Authors Note: Oofuri doesn't belong to me and if it did I--oh well. I love this sports series. More than any sports-oriented anime--this is the first one where relationships and human growth features more than impossible moves or super-powered jocks. I adore them all but Abe, Mihashi and Tajima are my absolute darlings! This is my take on what happens inside the heads of the Nishiura players if "Big Brother" asked for a confession. Hehehe...-- kuroren23
NISHIHIRO
I am not the most athletic person in the team. I am considered too studious by half and they wouldn't be far off the mark. I like studying. It's a safe, predictable routine that I honestly enjoy. When I decided to join the baseball club, I was testing my own resolve—my ability to be in an entire different setting—away from the world of books and schedules that I was so familiar with. Something requiring athleticism seemed like the height of "living on the edge" for someone like me.
But from the very start Nishiura debunked every preconceived notion I had with sports clubs. The school and the team seemed tailor-made for someone like me. First off, this was their first official year as a recognized baseball club. Everyone was a newbie and no one of the other players saw a reason to make fun of my studious nature. In fact, it earned me a place of grace because I could offer tutoring services for free. Not that I mind.
Which leads to the second deconstruction of my expectations—no Sempais to make one stand in fear or awe. We all stood on equal footing. Not that anyone could stand on equal ground as Tajima. Now Tajima is a different kettle of fish. He was worthy of making you stand in awe—he has an amazing baseball sense and an uncanny ability to know exactly what he can and can not do. Not that it stopped him from trying and succeeding. It's enough to make you label him a genius and worship him but then he'd open his mouth and you'd wish you never really heard of him after all. TACT was something the baseball-prodigy had no grasp of.
I was put in-charge of tutoring Tajima and Mihashi by our captain Hanai. There are days when I wonder if I should thank Hanai for the honor and trust he bestowed on me or if I should simply beg him to let me quit. Tajima had the attention span of a toddler when it doesn't involve anything sports-related. He tries everyone's patience, excepting Mihashi of course, but on the other hand, I have become very creative. Now if only I could get him to talk less about his favorite "hobby" we could get some decent studying done.
And then…there's Mihashi. He is our delicate, quirky pitcher who always seemed to be in a state of near-panic. I admit that studious and un-athletic as I am, Mihashi was something else—he could make other dorks like me feel like the coolest guy alive. But he is one of the most earnest people I've ever had the chance to meet. And though I can't quite figure out why and how Tajima could decipher his unintelligible muttering—I am not one to complain. I'm just thankful someone could actually understand him—otherwise, we all would have to listen to Abe's roar every single day of practice, not to mention during official games.
But most of all I wonder if I am the only one who notices the devotion that Abe shows towards our fragile pitcher or the absolute trust that Mihashi places on Abe. Being on the bench most of the time I can only cheer. Quite frankly, if I was to rate my own standing I would not recommend myself to play in any of the official games—I just might collapse from sheer panic and nerves. But whenever I sit there, cheering and offering towels or water, my eyes would naturally gravitate towards our battery pair and my eyes would linger at the picture they unconsciously made.
Mihashi's eyes were always on Abe and only on Abe. It would take a run or a good hit for his eyes to stray. His eyes would seek Abe whenever the catcher would vanish from his immediate sight. And Abe was no different. Even when he analyzes the game, his gaze would automatically scan the dugout to ensure that Mihashi was somewhere dry and comfortable. He would lay his hands on the pitchers shoulder and ask if he had drunk enough fluids but most telling for me would be that night—the night right after we won against Mihoshi.
That night I saw something in both their eyes that I never saw when we first began. I saw serenity in Mihashi—relief that he is finally able to let go of some of the nightmares before exhaustion forced his eyes to close. And in Abe's eyes as he watched over the sleeping figure of Mihashi. For a moment in Abe's eyes I thought I saw something that looked a lot like hope.