(A little announcent here.
Regarding the Bonus chapter; for now on I only posted for the mbership chosen. I am really sorry.)
In truth, Mr. Kitahara's judgnt was correct. Housing prices were still falling—and the decline was even steeper than before. One of the underlying reasons was that Japan's major zaibatsu had begun positioning themselves to profit from the impending war, following in the footsteps of the United States.
The reason Shuta An had imposed a team-wide silence rule before the Arlington Million draw ceremony—strictly forbidding Oguri Cap and Silence Suzuka from accepting any dia interviews—stemd from the international situation at the ti. Iraq had already invaded Kuwait, and the most heated topic across the United States was whether to launch a defensive operation—Operation Desert Shield—to prevent Iraqi forces from advancing into Saudi Arabia. (Oh damn, I know a little of that situation. The Leader of Saudi was a badass at that ti. He threatened the Iraq supporters with OIL. "We do not need oil, it is you who needs it. We can live like the old days, with cal and farming dates")
As soone born and raised in the United States, Shuta An was all too familiar with how the country had conducted itself in past conflicts. He had no intention of allowing the Uma Musu under his charge to be dragged into such discussions or pressured into expressing opinions they did not fully understand.
Although slogans such as "No Blood for Oil" were circulating among the Arican public, in Shuta An's view, this war was all but inevitable.
"There's a real chance they'll be forced to take a stance during this year's Breeders' Cup Series—" The young man tapped his temple lightly. "I should prepare so drafts in advance. Better to have them morize safe answers—Arican reporters are experts at setting verbal traps."
By the end of the month, the UN Security Council would issue its final decision, a timing that coincided almost perfectly with the upcoming Breeders' Cup Series. Those who enjoyed entangling the Twinkle Series with unrelated political issues would undoubtedly seize the opportunity, attempting to coerce participating Uma Musu into making public declarations. Shuta An despised such behavior.
"The Twinkle Series is the Twinkle Series," he muttered quietly. "If you want to play politics, go to the Dream Trophy Series. Don't contaminate this stage."
Yet he was well aware that his personal distaste would not stop others from acting as they pleased.
With four days remaining before the races, the draw ceremony for each event in the Breeders' Cup Series was scheduled for today. Participating Uma Musu could attend in person, or their Trainers could appear alone.
After consulting with the three Uma Musu, Shuta An ultimately decided to attend by himself, heading to Gulfstream Park Racecourse alone.
Dressed in formal attire, he entered the venue smoothly, invitation in hand.
He scanned the room briefly, failed to spot any familiar faces, and shook his head before following a waiter to his assigned seat. Because it was uncertain which teams would bring their Uma Musu, Gulfstream Park had prepared a separate table for each team. As a result, Shuta An—attending alone—enjoyed an entire table to himself.
Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, he remained silent. Amid the low hum of conversation filling the venue, his corner stood out as unusually quiet.
Though he did not recognize most of the Trainers and Uma Musu present, many of them recognized him. Having won this year's Arlington Million, even Arican professionals who paid little attention to European racing had seen his face before.
Still, seeing Shuta An resting with his eyes closed, the crowd tactfully refrained from disturbing him.
After enjoying this rare mont of calm, the young man slowly opened his eyes. The draw ceremony was about to begin. He lifted the glass on the table, took a sip of ice water, and felt his mind clear slightly.
Both Oguri Cap's and Silence Suzuka's races were scheduled relatively late. In theory, Shuta An could have squeezed in a short nap—but considering the possibility that the organizers might call on him to share his thoughts on Gulfstream Park, he decided against it.
To his mild "disappointnt," the host did not ntion his na before the ceremony began, instead announcing the start of the draw directly.
The first draws were for the opening day's races—five in total—restricted to debut-year Uma Musu. None involved Team Sadalsuud.
"Even for turf, 1600 ters is too short for Uma Musu aiming for the Classic Triple Crown next year," Shuta An muttered under his breath. "Tokai Teio definitely isn't suited for this."
Unaware of this silent judgnt, Tokai Teio lost one of her potential overseas opportunities without ever knowing it existed.
Once the first day's draw concluded, the ceremony moved seamlessly into the gate draw for the second day's G1 races. Shuta An subtly shook his head, forcing himself into sharper focus.
