(Good Evenings everyone ~ I have good news and bad news.
The good news is I have been promoted. My proposal was accepted and I was assigned to fully handle it. Most importantly, my salary was raised twice it is.
While the bad news, since I was assigned to FULLY HANDLE it, I might not have the time to update next week chapters. Even if I try to work around it; at most I could update half of the current chapters words.
So, if it is possible for me; MyDeRe and Rashorin chapters will be halved
if I don't have the time, I need to ask a leave for you guys. At most a week.
Thank youu~~)
Chapter 10. Bad News
In the evening, within that night's Dream World, Shuta An once again appeared at Nakayama Racecourse.
The main race of the day was still the 1800-meter turf, but this time it carried far more weight—it was the G3 Flora Stakes, a key race restricted to three-year-old fillies. Compared to the usual conditions, the field was sharper, and the stakes were clear.
The horse he would be riding belonged to Yoshida Katsumi, the second son of the Yoshida family.
Her name was Oak Tree.
She had previously secured two consecutive victories over 1800 meters on dirt, and this race marked her first attempt at switching to turf. From a purely competitive standpoint, this transition already revealed a great deal. If her ability had been strong enough on turf from the beginning, she would not have needed to rely on dirt races to break her maiden.
Even so, for Shuta An, the focus of this race was not entirely on the horse's result. More importantly, it was another opportunity to refine his understanding of Nakayama's 1800-meter turf layout—something he had been deliberately accumulating through repeated rides.
"There's no specific target for this race."
Before heading out, Oak Tree's trainer, Watanabe Sakae, spoke in a tone that was unusually straightforward.
"Mr. Yoshida's intention is simply to let Shuta-kun use this race to familiarize himself with the track."
For a moment, Shuta An was genuinely surprised.
The reason for his temporary stay in Mihono had already been made public, but strictly speaking, Yoshida Katsumi had no obligation to go this far. Rice Shower was not affiliated with Shadai, and there was no direct benefit for him in doing this.
And yet, he still chose to send his own horse—not for results, but to help Shuta An "scout the way."
"I understand."
Shuta An nodded slowly. His expression did not change much, but the meaning behind this gesture was not lost on him.
"I'll repay this someday."
The thought surfaced quietly, then settled, firmly remembered.
—
When Shuta An made his appearance, the atmosphere at the venue shifted immediately.
Cheers rose from the stands, layered with excitement that had not yet faded from the previous day. The commentator's voice followed, amplified with clear enthusiasm:
"Now entering—Shuta An! Yesterday, he piloted the tenth-favorite Happy Chateau to a stunning second-place finish in the Nikkei Sho! Can last year's champion jockey, partnering with Oak Tree today, finally secure his first graded race victory at Nakayama this year?!"
The sound of the crowd spread outward like a tide. For a brief moment, Shuta An allowed his gaze to lift toward the stands.
There were banners.
Support signs.
Clusters of fans clearly gathered under his name.
A faint tightening appeared at the corner of his lips.
"I should respond to that support—"
His hand moved almost instinctively, resting against Oak Tree's neck. The gesture was gentle, steady, more reassuring than commanding.
"But I can't push you too far."
His voice was low, almost inaudible beneath the surrounding noise.
"Let's just do what we can today."
—
In the stands, Iizuka Yoshitsugu stood together with Rice Shower's owner, both quietly observing the track.
Yesterday's race had brought them 2.6 million yen in prize money, a respectable sum by any measure. However, for Iizuka Yoshitsugu, that result held limited meaning. Compared to short-term gains, what truly mattered was whether Rice Shower could secure a place in the Satsuki Sho.
Happy Chateau had already entered a period of decline.
Within his stable, Rice Shower was the only remaining hope.
"Today, Shuta-kun is testing Nakayama's 1800 meters again," the owner said, his eyes fixed on the track below. "I wonder if he's preparing something specifically for Mihono Bourbon."
There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone more subdued.
"I know how strong Mihono Bourbon is. Even so, I can't completely give up the thought of beating him, even once, in the Spring Stakes."
Iizuka Yoshitsugu did not respond immediately. He had already conveyed Shuta An's assessment in earlier discussions, and the conclusion had been clear.
The Kikuka Sho lay in autumn, still more than half a year away.
Waiting that long for an uncertain outcome was not something most owners would accept.
"If nothing unexpected happens, this will be Shuta-kun's last ride with Rice Shower," the owner continued, voicing the concern directly. "Even if his ability is sufficient later, without a top-tier jockey—can he really defeat Mihono Bourbon?"
Iizuka Yoshitsugu exhaled quietly.
"Shuta-kun already has his Classic partner. With Shadai backing him, we simply can't compete for him."
There was resignation in his tone, but also clarity.
"If there's no alternative, I'll try to approach Okabe."
"But your connection with him isn't strong," the owner pointed out calmly. "If it comes to that, I can contact Matoba Koichi instead. He might be willing to take the entire Classic route."
