Notes: The title is from "Frame of Mind" by Tristam & Braken.
5
One moment, he's Mihashi Ren, terrible human being, selfish pitcher, and all around worthless teenager, and the next, he's... still Mihashi Ren.
The tears don't stop, and he's shaking like a leaf, but he's got some extra memories now, and there's grief alongside the guilt.
He cries for a long, long time, and then he crudely wipes his face with his arm and gets up and exhanges his dirty uniform for his other clothes. Then he stuffs the uniform in his bag, slings the strap on his shoulder, and begins the slow march home.
The low self-steem is still there, but it's in the memories too. The difference is that he's been sagging under the hostile attention (because he deserves it) and letting it defeat him whereas in the memories, he'd never let stuff like this consume him - even when it was his fault.
Old him would have gone to his mother right away and confided everything, tears and snot and every little hurt, gotten his thoughts out in the open whether they were good or bad, and then he'd have listened as his mother gave advice.
Whether the advice helped or solved anything wouldn't have mattered. Getting everything off of his chest and feeling the love and support of his mother would have been more than enough.
This him has shied away from his mother's questions and concerns, has shouldered everything alone, and it's eating him up inside, molding him into a jittery, nervous wreck of a person.
He thinks that he'd like to try the other option, now.
4
They're both crying by the end of it, and he soaks in his mother's love, feeling safe and protected in her arms.
She tells him that what he did - selfishly staying on the mound and not letting anyone else pitch, even when they lost games and even when it resulted in mocking and jeers and total isolation on the field - wasn't right, which she knew he knew, but that it was understandable.
She doesn't think any less of him, just wishes that he'd come to her with this earlier, when she could have talked him out of it, made him realize that sharing the mound wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. She wishes he'd said something before things got so bad.
"I d-didn't want to make you worry," he says, only fibbing a little. He'd never thought of sharing any of this until now because of his overwhelming guilt, but the sentiment is real.
"Well, I'm glad you came to me eventually." She squeezes a little tighter. "Though the last day of junior high is pushing it, Ren."
He laughs weakly, sniffling. "S-sorry."
"That's okay, but Ren, do you still want to play after this?" She asks, leaning back to look at him.
He nods vigorously. Baseball - pitching - is still his favorite thing to do, and new-old memories and the bullying he (deserved) went through hasn't changed that. If anything, he's even more eager to play, to show that he can actually be a team player and a good asset.
Because in those memories, there was a manga, and in that manga was this life of his now, and he wants to earn that ace position and those friendships it promised him, all the victories and defeats and pain and joy. Wants it so badly even his usual anxieties and fears can't keep him down for long.
After all...
Ren doesn't like himself very much, but he remembers old him admiring the Ren of the manga, adoring the stubborn, hard-working boy who didn't know his own worth, who didn't realize how much he was loved and cherished by the people around him. And some of those feelings are affecting his sense of self even now.
Because if he could look at drawings on paper and root for them to succeed, flaws and selfishness and all, well, there's no real reason he can't look in the mirror and do the same.
3
The next day, he's in his backyard practicing, perfecting his pitches. He'd been terrified that remembering would mess it up somehow, would ruin the 'special' fast balls of his that had garnered so much confusion and frustration in other players, that he'd get wrapped up inside his own head and forget how to throw.
He's worried for nothing.
He winds up and throws exactly the same as he did yesterday, as the day before, as he has been since he taught himself how to pitch, and it's such a relief that he starts crying again, utterly overwhelmed.
This, too, is something he and his old self have in common - crying at the drop of a hat. That's okay, though, because old him was never ashamed of it and felt strongly that everyone should be able to cry without the stupid stigma surrounding it, and Ren thinks he feels the same way.
He wipes his eyes and winds up again, and he smiles brilliantly when the ball hits the exact spot he was aiming for.
There's quiet awe, too, all from old him, and somehow, he feels embarassed and pleased by it.
'You're amazing,' some part of him thinks, entirely sincere, and Ren resists the urge to hide beneath his bangs.
"I'm be-becoming a na-narcissist," he mumbles, giggling at the sheer disbelief the statement elicits at the mere idea Mihashi Ren could be anything other than sweet and humble.
