Chapter 107. Pre-Race Thoughts
The day after the draw ceremony brought the first race day of the Breeders' Cup Series.
Six races were on the card, four of them G1s, though as far as Shuta An was concerned, none had anything to do with him, Mejiro Dober, or the juniors back at Sadalsuud. If anything caught his attention, it was Midday, the winner of the Filly & Mare Turf — and even watching her run, he came away unconvinced she was any match for Dober.
"I get the feeling Dober could mark her step for step and still have room to pull away in the final turn." He said as much without much hesitation.
"Sir Suers wouldn't take kindly to hearing you rate Midday like that." Secretariat's tone carried a teasing edge. "He's been eager to send his Uma Musume across for the Breeders' Cup these last few years."
"My own team has plans to send horses over the next few years too." Shuta An paused. "There's one on my roster who hasn't even debuted yet. I'd like to see her run a Classic Race here eventually."
Secretariat caught the implication immediately and arched an eyebrow.
"Confident about that?"
"Not especially — but I think dirt suits her better than turf." He shrugged. "Besides, I've already taken a Classic Race in Europe, and both the Triple Crown and Triple Tiara in Japan. One American Classic Race would round things out nicely."
"The British would tell you the French Classic hardly counts as Europe's finest."
Secretariat let a mock London accent slip into her voice.
"No one's asking what they think. Dober's already beaten them twice running at the Yorkshire Oaks. If she takes it again next year—"
He let the sentence trail off — Secretariat could picture well enough how that would land across the Channel.
"That really would be humiliating for them."
She shook her head slowly, though privately, she found herself hoping for exactly that — a third straight Yorkshire Oaks loss, and the British establishment coming apart at the seams over it.
Since tomorrow was the Breeders' Cup Turf, Dober didn't return to Laurel Way 1460 with Shuta An that night. Instead, she packed her bag and headed to the isolation lounge at Santa Anita for the night before the race.
When Shuta An got back to the house, the guest room light was still on — clearly Ramonu had shut herself in and had no plans of coming out. Understanding exactly what that meant, he chose not to knock. He returned to his own room instead, showered, and turned in early.
Dober was racing tomorrow, and as her Trainer, he'd be standing in the restricted trackside zone for the entirety of it.
Shame Baffert doesn't have anyone entered in the Turf this year.
The thought drifted through his mind as he closed his eyes.
I've got the Breeders' Cup in the Dream World tomorrow night too. Hoping for something decent there.
If he'd ranked his odds honestly, it would've gone: Dober in the real world, well ahead of everyone; then Hokuto Vega in the Dream World; then Fraise; then, trailing distantly, Arcangues.
He genuinely couldn't fathom why André Fabre had entered Arcangues in the Classic at all. A European turf G1 mare, thrown onto dirt — she looked entirely out of her depth there. Had he not already committed to the ride early on, Shuta An would sooner have passed on anything that dragged his overall win rate down like that.
Well — even without Arcangues, I probably wouldn't have picked up another Classic mount anyway. Might as well just take in the atmosphere of America's biggest race day of the year.
That was the best comfort he could offer himself.
That night in the Dream World, though it wasn't a Breeders' Cup race day, Shuta An still picked up two mounts — enough to get a proper feel for how Santa Anita's turf was riding at the moment.
Tomorrow's simple enough — we need to be aggressive with positioning from the start, he concluded.
As for the turf course itself, having watched today's real-world races closely, he and Dober had already settled on their approach together: a senko tactic, breaking clear of the pack through the middle stretch.
It suited her habits perfectly, and it matched the layout and condition of Santa Anita's turf course better than any alternative.
The final straight's too short to work with — we need to already be at the front coming out of the turn, and this course doesn't reward anyone who tries to hold back.
Given the strength of the field, breaking away early through the middle section is clearly the right call.
Wait until the final straight, and Shuta An could already picture it — tiring rivals bunching up and boxing Dober in with nowhere to go. If that happened, he wouldn't be able to fault Dober for failing to break free in time. The fault would sit squarely with him, for not warning her beforehand to watch for exactly that and clear those fading rivals earlier.
—
The next morning, Shuta was likely the second-to-last person awake at Laurel Way 1460. After washing up, he headed to the dining room, where breakfast was once again buttered toast with potato salad and apple pie.
"Miss Ramonu hasn't come down yet?" he asked casually, on his way out.
"Not yet," the chef answered, too busy to look up.
"I see~" He returned to the living room, pulled out his phone, and fired off a Line message to Ramonu.
Finished breakfast on my end. When are you heading down? We can go to Santa Anita together once you've eaten.
On my way!
The message showed as read almost instantly, her reply arriving just as fast.
Dober never bothered avoiding me while she was still here — why start now that she's off at Santa Anita? She's not that petty.
Shuta An shook his head, unable to make sense of it.
Turnout at Santa Anita was estimated at over sixty thousand for the day. By the time Shuta An and Ramonu arrived, the grounds were already a solid wall of people.
"If we hadn't waited around for you, we wouldn't be fighting through this crowd right now."
He couldn't resist the complaint.
The Triple Tiara champion had no real defense for that, and could only mutter,
"We've got a box waiting either way — no need to rush, right?"
The Breeders' Cup Turf sat seventh on the card. Once the first six races had run their course, Dober and the rest of the field emerged from the underground passage, filing out toward the display area for the pre-race parade.
