The following evening, after soaking for a while in the hot spring, Shuta An dried himself off, changed into his pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed.
With no work scheduled that day, he had spent the entire ti accompanying Oguri Cap and Berno Light on a leisurely walk along the Sapporo port. Yet strangely enough, by the ti he returned to the hotel, he felt far more exhausted than when he spent a whole day hunched over his computer desk.
Even so, he still forced himself to stay awake to watch the Principal Stakes—the listed race Silence Suzuka had competed in earlier that day.
In this Derby prep race—Silence Suzuka seized her opportunity with precision, successfully claiming the sole Derby entry ticket allocated to the race.
"The battle for the top of this generation—" Shuta An murmured inwardly. "With Miss Suzuka's current strength, it's still difficult for her to et the expectations placed on a true frontrunner of the era. But making it into the Derby alone already places her among the most outstanding Uma Musu of this generation."
Rolling over, he let out a silent sigh.
"And next ti, I absolutely won't agree to such high-intensity shopping trips with Oguri and Berno," he complained inwardly. "An active Uma Musu's leg strength is on a completely different level from a normal human's."
With that final grievance, Shuta An closed his eyes—and swiftly descended into the Dream World.
Tonight, he would be riding jiro McQueen in the Iris Sho.
The na might sound unfamiliar, and for good reason. It was a One-Win Class race with a distinctive title—essentially no different from an allowance race, save for one detail: the prize money was two million yen higher.
Even so, should he and jiro McQueen win, Shuta An's share would amount to only 425,000 yen.
Converted into real-world value—the yen simply wasn't what it used to be.
"If possible, I'd still rather save U.S. dollars," he thought idly.
With such scattered thoughts drifting through his mind, Shuta An opened his eyes—and found himself seated in the jockeys' lounge at Kyoto Racecourse.
That day, JRA races were being held at three venues: Fukushima, Tokyo, and Kyoto. Yet none of them featured a graded main event. The highest-class race was the Musashino Stakes at Tokyo, an open race. Kyoto and Fukushima were hosting nothing above Three-Win Class.
Naturally, this ant that Japan's top jockeys—those affiliated with the Kanto Mihono Training Center—had mostly gathered at Tokyo. The next tier gravitated toward Fukushima. As for the Kansai Ritto Training Center jockeys, unless their main mounts were elsewhere, they were all competing at Kyoto, locked in fierce contention.
Shuta An himself was among them.
Alongside him were Yutaka Take and Hiroshi Kawachi—currently ranked first, second, and fifth nationwide—three Ritto-affiliated jockeys once again sharing the sa battleground.
"Yesterday, I let Ann-kun win five races," Yutaka Take said as he approached with a grin. "Today, I'm definitely taking them back."
"But you weren't even second-most yesterday," Shuta An shot back without hesitation. "Kawachi-kun won three races. You only won one, didn't you?"
"I should've gone to Fukushima yesterday," Takayuki Yasuda—currently ranked fourth at Ritto—joined in with a sigh. "At least then I wouldn't have co up empty-handed."
"Leaving that aside," Shuta An said calmly, "I absolutely have to win the ninth race today. Trainer Ikee entrusted that horse to a long ti ago—and I even took part in his training personally."
"What's your evaluation?" Yutaka Take asked, already knowing which mount Shuta An was referring to.
"Very strong," Shuta An replied honestly. "He still has room to grow, but by his three-year-old autumn, she'll be fully developed. I believe he'll be extrely competitive in the Kikuka Sho."
"The jiro family's horse didn't even qualify for the Derby, yet he earns that kind of praise?" Yasuda said in surprise.
"He really is strong," Hiroshi Kawachi interjected as he sat down nearby, having just returned from dealing with personal matters. "He trained alongside rci Atlas—the one I rode—and didn't fall behind at all."
"rci Atlas won the Wakakusa Sho last month, didn't he?" Yasuda's eyes widened. "Kawachi-san, you're riding him in the Derby? It's hard to imagine…a horse that can keep pace with him is running in a One-Win Class today."
