Chapter 54. Teio Descends Upon the Twinkle Series
Today's only Maiden Race at Sapporo Racecourse was scheduled for 12:40 PM, and because of that, Shuta An had already arranged for everyone to have lunch earlier than usual. Around eleven o'clock, he led the group out, making sure there would be no rush or distraction later. The timing was deliberate—enough to keep everyone relaxed, but not so late that it would interfere with the pre-race atmosphere that was gradually building across the racecourse.
By the time they returned to the Box for the relevant parties, the air inside had already begun to change. The earlier casual conversations had faded, replaced by a quiet anticipation that settled naturally over the group. The sounds from outside, the distant commentary, and the occasional murmur from the stands all seemed to converge into a subtle reminder that the main event of their day was approaching.
Shuta An glanced at the clock.
12:20 PM.
Without saying anything further, he reached for two bottles of water, casually twisting one open before picking both up and heading toward the exit.
None of the Uma Musume from Team Sadalsuud reacted to his departure. To them, this was entirely expected behavior, something so natural that it did not require acknowledgment.
However, for Air Groove and Mejiro McQueen, who were not accustomed to this routine, there was a brief moment of confusion, their expressions revealing their thoughts without needing words.
Mejiro Dober noticed immediately.
"No matter who is racing," she said calmly, her tone steady as she turned slightly toward them, "Trainer will always be at the trackside."
She allowed the explanation to settle before continuing.
"Watching from the Box is more comfortable, but the Uma Musume on the track can't see him from here. If he stands at the trackside, they can."
There was no emphasis in her voice, no attempt to dramatize it. It was simply a statement of fact.
"It's an unwritten rule in our team."
Air Groove's expression softened as she understood, and she gave a small nod, her earlier confusion turning into quiet acceptance.
"I see—I was wondering why he left alone," she admitted, a faint trace of embarrassment appearing as she lowered her gaze slightly. "I overthought it."
"It's normal," Kurofune said casually, waving her hand as if brushing away the concern. "But if there's no reason to be outside, Trainer would definitely prefer staying somewhere more comfortable."
Her words were light, but not inaccurate. Even in Hokkaido, where the climate was milder than on Honshu, the temperature in Sapporo had already reached thirty degrees that day. Standing under the sun for an extended period was far from pleasant, even if it was not unbearable.
—
When Shuta An reached the grandstand, the warmth of the day became more apparent. It wasn't oppressive, but it lingered just enough to make the air feel heavier than it had earlier in the morning. He found a suitable position near the track, one that gave him a clear view without being too crowded, and settled there quietly, the two bottles of water still in his hands.
As he scanned the surroundings, his gaze paused briefly on a familiar figure not too far away.
It took him a moment to recall where he had seen her before, but the memory surfaced soon enough.
It was an Uma Musume he had encountered once while walking through Tomakomai with his team. Their interaction had been brief, but pleasant enough to leave an impression.
"She hasn't undergone full training—and she's not from Central Tracen," he concluded silently after a short moment of recollection.
There was no reason to think further about it. After confirming her identity, he simply shifted his gaze away, letting the thought pass.
"There probably won't be any interaction in the future," he decided.
And with that, his attention returned fully to the track.
—
The Maiden Race had only five participants, making it a relatively small field. Tokai Teio had drawn gate number five—the outermost position—but under these circumstances, the disadvantage was negligible. With so few runners, positioning would depend far more on execution than on draw.
Inside the starting gate, Tokai Teio stood calmly, her posture upright, her gaze fixed forward.
"If I can't win convincingly against opponents like this," she thought, her mind clear and unwavering, "then I have no right to stand on the stage of the Classic Triple Crown."
There was no hesitation in her resolve.
"I won't hold back. This is the beginning of my legend, and it deserves a brilliant opening."
She leaned forward slightly, adjusting her center of gravity, her body naturally settling into a ready stance.
At that moment, the gate released with a sharp, mechanical sound.
And the race began.
—
As the turf of Sapporo Racecourse unfolded before her, Tokai Teio felt a distinct difference from anything she had experienced before. She had trained on countless tracks—Central Tracen's facilities, private training grounds, even the track at her Trainer's residence overseas—but none of those experiences carried the same weight as this moment.
It was not the turf itself that was different.
It was the meaning behind it.
This was not training.
This was a race.
A stage where there were no second chances, no opportunities to correct mistakes after the fact. Every decision, every movement, would lead directly to the result.
That realization sharpened her senses instantly, and with it came a surge of excitement that coursed through her entire body.
Her blood seemed to heat, her focus narrowing as she entered the race fully.
