Chapter 13. Comparison of Rice Shower and Tokai Teio
After the gate draw results were finalized, the atmosphere in the venue gradually loosened, and the participants began to disperse, each preparing to return to their hotels and rest ahead of the race.
This time, Shuta An, Silence Suzuka, Tojo Hana, and El Condor Pasa happened to share the same car.
Tojo Hana was the first to break the silence, her tone carrying a trace of approval. "Suzuka's draw is excellent. Gate one means you can break cleanly and go straight to the front. At that point, there's no need to overcomplicate things—the race can be left to instinct."
Silence Suzuka, however, did not immediately agree with that assessment. She turned slightly toward Shuta An, her voice calm but firm. "Even so, I still want to follow the Trainer's plan. Now that the gate is confirmed, I'll wait for your tactical arrangement."
Shuta An smiled faintly at that, reaching out to gently rub her head. "With this field, there's no need for anything overly elaborate. As long as you can establish a comfortable, fast rhythm at the front, the race will naturally fall into your control. If that happens, the result will take care of itself."
Tojo Hana watched the two of them interact and let out a quiet sigh, choosing not to comment further.
Beside her, El Condor Pasa leaned back slightly, her gaze sharp as she suddenly shifted the topic. "Then tell me this, Shuta-Trainer—between me and Spe-chan, who do you think has the better chance?"
There was no pause in his response.
"Miss El Condor Pasa."
His tone was steady, devoid of flattery. "At last year's Japan Cup, you already demonstrated that your ability is above Special Week's. And on top of that, Meydan Racecourse favors aggressive runners. In that regard, you hold the advantage."
A satisfied smile spread across El Condor Pasa's face, her confidence visibly lifting. "Heh… hearing that from you makes me even more certain."
Silence Suzuka, however, remained quiet for a moment. Her relationship with Special Week naturally pulled her attention in the opposite direction, and after a brief hesitation, she spoke in a lower voice.
"Then…what about Spe-chan?"
Shuta An didn't answer immediately this time. He leaned back slightly, thinking through the variables—pace structure, field behavior, potential disruptions. Only when the outline had fully formed did he speak.
"Around thirty percent."
By then, the outline of the Burj Khalifa Hotel had already come into view outside the window.
"There's still a scenario where the pace becomes excessively fast. If that happens, the race could shift in favor of late closers."
Before Silence Suzuka could respond, El Condor Pasa cut in with a confident tilt of her chin. "Then I'll make sure it doesn't turn into that kind of race."
Tojo Hana immediately shook her head, her tone firm enough to override that impulse. "That's not how it works. You can't control how the others run, and the pace won't adjust itself to your intentions. What you need is adaptability—if the race demands it, you change your approach. With your ability, even if you're forced into a hold-up position, you can still win."
El Condor Pasa blinked, then nodded, her confidence reinforced rather than shaken. "Mhm!"
—
After returning to the hotel, Shuta An escorted Silence Suzuka back to her room before leaving.
At the doorway, she turned around, her evening dress swaying slightly as she met his gaze. "There are still three days left. I'll make sure I'm in perfect condition."
"I know you will."
Shuta An pulled her into a brief embrace, his voice low but resolute. "This is your final year in the Twinkle Series. We'll start it properly."
"That's only natural."
There was no hesitation in her reply. Compared to before, the certainty in her tone had deepened into something far more solid—something that no longer wavered.
Footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor.
Reluctantly, Shuta An released her and stepped back, the smile on his face returning with practiced ease. "The day after tomorrow, I'll go over the detailed tactics with you."
"Mhm."
She nodded, watching him for a moment longer before stepping inside.
A passing Uma Musume cast them a brief glance before continuing on, leaving the corridor quiet once more.
—
Back in his own room, Shuta An took a shower, then went to bed without delay.
When he opened his eyes again, he was already in the Dream World.
The familiar environment of Mihono Training Center came into view, and not long after, he found himself seated in front of Rice Shower's stall, idly feeding her carrots and oats while passing the time.
"Tomorrow is the draw," Iizuka Yoshitsugu said as he watched the scene, his tone thoughtful. "Is there any gate you're hoping for?"
Shuta An paused, considering the question more seriously than it seemed to require.
