Chapter 105.
As Mejiro Dober crossed the finish line, the blinding speed melted away, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic heaving of her chest. She slowed to a graceful trot, pressing her right hand over her racing heart as she turned her gaze toward the grandstands.
"DOBER! DOBER! DOBER!"
The chant rolled down from the packed stadium like a physical force—a tsunami of sound that made the very turf vibrate beneath her hooves.
I did it.
Dober closed her eyes for a fleeting second, letting the sheer weight of the moment wash over her. A breathtaking, radiant smile broke across her face as she turned and offered a deep, elegant bow to the tens of thousands of voices calling her name.
A few lengths behind, Mejiro McQueen watched that bow, the bitter, metallic taste of defeat coating her tongue.
Before I could even earn the right to stand before Teio again, I was crushed once more.
McQueen thought, her violet eyes trembling. She bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled.
Do I... do I really have anything left to show Teio at the Japan Cup?
The unshakeable regal confidence McQueen had painstakingly rebuilt over the last few months had been reduced to ash, scattered to the autumn wind by Dober's relentless sprint.
Nearby, Air Groove stood perfectly still on the turf, her analytical eyes tracking Dober as the victor finally turned toward the underground exit.
My execution today was fundamentally flawed.
The should be future 'Empress' evaluated coldly, though the sting of disappointment lingered in her chest.
My conditioning never reached its absolute peak. Forcing a run at the Japan Cup in this state would be tactical suicide. I will need to sit down with Trainer tonight and pivot our entire schedule toward the Arima Kinen.
In a different corner of the track, the heartbreak of Team Canopus was entirely less restrained.
"Uwaaah! Turbo's legs wouldn't even lift at the end!"
Twin Turbo wailed, burying her face into Nice Nature's shoulder.
"Turbo's form was just bad today! I'm definitely, absolutely going to run them into the ground next time!"
Nature let out a soft, bittersweet sigh, wrapping her arms around the sobbing runaway and gently stroking her unruly hair.
"It's okay, Turbo." she forced a warm, comforting smile. "You ran your heart out today. Every single person in this stadium saw how hard you tried."
Ikuno Dictus stood a few paces away, adjusting her cuffs with pristine, mechanical precision. As a runner whose career had also walked the Triple Tiara route, watching Dober sweep away the absolute front of the Twinkle Series like autumn leaves was a mesmerizing sight.
Deep down, a quiet, aching envy bloomed in Ikuno's chest.
But Dictus was nothing if not pragmatic. She knew the brutal reality of the track: what Dober possessed was a transcendent, anomalous genius that no amount of mere hard work could ever replicate.
All any of us can do is give everything we have.
Dictus reasoned. Seeing that Nature had successfully talked Turbo down from the ledge of a full tantrum, Ikuno turned her gaze toward the despondent figure of her roommate.
McQueen looks utterly hollowed out. The psychological blow of losing to Dober today was far more devastating than I calculated.
Without another word, Ikuno began walking across the turf to comfort her friend.
While Mejiro Dober remained on the field to exchange a few exhausted, emotional words with her peers, the atmosphere back at the Mejiro Family's ancestral estate in Toshima Ward was suffocatingly grim. It was entirely devoid of the celebratory joy one would expect from a historic 1-2 finish.
"Dober won."
The Old Madam of the Mejiro house murmured. Her voice was thin and raspy, her sickly frame looking frail against the heavy, antique cushions of her chair.
"She executed a remarkable race."
"Dober won by a staggering 3 lengths over McQueen."
Mejiro Ramonu interjected from the side of the room, her voice devoid of inflection, slicing through the tension like a scalpel.
The moment the words left Ramonu's lips, the Old Madam's grayish complexion seemed to sink even further.
Ramonu caught the flicker of unbearable grief in her grandmother's eyes, and for a fraction of a second, pity softened her sharp features. But Ramonu quickly composed herself, her mask of elegant indifference snapping back into place.
"It matters not. McQueen will simply win the Spring Tenno Sho next year."
The Old Madam whispered, staring blankly at the television screen. It sounded less like a prediction and more like a desperate, hollow cope—a fragile excuse to shield the fading illusion of McQueen's absolute supremacy.
The other family elders in the room didn't dare breathe a word. Everyone was acutely aware of the shifting power dynamics regarding Mejiro Dober.
The archaic prejudices they had once harbored against the Triple Tiara route had been systematically dismantled. After watching Dober stockpile an unprecedented mountain of international and domestic honors, any elder who claimed they didn't feel a profound sense of shared pride was simply lying.