Shuta An and Mejiro Ramonu were already seated in the stands beside it, waiting.
"Dober's looking great." He was the first to speak. "You can tell just by glancing around — her mental state's the steadiest of anyone out there."
"Some of the others look a bit off, actually." Ramonu's brow creased, her attention elsewhere entirely. "Nerves, maybe?"
Shuta An's gaze swept the field, picking out the ones she meant. His first thought went straight to something troubling —
Has whatever Baffert's using started spreading to other camps — but a closer look put that fear to rest.
No—that's just stage fright.
It caught him off guard. Uma Musume out of West Coast Tracen Academy weren't supposed to be the type prone to that kind of nerves, at least not in his experience.
Still — works in Dober's favor either way.
Weak opponents were always preferable to sharp ones, no matter the reason behind it.
This was a mixed field today, and a Breeders' Cup Turf field at that. Had Secretariat not personally vouched for how mediocre this year's lineup actually was, Shuta An's nerves right now would likely have rivaled what he'd felt heading into Tokai Teio's Kikuka Sho.
"In that case, Dober really has no excuse not to win comfortably today." Ramonu shook her head. "Some of the older relatives back home have muttered that she just gets lucky, picking races she can win."
"If it's really just luck, why don't the other Uma Musume enter these same races too?"
Shuta An came to his lover's defense without hesitation.
"Don't tell me they wouldn't want the same luck."
"Who knows what goes through their heads."
Ramonu had long since lost the fervor for racing she'd carried during her own Twinkle Series days.
Dober was fifth up on the display stage. She dipped into a small bow, straightened, and turned toward the stands with a bright smile and a wave aimed directly at Shuta An and Ramonu.
"MEJIRO DOBER — TWO-TIME YORKSHIRE OAKS CHAMPION, JAPAN'S UNDEFEATED TRIPLE TIARA WINNER, DOUBLE-DIGIT G1 VICTORIES TO HER NAME. WITHOUT QUESTION, THE BIGGEST FAVORITE HEADING INTO TODAY'S TURF. EVERY UMA MUSUME ON THIS TRACK HAS TO THINK SERIOUSLY ABOUT HOW TO COUNTER HER," the commentator announced.
"What's that supposed to mean?" A flash of irritation crossed Ramonu's face. "Why encourage the whole field to gang up on Dober during the parade, of all things?"
"Out of everyone entered this year, Dober included, only three aren't US-registered. Borgia and Majorien aren't exactly top-tier threats, so naturally the local horses are going to zero in on Dober — that's just how it goes."
Shuta An didn't see much reason to take offense at it.
"Besides, even if they all coordinated against her at once — would that actually be enough to stop her?" He shrugged. "They're overthinking this. It's not like it's the first time Dober's had to deal with a field ganging up on her."
"Sounds like Shuta-kun's brimming with confidence today." Ramonu glanced sideways at him.
"Counting the Hong Kong Cup after this, I'd put it at ninety percent." His tone left no room for doubt.
"If she wins every single one—"
Ramonu started running the math on how many G1 titles that would add up to, then caught herself, shaking her head with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Doesn't even matter — she's already the best record the Mejiro family's ever produced."
Shuta An offered a gentle correction. "Dober and the Mejiro family have already..."
"Ah, right, my mistake — I forgot." Ramonu waved a hand quickly, catching his meaning at once.
Once she'd stepped off the display stand, Dober didn't linger below it. Instead, she walked straight toward the course itself. She'd already adapted to Santa Anita's turf plenty of times over the past stretch, but today she'd only observed the track secondhand, watching the first few races unfold from a distance. To really understand where things stood, she needed to feel it beneath her own feet.
The moment she took her first step onto the course, her brows shot up in surprise.
"Drier — and faster — than I expected."
She'd already anticipated a fast surface today, judging by the pace and finish times of the earlier turf races. But feeling it firsthand told her something more specific: the ground beneath her felt remarkably close to Tokyo Racecourse.
This is the turf that suits me best. She was certain of it.
Near the starting gate, Dober began her pre-race warm-up, working through her routine while her eyes drifted across the rest of the field.
Ann told me there's no one here stronger than me. Looking at this lineup—even the current Teio could probably handle this field. Hehehe~~
The thought settled something loose and anxious in her chest.
If I'd gone with the Diana Stakes back then, would I have missed a shot like this one entirely?
Since the Turf Classic's founding, only Pebbles had ever managed to win it while also holding a Triple Tiara title. If Dober won today, she'd be the second.
I'll run it the way Ann laid out. She murmured the plan to herself. Make my move against this field in the final bend.
Having drawn Gate 5, Dober was the third to load into the starting gate. That left her ample time to settle her nerves and sharpen her focus before the start — though first, she glanced left and right, taking stock of who'd be breaking alongside her.
Gate 4 — Dance Design. Won the Irish Oaks three years back, though she re-registered stateside last year, East Coast circuit. Secretariat-senpai mentioned she moved there chasing better purses.
Gate 6 — Chief Bearhart. Canadian, and she's owned this year's Canadian Twinkle Series. A real threat—I've raced up there myself, so I know Woodbine's turf — a touch slower than what we've got here at Santa Anita today. Barring surprises, our tactics should line up the same.
Chief Bearhart — she's starting to my right, which makes it that much easier for me to claim position early.
Dober reeled her thoughts back in, settling herself. Get a clean break, and I can build a real advantage right from the gate.