After returning to 1460 Laurel Way, Shuta An listened quietly as Tokai Teio and jiro Dober relayed the invitation.
An invitation from the Student Council President—unexpected.
He had not even finished processing it when Teio leaned forward dramatically.
"Trainaaa~! Dober-senpai and I want to know what happened back then at West Coast Tracen Academy!"
His mouth twitched. "There's nothing worth telling. I simply chose not to associate with certain people."
"Certain people," jiro Dober said evenly, "does that include soone nad Bob Baffert?"
That na made his expression change instantly.
"You ran into him?" His eyes scanned Dober from head to toe. "Are you alright?"
"We're fine," she replied with a small wave. "Miss Secretariat's people chased him off."
Shuta exhaled.
Tokai Teio, unable to contain herself, added brightly, "Dober-senpai slapped him!"
There was a brief silence.
"He stood in front of ," Dober said, turning her face away slightly, "and embodied every fear I have about n. I couldn't stand it."
Shuta lowered his head, reaching toward her hands. "Did you hurt yourself?"
She quickly hid them behind her back. "I wore gloves. I threw them away after."
"Good." He nodded once.
Teio leaned forward again. "So? What actually happened before?"
Shuta saw the curiosity in both of them—Teio's open and fiery, Dober's quiet but piercing.
He relented.
"It's not confidential," he said at last. "I left because I refused to compromise with certain thods. That's all. So people believed results justified anything. I didn't."
Teio frowned deeply. "I can't believe you left because of people like that. One day I'll win an Arican Classic Race just to shut them up."
"Don't," Shuta replied calmly. "There's no need to prove anything because of trash talk. I've already beaten him enough tis on the track. Competing for ego is aningless."
Unless, he added silently, there was a way to end it permanently.
He pressed his forehead lightly. "You two walked all morning. Go rest."
He turned and went upstairs.
After he disappeared, Teio sighed. "If only I could run dirt."
Dober glanced sideways. "Then what about the Undefeated Triple Crown?"
"Of course I'm considering it!" Teio stuck out her tongue. "But dirt doesn't suit ."
She thought aloud. "Besides, in Japan dirt isn't emphasized. Everyone focuses on turf. Very few debut on dirt."
Dober nodded. "The one-win dirt classes don't even appear until winter in debut year. The URA doesn't prioritize it."
Teio blinked suddenly. "Trainer studied in Arica. He must be better at dirt training. Should we scout promising dirt-oriented Uma Musu when we get back and invite them?"
"That's not our place," Dober replied gently. "We can't guarantee soone would join the Sadalsuud team just because we asked. Only Oguri-senpai might have that influence."
Teio had to concede.
"Trainer will just have to work hard himself," she muttered.
—
The next morning, however, Shuta rose earlier than either of them.
He drove alone to West Coast Tracen Academy.
This ti, his steps through the corridors were familiar—almost automatic. mory guided him.
When he reached the Student Council office, a composed voice answered from inside.
"Please co in."
He opened the door.
The one seated at the desk was none other than Secretariat.
"You're here," she said with a faint smile. "Sit. I'm finishing a report."
He obeyed, though his pulse was unusually loud in his ears.
When she completed the paperwork, she rose and moved to sit opposite him.
Her first question caught him completely off guard.
"How have you found living at 1460 Laurel Way?"
If anyone else had asked, it might have sounded mocking.
From her, it was literal.
"It's been comfortable," he answered honestly. "Thank you for allowing to stay there."
"Don't thank too quickly." She waved her hand lightly. "Beverly Hills property is never a bad investnt."
She leaned back slightly.
"But that isn't today's topic. Though it is related."
Shuta felt the air shift.
"After your parents passed," she continued, voice steady, "they left behind a considerable estate. I would like to discuss the remainder of that inheritance."
His heartbeat quickened.
"There may have been," he replied carefully. "But I was still in junior high at the ti. My father left Laurel Way and living expenses—what remained after IRS taxation."
She studied him closely.
"Would you like to know where the rest of it went?"
He answered imdiately.
"No."
For the first ti that morning, she looked genuinely surprised.
Silence settled between them—not hostile, but heavy with implications yet to be unfolded.
"Why?" Secretariat's surprise was genuine this ti.
