After the celebration finally drew to a close, Shuta An worked together with the Mejiro Family's attendants to clean up the dining room. Only after everything was orderly did he personally walk them to the entrance and see them off.
"Phew—" Returning to the living room, the young man let out a long breath. "Suddenly, the living room feels empty."
"Indeed." Berno Light, still sitting on the sofa as she tidied the coffee table, agreed without looking up. "With only the three of us living here, it does feel a little empty. But a house with its own training ground is bound to be big, I suppose."
(Why did Miss Ramonu even build such a huge house back then? She lived alone at the time… right?) Shuta An wondered.
Once the table was organized, Berno Light stood up and turned toward her Trainer. "I've tidied up all the bedrooms. Oguri already went up to sleep—she trained, raced, and ate so much today, she knocked out instantly."
Shuta An checked the clock; the hour hand already pointed to nine. While unlocking his phone, he said, "Then Berno, go rest first. I'll stay in the living room a bit longer."
"Alright." Although she didn't understand what he intended to do alone, Berno Light trusted him. Without pressing further, she nodded and quietly headed upstairs.
After she left, Shuta An opened Line and leaned back into the sofa. "At this hour, that 'Emperor' probably hasn't finished work yet. I'll check the situation."
He wanted to know Tony Bianca's condition after she had been carried away earlier. If possible, he hoped the "injury" was just a misunderstanding. But deep down, he knew reality rarely aligned with hope.
"How is Miss Tony Bianca's condition?" He sent the message.
A second later, the "Read" mark appeared.
Soon after, Symboli Rudolf's reply appeared: "Confirmed fracture. She will need a long recovery period. She has already discussed it with her Trainer. She will likely retire."
"This…" Shuta An frowned, then typed quickly: "Has the URA Association given no response? Something this serious, on a global stage like the Japan Cup—a Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe winner forced to retire? Everyone clearly knows what caused it. Are they really just staying silent?"
Even through text, Symboli Rudolf could feel the young man's restrained anger.
'This message practically has a voice of its own,' she thought wryly. 'But the matter is indeed difficult.
Still, she knew the URA Association's plan, and she didn't mind sharing it with him.
"The URA Association has already handled the aftermath."
Shuta An responded with a sarcastic jab: "Ah, so their efficiency increases under pressure?"
"Ahaha…" Symboli Rudolf let out a strained laugh as she typed.
"First, they apologized to Miss Tony Bianca and her Trainer. Then they offered a very generous compensation. Finally, they invited her to join Central Tracen Academy as a Trainer."
"And did she accept?" He asked, brows tightening again.
"She accepted."
The reply appeared. Shuta An let out a bitter smile.
"I understand." He sent the message, rubbing his nose afterward.
"F**k…" He muttered under his breath, then opened his phone's notepad to jot down something for tomorrow.
"Forget it. She accepted, so there's no point in me stepping in again. I'll just—do what I can do." After saving the note, he rose from the sofa.
He had planned to brew tea and relax for a while, but after learning how the URA Association handled things, his mood collapsed entirely.
In addition, in the Dream World, he too had to participate in the Japan Cup—riding Oguri Cap.
With the experience from the daytime race, he had already decided to have Oguri Cap adopt a special tactic this time. He didn't have many options. By the time his consciousness arrived in the Dream World, he was already sitting in the jockey waiting room. He had no way to contact Trainer Setoguchi Tsutomu for confirmation or reassurance.
Still, as Oguri Cap's main partner, Shuta An closed his eyes and thought deeply. Her strength and condition in the Dream World fully supported taking a surprise approach. As he finalized his decision, the corner of his lips lifted unconsciously—completely unaware the expression was caught on camera and broadcasted.
"It seems Shuta-kun is confident about winning," the commentators quipped with amusement.
At the Kyoto Racecourse's jockey waiting room, Yutaka Take—watching the broadcast—made an expression of pure annoyance.
"What kind of weird tactic is this guy planning again…?"
"Then can Take-kun guess?" Masahiro Matsunaga grinned. "You're a genius too, aren't you?"
"I can't guess." Yutaka Take shook his head flatly. "His thought process is beyond my understanding."
"That sounds like Take-kun has a lot of respect for him," Matsunaga teased.
Before Yutaka Take could reply, he continued, "After all, strictly speaking, you owe Shuta-kun a huge favor."
"I'll definitely repay him," Yutaka Take muttered, his tone stiffening. "Even though it's… quite a heavy one."
Everyone in the waiting room understood perfectly well how heavy that favor was, so no one pushed further.
Only Matsunaga murmured in awe, "Shuta-kun voluntarily suggested that Meine Frisse—whom he was supposed to ride—withdraw from the Kikuka Sho, just to secure Super Creek's qualification. Honestly, that was shocking."
Yutaka Take lowered his head. Just yesterday, he'd even argued with his father, declaring,
"IF SUPER CREEK DOESN'T RUN THE KIKUKA SHO, THEN I WON'T EITHER."
And then, the next morning, he heard the unbelievable news—Shuta An himself had gone to persuade Meine Frisse's owner, Mr. Okada, to withdraw. Only the young Central "genius" himself knew how complicated his emotions were after confirming the rumor.
"I'll definitely repay that favor…" Yutaka Take tightened his fist.
In the paddock, with Assistant Ikee's steady support, Shuta An swung onto Oguri Cap's saddle with practiced ease.