Oguri Cap's Breeders' Cup Mile was scheduled as the sixth race, while Silence Suzuka's Breeders' Cup Turf was the eighth. Both were placed relatively late—understandable, given that the second day alone featured nine G1 races.
Yet for a fully focused Shuta An, ti passed quickly. Before he realized it, the announcent for the Breeders' Cup Mile draw rang out.
This year's Mile featured eleven entrants. In Shuta An's assessnt, only two posed genuine threats. One was Steinlen, a forr Arlington Million winner who had gradually shifted her optimal distance down to a mile. The other—
Zilzal—also known as Royal Academy.
"That one's the real heavyweight—" The mont the na surfaced in his thoughts, Shuta An's gaze shifted toward Sir Vincent O'Brien, Royal Academy's Trainer, seated not far from him.
Note the title.
Not "Mr."—but "Sir."
This British Trainer had been formally knighted by Queen Elizabeth II. In public settings, the honorific "Sir" was mandatory. Addressing him as "Mr." would be a clear breach of decorum.
That said, Shuta An's assessnt of Royal Academy had never been influenced by the prestige of her Trainer. What truly commanded his attention was her frightening résumé—and the rciless density of her race schedule.
On May 30th of this year, Royal Academy made her debut at Leicester Racecourse. Competing in a Maiden race on turf over 1400 ters, she won with overwhelming ease, opening a ten-length gap over the field.
Just over twenty days later, she appeared at Ascot Racecourse, stepping directly into the G3 Jersey Stakes over the sa 1400-ter turf distance—where she claid victory once again, this ti by four lengths.
Ten days after that, she moved on to Newmarket Racecourse, challenging the G3 July Stakes over 1400 ters on turf. There, she defeated RussianBond—the winner of last year's G2 Mill Reef Stakes—by five lengths, leaving no room for doubt.
More than twenty days later, she advanced to Goodwood Racecourse to contest the G1 Sussex Stakes over 1600 ters on turf. In that race, she set a new course record of 1:36.77, defeating last year's runner-up, GreenLineExpress, by three lengths.
After a two-month interval, she returned to Ascot Racecourse for the G1 Queen Elizabeth II Stakes, again over 1600 ters on turf—and once more secured a comfortable three-length victory.
Now, this most radiant queen of the European mile had turned her gaze across the Atlantic, setting her sights on Florida in the United States.
"Compared to Royal Academy, Oguri has no established record in Mile races—" Shuta An murmured quietly, his eyes narrowing. "And Bamboo mory still chose to co and honor her promise."
He exhaled softly.
"For her, Royal Academy must look like an opponent that simply can't be overco."
As for Silence Suzuka, there had never been much expectation of victory. Even so, Shuta An did not neglect her analysis. He still collected data ticulously—and through it, identified the opponent she needed to be most cautious of.
Prized.
The sa Uma Musu who had once been defeated by Oguri Cap at the Arlington Million.
"It's a pity," Shuta An thought as he reviewed the comparison charts, a trace of regret surfacing. "If Oguri were running the Turf Classic, her chances of winning would definitely be higher than in the Turf Mile."
Lost in contemplation, he was suddenly pulled back by the host's voice as Oguri Cap's na echoed through the venue, followed imdiately by her gate number—
"Oguri Cap — Gate 8."
Almost at once, another familiar na was called.
"Bamboo mory — Gate 11."
"Both on the outside, huh." Shuta An's lips twitched slightly.
He exchanged a glance with Nase Hideto, seated not far away. The two shared a brief look—and nodded in mutual understanding.
"It's not impossible," Shuta An assessed calmly. "If they're close enough, Bamboo mory's and Oguri's competitive instincts will only sharpen."
His thoughts continued to race.
"Royal Academy is in Gate 9—She favors leading in European races. She'll probably replicate that style here. Oguri can mark her. Even if the pace accelerates, there's no need for concern—Oguri handled Nakayama's 2500 ters. Her stamina is sufficient to dominate the entire field."
His gaze sharpened.
"If it turns into a fast-paced race, Oguri will benefit the most."
Satisfied, Shuta An lifted his head again, anticipation flickering in his eyes as he waited for Silence Suzuka's draw. Oguri Cap's Gate 8 alone had already exceeded his expectations.
"If Suzuka can draw a decent gate—" A fleeting thought surfaced. "Perhaps even contending for a placing wouldn't be impossible."
Then the announcent ca.
