Chapter 87. The Day the Triple Crown Fantasy Shattered Part 2
The familiar, steady version of Shuta An surfaced from within his thoughts. By the time that awareness settled, he was already astride Rice Shower, standing on the turf of Kyoto Racecourse.
Today's track was rated "good." The recent lack of rain had left the surface dry and firm, but the seasonal wear was impossible to ignore. The turf had begun to yellow, the underlying soil faintly exposed in places, and even the grass itself carried a withered tone.
It was a stage that should have felt solemn, almost ceremonial—yet instead, it carried the unmistakable air of a coronation prepared for someone else.
"Number 7, Mihono Bourbon! Undefeated Two Crowns! Seven wins from seven starts since debut! In her previous prep race, he finished 0.8 seconds ahead of the second-place runner—his condition is impeccable! He stands on the brink of an undefeated Triple Crown! In the saddle, Jockey Kojima Sadahiro—the success of this historic feat rests in his hands!"
Before the commentator could even finish, a deafening roar surged from the stands.
"Mihono Bourbon!"
"Go, Mihono Bourbon! You're the strongest!"
"Undefeated Triple Crown!"
The overwhelming momentum of expectation swept across the racecourse like a tide. Several of the entrants that had already stepped onto the turf showed subtle signs of unease under that pressure.
But not Mihono Bourbon.
And not Rice Shower.
The former had long since grown accustomed to such overwhelming attention. The latter simply did not care.
Rice Shower walked forward at an unhurried pace, each step deliberate, quietly sensing the feedback of the ground beneath his hooves. The texture, the firmness, the subtle elasticity—it all felt—comfortable. Far more so than the tracks he had run on in spring.
If anything, he found himself thinking that he wouldn't mind running here again and again.
"Number 8, Rice Shower! Runner-up in the Japanese Derby! He comes directly into the Kikuka Sho without another race after summer—his condition remains a mystery! In the saddle, this year's top jockey, Shuta An, already with 22 graded wins! After the Derby, he declared that he and Rice Shower would shatter Mihono Bourbon's Triple Crown dream! Whether he can fulfill that promise—we shall soon see!"
As the introduction rang out, Shuta An straightened his posture slightly.
The cheers that followed were noticeably more restrained.
It wasn't that he lacked supporters. But when placed against the rarity of an undefeated Triple Crown, sentiment naturally shifted. For many in the stands, witnessing history took precedence—and if that required "sacrificing" him, then so be it.
When the time came to load into the starting gates, Rice Shower—assigned to an even-numbered stall—waited slightly longer than Mihono Bourbon.
When his turn came, Shuta An gave a gentle signal.
He stepped forward without hesitation.
Inside the gate, Kojima Sadahiro turned his head, casting a glance toward Shuta An. It was the kind of look meant to probe, to unsettle—to test the opponent's composure at the final moment.
But Shuta An didn't respond.
He simply closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, then aligned—gradually syncing with the steady rhythm of Rice Shower beneath him.
Kojima turned back, faint disappointment flickering across his expression.
"It doesn't matter—Mihono Bourbon is stronger. This race is already decided."
That was the conclusion he clung to as he prepared for the start.
Shuta, meanwhile, adjusted his posture with precision. The whip rested in his left hand, the reins lightly held in his right—ready to transition instantly into push-riding if needed.
The brass band's pre-race fanfare drifted through the air.
It was…imperfect.
Even from a distance, off-key notes slipped through. For someone with no particular musical training, Shuta An still found it noticeable.
"They should hire a better band next time," he muttered under his breath.
But the thought passed quickly.
The fanfare ended.
The starter raised the red flag.
Everything narrowed to a single point—focus locked on the gate.
"Click!"
The instant the mechanism released, Shuta An acted.
Rice Shower responded immediately, his stride clean and decisive. With a brief, controlled push, they surged forward, overtaking the runners from gates one and two with efficiency.
But just as quickly, he eased.
The push ceased. His riding shifted—matching his rhythm, letting him settle into a stable cruising pace.
By the time they entered the first bend, Rice Shower held fifth position.
"Given Kyoei Arrow's declared pace, this is slightly too forward; but unless Kojima has lost his mind, he shouldn't force Mihono Bourbon to follow that speed,"
Shuta An calculated internally.