—
The distance from the starting gate to the first turn was only two hundred meters. By the time Tokai Teio had fully stabilized her thoughts, the field had already begun to curve into the bend.
She found herself in third position.
Keiwan Flag had taken the lead, maintaining a gap of just over one horse length ahead of Kikuno Minstrel. The distance was not large, but it was enough to establish a clear front.
Tokai Teio followed closely, positioned half a length behind Kikuno Minstrel, her movement smooth and controlled as she settled into the rhythm of the leading group.
Behind them, Color Guard had already fallen two lengths back, but her posture showed no urgency. From her perspective, the pace being set at the front appeared faster than expected.
"If this continues," she thought, her gaze fixed ahead, "Tokai Teio will consume too much stamina."
There had been no discussion before the race, no coordinated strategy among the participants. And yet, there was an unspoken understanding shared among them.
Their greatest opponent was not each other.
It was Tokai Teio.
Without needing to communicate, they had all reached the same conclusion—to disrupt her rhythm if possible, to prevent her from running the race entirely on her own terms.
From the grandstand, Shuta An observed quietly.
"It doesn't feel excessively fast," he murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed the movements of the leading group.
And yet, as his gaze shifted toward the large screen, he noticed something that contradicted that initial impression.
Kikuno Minstrel was already struggling.
Her expression was tense, her breathing visibly strained, sweat beginning to form as she forced herself to maintain the pace set by Keiwan Flag.
"She's already at her limit," Shuta An concluded calmly.
Her ability was not sufficient to sustain this rhythm. Even without interference, she would soon drop out of contention.
"She's no longer a factor," he thought, his focus moving past her.
What mattered now was not the immediate formation, but the pace itself. As the race progressed, the field approached the 1000-meter mark, and soon after, the time appeared on the screen.
0:59.7.
Shuta An's eyes sharpened slightly at the number.
"A fast pace for Sapporo," he acknowledged, a faint sense of approval settling in.
This was exactly the kind of scenario he had hoped for—not because it made the race easier, but because it created a meaningful test.
At the same time, Kikuno Minstrel had already begun to fall behind, her position collapsing as Tokai Teio moved naturally into second place.
From within the race, Tokai Teio had already perceived the shift.
"The pace is fast," she thought, the information registering clearly in her mind.
But instead of reacting immediately, she directed her attention inward.
Her breathing remained steady.
Her stride was consistent.
Her body showed no signs of strain.
"I can handle this."
The conclusion formed naturally, without hesitation and because of that, she made no adjustment to her pace. To her, altering her rhythm unnecessarily would only create additional strain.
"Changing pace also consumes stamina," she understood instinctively.
And so, she maintained her current speed, her movements smooth and controlled as she continued to follow the leader, her focus unwavering as the race entered its next phase.
Instant, but it carried clear weight.
In exchange, Tokai Teio gave up the benefit of drafting behind her opponent. The slipstream advantage, though not decisive, could still have provided a marginal reduction in energy consumption.
But to her, the comparison was simple.
A clear path to accelerate—Or a minor gain in efficiency.
There was no need to hesitate.
—
From the stands, Shuta An watched quietly, his gaze fixed on the subtle shift in her positioning.
"Her judgment speed is fast," he murmured under his breath.
This was not something that could be fully displayed in training. Only in an actual race, where variables constantly changed and decisions had to be made in fractions of a second, could this kind of instinct truly emerge.
"An all-around genius—" he thought, the corners of his lips lifting faintly.
And yet, even as he acknowledged her brilliance, his thoughts did not remain solely in the present.
Tokai Teio's long-distance adaptability—
That remained a concern.
For the Kikuka Sho, and even further into her career, careful planning would be essential. Certain races, no matter how prestigious, would have to be avoided if they played directly into her weaknesses.
Shuta An had no interest in allowing the Uma Musume he trained to engage in battles where the odds were inherently tilted against them.
Bravery alone was not a strategy.
And for someone like Tokai Teio, who stood on the path toward becoming an Undefeated Triple Crown, the cost of a single defeat extended far beyond the result itself.
Public expectations.
Media pressure.
The elevation of whoever managed to defeat her.
All of these consequences would follow.
"Even if people say she avoided certain races…" he thought calmly, "as long as she continues to win, those criticisms are nothing more than noise."
He had seen similar situations before.
A single loss, even after achieving greatness, could shift the narrative entirely.
"That won't happen to Teio," he decided.
—
Back on the track, the moment to act arrived.