Iizuka Yoshitsugu considered the suggestion carefully. Twelfth in last year's rankings meant that Matoba Koichi was no longer firmly in the top tier, but that also made negotiations more realistic.
"That may be possible." He inclined his head slightly. "Then I'll leave it to you."
—
On the track, Shuta An executed his plan with precision.
Since the purpose of this race was reconnaissance, he once again adopted an aggressive forward strategy. Rather than conserving energy, he deliberately applied pressure to the frontrunner from an early stage, forcing the pace upward.
Under the heavy track conditions, this decision carried clear intent.
The first 1000 meters were covered in 59.9 seconds—a demanding tempo for such conditions. The pressure disrupted the rhythm of the field, preventing the pack from settling into a comfortable pace and forcing multiple runners into inefficient energy expenditure.
However, Oak Tree's own limitations soon became evident.
As they entered the final straight, her stamina began to give way. The earlier pace, while tactically effective, had taken its toll. Even so, the advantage gained during the early stages allowed her to hold her position against the chasing group.
In the end, she secured third place.
—
After dismounting, Shuta An took a moment to arrange his thoughts.
The conclusion itself was clear.
Forcing a frontrunner to maintain a high pace on a heavy track at Nakayama was entirely feasible. The track did not excessively punish such tactics if executed correctly.
At the same time, the margin was equally clear.
A gap of three-quarters of a length.
If that distance had been closed, Oak Tree would have secured a place in the Oka Sho. The difference between success and failure, in this case, was not conceptual—it was purely a matter of execution and raw ability.
Shuta An did not dwell on it for long. He shook his head lightly and headed toward the underground passage.
When he saw Yoshida Katsumi, he spoke first.
"Sorry. We were just short of making the Oka Sho."
"It's fine," Yoshida Katsumi replied, though his expression did not match the words. "We weren't expecting much to begin with."
The response was off.
Shuta An noticed it immediately.
After handing the reins over, he stepped closer, his gaze sharpening slightly.
"Did something happen?"
Yoshida Katsumi hesitated, his lips tightening as if weighing how to speak.
"I… don't know how to explain it."
"Just say it directly."
There was no softness in Shuta An's tone now. A quiet tension had already formed beneath the surface. Given the timing, his thoughts had instinctively turned elsewhere.
"What happened?"
Yoshida Katsumi lowered his head.
"At Northern Conduct's stable—Trainer Ito noticed an issue with his gait. He was sent for examination."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"It was diagnosed as a bowed tendon."
The words settled heavily between them.
"He won't be able to compete in this year's Classics," he added. "He has to return to Hokkaido for long-term rest."
Shuta An fell silent.
For a brief moment, he said nothing, as if allowing the information to fully register. Then he exhaled quietly.
"I see." His response was calm, almost restrained. "With last year's results, I can still find a partner for the Classic races."
There was no attempt to assign blame, nor any visible frustration. The reality of the situation was accepted as it was.
"I'm truly sorry," Yoshida Katsumi said, still unable to raise his head. "This happened just before the Satsuki Sho. It disrupts your entire plan."
"It's not your responsibility." Shuta An shook his head. "This is just bad luck."
His tone remained steady, without fluctuation.
"I'll handle the rest myself. Don't dwell on it."
He paused briefly before continuing, his voice softening just slightly.
"We'll have plenty of opportunities to work together in the future."
Only then did Yoshida Katsumi nod, more firmly this time.
"…Understood."
—
Waking up the next day, Shuta An found his mood difficult to settle.
A Classic partner being injured at this stage—right as the season was about to unfold—meant that every prior arrangement, every calculated step, had been rendered meaningless overnight. It was not something that could simply be dismissed with reason alone. Even if he understood that no one was at fault, the fact remained that his plans had collapsed without warning.
Still, there was no value in dwelling on it.
In the Dream World, he had already instructed his agent to release the news that he would be changing ride for the Classics. What followed was simply a matter of observation—identifying which stables had yet to finalize their Classic allocations, and which opportunities remained viable.
After breakfast, he made his decision.
"Let's continue with the Dubai World Cup Race Day analysis."
Work, at the very least, provided structure. Entering his study, Shuta An quickly allowed his thoughts to settle into a familiar analytical rhythm.
"For the Dubai Sheema Classic, focusing solely on overseas opponents won't be sufficient."
Leaning slightly back in his chair, he aligned the problem in his mind with practiced clarity.
"I need to prepare a complete evaluation of Special Week for El Condor Pasa—and likewise, an evaluation of El Condor Pasa for Special Week."
A faint exhale escaped him, carrying a trace of dry resignation.
"This is essentially the same situation as last year's Arima Kinen."
Even so, that familiarity worked in his favor. Having already handled a comparable scenario, the structure of the analysis came naturally.
"The primary threat remains Nedawi from England."
His tone stabilized as his thoughts transitioned into a more structured assessment.
"She won the St. Leger Stakes, the final leg of the British Triple Crown, which confirms her endurance over long distances. Based on her recent training data, adapting to Meydan's surface conditions should not pose a significant issue."
