By the first Monday after returning to Japan, only two weeks remained until the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies. Shuta An imdiately had jiro Dober resu structured training—asured workload, controlled acceleration drills, and stamina maintenance without overreaching. There would be no reckless sharpening this close to race day.
His own priority shifted to reconnaissance.
Among the current two-year-olds targeting the Triple Tiara route, only one na warranted serious evaluation: Kyoei March.
Her debut victory had been dominant. The margin signaled raw speed and tactical initiative. Her third-place finish in the Senryo Sho appeared disappointing at a glance, but the sectional data told a different story. A 58.7-second opening 1000 ters for a newly debuted runner was strategically unsound—aggressive to the point of self-sabotage. The fade was physiological inevitability, not talent deficiency.
Then ca the announcent: Kyoei March would bypass the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies and instead target the Han Sho at Kyoto in early January.
To Shuta, that ant the most volatile competitor had voluntarily removed herself from the imdiate field.
There remained Seeking The Pearl , fresh off a decisive 0.8-second win in the Mainichi Hai Nisai Stakes. On paper, that performance commanded respect. Yet race shape mattered more than margin. In a controlled, one-on-one mile at Hanshin, Seeking The Pearl might pressure Dober. But the Juvenile Fillies would not unfold that cleanly.
The entry list also included Super Dress—a pace catalyst if ever there was one. In the Hakodate Nisai Stakes she had helped engineer a destructive tempo. In the KBS Fantasy Stakes, the first 1000 ters stopped the clock at 57.7 seconds. That was not an accident; it was identity.
Shuta could already visualize the race dynamics: Super Dress forcing an unsustainable tempo, stretching the field into a stamina test disguised as a mile. That scenario favored Dober's composure and energy distribution.
"If Super Dress carries that aggression into the Oka Sho next spring," he muttered to himself, "she'll complicate things for Kyoei March in exactly the right way."
By the ti he finished compiling sectional comparisons and projected pace trees, it was afternoon. He had not eaten. He decided on a quick al before returning to finalize entry paperwork.
He did not make it past the corridor.
Kurofune stood there, posture straight, eyes clear.
"Shuta Trainer! I'm here to apply to join Team Sadalsuud!"
The timing was inconvenient. The initiative was not.
He exhaled lightly. "I was about to get lunch."
Her expression faltered for half a second.
"Work first," he corrected smoothly. "Let's go to the track."
She followed closely, asking whether another Uma Musu would act as a benchmark.
"Normally," he said. "But everyone is occupied. Calling Oguri back would be disproportionate pressure for you."
Even so, she declared she would do her best against Oguri Cap if required. Ambition—healthy, but uncalibrated.
He slowed slightly as they walked.
"You have one Twinkle Series career. One. Honors earned now determine comfort later. There is no reset."
The weight of that truth hung between them. Kurofune absorbed it silently. She had not yet undergone her full competitive transformation; such framing still felt abstract.
The trial itself was simple: one all-out lap on the woodchip track.
Her stride chanics were clean. Knee lift efficient. No visible upper-body tension under maximal output. Most importantly, her deceleration phase showed control rather than collapse.
"No problem," he concluded.
Administrative formalities followed. Within thirty minutes, the academy seal stamped her application.
She found him again shortly after, still processing.
"It feels fast," she admitted.
"It is," he replied. "Team Sadalsuud offers one trial opportunity. Fail once, and there is no second attempt."
Her eyes widened. The comparison to Team Rigil was implicit.
"Frankly," he added evenly, "our internal ranking now exceeds theirs. The difference is thodology. They conduct open selection. I rely on evaluation before invitation."
He tapped his own chest.
"When I invite soone, the assessnt is already complete. If you showed up, you were passing."
The realization stunned her more than the sprint had.
After adding her to the team's Line group, he typed a brief announcent. Tokai Teio responded imdiately—during class.
He corrected her without hesitation.
Silence followed from her end.
One by one, the others welcod Kurofune. The tone was relaxed, unpretentious. The cohesion of the group was tangible even in text form.
Kurofune looked up at him. "What should I do now?"
He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders, turned her toward the exit, and gave a gentle push.
"Eat properly. Study properly. Maintain low-intensity baseline training. After the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies, I'll design your program."
There was no rush.
The Juvenile Fillies would likely resolve in Dober's favor. The Oguri Cap morial restructuring was underway. The team's competitive ceiling was rising.
And now, Kurofune had entered the equation.
Montum, Shuta knew, was not built from spectacle.