"Not particularly. Rice Shower can adapt to both Senko and Sashi tactics," he replied after a moment. "If I had to choose, then drawing close to Mihono Bourbon would be ideal. It would make it easier to track Kojima Sadahiro directly."
"The priority is still securing a ticket for the Satsuki Sho," he continued, his tone steady. "Without that, everything else is meaningless. So even if I do mark him, I won't push too aggressively this time."
Iizuka Yoshitsugu nodded immediately, understanding the implication. "You're saving that pressure for when it matters most."
"Exactly."
Shuta An didn't deny it.
"Rice Shower hasn't fully matured yet. Even at 2400 meters in the Japanese Derby—which should be closer to his optimal range—his chances against Mihono Bourbon aren't high."
He spoke plainly, without embellishment.
"Tokai Teio could compensate for incomplete development with raw talent. Rice Shower doesn't have that margin. Unless Kojima makes a catastrophic mistake, the Derby is essentially decided."
The image of Mihono Bourbon's overwhelming physical development flashed briefly through his mind, enough to make his expression tighten almost imperceptibly.
"Then we can only wait for the Kikuka Sho."
Iizuka Yoshitsugu let out a quiet sigh, the helplessness in his voice impossible to hide. "I trust your judgment."
"For now, there's no need to think that far ahead," Shuta An replied, shifting the focus deliberately. "Our immediate goal is still the Kikuka Sho. Everything else comes after."
Rice Shower let out a soft neigh, as if in agreement.
"Easy to say."
Iizuka Yoshitsugu pursed his lips, his thoughts clearly extending beyond the current season. "If we can win the Kikuka Sho, then I'd hope we can take a G1 afterward as well. Otherwise…he may have to keep running longer than he should."
Shuta An understood exactly what he meant.
But he didn't give a direct answer.
His primary mount among the older horses was already decided—Tokai Teio. That fact alone made any promise here irresponsible.
Instead, he offered a different path.
"If it's a matter of breeding opportunities, I can speak to Shadai on your behalf."
"Shadai…"
Iizuka Yoshitsugu hesitated, the doubt clear in his expression. "Can they really compare to Hidaka? Betting everything on Sunday Silence…isn't that too risky?"
Shuta An fell silent for a brief moment.
Then, when he spoke again, his tone carried a quiet certainty that left no room for ambiguity.
"I think it's worth building that connection."
He paused—just long enough for the weight of the next statement to settle.
"Because Sunday Silence—"
His gaze steadied.
"…is going to change the entire landscape of Japanese racing."
For an instant, Iizuka Yoshitsugu's pupils contracted.
—
Saturday—the eve of Dubai World Cup Race Day.
All participating Uma Musume had unanimously chosen rest. It was a deliberate, disciplined pause—each of them fine-tuning their condition to its sharpest edge. No one left the hotel. No one took unnecessary risks. The air itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Within that quiet tension, Silence Suzuka, guided by the suite butler, arrived once more at Shuta An's guest room.
"Ann's room…every time I come here, I can't help but be impressed," she murmured, her eyes gently narrowing as she stepped onto the handwoven Persian rug before settling onto the sofa. "Oh… this rug feels wonderful underfoot."
From behind his desk, Shuta An lifted his gaze toward her. Suzuka reclined lazily, her posture relaxed in rare contrast to her usual race-day focus.
"Suzuka seems quite fond of it?"
"Yes. I really like this texture." She lightly pressed her foot against the rug again, savoring the sensation before adding, her tone calm yet certain, "Something like this…it must be quite valuable to be placed here."
Mid-sentence, she stopped.
Because she knew.
If she said any more—if she simply admitted she wanted it—the man across from her would undoubtedly find a way to place an identical rug in her hands.
"If Suzuka wins the Dubai Turf, I'll have a handwoven Persian rug prepared as a congratulatory gift."
Shuta An did not hesitate. Seeing through her thoughts, he spoke plainly, without pretense.
"You don't need to feel burdened. Even if we stacked rugs half your height, it still wouldn't match the value of the necklace you wore last night."
"There's no need to be so extravagant." Suzuka shook her head lightly. "I wouldn't even be able to use it in the dorm. In the end, it would just be moved to a detached house."
