Chapter 93. Seven G1s in Classic Year
Shuta An stepped into the Mejiro Family's Box and immediately noticed how sparse it was. Aside from himself and Mejiro Palmer, only Mejiro Ramonu and the family's matriarch were present.
A quiet suspicion flickered through his mind.
What is this? An ambush?
Even so, his pace did not falter. He walked straight forward and took a seat opposite the Old Madam without hesitation. The posture was deliberate—neither deferential nor confrontational, but clearly defined. He was here as a Trainer, to discuss racing matters. Nothing more.
The Old Madam caught the implication instantly, though she chose not to acknowledge it.
"Good morning, Shuta-kun," Ramonu began smoothly, taking the lead in conversation. "You came to Kyoto alone to watch Dober's race?"
He inclined his head slightly.
"Yes. The others remained at the academy for training. I couldn't leave Dober to handle everything here alone."
From the side, Palmer added with a light tone, "I've been used to that feeling for quite a while."
Shuta An turned, feigning mild surprise. "Your Trainer didn't come?"
He knew the answer already. Palmer's position within the family was marginal at best, her record unremarkable so far. Yet her casual support here was unmistakably in his favor.
I'll owe her one, he noted inwardly.
Ramonu's gaze sharpened slightly as she shifted the discussion.
"What do you think of Dober's chances today? That outside gate is quite unfavorable."
"Ten out of ten," Shuta An replied without pause.
There was no embellishment, no hedging—only certainty.
Ramonu's eyes narrowed further, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
"We have more than just Dober running today. Mejiro Lambada is also in the field. Some within the family believe she might pose a threat."
Shuta An blinked, genuinely—or perhaps deliberately—taken aback.
"Mejiro Lambada? I don't recall seeing that name in any G1 entries. Which race did she last run?"
Before Ramonu could answer, Palmer spoke up again, almost reflexively.
"Lambada-senpai placed second in the G3 Fuchu Uma Musume Stakes."
A subtle twitch passed across the Old Madam's expression. Bringing Palmer along, it seemed, had been an error.
"A G3 runner-up upsetting an undefeated Triple Crown winner isn't impossible," Shuta An said with a shrug. "But Dober and I have prepared thoroughly. It won't be easy."
He let the statement hang, then added lightly, "Of course, it's racing. The result speaks last."
Ramonu sensed the shift in atmosphere and moved quickly to defuse it, guiding the conversation toward neutral ground. They spoke briefly about academy matters, the tone smoothing out—until the Old Madam introduced a new angle.
"Shuta-kun," she said, voice measured, "have you made plans for Dober's first senior year?"
He answered honestly.
"Not yet. I intend to finalize that after this race."
"I see." She paused, then continued. "In that case, I have a suggestion. I would prefer that Dober remain in domestic competition next year, rather than pursuing overseas campaigns."
The response caught him off guard, though only for a moment.
"May I ask why?" he replied evenly. "Given her profile, the domestic calendar offers limited optimal targets in the first half of the year. An overseas expedition is the logical extension."
"Because the family requires her presence domestically," the Old Madam stated simply.
There it was. Shuta An's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
So we've reached that point already.
Ramonu read the situation instantly. Too early, she judged.
Without hesitation, she intervened.
"Grandmother, it's time for your medicine."
The interruption was seamless.
Shuta An rose at once. "Then I won't disturb you further. We can discuss next year's schedule another time."
The timing was perfect—his preparations were not yet complete, and this was not a negotiation he intended to engage in prematurely.
Inside, Ramonu gestured for Palmer to assist, while she herself followed Shuta An out.
"We're on the same side," she said quietly before he could turn. "I don't want Dober trapped here. Let's work together."
He paused, then nodded. "Alright."
But his next question came immediately. "And you?"
"I'll stay," Ramonu answered without hesitation. Her tone was calm, resolute. "Someone has to."
For a brief moment, he almost spoke too bluntly—don't treat your own family like a cage—but he restrained himself.
"I'll do what I can," he said instead. "But take care of yourself. Dober wouldn't want her freedom to come at your expense."
With that, he left.
—
By noon, a brief shower had passed over Kyoto Racecourse, leaving the track officially rated "Good." The drainage had held.
From the window, Shuta An observed the surface quietly.
"A good track favors her," he murmured. "A sashi strategy loses efficiency on heavy ground."
His gaze remained fixed on the course.
"I need this win."
—
In the waiting room, Mejiro Dober slowly opened her eyes.
"I have to keep winning—keep winning." Her hands tightened slightly. "Only then will I have the rights to refuse them."
Because she drew gate 17, Mejiro Dober was the last to step into the starting gate. The moment she entered, she steadied her breathing, lowering her center of gravity as she assumed a poised, disciplined starting stance.
To her right, Kyoei March let out a faint sigh.
Mejiro Dober heard it clearly, yet she did not turn her head. At a moment like this, even the smallest distraction could be fatal, and she had no intention of gambling on whether that sigh was genuine or merely a feint.
The next instant, the gates snapped open.
