The midsummer heat had surrendered to the crisp air of mid-October.
Today was Urara's fourth race—a Maiden match at Tokyo Racecourse. I had brought her here just as I had for her debut, but as we walked through the tunnels toward the preparation area, I noticed something off.
"Urara? What's wrong?"
"I dunno... it's just... I can't stop fidgeting."
She was trembling—tiny, rhythmic shudders that traveled through her frame. My heart skipped a beat. Is she sick? I immediately pressed my hand to her forehead, but there was no fever. I checked her throat, her glands, her breathing. Everything seemed normal.
"Does anything feel weird? Does it hurt anywhere?"
"Nope! I feel great! Super-duper great! But my body... it just won't stay still."
Her ears were twitching like live wires, and her tail was a blur of frantic motion. She was smiling, but it was tight—brittle around the edges.
"It doesn't look like you're sick... are you nervous?"
I took her wrist to check her pulse. It was a little fast, but nothing alarming. In all her previous races, Urara had been the picture of carefree innocence; she wasn't the type to get stage fright.
"Nervous? Maybe... I just really, really want to run! I feel like... like a firecracker! Bam!"
"I get the excitement, but I'm not sure about the 'bam' part... You're absolutely sure you're not feeling ill?"
"Mhm!"
If she were sick, I'd scratch her from the race without a second thought. But looking at her, this wasn't the tremor of a failing body. It was something else.
(Could it be... pre-race jitters? No, more like... a warrior's chill?)
I shook the thought away. Urara? A warrior's chill? It seemed impossible, and yet, if it wasn't fear or illness, it was the only thing left. It was the hum of an engine idling too high.
"Urara, look at me. Deep breaths. Let's do five. After that, I want you to tense every muscle in your body for three seconds, then let it all go."
"Okay... Innnn... Outttt..."
She followed my lead, drawing in the cool autumn air and then squeezing her eyes shut as she braced her muscles. After three seconds, she slumped, her shoulders dropping.
"How is it?"
"I think... I think I'm okay now," she said, looking down at her hands. I knelt so we were eye-to-eye and gave her my most reassuring smile.
"If you feel that 'shiver' again, just remember the breathing. It'll ground you. You've got this."
"Got it! Thanks, Trainer! I'm gonna go get ready!"
"Go on. Have fun out there."
I watched her head toward the changing rooms, then made my way to the stands.
I wanted that first-place win—I wanted it more than anything—but I had reached a point of strange calm. I had done everything I could. If we had prepared correctly, the results would follow. But that "shiver" stayed with me. Urara was changing. Her heart was starting to catch up to the stakes of the game.
I headed to the paddock first to scout the competition. This was her fourth race, which meant the other girls were also "veterans" of the Maiden circuit. I had analyzed their footage and memorized their splits, but I needed to see them in the flesh to gauge their condition today.