"Then we'll put it in your bedroom later." He waved it off, already dismissing the topic. "That's not why I asked you here. We need to talk about tomorrow's Dubai Turf. Though…there isn't much to discuss. Mostly, it's about the pace I want you to run."
"Please tell me, Ann."
Suzuka straightened at once, her earlier languidness vanishing. Her focus sharpened instantly.
Yet instead of answering, Shuta An stood.
He walked toward her. Then, before she could react, he lowered himself onto one knee.
"Ann?"
A flicker of confusion crossed her face.
Carefully, he lifted her left leg—clad in smooth pantyhose—and supported it with one hand. His gaze, steady and intent, fell upon her ankle.
The intensity alone made her breath hitch.
"Suzuka, don't move."
His eyes closed.
His free hand lightly traced along her ankle through the thin fabric, occasionally applying gentle pressure.
"Ah~—"
A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips.
Her gaze faltered, turning away as a faint blush spread across her cheeks. Though they had long crossed closer distances, this—this unfamiliar intimacy focused on such a sensitive place—was different.
Her toes curled unconsciously.
That subtle reaction did not escape him. Yet Shuta An remained entirely focused.
What he was doing was not indulgence, but assessment.
He had already finished studying Health Tips After Great Escape Tactics, authored by Space Meteorite. Combining that knowledge with his own understanding, he was verifying a single, critical question—
Whether Silence Suzuka could safely return to her Great Escape.
After a moment, he released her. He rose, returning calmly to his desk.
Before Suzuka could fully process what had just happened—
"Suzuka's leg is in excellent condition. There are no underlying issues. This time—you may use the runaway."
Her eyes widened.
"I…can use the Great Escape tomorrow?"
"That's right."
His tone sharpened.
"But even with the restriction lifted, I will not allow you to run 1000 meters in 57.4 seconds again. The fastest acceptable pace is 58 seconds. Remember that."
A brief pause.
"If you fail to meet that, I will strictly limit your pace in the next Queen Elizabeth II Cup in Hong Kong."
His voice carried unmistakable authority.
"No matter how close we are…on the Twinkle Series stage, I am your Trainer. The pace I set is not something you're allowed to disregard."
"…Understood."
Suzuka pressed her lips together, nodding softly.
Satisfied, his expression eased.
"This time, you've drawn gate one. The strategy is simple. After a clean start, accelerate immediately. Take the lead."
"Maintain 58 seconds for the first 1000 meters."
"Leave every opponent behind—and announce it to everyone watching, whether in the stands, in front of their televisions, or listening over the radio—"
A faint intensity entered his voice.
"…that the 'Another Dimension Fugitive' has returned perfectly."
"I will achieve it."
There was no hesitation in her reply.
For the current Silence Suzuka, pace control was no longer an abstraction. With her accumulated experience, she was fully confident—58 seconds over the first 1000 meters at Meydan Racecourse was well within her grasp.
"The fifth G1 victory—"
Shuta An extended his hand, fingers curling slightly as if grasping something unseen.
"Let's take it firmly into our hands."
—
That evening, within the Dream World—
Shuta An appeared at Nakayama Racecourse.
He only had two rides scheduled. Yet both had been deliberately chosen.
Nakayama Turf, 1800 meters—the exact same course structure as the Spring Stakes.
"One is senko and one is chasing." He adjusted his grip, eyes steady. "Let's see how the turf is running this week."
With that, he mounted for his first race.
In the stands, Trainer Iizuka Yoshitsugu watched him, his heart pounding uncontrollably.
In nineteen years, his stable had never produced a top-tier Racehorse.
Rice Shower—Was only the second with genuine G1 potential.
Tomorrow would decide everything.
A single race would determine whether he earned her place in the Satsuki Sho. Mihono Bourbon stood like an immovable mountain before their generation.
And yet—
With Shuta An's assurance, Iizuka believed. Believed that come autumn, they could overturn that mountain.
But autumn was still far away. More than half a year.
And patience…was not something he could guarantee from the owner.
Which meant—Rice Shower had to fight now. He had to run in the first two Classic races.
"Even though the race is tomorrow…"
He exhaled slowly, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm already this nervous."
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