"Even if he isn't affected, it won't matter. We can still win."
Yet as they progressed deeper into the bend, his expression tightened.
"What is Kojima doing? He's not pulling Bourbon back?"
Ahead, Kyoei Arrow executed exactly what had been promised—an aggressive, fast pace set from the front.
And behind him, Mihono Bourbon followed.
Without hesitation.
Without restraint.
Shuta An's eyes narrowed.
"The first 400 meters—around 24 seconds. That means the 200 to 400 segment was close to 11 seconds."
His calculation sharpened instantly.
"At this rate, the first 1000 meters could drop below 59 seconds—In a 3000-meter race?"
His irritation surfaced, though his hands remained steady.
"You're really going to take that head-on? Do you think Mihono Bourbon is invincible?"
Despite the unfolding chaos ahead, he did not alter Rice Shower's position. Fifth place remained ideal—not because of the leaders, but because of the horse in third.
Meisho Center was maintaining a measured, sustainable long-distance pace.
"I don't need to understand Kojima's decisions," Shuta An concluded, grounding himself. "I just need to ride my race."
Beneath him, Rice Shower's condition was unmistakable.
His breathing was stable. His stride was efficient. His response was precise.
And more importantly—he could feel it.
Their breathing had already synchronized.
That subtle technique, mentioned casually by Yutaka Take, had proven unexpectedly effective. By aligning his rhythm with the horse's, he could sense minute changes—timing his cues with far greater accuracy.
"It really does work," he thought.
—
Not far away, Yutaka Take, riding Bamboo Genesis, frowned slightly.
"This breathing pattern—it doesn't feel like one suited for 3000 meters."
Even before the race had fully unfolded, the strain of the pace had already begun to reveal itself.
As they entered the straight in front of the stands, Shuta An guided Rice Shower along the outer lanes of the pack, granting him a clear, unobstructed view of the backs ahead—most notably Mihono Bourbon and his rider, Kojima Sadahiro.
"What is Kojima Sadahiro doing?"
The thought struck sharply, edged with disbelief.
"Mihono Bourbon is clearly being provoked by Kyoei Arrow. He's already lost her composure—so why isn't he restraining him now? Why is he still hesitating?!"
Though Mihono Bourbon stood as his direct rival on this stage, Shuta An could not suppress the surge of frustration rising within him. The riding before his eyes felt reckless—wasteful.
"How did he even become a jockey? Does he truly believe Mihono Bourbon can win the Kikuka Sho by racing like this? Who exactly is he underestimating?"
The irritation flared—then vanished just as quickly.
He forced it down, burying it beneath discipline and control. In the next breath, his mind stilled once more, returning seamlessly to synchronization with Rice Shower. Anger had no place here. Only rhythm, only precision.
As they passed the finish line for the first time, the earlier eruption of cheers—sparked by Mihono Bourbon's proximity—had already subsided. The stands settled into a quieter tension.
Unaffected by the fading noise, Rice Shower maintained his steady cruising pace, holding firmly to fifth position.
Ahead, Kyoei Arrow continued to dictate a punishing tempo, with Mihono Bourbon tracking closely behind, just over a length back.
Yet within that position, strain was beginning to surface. Kojima Sadahiro pulled at the reins with both hands, attempting to temper his momentum—but the resistance lacked conviction. It was neither firm nor decisive.
Mihono Bourbon did not yield.
His focus had narrowed completely. All that remained in his world was the figure ahead—Kyoei Arrow, the one who dared to run before him. He chased, driven by instinct rather than calculation.
"No— this pace will bleed his stamina dry—"
Kojima tightened his grip again, but hesitation lingered. He feared pulling too hard, feared disrupting his rhythm entirely. And so, caught between restraint and doubt, he achieved neither.
From behind, it appeared as though he had simply surrendered control.
"What is Kojima doing?!"
From the trackside, Toyama Tameo's voice broke with anger, punctuated by coughing.
"What is he thinking? Letting Mihono Bourbon run unchecked at this pace—does he think he understands the race better than she does?! Kojima Sadahiro, get a hold of yourself!"