"That's why," Shuta An grinned, confidence seeping into his tone, "I'm taking him out of the allowance races today."
Because he had already announced his participation at Kyoto this week—and because Manager Kohara was working tirelessly to showcase his value—Shuta An was riding in every flat race at Kyoto Racecourse that day.
Naturally, that excluded the fifth race.
A jump race.
He neither held a jump jockey license nor intended to obtain one. Such races offered little prize money and carried excessive risk—sothing a jockey with ample flat-racing opportunities had no reason to pursue.
Shaking his head, Shuta An stood up.
"Ti to head to the waiting area and get ready to mount."
"The first race isn't my problem," Hiroshi Kawachi shrugged. "I'll just cheer for Take-kun from here."
"Hey!" Shuta An spun around indignantly. "Didn't I treat you to a bowl of udon yesterday?"
"Wasn't that provided by Kyoto Racecourse?" Kawachi pouted. "And didn't Shuta-kun eat a third of it the mont it arrived?"
"…!"
Left speechless by the accusation, Shuta An promptly fled the scene.
"Hoo hoo~" Yutaka Take followed in high spirits.
In this 1800-ter dirt maiden race, he would be riding the second favorite, Aizen Fox. Shuta An, anwhile, was mounted on the top favorite, UnCloudy, from Setoguchi Tsutomu Stable.
It was already May. Ninety-nine percent of horses that had yet to break their maiden by this point were diocre at best. No jockey expected to find a long-term partner here.
Even so, UnCloudy hailed from Setoguchi Tsutomu Stable. That alone was reason enough for Shuta An to stay sharp—ensuring neither he nor his mount would stumble today.
A few minutes later, Yutaka Take returned to the jockeys' lounge first, his expression gloomy.
"That's rough," Hiroshi Kawachi teased. "You led the entire race, but the mont you ca out of the fourth turn, Shuta-kun just blew past you."
"The pressure never stopped," Yutaka Take admitted helplessly. "The pace wasn't what I wanted at all. From tactics to execution, it was a complete defeat."
He let out a breathy laugh.
"Good thing it wasn't a graded race. Otherwise, the blow would've hurt a lot more."
Shuta An arrived at the waiting area for the ninth race at Kyoto Racecourse with a record of four wins from seven mounts today.
Here, he would et jiro McQueen. Together with this Ash-white Racehorse of the jiro Family, they aid to claim victory in this One-Win Class race, step into the Open Class, and accumulate as much capital as possible in preparation for the Kikuka Sho.
Ikee Tairo stood in the owners' and connections' viewing area, eyes fixed on the giant screen, anticipation filling his chest.
"Please—let Shuta-kun and McQueen break free from the One-Win Class together," he murmured. "McQueen, show them your strength. I want Shuta-kun to continue partnering with you into the Kikuka Sho. I've entrusted you to Japan's strongest jockey—don't disappoint , or the jiro Family's representative."
In the Dream World, jiro McQueen herself was completely unaware of the expectations being placed upon her.
Led into the waiting area by the stable groom, the Ash-white racehorse appeared unusually restless. May's heat had already begun to settle over Kyoto, and the rising temperature weighed heavily on his body.
High temperatures were a challenge even for thoroughbreds. When conditions grew harsh, JRA racecourses would hose down horses to prevent heatstroke. Noticing McQueen's agitation, the stable groom quickly guided him toward the shower area.
Cool water cascaded over him body, far more comfortable than enduring the stuffy air of the stable. Back at Ritto or at the jiro Family's ranch, he could only rely on fans for relief. Compared to him, however, the ones truly suffering were the people around him.
The stable groom, dressed in a formal suit, endured the heat and the splashing water alike, his clothes quickly becoming damp and uncomfortable. As for Shuta An, although the jockey's waiting room was air-conditioned, he barely had ti to enjoy it—he had been riding almost nonstop today. If not for changing his racing silks after every race, he might have felt even worse than the groom by now.
