The sanatorium's track wasn't just for lounging. Moderate exercise was key to recovery, and the facilities were top-notch. Jogging lightly, Rampage kicked the ground, realizing Minamisaka's call to end her season at the Japan Cup was spot-on.
"Yep… Minami-chan nailed it."
Even after days of rest and massages, her legs weren't fully recovered. At this pace, the Arima Kinen was out of the question. She'd felt it running, but her trainer knew her body better than she did. The best.
"Young Mistress, here."
"Thanks, Gramps."
The Mejiro family's head butler handed her a towel and drink. Despite his duties at the estate, Asama had tasked him with watching her—probably to ensure she didn't sneak off to run. Did they really see her as that much of a troublemaker? A bit unfair.
"December already… No way I'm ready for Arima. Not that I planned to race."
"You've claimed the world's top title, Young Mistress. No need to run more."
"I know, but racing with Oguri-san and Ryan? Gotta admit, it's tempting."
Minamisaka had already announced she wouldn't race this year, and the press conference was a storm.
"Fans want to see the world-record-setting Mejiro Rampage race!"
"I agree, but her condition won't yield good results. Worse, it could lead to injury."
"You, who pushes her with brutal training, say that?"
Some reporters were vicious: Why not race? Avoiding Classic Triple Crown Mejiro Ryan? Fleeing the eternal trio? Dodging her Japan Cup comrades for a cheap win? But Minamisaka stood firm.
"I'm her trainer. I know her body and train her accordingly. That's why she's not racing. My duty is to protect her. No matter what you say, she's out. Look forward to next year."
His steely resolve, a stark contrast to his usual warmth, gave her chills.
"Isn't my trainer something else, Gramps?"
"Indeed. The Great Lady and I watched the conference. She said Minamisaka is the perfect trainer for you."
"See? I've got an eye for talent."
Gramps humored her cocky remark with a smile and a nod. Her phone rang. Gramps grabbed it—Palmer's name on the screen.
"Yo, it's the Tyrant chilling at the sanatorium!"
"Hahaha! Keep that up, and you'll sound like a dictator!"
Palmer's voice was brimming with energy. Today was her race…
"I won the Stayers Stakes!"
"No way! For real?"
"Dead serious! By six lengths!"
"You're outdoing me!"
The Stayers Stakes, a G2 long-distance race, spanned 3600m—400m longer than the Emperor's Cup (Spring), one of Japan's slowest races. Palmer, a fellow front-runner, pulled off a massive lead at that distance. To Rampage, that was monstrous.
"Stop it! Compared to the Japan Cup world-record holder, I'm nothing!"
"I've only run 2400m. 3600m? No way I could do that. You're the monster here."
"That's my line!"
To Palmer, Rampage's 2400m world record was beastly; to Rampage, Palmer's 3600m runaway was unreal. Mutual respect.
"Still, nice job. Sets you up for the Emperor's Cup."
"Yep! This gave me confidence. I'm gonna blaze through the Spring Emperor's Cup!"
"That's the spirit. Man, now I'm itching to race… Maybe sneak into Arima…"
"What?!"
"Young Mistress Rampage!"
"Kidding, kidding."
Palmer's passion sparked a competitive fire in Rampage, their shared front-running style fueling rivalry. But racing now would betray Minamisaka's trust. No way she'd do that.
"Phew, you scared me! Grandma called me too, so I panicked, thinking I shouldn't have bragged!"
"My bad. I know better, but my blood's pumping. Guess I'll burn it off some other way. Congrats, Palmer! Let's grab Heli-chan for a victory party later."
"Love it! It's a plan!"
"Cool, talk later."
She hung up, chugging her drink. Palmer was killing it, and Rampage couldn't fall behind. For now, rest was her fight—self-discipline to recover.
"Gramps, I'm heading back to my room. Gonna game or something. Don't worry, no running."
"Understood. I'll arrange a bath and massage promptly."
By the way, she'd been shiny-hunting Pokémon, nabbing a Charismatic-mark Iron Treads and a Dusk-mark Roaring Moon. She wanted to post on Uma-tter but checked with Minamisaka first. He just gave a wry smile.
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