighed, realizing that he probably shouldn’t leave it at that if he wanted the sentiment to work. “You trust me, don’t you? And the others as well.”
Mihashi nodded.
“Then just do what you can and let us do our part. We can deal with a couple of hits or even runs. If you self-destruct trying to be perfect, that’s a different story.”
Abe didn’t look at him directly and awkwardly cleared his throat as the silence grew heavy.
“A-anyway, if that’s all, it should be fine.”
He looked up and saw the others grinning at him.
“What?” he said loud enough that Mihashi involuntarily flinched next to him.
“Nothing,” Mizutani replied, quickly averting his gaze, unable to hide his amusement.
“We’re just surprised you got through the entire conversation without yelling,” Izumi added matter-of-factly.
“I’M NOT ye—” Abe started as he jumped up; “I’m not yelling that often.”
He quietly sat back down to some giggles at the proven point.
“We do agree though,” Sakaeguchi said, turning his attention to Mihashi; “You’re not dragging anyone down.”
“Yeah!” the others added; “We got your back!” “Don’t worry about hits, we’re right behind you!”
A smile found its way onto Mihashi’s face as he struggled to find the right words to say back to them. The sound of a hit then drew everyone’s attention to the field.
Mihashi joined in with the others’ cheering as Hanai advanced, Tajima already stepping up to the plate behind him. Before the inning was over, they scored their first run, and when it was finally time to switch sides again, Mihashi returned to the mound, much more at ease than before.
He hadn’t even gotten into position to pitch when the others already called out to him.
“Just focus on each pitch, don’t worry about the rest!” “You can do it!” “We’re already in the lead, just do your best!”
Part of him felt embarrassed that his teammates tried so hard to make things easier for him just because he hadn’t slept well. But he shoved that thought away. It felt nice. They were there for him. And he wanted to give back as much as he could.
Just like they said, Mihashi thought only about the batter in front of him and the pitch Abe wanted him to throw. Another slider. This time he would pull through with it.
He wound up, and — strike. Once more the calls from around Mihashi washed over him, taking him further and further from the memories he woke up to this morning.
A few pitches later, the at-bat ended with a pop fly to first. This time Mihashi didn’t even worry that it wasn’t a strikeout.
“N-nice catch!” he called out to Oki and returned his focus to the next batter.
Just like in the first inning, the third out came without major incidents. Slowly the adrenaline of the game worked against Mihashi’s exhaustion and where he still couldn’t perform as usual, the others stepped in to get an out instead.
Only when the second rotation came around and the opposing team countered Mihashi’s pitching more easily, did more runners make it to second or third base. Some even further. All in all, they gave up three runs. For a while the game remained tied, neither team giving much way. But in the ninth, Nishiura pulled ahead again. By one run.
Mihashi felt a little nervous as he jogged towards the mound. Now it all hinged on him protecting their lead. No, it wasn’t just on him. Without the others, there wouldn’t even be a lead to protect. And they’d had his back from the start. Now was no different. They were going to get through the inning—the game—together.
“Three more outs!” “You can do this!” “Just take them one at a time!”
With a smile, Mihashi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to do his part, too. With strengthened resolve, he turned to Abe. By now his exhaustion should have been stronger, but he hardly noticed it. His mind felt clear as he wound up and pitched without worry. No matter what happened, it would turn out fine. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not for a long time.
“Strike, batter out!”
Only this call and the cheers all around him made Mihashi realize the at-bat was over. He had been so focused, he hardly processed the first two strikes as they happened.
The next batter stepped up, and Mihashi intently looked towards Abe. He could do this. They could do this.
Without hesitation, the batter swung at the first pitch, the timing right but just barely too low. The pressure quickly turned into motivation. Even if he could hit it, Mihashi wouldn’t make it easy.
On the second pitch, the batter hit a foul. On the third, he made contact. But not like he wanted. It popped up and flew right to second base where Sakaeguchi caught it.
“Two outs!” “Just one more!”
His heart beating rapidly, Mihashi faced the third batter. Just one out and they would win.
Abe gave his sign and Mihashi nodded, intent to pitch to the best of his abilities.
“Strike!”
The batter didn’t budge. Maybe the pressure affected him, too.
“Ball!”
Mihashi’s accuracy was slowly waning, but he just needed to hold out for two more.
“Strike!”
Abe’s leads seemed to account for that, no longer focusing as much on the corners of the strike zone. Now one pitch might end the game. The batter would swing no matter what.
Mihashi heard his teammates calling out to him, their feelings reaching him clearly even if his mind was so firmly set on the mitt in front of him, he couldn’t make out all their words.
His body seemed to move on its own. With no hesitation, he went through his pitching motion. The ball left his fingers. The batter swung. Only split seconds later, the ball sat firmly in Abe’s mitt. For just a moment, this sound was all that filled the field.
The umpire had hardly finished his call when the rest of the team already ran towards the mound. Before Mihashi could process his final strikeout—let alone their win—he already felt arms around his shoulders, heard the others’ excited voices. Encompassed by the cheers and smiles of his teammates, now he truly wasn’t alone on the mound.
All tension disappeared from his body, and even if nothing had been at stake with this game, he felt like he could face any challenge now, like his connection to his team ran even deeper now.
“I’m no longer alone. I won’t ever be with them around me.”
The post-game discussion was brief. What few mistakes they made were ones everyone was well aware of. And overall the game went well.
Before too long they got ready to leave, most still excitedly chatting until they were through the school gates and the group split up; a few into the same direction, but every few minutes their paths split once more.
“See you on Monday!” “See ya!”
And eventually Mihashi was on his own again, but not exactly alone.
The warm feeling today had left in him, stayed with Mihashi all the way into the evening. At dinner, when he told his mother about the game, even his rough start felt more like the setup for what actually mattered.
When he went to bed, a soft smile still lingered on Mihashi’s face. The next practice couldn’t come fast enough. And at the next game, he’d do his best to pitch even better than today. Not out of fear that he might disappoint his teammates otherwise. But because he wanted to. To thank everyone who supported him. And to support them in return.