Chapter 8. Rice Shower's First Race of the Year
Over the next few days, the NHK film crew remained constantly occupied, gathering enough footage for the documentary's first phase before returning to Japan ahead of schedule.
Even for NHK, continuously keeping an entire documentary team stationed at a five-star hotel in Australia for several months was not a burden they could casually sustain. Their plan was to return three days before the Ranvet Stakes and resume filming from there.
After personally seeing the film crew off at the airport, both Shuta An and Mejiro Dober visibly relaxed.
"Finally… I don't have to stay tense all the time anymore,"
Mejiro Dober said softly after the morning exercise session, accepting the damp towel Shuta An handed her. She wiped the sweat from her neck before glancing toward him.
"So now we officially enter the real training phase, right?"
"Not yet." Shuta An immediately denied the idea. "We'll continue with low-intensity conditioning until late February. There's no need to rush the training load upward."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"I already told Dober before—the Ranvet Stakes is merely a preparatory race. I meant exactly what I said. I don't have any fixed expectations for your performance there."
Mejiro Dober blinked in surprise.
"But didn't Trainer say I needed to win the Ranvet Stakes before challenging the Queen Elizabeth Stakes?"
She tilted her head slightly. "You even said that to the film crew."
"And if I lose—"
"Dober."
Shuta An interrupted her helplessly, almost laughing.
"You're a Triple Tiara Uma Musume. There's no race in the world that would reject your entry because of one defeat. Even if you lost the Ranvet Stakes, the Queen Elizabeth Stakes would still welcome you."
Only then did Mejiro Dober finally realize that his earlier statement had merely been a casual remark made during filming.
"Oh… so that's what you meant."
The corners of her lips unconsciously lifted, her expression brightening considerably. But only a moment later, her gaze sharpened again.
"Even so, I still don't want to lose."
Her voice softened, yet the determination inside it became even clearer.
"I want to win both the Ranvet Stakes and the Queen Elizabeth Stakes."
After wiping the remaining sweat from her face, Mejiro Dober casually draped the towel over her shoulder before extending her hand toward him.
"Then," she said quietly, "please continue supporting me properly, Trainer."
Shuta An lowered his gaze toward the hand extended before him. Then, without hesitation, he firmly grasped it.
Cold.
That was the first sensation that traveled through his palm.
Perhaps because she had only just finished training, Mejiro Dober's fingertips carried a faint chill despite the warmth of her body.
Mejiro Dober herself still had not completely adapted to this degree of physical contact. Yet she did not withdraw her hand. Instead, she silently endured the unfamiliar sensation and gradually forced herself to become accustomed to it.
"If I can't even adapt to this much…" she thought quietly, "then I'll never be able to move forward."
The two maintained the handshake for several seconds. Only after that did Mejiro Dober slowly release him.
Behind his back, Shuta An unconsciously flexed his fingers once or twice.
"She used quite a bit of strength just now—" he thought. "Was that her way of expressing determination?"
Meanwhile, Mejiro Dober took a small step forward as if nothing had happened.
"I'm hungry," she announced calmly. "I'm going to eat breakfast now. Trainer should hurry and eat too."
"I'll go with you."
Shuta An immediately followed after her.
At noon, during the lunch break, Mejiro Dober unexpectedly did not remain in her own room as she usually had over the past several days. Instead, she carried her drawing board to the balcony outside Shuta An's room and quietly sat down there, using Rosehill Racecourse in the distance as the subject of a sketch.
Behind her, Shuta An sat at the desk with his laptop open, handling work matters sent from Central Tracen Academy.
Occasionally, he lifted his eyes toward Mejiro Dober's drawing board. But after only a few glances, his attention would always drift elsewhere involuntarily.
Toward the pale, slender nape exposed beneath her dark hair.
Perhaps sensing the lingering gaze behind her, Mejiro Dober suddenly turned around.
Their eyes met directly.
This time, Shuta An did not avoid it.
"How's the drawing coming along?" he asked naturally.
"I'll show Trainer once it's finished."
Mejiro Dober immediately turned back again, pretending to focus entirely on her sketch.
"Then I'll look forward to it."
Shuta An smiled faintly. He had never once doubted Mejiro Dober's artistic talent.
By the time half the lunch break had passed, Mejiro Dober finally stood up. Carrying the drawing board in both hands, she walked over to the young man and stopped beside him.
"I'm done."
Shuta An raised his eyes.
Then, for a brief moment, he froze.
The sketch before him possessed astonishing completion quality. The outline of Rosehill Racecourse, the distant turf, the layered structure of the stands, even the shadows cast beneath the afternoon sunlight—all of it had been captured with remarkable precision and delicacy.
"Dober…" Shuta An looked genuinely impressed. "Your drawing skills are incredible."
"To finish something this complete in such a short amount of time—" He exhaled softly. "You really are amazing."
The praise made Mejiro Dober's ears twitch slightly.
Then the young man casually added.