"Shuta, you haven't forgotten the scale of your family's assets, have you? Your father trained multiple G1 winners across Arica, Europe, and Australia. Your mother—Mrs. Alice—was a French Triple Tiara champion who competed in the Dream Cup for years before investing on the West Coast. Purchasing 1460 Laurel Way was trivial for them. That property was never the entirety of their holdings."
She paused, then added deliberately, "And Mrs. Alice also inherited from her mother. The accumulated prize earnings of Sea-Bird."
Sea-Bird
Shuta's expression remained level. "I never saw the will myself. My father's attorney told that beyond what I received, everything else was left to soone else."
He folded his hands loosely. "To favor soone in that way, that person must have been soone he worried about deeply."
Secretariat lowered her head. A faint flush appeared along her cheeks.
Shuta noticed imdiately. His eyes narrowed.
"Could it be?"
She lifted her head and t his gaze directly.
"First, let clarify. I did not receive the inheritance. I have been managing it on your behalf."
The words struck with quiet force.
His pupils contracted. "Then why was I not inford before?"
She turned her head slightly, uncharacteristically avoiding eye contact. "Would you believe if I said the estate was only fully consolidated and the tax obligations finalized last month?"
He did not hesitate. "Yes."
Having dealt personally with Arican taxation, he understood what complex, multi-jurisdictional estates entailed. If his father's holdings were substantial—and they undoubtedly were—liquidation, restructuring, and compliance would not have been simple.
Secretariat straightened. "Since Trainer entrusted with this responsibility, I ensured the IRS did not extract more than necessary. Once the formal handover is complete, you may review all U.S.-based assets yourself."
"No." He rose and bowed slightly. "I am not skilled in such matters. If my father trusted you, then I will as well. Should I need sothing, I will consult you."
She leaned back with a faint smile. "If I must personally handle everything, that would beco troubleso. I established Sadallik LLC for administrative purposes. I will introduce you to its assistant. You can issue directives through her."
"Understood."
She paused again.
"There remains one portion you must personally resolve."
He frowned. "Another?"
"Your grandmother's estate." A rare bitter expression crossed her face. "Mrs. Alice paid inheritance tax in France at the highest marginal rate—45 percent."
France's inheritance regi was among the most severe in Europe.
"If you directly inherit that estate without prior planning, you will also face approximately 45 percent taxation. My influence does not extend there. That matter, you must handle yourself."
He nodded slowly. For now, he had no imdiate use for that portion. The Arican assets alone were already beyond anything he had imagined managing. And without structured planning, there was no quick solution to a French succession tax burden.
In truth, the most imdiate benefit of wealth was clarity: he no longer needed to hesitate over training resources. Equipnt, international travel, recovery facilities—Team Sadalsuud would never lack support.
He exhaled.
"After returning to Japan, I should inform Oguri and the others."
Secretariat's brow lifted slightly.
"Speaking of which," she said, shifting tone with deliberate composure, "as Student Council President of West Coast Tracen Academy, I have a request."
He tilted his head. "Please."
"Would you consider sponsoring a race at a West Coast racetrack?" Her smile brightened considerably. "For a six-figure annual contribution, you may secure naming rights for a G3 event."
He muttered under his breath, "I haven't even seen the money yet."
Then, more seriously: "What if I sponsor a G1 turf race?"
Her eyes sharpened instantly.
"For approximately 500,000 U.S. dollars annually, most G1 turf races at Santa Anita Park can accommodate naming rights."
Santa Anita Park
He closed his eyes briefly, calculating.
"Five hundred thousand per year, then. I choose the G1 Frankie O'Mille Championship. The 1600-ter turf race held the first Sunday of March."
He opened his eyes again.
"The naming rights will be The Alice France Championship."
A pause.
"Nad after my mother."
Secretariat did not hesitate. "Accepted. We will finalize docuntation shortly."
He stood.
"Thank you."
She grinned faintly. "On the contrary. Santa Anita has been complaining that certain purses are becoming less competitive. This will help maintain field quality."
He smiled in return. "Then I should thank you. You could have concealed the inheritance indefinitely."
Her expression turned firm.
"That would have been dishonorable. If I ever et Trainer again, I must be able to face him."
For a brief mont, neither spoke.
Between them lingered sothing unspoken—loyalty extending beyond contracts, beyond estates, beyond money.
A debt of trust.
And now, at last, properly acknowledged.
(Author Note: The liaison from Sadalik LLC was nad as Miss Grace, she will beca the Shuta's assistant from here forth)
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