"Our house securing the top two finishes on an Imperial Viewing stage is an absolute triumph. We should be celebrating."
One of the older, bolder uncles finally ventured.
"It is a triumph." the Old Madam hummed, slowly closing her eyes. "As for McQueen— ensure she is not pressured into the Japan Cup. Running in her current psychological state would be disastrous. Pivoting her focus to the Arima Kinen would be far more appropriate."
"Dober will not be running the Arima Kinen." Ramonu added smoothly. "She is officially retiring from the Twinkle Series after the Queen Elizabeth II Cup this winter."
"Then it is time for her to transfer to the Dream Trophy Series and continue contributing to the family's legacy."
The Old Madam replied automatically, her voice barely a whisper. She had been trapped in this listless, fading state for months.
"Regarding Dober—"
Ramonu paused, allowing a calculated hesitation to color her voice.
"What is it?"
The Old Madam opened her eyes, fixing a tired glare on her granddaughter.
"Dober has absolutely no intention of transferring to the Dream Trophy Series. She plans to formally apply to the Tokyo University of the Arts to further her studies in classical painting."
Ramonu stated.
The air in the grand drawing room instantly stagnated. The silence became so heavy it felt as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
"She is refusing the Dream Trophy Series? Does her Trainer actually permit this?"
The Old Madam demanded, a spark of her former autocratic fire flickering in her eyes.
Ramonu lowered her gaze to the floor, masterfully hiding the triumphant, mocking smile curling at the corners of her lips.
"Shuta-kun has absolutely no objections. He firmly believes Dober has earned the absolute right to pursue whatever future she desires."
"If every daughter of this house simply abandoned her duties to do whatever she pleased, the Mejiro Family would have crumbled to dust a century ago!"
The Old Madam snapped, her voice trembling with fragile anger.
But beneath the anger, the matriarch knew the bitter truth. She could voice her displeasure all she wanted, but her failing health had stripped her of the physical and political strength required to rule with an iron fist.
Even if she somehow managed to drag Dober kicking and screaming into the Dream Trophy Series, how long would it last? The moment the Old Madam passed away, Dober would simply walk out the door and pick up her paintbrushes anyway.
"Never mind. I will not spend my final days making that child despise me."
The Old Madam exhaled a long, shuddering sigh, the last embers of her resistance dying out as she accepted her own powerlessness.
"If painting is what she truly loves, then let her go. But this family will not lift a single finger to assist her. She will have to procure her own recommendation letters and secure her own admission."
Ramonu bowed her head respectfully.
Grandmother, your mind truly has clouded over, she scoffed internally. With Dober's innate artistic talent, clearing the standard admissions exam is trivial. And even if she required a recommendation letter, she is a world-conquering Twinkle Series legend. There isn't a single prestigious patron in Japan who wouldn't sever their right arm for the honor of acting as Mejiro Dober's sponsor.
"I am exhausted. Take me back to my chambers."
The Old Madam waved a trembling hand.
Ramonu instantly smoothed her expression into one of perfect filial piety. Stepping behind the wheelchair, she dutifully escorted the fading matriarch out of the room, leaving the remnants of the old Mejiro regime behind her.
—
Back at the Tokyo Racecourse, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the turf.
Shuta stood quietly in the velvet shadows of the underground VIP tunnel, waiting patiently as Dober finished her final press obligations and exchanged tearful, emotional words with her peers.
Hearing the rhythmic clack-clack of her racing horseshoes echoing on the concrete, the young man looked up.
"Ann!"
Mejiro Dober practically sprinted the last few yards, throwing herself lightly into her lover's waiting arms. She buried her face into his chest for a brief second before looking up, her amber eyes sparkling with breathless anticipation.
"How was it?! How was my performance today?"
"It was an absolute masterpiece."
Shuta An smiled, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. He pretended to think for a moment.
"If I had to assign a numerical score... I think I'd give you exactly 127 points today."
"Oh! That's so high!" Dober gasped, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "You're usually such a harsh grader!"
"I didn't deliberately inflate it this time." Shuta An chuckled, reaching up to affectionately pinch her flushed cheek. "I calibrated the score using Mejiro McQueen's maximum output as the baseline standard."
"But... 127 is still significantly lower than the scores you give Teio."
Dober noted, her competitive fire burning away her exhaustion as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. She looked up at him, her expression hardening into absolute resolve.
"Then for my very next race—I will deliver an even more transcendent performance. I will make my curtain call in the Twinkle Series something the world will never, ever forget!"
"And I will be right there with you, Dober." the young man replied, his voice a low, unwavering vow. "I will guide you flawlessly, on the turf and in our life, until the very end."