2
That summer, he keeps up his intense practice, but he tentatively asks his mother how he can increase his stamina and overall health (as he doesn't want to get taken off the mound quite as often as his fictional counterpart did), and they both end up researching things online as well as calling up moms of athletes already in high school and their family doctor.
Online, they find lots of ways that young pitchers can injure themselves if they're not careful, enough that his mom starts looking worried, but luckily, there are just as many guides and tips on how to avoid those. And they find many ways Ren can increase his stamina and strength - and his pitching.
Both of them get excited about that - Ren because he can improve and his mom because he is.
At his pleading, they don't contact Ren's uncle. Even his name invokes vivid memories of insults and dirty looks, and Ren isn't quite over the whole middle school debacle, understanding that he'll eventually reconcile with his former teammates or no.
He still firmly believes it's all his fault, but he's getting better at ignoring the guilt (until he can apologize) and focusing on what's to come. Apparently, all versions of him have huge guilt complexes, but old him was much better at managing it. Ren is trying to learn from example.
Nevertheless, this marks the beginning of his increased training. He knew intellectually that he should warm up before pitching, but he now knows why and has actual advice on how to do so.
He does this by jogging down his street and then back several times for about ten minutes, and then three days out of the week, he moves onto pitching. Three days are spent lifting light weights or using medicine balls, saving much of the more complicated exercises for his coach to determine, and the last day is one of rest, which all experts recommended and something his mother enforced.
Ren had been a little disappointed - he used to pitch every day - but he knew it was for the best. Even fictional Ren had had to train things other than his accuracy.
He ends each session with some gentle stretching, and then after dinner and a bath, he goes to bed early, utterly worn out.
He doesn't see results right away, but he's improving. He has to be.
1
By the time the school year rolls around again, Ren is anxious about school in general and worried that things will finally differ from his memories here, but otherwise, he's sort of excited. Just- to hopefully play on an actual team again and not the shell of one he'd forced Mihoshi to become.
And okay, he's lonely too. He has no friends from junior high to keep in touch with, and there's no one in his neighborhood interested in befriending him. Here, he can make actual, real friends, and it's this thought coupled with the fact that he can pitch again soon that's keeping him from giving into his anxiety and bolting.
After school, he wades through the sea of recruiting upperclassmen and booths and follows the map he was given, which eventually leads him right to the school's one and only baseball field.
When he gets there, he can't help staring through the chain-link fence at his future teammates as they mingle and get to know each other.
For the first time, it sinks in that everything up 'til now had not, in fact, been a huge string of coincidences and that by some twist of fate, he knows everyone here by a manga with an art style that couldn't possibly capture these people as they exist in the real world.
He thinks he spots Mizutani (going by the hair) and possibly Hanai, and that kid grinning and laughing has to be Tajima, but otherwise, everyone looks much, much different from their fictional selves.
He doesn't know why, but he's sort of relieved.
Suddenly, he's being gripped by the shoulders and turned around. He can't help the small yelp of surprise.
"Are you here to try out? What's your position?" A woman who cannot possibly be anyone but Momoe Maria, the larger than life coach from his memories, asks him excitedly.
A little overwhelmed, Ren barely manages to gasp out, "P-pitcher!" before he's being dragged away gleefully.
"We got another one!" She crows, and the boys all turn to watch as Ren is manhandled onto the field.
He almost shrinks under the weight of their combined stares, but he's been working on his self confidence all summer. He manages to stifle the urge with a mental shake, reminding himself sternly that no one's opinion matters but his own and that these kids are nothing like his team in middle school. He's done nothing to earn their scorn or ridicule.
He can do this.
0
In the end, Abe is just as amazed and excited by Ren's pitches as his fictional counterpart was, and after the demonstration against Hanai, which leaves even Ren gaping despite knowing the outcome already (he's never struck someone out so quickly, nor has he worked with a catcher who could use his pitches so effectively), so is everyone else.
Ren basks in the praise and attention, bashful but undeniably happy, and looks toward the future - toward tomorrow - with high hopes and a small smile.