"If there's an opportunity someday, I'd like Dober to draw a portrait sketch for me too."
Mejiro Dober's eyes widened slightly.
"Then—"
"No rush." Shuta An raised a finger before she could continue. "We'll talk about it after the Ranvet Stakes."
"Mhm."
Mejiro Dober immediately memorized those words in her heart.
During this period in Australia, there were no junior teammates around them. There was no need to deliberately maintain excessive distance. Opportunities like this were extremely rare.
"If I still can't make progress after all this—" Mejiro Dober thought silently, "Senior Nagasaki and the others will definitely laugh at me when I return."
"The seniors already prepared the route for me. I only need to follow it step by step. There definitely won't be any mistakes."
That evening, after dinner, Shuta An returned alone to his room and began handling URA Association rating evaluations.
Last week's Tokyo Shimbun Hai had finally allowed King Halo to secure her long-awaited graded race victory.
However, considering that King Halo's front-running performances had always lacked stability, Shuta An ultimately gave a relatively conservative rating after repeated deliberation.
"107."
Even after writing the score down, he still added an additional note beneath it:
"If King Halo can continue achieving strong performances at higher-level graded races in her next start, an upward adjustment of approximately one additional point may be considered."
Only after sending the evaluation report back to the URA Association did Shuta An finally glance at the time.
Past 9 PM already.
"Time to sleep."
He stood up, preparing to take a bath. Yet just as he took his first step, a knock suddenly sounded from outside the room.
"Who is it?"
Shuta An answered reflexively. But only after speaking did he remember the room's excellent soundproofing. The person outside probably could not hear him at all.
Chuckling awkwardly to himself, he walked toward the door and glanced through the peephole display.
Then he paused.
"Why is Dober here at this hour?"
After hesitating briefly, he still opened the door.
"Trainer."
Standing outside was Mejiro Dober.
She wore a long skirt together with a round-brimmed hat, her appearance carrying a rare softness compared to her usual image.
The moment the door opened, she naturally reached forward and lightly grasped Shuta An's wrist.
"Would you like to go for a walk before sleeping?"
Shuta An lowered his gaze toward the hand holding him.
After several seconds of silence, he finally nodded.
"Wait a moment. Let me change clothes first."
The instant she received a positive answer, a faint smile immediately surfaced within Mejiro Dober's eyes.
"He didn't refuse." Her gaze quietly followed the young man's retreating back. "Just like Senior Nagasaki predicted."
But shortly afterward, Mejiro Dober lightly pressed her lips together again.
"Still not enough—according to the seniors' plan, Trainer has to become the one who actively pursues me."
"I can't relax yet."
—
After returning from a brief nighttime walk with Mejiro Dober, Shuta An took a quick bath and went to bed early.
When he opened his eyes again, he was already standing inside the Dream World's Tokyo Racecourse.
Today was Meguro Kinen race day and the partner he would be riding was Rice Shower.
"This is actually my first time participating in the Meguro Kinen—"
Sitting inside the jockey waiting room, Shuta An rested his chin against one hand while quietly organizing the race information in his mind.
Meguro Kinen was a traditional G2 long-distance race held over 2500 meters on Tokyo Racecourse turf. At the same time, it was also one of the oldest graded races in Japan.
The race's name originated from the old Meguro Racecourse—the predecessor of modern Tokyo Racecourse.
That place had once hosted the very first Japanese Derby.
And this year's Meguro Kinen had already reached its 107th running.
Although Rice Shower had only managed eighth place in the previous Arima Kinen, the moment the public saw Shuta An returning as his jockey once more, he immediately seized the position of first favorite.
After all, the shock Tokai Teio delivered at last month's Nikkei Shinshun Hai was still deeply carved into the memories of every jockey in Japan.
That race had completely shattered Yamada Taisei's confidence.
Back then, Yamada Taisei, riding El Casa River, had practically exhausted every ounce of his riding technique just to weave through traffic and force out a miraculous late charge.
Yet even after all that—
Tokai Teio, who had been sitting near third-from-last entering the final stretch, simply came storming down the absolute outside under Shuta An's command.
One hundred fifty meters.
That was all it took.
He swallowed the entire field whole.
By the finish line, Tokai Teio had opened an additional one and half-length gap over El Casa River.
After the race, Yamada Taisei openly broke down crying during the post-race interview.
According to what Yutaka Take later told Shuta An, Yamada Taisei had even voluntarily offered to step down as Mejiro Palmer's primary jockey afterward.
"His head's completely filled with images of losing to Tokai Teio," Yutaka Take had said helplessly while shaking his head. "Every time he imagines riding Mejiro Palmer, he imagines Teio crushing him."
"His mental fortitude really isn't very strong, huh?"
Back then, Shuta An had only responded with a strange little chuckle.
—
"Heh."
And precisely because of that overwhelming performance, every jockey participating in this Meguro Kinen now secretly kept one eye on him.
Everyone hoped to seize the opportunity to defeat Shuta An's favored horse while Tokai Teio himself was absent.