It was built from precise decisions made at the correct mont.
For Shuta Ann, everything narrowed to one axis: the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies.
Ten entrants. Clean field size. Manageable variance.
He spent two full days compiling structured profiles on the other nine. Not superficial notes—complete pace maps, sectional breakdowns, acceleration curves, recovery patterns after pressure, even temperant tendencies under crowded stretch conditions. For each runner, he drafted contingency responses: what to do if early pace collapsed, what to do if tempo stalled, what to do if boxed in at the 400-ter pole.
He knew most trainers would isolate two or three threats and stop there.
"This is Dober's first dostic G1," he murmured. "Carrying an overseas G1 title ans nothing if she doesn't validate it here."
Two G1s before the Oka Sho—that was the strategic objective. A proven, high-earning closer entering a Classic would exert psychological pressure on any front-runner. Even soone like Kyoei March would feel it. Speed types always claim immunity to pressure, but being stalked by a decorated finisher changes stride rhythm.
anwhile, jiro Dober's daily rhythm stabilized quickly after jet lag faded. Morning exercises with Taiki Shuttle. Sketching sessions. Structured naps. Afternoon track work. Evening manuscript drafting.
If not for the Juvenile Fillies looming, she likely would have completed her art book draft before winter convention season.
But priorities were clear.
The jiro Family had never secured this particular G1. Team Sadalsuud had never claid a debut-year restricted G1 either. Technically, Oguri Cap could have contested the Jpn1 All-Japan Nisai Yushun in her year but remained regional. That left Dober as the first within the team to shoulder this specific weight.
"I cannot leave a stain here," she told herself.
Her intensity pleased Shuta. Motivation without volatility—that was ideal.
Once most race prep was complete, he pivoted to parallel projects: refining Tokai Teio's developntal program and designing Kurofune's long-term architecture.
Before any projection, however, he ordered a comprehensive physical exam for Kurofune and forwarded the trics to Grace for biochanical review.
"I need to determine directional bias," he thought. "Muscle fiber distribution, joint elasticity, aerobic threshold curve."
Regardless of type, injury minimization would remain the governing principle.
He had already floated the dirt route to Kurofune. Yet her raw data complicated the decision. There was turf acceleration potential—enough, perhaps, to target the Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes in her debut year. Win a turf G1, then pivot to dirt. The narrative shock alone would destabilize dia expectations.
He leaned back in his chair, rembering an earlier promise made to the Secretariat.
"Is she the one who could eventually challenge an Arican Classic?"
He imdiately corrected himself. Premature speculation was unprofessional. Kurofune had not undergone her full competitive transformation. Projection without evidence invited error.
On the track, Teio and Dober instinctively moderated their pace when jogging with Kurofune, unwilling to drop her.
Shuta intervened.
He reassigned Kurofune to lower-intensity gym work—core stabilization, controlled plyotrics, posterior chain reinforcent.
"It's too early," he explained. "Teio hasn't fully transford, but her accumulation is deep. I estimate her transformation within one to two years. You cannot benchmark against that yet."
Kurofune accepted without resistance. Obedient, focused, no ego interference. She began grinding daily in the gym, quietly compressing the gap.
—
Race week arrived.
The entry list held at ten, including jiro Dober. dia coverage escalated imdiately. An overseas G1 winner who had also crushed a listed field in Arica by open lengths was easy copy. Praise beca unanimous.
Shuta cut it off at the source.
"Don't read the magazines," he instructed Dober. "This praise is montum-driven, not rit-earned. Genuine acclaim only cos after sustained victory."
She understood and contacted her family to stop sending publications.
"The stronger the praise wind," he added calmly, "the harder it rebounds if you lose."
That sentence lingered.
In the dormitory that evening, Taiki Shuttle noticed the change.
"You've been training harder."
"Because expectations are heavier," Dober replied while sketching. "As a jiro, I cannot disappoint supporters. I cannot stain the family na."
Taiki thumped her chest confidently, her presence characteristically exuberant.
"You'll win! That's the confidence of a Grand Prix Jacques Le Marois champion!"
Dober pouted faintly. "You've ntioned that overseas win many tis since I returned."
Taiki lifted her chin proudly.
"In this entire dorm building, only the Uma Musu in this room have won G1s overseas."
The statent hung there—half brag, half affirmation.
—
Outside, anticipation thickened.
Inside Team Sadalsuud, everything was controlled.
Data prepared. Counterasures drafted. Ego neutralized. Physical loads calibrated.
Now, only execution remained.
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