Leaning down slightly, he murmured, "Ikee-kun, please tell Trainer Setoguchi that I might ride a bit conservatively today."
"Hm?"
Assistant Ikee blinked. He had no idea what tactics Shuta An and Setoguchi Tsutomu had discussed beforehand, so the unexpected message only earned a lifted eyebrow.
"Well—just tell him exactly what I said," Shuta An continued, offering nothing more as he nudged Oguri Cap forward toward the turf.
"Alright." Ikee pressed his lips together, then murmured, "Anyway, Shuta-kun, good luck. The opponents today are far stronger than the Autumn Tenno Sho and it's also Oguri's first 2400-meter turf race. Even if you lose, it wouldn't be strange."
"I don't want to lose. I don't want to give anyone a reason to revoke my position as her main partner."
Leaving those firm words behind, Shuta An tightened his legs against Oguri Cap's sides and guided her out of the paddock.
Once at the starting gate, he shut out the surrounding noise entirely. With the staff's help, Oguri Cap stepped inside without resistance, calm as always.
"She looks as calm as ever…I just hope she's not too calm and ends up slow out of the gate," Shuta An muttered under his breath. "But…even a slow start isn't fatal. As long as it's not a complete failure."
Of course, Oguri Cap couldn't hear his muttering. She simply stood quietly within the metal frame, waiting for the moment to run.
While Shuta An ignored his surroundings, the other jockeys most certainly did not ignore him—especially the international riders. Normally, a young jockey from rural Japan—someone who raced only on minor overseas circuits—would never be worth noticing.
But anyone who had properly prepared for this Japan Cup would know better than to overlook the rider in gate eight.
This year he carried a 29.5% winning rate. He had claimed the Autumn Tenno Sho. And most critically: he had partnered with Oguri Cap since her debut, forming a bond deeper than most jockeys could boast.
Those who had watched his racing closely—especially the elite riders paired with stars like Tony Bianca or Ellerslie Pride—understood something else. His riding technique was simply…on another level.
"One could even call it ahead of his age" said G.M.STEWART, Ellerslie Pride's partner, to the mare's Trainer.
Thus, many of the international jockeys had quietly reached a mutual understanding: They would not let Oguri Cap have an easy race.They intended to pressure Shuta An at every opportunity.
But Shuta An knew nothing of their silent schemes. What he did know—from the daytime race's bitter experience—was to remain vigilant of everyone around him.
The band finished their tune. Shuta An leaned forward sharply, ready to burst from the gate the moment it opened.
—Click!
The gate sprang open. Oguri Cap shot forward, and Shuta An rode with a few sharp pushes before easing his hands, letting her drift back deliberately at a measured, almost lazy speed.
In the stands, Trainer Setoguchi stiffened. Though he had received Shuta An's message through Assistant Ikee, the sight before him still made his eyes widen.
"He's going for a late-surge style? Can Oguri even do that?" His doubt knotted deeper. "This is her first time running this way, isn't it? Even if Oguri herself has excellent instincts—this is too risky."
He frowned harder.
"If we lose, explaining this to the owner will be—difficult."
But then he paused. "Shuta-kun surely understands that. And yet he still chose this…meaning he must have a plan."
Now that the race had begun, Setoguchi could only watch, powerless to intervene.
"I just hope he truly thought this through, and isn't being reckless."
Meanwhile, once they passed the first turn, all the foreign jockeys—except Tony Bianca's—noticed that the greatest perceived threat was no longer near the front but had slipped to the back.
"Switching to a late-surge?" Reid, Tony Bianca's jockey, narrowed his eyes. "Did he anticipate being targeted? Or is he playing it safe because it's his first time running 2400 meters?"
Either way, Reid dismissed the thought. To him, Shuta An had simply made himself easier to mark.
"And Tamamo Cross next to me seems to be marking him as well," Reid muttered. "Let's see how long a young jockey can hold his composure with two riders sitting on his back."
If roles were reversed, he knew he would panic—try to rush forward to escape the pressure. But after they entered the stretch on the opposite side of the stands, Shuta An suddenly urged Oguri Cap forward again, prompting her to accelerate. He didn't surge recklessly, but quietly and steadily began closing the gap between the back group and the back of the front pack.
"Moving up here?" Reit's lips twisted. "Can't hold back anymore?"
He didn't chase. To him, riding Oguri Cap into this rhythm meant she would inevitably run out of gas before the final straight. Tamamo Cross's jockey, Minai, came to a similar conclusion and frowned deeply.
"What's Shuta-kun doing? Is he too nervous because it's his first big G1 on this scale? Did he mess up Oguri's correct rhythm?"
But Shuta An ignored the thoughts of those behind him. He continued audaciously pressing Oguri Cap forward along the outermost lane, overtaking one horse after another. As they swept past Ellerslie Pride, Shuta An caught a glimpse of Stewart's contorting expression—an expression that gave him a small, satisfied curl of the lips.
"Is this guy insane?" Stewart muttered inwardly. "Going forward here…doesn't he fear burnout?"
Just then, Obey Your Master's jockey—McCarran—also followed Oguri Cap's movement and surged forward. If only one horse went, others might dismiss it as a moment of poor judgment. But now that a "follower" had appeared, the field's mindset shifted.
"Should I go too?" The thought spread through the front--running pack like wildfire. Events were unfolding much faster—and much more chaotically—than even Shuta An had anticipated.
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