Just as they exited the final turn, Tokai Teio closed the remaining gap with ease, her stride lengthening naturally as she drew alongside Keiwan Flag.
There was no abrupt burst.
No forced acceleration.
Only a smooth, overwhelming increase in speed that made the transition appear effortless.
"Tokai Teio is moving up—she's overtaking!" the commentator's voice rang out, carrying both excitement and inevitability.
Keiwan Flag noticed it immediately.
A brief glance to her left was enough.
Tokai Teio's speed was clearly superior.
Within that single moment of observation, their positions had already reversed. The space that had once separated them disappeared, replaced by a decisive shift in control.
Tokai Teio moved into the lead.
Keiwan Flag, unwilling to concede, attempted to respond. Her legs pushed harder, her stride frequency increasing in an effort to match the sudden change.
But the effort did not translate into results.
The response she intended—never fully materialized.
In contrast, Tokai Teio's movement became even more fluid.
Having lowered her center of gravity slightly, she felt a distinct sense of ease, as though the previous portion of the race had merely served to prepare her body. The first sixteen hundred meters no longer felt like a test, but rather a gradual warm-up leading to this very moment.
Now, everything aligned.
Her breathing.
Her stride.
Her rhythm.
Everything had settled into its optimal state.
—
From the stands, Shuta An tightened his grip on the water bottle in his hand.
"Go," he called out, his voice cutting through the surrounding noise. "Teio—go forward. Shake them off."
The sound of the crowd, the cheers, the overlapping voices—everything blended together, yet somehow, the intent behind his words seemed to reach her.
In the next instant, Tokai Teio's speed rose again.
It was not a drastic change, but a clear escalation—enough to widen the gap decisively.
Keiwan Flag fell behind by one full length almost immediately.
Behind them, the remaining runners began their own accelerations, each attempting to respond to the unfolding situation. However, from Shuta An's perspective, the difference was unmistakable.
Compared to Tokai Teio's movement, the others appeared slower.
Not objectively slow—but relatively so.
Their efforts lacked the same sharpness, the same clarity of execution.
"Unfortunate," Shuta An murmured softly.
To encounter Tokai Teio in a debut race without having reached peak condition—there was an element of misfortune in that alone.
—
With one hundred meters remaining, the gap had expanded dramatically.
Tokai Teio led by approximately six lengths over Color Guard in second place.
The commentator's voice rose with excitement as the margin became undeniable.
"She's pulling away—seven lengths, eight lengths—Tokai Teio is unstoppable!"
Shuta An clicked his tongue lightly, though there was no real dissatisfaction in the sound.
"She's aiming for ten," he thought.
For a debut race, such a margin would not only secure victory—it would establish reputation.
Expectation alone was not enough.
Only performance could transform anticipation into certainty.
"With this race…" he reflected, his gaze never leaving the track, "her popularity will solidify."
There were still races ahead this year, but their purpose would differ. The foundation had been laid. From here onward, it would be a matter of refinement—polishing her abilities, consolidating her strengths, and preparing for the stage that truly mattered.
"The Satsuki Sho," he thought quietly.
Whether it would be her fourth race or her fifth—
It did not matter.
As long as she won it.
That alone would be enough to etch her name into history as the fastest to achieve it. Such records might not carry intrinsic value in isolation, but for Shuta An, they served a more practical purpose.
Reducing wear.
Preserving longevity.
Tokai Teio's legs were not indestructible. And he had no intention of repeating past mistakes.
"The Classic Triple Crown only comes once," he thought. "Miss it, and there's no second chance."
In that sense—it was harsher than any examination.
—
As Tokai Teio approached the finish line, her head turned slightly toward the stands.
Her gaze found him.
Even in the midst of the race, even at full speed, she recognized him instantly.
And as she crossed the line, she lifted her hand and waved.
The gesture was light.
Relaxed. Almost casual.
As though the result had never been in doubt.
Shuta An watched without reacting outwardly, though his thoughts remained clear.
"A margin like this—a little looseness is acceptable."
There was no need to criticize her for that. This was, after all, only her debut. When the stakes rose—so would her focus.
—
"The long-awaited prodigy from Team Sadalsuud has delivered!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion. "Such dominance in a debut race—it leaves no doubt about her potential for next year's Classic season!"
"Tokai Teio has arrived. With this performance alone, she may very well become a presence worthy of her name—a true Teio of the Twinkle Series."
Shuta An listened quietly, his gaze still fixed on Tokai Teio as she acknowledged the crowd.
"She will surpass even that," he thought.
Not just a Teio—
But one who stood beyond expectations.
One who would redefine what that title meant.
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