Neither of them noticed the faint flicker of bewildernt that passed through jiro McQueen's eyes.
—
Elsewhere, far from the racecourse, jiro Dober finished sending the short manga she had just drawn on her digital tablet to the email address of the Uma Musu who had commissioned it. She glanced at the clock and froze.
"It's already this late again," she muttered.
"I'll just take a quick shower and go to bed. If I soak in the bath, I won't sleep until two or three, and then I'll oversleep for tomorrow's training." Having made her decision, she stood up from her desk.
"I still have a few years before my debut—" jiro Dober sighed softly. "I wanted to debut as early as possible before, but after seeing how Bright-nee looked after losing the Satsuki Sho—I've beco timid again."
With that thought lingering in her mind, she stepped into the bathroom.
By the ti she had dried herself, changed into her pajamas, and slipped under the covers, exhaustion overwheld her. She fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
ntal fatigue, after all, was far more effective than any sleeping aid.
—
When jiro Dober opened her eyes again, what greeted her was not the familiar ceiling or the cute decorations of her room.
There were people.
People nearby. People farther away.
And…soone riding on her back.
"W-What's going on?!"
The shock sent her body trembling. The person holding the reins in front of her was a man—already difficult enough for her to accept. But the sensation from her back made it painfully clear that the one mounted there was also a man.
Her thoughts overloaded. She didn't even know how to walk anymore, moving only by instinct in short, sluggish steps.
From the saddle, Shuta An imdiately sensed sothing wrong.
"It's like a completely different horse took over just now," he thought.
The idea was absurd. Yet as it crossed his mind, the corner of his mouth twitched. He leaned forward, lowering his body. Bringing his mouth close to jiro McQueen's ear, he spoke in a calm, gentle voice.
"I'm Shuta Ann. I'll be partnering with McQueen today. Let's work hard and win this race."
The mont his words ended, jiro McQueen ca to a sudden stop.
The stable groom did not forcefully tug the reins. He simply stood still, allowing him a mont.
But the soul residing within this body was anything but calm.
For jiro Dober, the words she had just heard were far too shocking.
"Is this—a dream? Or reality?"
The question echoed endlessly in her mind.
"Am I not jiro Dober? Why am I being called McQueen-senpai? And the person riding is nad Shuta An? The sa Shuta An? Even the voice is exactly the sa—"
As these thoughts raced through her head, she suddenly realized sothing strange.
Her ntal pressure was easing.
"It's because I know he's on the saddle, isn't it?" she quickly concluded.
"Fine," the young lady of the jiro Family steadied herself. "This body may be McQueen-senpai's, but right now, I'm the one using it."
She lifted her head.
"The race is next—and I'm going to win it with Shuta-kun."
With her thoughts temporarily sorted out, jiro Dober followed the body's instincts, calmly preparing to step onto the battlefield that belonged to the two of them.
—
For this race, Shuta An had drawn gate number three.
It was a 2200-ter turf race. Based on earlier discussions with Trainer Ikee Tairo, the plan was clear: move forward early, secure a third or fourth position, and control the pace—around sixty-one seconds per kiloter.
But jiro Dober, now inhabiting jiro McQueen's body, thought otherwise.
"A 2200-ter race—" she reasoned. "From what I know about McQueen habits, if we run up front, we'll definitely get swallowed by those late-charge monsters."
"And even if it's McQueen's body—the one inside is ."
Her decision ford quickly.
"I'll hold back—and then sprint it out with them at the end."
Shuta An, unaware that his partner's soul had changed, nevertheless sensed a subtle difference from her usual training deanor.
"He feels a bit like Miss Dober in the real world," he thought. "Especially that coldness toward the stable groom."
For racehorses, the groom should have been the one they trusted most—not the jockey on their back. Yet jiro McQueen's current reactions irresistibly reminded Shuta An of that shy Uma Musu who showed indifference to everyone else—except him.
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