Mejiro Dober did not surge forward immediately. Anticipating that Kyoei March would seize the initiative, she deliberately refrained from contesting position at the break. Her plan was precise—allow Kyoei March to charge ahead, then gradually angle inward, hugging the rail to secure a stable trailing position.
But the moment she glanced to her right, her pupils contracted sharply.
"What's going on? Where's Kyoei March?!"
Kyoei March was nowhere near where she should have been.
"Kyoei March had a terrible break! What happened?!"
The commentator's voice rose in astonishment, cutting sharply through the atmosphere.
Shuta An's brows knit together as he watched, a low murmur escaping his lips.
"What's going on—Was that intentional?"
"Tsk—"
Kyoei March's Trainer clenched her fists, her expression darkening.
"It's over. With a break like that, there's no way to salvage this race—Do we really have to switch to dirt?"
Her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably.
"There aren't even proper G1 races on dirt—Should we aim for the Japan Breeders' Uma Musume Cup instead?"
She shut her eyes tightly.
"When she debuted, I promised her multiple G1 victories— but now, more than a year later, we still have none. This—must be my failure."
In that instant, she made her decision.
The race, however, did not wait.
After the early confusion, Eishin Sansan smoothly took command, setting a brisk yet controlled tempo—59.4 seconds for the opening 1000 meters.
"That's favorable for Dober-chan," Shuta An exhaled, tension easing slightly. "Now she just needs to advance steadily."
The Queen Elizabeth Cup's final straight, run on Kyoto's outer course, stretched beyond 400 meters—a distance that rewarded sustained acceleration. Even so, given Dober's wide draw, Shuta An had already emphasized one critical point before the race: move early.
No hesitation. No delayed burst.
Even the strongest finishing kick required time to unfold, and waiting until the straight alone might not be enough to overhaul the entire field.
"If it were Teio in the Dream World—" Shuta An murmured, almost to himself, "I'd just let her take the lead outright. She could break them in the straight. But Dober isn't that type."
By the time the field approached the final bend, Mejiro Dober had already advanced to eighth. Behind her, Kyoei March clung on, her earlier misstep still haunting her rhythm. Without that disastrous start, it might have seemed like she intended to shadow Dober throughout the race.
"Dober-chan's positioning is flawless," Mejiro Ramonu observed calmly, her eyes fixed on the screen. "She's already alongside Lambada—but Lambada is boxed in. She'll have to wait for Dober to make the first move."
A faint irritation flickered across her expression.
"Even now, there are fools in the family who think Dober should assist Lambada's result—As if race outcomes can be arranged like business deals."
Their reasoning was laughable—one more G1 winner benefits the family.
"They don't understand talent. They never have," Mejiro Ramonu muttered softly. "And the more they interfere, the faster Dober will abandon them."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the Old Madam, and for a fleeting moment, an unspoken, rebellious thought surfaced—quiet, dangerous, and resolute.
—
On the track, the decisive moment arrived.
At 300 meters to the finish, Eishin Sansan still led. Then—
Mejiro Dober unleashed everything.
Her acceleration was explosive, decisive. Within mere strides, she shattered the balance of the race, closing the gap with overwhelming force until only two lengths separated her from the leader.
Behind her, Kyoei March faltered.
For a front-running Uma Musume, forcing out a late-closing burst like this was simply beyond her nature. Her momentum collapsed, her presence swallowed by the pack as she watched Dober surge further and further away.
"Sigh~ When will I stand on a stage where I can truly run my own race?" The thought drifted through her mind, distant and hollow.
Ahead, Mejiro Dober's focus was absolute.
"Mejiro Dober is charging! Can Eishin Sansan hold on?!" the commentator cried.
The answer came instantly.
Dober overtook her.
"So fast! So powerful! As expected of the Undefeated Triple Crown!" The commentator's voice rose with excitement. "Mejiro Dober takes the lead! Can anyone catch her?!"
No one could.
She broke free completely.
"One length! Two lengths! She's running alone on the Kyoto straight!"
Inside the Mejiro Family's Box, the Old Madam slowly lifted her gaze to the screen. The echoes of the family's earlier disputes lingered in her mind, now rendered hollow by the overwhelming clarity of the result.
"If it was always going to be like this—" she murmured faintly, "perhaps it would have been easier to leave earlier."
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"Grandma? Are you alright?" Mejiro Palmer leaned closer, startled. "Dober-chan is about to win her seventh G1! This is something to celebrate!"
"Seven G1 victories—in just one year since debut," Mejiro Ramonu said softly, almost in disbelief.
"Even accounting for the structure of the Triple Tiara route—that's still absolute dominance. Yet those people—who've never even stepped onto the Twinkle stage—can't comprehend it."
On the track, the finish was inevitable.
"Mejiro Dober crosses the line! The first Uma Musume in history to conquer every domestic Triple Tiara route G1 even in Classic Year! As expected—Team Sadalsuud stands at the pinnacle once again!"
At that final remark, the Old Madam coughed sharply, the sound cutting against the rising cheers.
PS: At this time, the Victoria Mile did not yet exist.
PS2: I also only realized Dober had already won 7 G1s when I wrote this—But she won't only run Triple Tiara limited races later; she's definitely going to lose a few.
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