He paused briefly—not out of hesitation, but to isolate the next variable.
"However, she lacks exposure to genuinely fast-paced races."
His gaze narrowed slightly as he reached a quiet conclusion.
"If the tempo is pushed beyond her accustomed range, there is a high probability that her performance will destabilize."
With that, he shifted focus.
"As for Special Week and El Condor Pasa—"
His voice lowered, not out of uncertainty, but because the conclusion required no emphasis.
"pace will not determine the outcome for them."
"The decisive factor will be each other."
There was nothing more to add. At that level, complexity reduced itself naturally.
For a brief moment, a thought surfaced—half analytical, half reflective.
"Two elite middle-to-long distance runners emerging within the same generation—"
A slight pause followed before the conclusion settled.
"It's fortunate that Dober is taking the Triple Tiara route."
With that, any lingering consideration of entering Mejiro Dober into the Japan Cup quietly disappeared. Even if Special Week failed to defeat El Condor Pasa, she would still stand as a leading contender for that race.
(You really should do that. Next year is Spe's time to defend Japan Cup as the new Japan's General)
As for El Condor Pasa, Shuta An recalled Tojo Hana's casual remark from several days prior—her primary target for the autumn season was the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
"Ambitious."
The word formed silently.
"If Oguri had stronger adaptability to Longchamp's turf, I might have considered letting her attempt it once."
But that was merely hypothetical. At present, the one he placed that possibility upon—was Tokai Teio.
It was not based on concrete evidence, but on a subtle, difficult-to-quantify intuition.
"She may be able to handle Longchamp."
The thought lingered briefly before narrowing into a practical requirement.
"If there's an opportunity, I need to confirm her performance on heavy ground first."
—
That evening, as usual, Shuta An entered the Dream World while holding Oguri in his arms. However, unlike usual, his agent contacted him almost immediately.
"What is it?" he asked, his brows drawing together slightly. "Is there already movement regarding a Classic riding offer?"
"There is," the agent replied. "Three stables have reached out so far. Although one of them has yet to secure a Classic entry."
Shuta An's expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
"Inviting me without even securing qualification?" His tone flattened. "How am I supposed to accept something like that?"
"If it happens again, you can refuse it directly."
"But this one couldn't be refused so easily," the agent countered. "The invitation came from Rice Shower's stable. You haven't forgotten that you'll be partnering with her in the Spring Stakes this weekend, have you?"
"Of course not." The tension in Shuta An's voice eased slightly. "I just didn't expect them to act this quickly."
A brief pause followed as he considered the implication.
"Should I attribute that to their awareness, or your efficiency?"
"The former," the agent replied calmly. "Trainer Iizuka Yoshitsugu contacted me last night. You had already gone to rest, so I chose not to disturb you."
"I see."
Shuta An did not respond immediately.
"Let's finish the Spring Stakes first," he said at last, his tone measured. "There's no need to decide prematurely."
"Understood. As for the other two—one is StantMan, who placed second in the Yayoi Sho. Trainer Watanabe Sakae mentioned that if you agree, he can fully persuade the owner to change jockeys."
"Forget it."
The refusal came without hesitation.
"If I remember correctly, StantMan already secured his Satsuki Sho ticket under Koichi Tsunoda. His ceiling is limited, but more importantly, there's no need to take that opportunity away from him."
"The last one is Reward Garcon, trained by Yuuji Nohira."
That name required no introduction.
Shuta An was well aware of it—both the achievements of the past, and the current state of decline.
"As a trainer, his stable's performance has already fallen significantly," he said calmly. "Maintaining even a position within the top hundred is difficult now."
A brief silence followed.
"In that case, the choice is clear." There was no longer any need for consideration. "I'll ride with Rice Shower."
"Understood. I'll decline the other two," the agent replied. "You're unusually decisive."
"If I've already decided to refuse, then delaying only creates problems," Shuta An said evenly. "They need time to find another jockey. There's no reason to keep them waiting."
The agent fell silent for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
"If more people thought like that, this job would be much easier."
Shuta An gave a faint, noncommittal laugh, offering no further comment.
—
At Mihono Training Center, Toyama Tameo repeatedly replayed footage of Shuta An's recent rides—the Flora Stake, the Nakayama Kinen—his attention fixed on the smallest details.
"This is deliberate," he murmured. "He's testing tactical patterns for the Spring Stakes."
Pausing the footage, his gaze sharpened slightly.
"But the horse's base ability is average. As it stands, it shouldn't pose a decisive threat to Mihono Bourbon."
Even so, he had no intention of underestimating the situation.
"Kojima." He spoke without turning. "Watch carefully."
Behind him, Kojima Sadahiro straightened instinctively.
"If you want to secure your position—"
Toyama Tameo resumed playback, his voice steady but carrying unmistakable weight.
"then you win."
There was no need for further explanation.
"I trust you understand that."
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