"Silence Suzuka — Gate 1."
"…!"
"Wow—" Shuta An let slip instinctively, before quickly covering his mouth.
Even a novice understood what Gate 1 ant for a Uma Musu inclined toward aggressive pacing. The mont Silence Suzuka's gate was revealed, tension rippled through the camps participating in the Breeders' Cup Turf. Uma Musus and Trainers alike frowned almost simultaneously.
Everyone presents rembered the Secretariat Stakes—how the carrot-haired Uma Musu had torn the field apart with an overwhelming lead. If she reproduced that scenario at Gulfstream Park Racecourse, the remaining thirteen competitors would be utterly powerless to respond.
More importantly—
Among the participants of that very race, three Uma Musus had sustained injuries afterward, forced into rest periods after desperately trying to chase Silence Suzuka's pace.
"A runaway Uma Musu is really troubleso—" Prized's Trainer muttered darkly. "Prized, you need to be careful. Don't push yourself—your safety cos first."
"I know," Prized replied with a slight pout. "But I don't think Silence Suzuka will run away this ti in the Turf Classic."
Her Trainer blinked. "Why?"
"Because her Trainer is that person," Prized said quietly. "Didn't you look him up? Shuta An's background? His father was Secretariat's Trainer."
"You an the one who once advised Ruffian not to overexert herself?" Her Trainer froze—then understanding dawned.
"If that's the case—With a father who dared to speak against the tide, Shuta An wouldn't be the type to allow a Uma Musu to repeatedly use high-consumption tactics."
He exhaled slowly.
"So Silence Suzuka likely won't attempt consecutive runaway strategies."
With that realization, Prized's Trainer finally relaxed.
Other camps, however—those unaware of this connection—remained tense, still haunted by the possibility of another runaway spectacle.
Shuta An paid no attention to their unease.
With two favorable draws secured, he returned to the hotel in a notably good mood.
"Everyone, rest well tonight," he instructed after eting Oguri Cap and Silence Suzuka. "Tomorrow, we'll finalize the race strategies for the weekend."
"Mhm!" Both Uma Musus nodded eagerly, already aware of their gate numbers.
Though he urged them to rest, Shuta An himself did not retire imdiately. Back in his room, he sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and resud his work.
"Now that the gates are confird, the strategies prepared earlier must be adjusted," he muttered. "A rigid tactic has no place in racing—otherwise, what's the point of a Trainer?"
…
After finalizing the revised plans, he took a quick shower and went to bed.
This ti, upon entering the Dream World, the scene differed from reality.
Here, Oguri Cap was preparing for the upcoming Autumn Tenno Sho.
"Breeders' Cup during the day—Autumn Tenno Sho at night," Shuta An sighed inwardly. "I really am busy. Still, neither side allows room for negligence." (Almost a month or so before Japan Cup, Oguri may race in that too. With a possible result—3 streaks for Japan Cup and Arima Kinen. Truly a "Wall of Sigh")
Arriving at the entrance of Setoguchi Tsutomu Stable, he was just about to fetch Oguri Cap for training when Assistant Ikee waved him over.
"Shuta-kun, there's a telegram from Take-kun. It's addressed to you."
"Oh?" Shuta An raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Take isn't back from Arica yet, is he?"
After all, it was Shuta An who had introduced his overseas connections to Yutaka Take. Recognizing the rarity of such an opportunity, Take had extended his overseas riding stint—from a single sumr—to the end of the year.
In other words, within the Dream World, Yutaka Take was currently in Florida, preparing for the Breeders' Cup Series.
Thanks to his steady performances over the past few months, he had secured four riding invitations for this year's event. Though none were top-tier mounts, rely participating in the Breeders' Cup already placed him beyond every Central jockey in Japan.
Yet this telegram was not sent for boasting. On the contrary—it carried nothing but grievances.
"Shuta-kun, can you believe it? Florida is unbelievably hot this year! It's November in the Northern Hemisphere, yet dayti temperatures reach 31°C! I'm completely worn out—Every ti I finish training, I feel miserable and have to soak in the bath for half a day just to recover. I'm starting to miss Japan's climate."
Reading the ssage, Shuta An caught onto sothing familiar—an unease he himself had sensed over the past two months.
"Is Florida's temperature abnormally high this year?" he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly.
User Comments
0 comments from readers