But this was no environment for correction. Unlike Formula One, there were no radios, no immediate instructions. Once the race began, each decision rested solely in the rider's hands.
And so, Kojima Sadahiro continued his uncertain tug-of-war.
Behind them, Shuta An remained composed. He did not force the pace, did not push aggressively. Instead, he guided Rice Shower with subtle cues, aligning each motion with his natural rhythm, allowing him to move with efficiency and ease.
"It looks like Shuta-kun already has this race in hand."
From the VIP stands, Yoshida Katsumi spoke first, despite the race not yet reaching its early stages.
"I agree," Yoshida Zenya nodded. "Watching him ride gives a sense of certainty—even if the horse beneath him isn't from our Shadai line."
"That hardly matters," Yoshida Katsumi replied with a grin. "When the time comes for breeding, it will return to Shadai Farm. Then it becomes ours regardless."
Beside him, Shunsuke Yoshida chuckled lightly, turning to the young woman at his side.
"This is precisely how our operation works. Individual owners may cherish their horses, but if they want a truly successful stud career, our family is the optimal choice. Hidaka focuses on volume—stallions above all. But we cultivate both stallions and elite mares. That's what sets us apart."
"And because Shuta-kun brings out their full potential, right?" she asked, eyes bright with curiosity. "You can get me his autograph, can't you?"
"Of course," Shunsuke answered confidently, patting his chest. "After the Kikuka Sho, I'll make sure of it."
Unaware of the role he had unwittingly taken in their exchange, Shuta An continued forward. He and Rice Shower had already reached the long straight opposite the stands. Beyond it loomed the defining feature of this race—the Yodo Slope.
Unlike the Shuka Sho, this course demanded a full ascent.
"The real challenge begins there," Shuta An reminded himself quietly. "The climb and the descent that follows. I'll need to be precise when we reach it."
His gaze sharpened slightly as he assessed the unfolding race.
"Kyoei Arrow likely pushed the first 1000 meters under one minute. That's undeniably fast."
Yet as he tuned into Rice Shower's breathing, he felt no disruption—no instability.
Steady. Controlled.
Relief settled in.
"In that case—only Kyoei Arrow and Mihono Bourbon are being affected. That's ideal."
At trackside, concern lingered.
"Is this really alright?" Rice Shower's owner asked uneasily, glancing toward Iizuka Yoshitsugu. "This pace is extremely fast—can he handle it?"
"It's fast, yes," Iizuka replied calmly. "But Shuta-kun is positioned behind Meisho Center, whose pace is around 61 seconds per 1000 meters—a standard long-distance rhythm. Rice Shower is well within his limits. And Shuta-kun hasn't shown any intention of dropping back. That alone tells us he's confident in his condition."
"Still, it doesn't feel good," the owner admitted, wiping sweat from his brow.
"It's like the entire crowd is against us. As if they're all waiting to condemn us for denying Mihono Bourbon's Triple Crown."
"That's merely perception," Iizuka said, waving it off. "There's no rule stating only a Two Crown contender is allowed to win this race."
"You're right."
The owner clenched his fists, falling silent, his gaze fixed firmly on the screen—on the figure of Rice Shower and his rider. In his heart, he cheered with everything he had.
Back on the track, as they reached the midpoint of the straight, Shuta An noticed a subtle shift—the gap between Meisho Center and Mihono Bourbon was beginning to widen.
"The jockey is controlling the pace—riding as if he's dictating the race himself."
A faint note of criticism flickered through his thoughts.
Without hesitation, he applied pressure with his legs, urging Rice Shower forward. His response was immediate—fluid acceleration carrying him past Matikanetannhauser with ease.
"Now it's time."
His eyes locked ahead.
"If Mihono Bourbon and Kyoei Arrow are allowed to maintain this trajectory unchecked—then the rest of us might as well be spectators."
The thought sharpened his resolve.
He did not allow Rice Shower to settle. Instead, he maintained the pressure, steadily increasing his speed, closing the distance to Meisho Center.
Ahead, sensing the encroaching threat, Meisho Center's rider, Kamizono Katsuhito, cursed inwardly.
"Damn it."
Yet he did not yield. Rather than concede position, he urged his mount onward, choosing to fight—to hold his ground against the advancing presence behind him.
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