This time, Rice Shower drew gate 5.
After briefly reviewing the field composition, Shuta An quickly made his tactical judgment.
Blizzard—the likely pace-setter—was clearly no longer in peak condition.
In that case, there was no need for Rice Shower to remain overly passive.
"We'll move forward."
As he adjusted the reins, the young man lowered his voice slightly.
"The last time I encountered Blizzard was during Satsuki Sho. Teio overtook him easily."
"This time… it'll be Rice Shower's turn."
From gate 6 nearby, jockey Konkō Hiroshi glanced sideways toward him. Although he did not hear the full sentence clearly, he vaguely caught Blizzard's name.
"He's probably already thinking about how to deal with Blizzard—"
Konkō Hiroshi silently exhaled. But unlike the others, he had no ambitions of winning today. Blizzard's condition simply wasn't good enough.
"Forget winning," he thought. "I'll just let him relax and escape comfortably."
Thus, after the gates opened, Konkō Hiroshi merely guided Blizzard forward naturally without aggressively urging him on. Since nobody else contested the lead, Blizzard smoothly took first position after roughly one hundred meters.
Meanwhile, Shuta An directly sent Rice Shower forward as well.
One length behind Blizzard.
Third position overall.
Between them sat Cheers Power, ridden by Katsumi Shiomura.
Neither jockey in front could be considered elite.
Because of that, Shuta An deliberately avoided applying excessive pressure to either of them. He did not want to accidentally disrupt the race rhythm too early.
As a result, despite sitting in third, he rode Rice Shower as though he herself were already controlling the race from the front.
Every movement remained calm.
Measured.
Deliberate.
"Something about his rhythm feels off—"
In the stands, Iizuka Yoshitsugu narrowed his eyes.
"The positioning matches. But the riding feel doesn't."
He could not understand what exactly Shuta An was attempting.
Beside him, Rice Shower's Horse Owner looked visibly nervous.
"Is this really okay?"
For a horse owner from a racing family, Meguro Kinen's prestige was enormous despite being merely a G2. Its history alone gave it influence rivaling some ordinary G1 races.
"It's fine. Trust Shuta-kun."
Even though he himself could not fully grasp the intention behind the ride, Iizuka Yoshitsugu still chose to defend him without hesitation.
Then, as the field entered the backstretch opposite the grandstands, change finally appeared.
Matikanetannhauser.
Yukio Okabe.
The pair originally tracking Rice Shower suddenly advanced forward, clearly intending to pressure his position directly.
"As expected—"
Shuta An's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Blizzard's slow pace couldn't fool Okabe-senpai."
A thousand-meter split of sixty-three seconds.
Any experienced jockey would immediately realize something was wrong.
And because of that—
Shuta An made his move instantly.
Without hesitation, he urged Rice Shower past Cheers Power.
"If it stays this slow, the race becomes a pure burst-speed contest later. And that's exactly what I don't want."
He immediately intensified his pushing rhythm.
"Rice Shower. Use your stamina. Force the field to race on your terms. Take the lead right here."
Against a fully serious Shuta An, Cheers Power and Blizzard simply had no resistance whatsoever.
Before the final corner even arrived, Rice Shower had already overtaken Blizzard and seized the front outright.
"He's leading?!"
Iizuka Yoshitsugu's eyes widened instantly.
"Shuta-kun's way too bold!"
Meanwhile, Rice Shower's Horse Owner forcibly steadied his emotions.
"Leading…should still be acceptable, right? At least this proves they're proactively changing tactics—"
Yet while the connections felt nervous, the audience in the grandstands had already begun constructing entirely different interpretations.
"With Mihono Bourbon still absent—"
"Could Shuta-kun be intentionally letting Rice Shower inherit Bourbon's style?"
"Is this some kind of tribute to his former rival?"
If Shuta An had heard those discussions, he probably would have broken into cold sweat on the spot.
Because the truth was embarrassingly simple. Leading was merely the easiest path to victory today.
He held absolutely zero interest in whatever strange "Rice Shower × Mihono Bourbon" narrative horse racing fans had begun inventing.
Then came the final straight.
But unlike usual, Shuta An did not immediately unleash the whip.
Instead, he first allowed Rice Shower to maintain his preferred cruising rhythm for several dozen meters.
Only after Matikanetannhauser behind them began visibly reducing the gap did the young man finally move.
The familiar windmill whip exploded into motion.
Yukio Okabe was already aging.
Competing directly against Shuta An in raw upper-body driving strength was simply unrealistic now.
And ultimately—
Relying on the advantage created by that earlier proactive move to the front—
Rice Shower barely defended first place at the finish line.
A nose.
Only a nose separated victory from defeat.
But a win was still a win.
Yet inside the viewing area, neither Iizuka Yoshitsugu nor Rice Shower's Horse Owner looked relieved.
Instead, both stared silently toward the monitor.
"With this kind of performance—can he really challenge Mejiro McQueen next time?"
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