Chapter 60. Accidental "Teamwork"
Shuta An and Fort Wood entered starting gate number three.
The young man casually swept his gaze across the opponents on either side.
Big Stone in gate two was currently riding a winning streak, while Semillon in gate four had performed admirably in the first two French Classics, finishing third and fourth respectively.
In other words, none of them were easy opponents.
Even so, Shuta An was not particularly worried.
Longchamp Racecourse had been officially listed as fast ground today. The turf contained very little moisture, which meant the race time would almost certainly be quick. After riding three races earlier in the day, Shuta An already had a solid understanding of the track conditions.
His race plan had long since taken shape.
"In any case, I can't stay at the back today. I need to be more proactive in securing position."
Even knowing that the pace would likely be honest, the young man still abandoned the idea of settling near the rear.
Instead, he intended to break normally from the gate before advancing forward to secure favorable early positioning.
"If I stay too far back, I might end up trapped like I was at Ascot."
Shuta An could not guarantee that Frankie Dettori and Thierry would yield simply because they represented the same stable.
Compared to relying on others, he trusted himself far more.
However, Thierry had indeed received instructions regarding this matter from his master.
"I need to go forward and fight for the lead. Control the pace. At the same time, I need to interfere with Big Stone and make sure victory remains inside our stable."
From gate five, Thierry glanced toward Big Stone and its jockey D. Boeuf before quietly making his decision.
He would seize the lead immediately.
And he firmly believed he could do it.
"I've already mastered Shuta's gate-breaking technique. As long as I stimulate Dernier Empereur properly, I can definitely achieve my strategic objective."
As the evening sun gradually descended toward the horizon, all nine runners entered the starting gates.
Shuta An slowly adjusted his breathing.
Little by little, his rhythm synchronized with Fort Wood's.
"Click!"
The crisp sound of the gates releasing echoed across Longchamp Racecourse.
At that instant, Shuta An immediately drove forward with both hands.
Fort Wood exploded out of the gate.
Because he wanted early position and possessed an advantageous inside draw, Shuta An showed no restraint whatsoever in the opening strides.
His intention was simple.
Box in Big Stone and Le Balafre from gate one.
Boeuf immediately sensed what Shuta An was trying to do.
Unwilling to allow the young man to have everything his own way, he instantly increased his pushing effort.
"I might not be able to box Fort Wood in return, but at the very least, I need to stay alongside him."
Yet only a few seconds later, Boeuf's expression darkened.
From the outside, Thierry and Dernier Empereur were charging forward aggressively.
Their intentions were obvious.
They were here to help Fort Wood.
"André Fabre entering three runners really was deliberate!"
D. Boeuf cursed inwardly.
Dernier Empereur was accelerating rapidly and had already established a one-length advantage. It was clearly preparing to angle inward toward the rail.
Seeing this, D. Boeuf immediately eased his pressure.
Rather than risk becoming trapped, he chose to let Big Stone drop back slightly and attempt to settle behind Fort Wood.
At the very least, that would prevent him from being boxed in alongside the still-unaware Le Balafre.
Shuta An also noticed Thierry's actions.
Completely unaccustomed to stable teamwork, he simply assumed Thierry was racing for victory himself.
Therefore, he chose to maintain his current position for the time being, observe Thierry's pace, and decide his own strategy afterward.
Beside the track, André Fabre nodded with satisfaction.
"It seems Thierry immediately understood the situation. Once Shuta leaves Europe, perhaps it's time to give Thierry a few new challenges."
Gosden immediately grasped the implication hidden within those words.
This French Trainer had very little confidence in retaining Shuta An.
"Then I still have a chance."
The thought surfaced naturally in his mind.
After passing the starting straight, the field quickly traveled through the wooded section inside Longchamp Racecourse before entering a sweeping bend.
At this point, Shuta An also realized something.
The pace Thierry had established was exactly the sort of rhythm Fort Wood preferred.
"Is this intentional? Or does Dernier Empereur simply like this pace as well?"
Shuta An frowned slightly.
In the end, however, he decided not to complicate matters.
Fort Wood liked this tempo.
That alone was enough.
Behind Fort Wood, D. Boeuf could not help muttering to himself.
"Where is Frankie Dettori? Shuta An and Thierry are already working together. What are you doing?"
At this very moment, Frankie Dettori and Sharman were comfortably settled at the very rear of the field.
Calmly.
Patiently.
Observing everything unfolding ahead.
"Thierry took the initiative to establish a comfortable pace for Shuta. André Fabre definitely instructed him beforehand."
Dettori subtly guided Sharman one path wider.
"But this pace isn't only favorable for Shuta. The entire leading group likes it. In the end, it'll depend on how Shuta handles his acceleration timing from this less-than-ideal position."
"If he moves too early, Fort Wood might empty out in the final section of Longchamp's enormous straight."
"If he moves too late, he'll risk getting trapped by rivals coming around him."
Dettori narrowed his eyes.
"The pace Thierry has provided is candy. But if it's handled poorly—"
"It's poison as well."
—
After exiting the bend, Shuta An did not rush to begin his attack.
Instead, he calmly steadied the reins.
No explanation was necessary.
This was Longchamp Racecourse's greatest trap. A false straight composed of two consecutive straight sections.
"Before entering the real home straight, I'll let Fort Wood adjust his stride. Then, once we're fully straightened, I'll angle slightly left and begin pushing."
In an instant, they reached the end of the first straight section.
Approximately one hundred meters.
This time, Shuta An showed no hesitation.
His right hand drew the whip.
Crack!
The whip struck decisively.
Watching helplessly as his intended acceleration lane was seized by Shuta An, D. Boeuf gritted his teeth.
"Thierry is going to move aside for you anyway! So why are you taking my path too?!"
Yet there was nothing he could do.
He immediately answered with a left-handed whip of his own.
Big Stone accelerated sharply, altering the relative positions between itself and Fort Wood.
At the same time, D. Boeuf prepared to launch a later move from Fort Wood's right flank, attempting to break free from the pack and accelerate into open space.
Thierry, who was still leading the field, knew he had already fulfilled his duty. Even so, he had no intention of giving up the fight.
"My task of setting the pace is done. The rest depends on whether Fort Wood has the ability to overtake us!"
With that thought in mind, Thierry pulled out his whip and prepared to unleash several windmill-style strikes, hoping to ignite Dernier Empereur's fighting spirit and delay the loss of speed for as long as possible.
After entering the final straight, Shuta An confirmed that the path ahead was completely clear. Although he had already pushed hard in yesterday's Pretty Polly Stakes, he felt that Longchamp Racecourse still allowed him to perform a full five-hundred-meter drive.
"After all, this is a G1 race. Even if this is the only time I ever ride Fort Wood, I still have the responsibility to win this race for him, so that he can retire with honor and continue his bloodline in the future."
Carrying that sense of responsibility, Shuta An entered his most focused state. He switched the whip to his left hand, tightened the reins once with his right, and then began his performance.
"FORT WOOD IS ACCELERATING! ONE STRIDE! TWO STRIDES! DERNIER EMPEREUR LOOKS LIKE HE'S BEGINNING TO STRUGGLE!" the commentator shouted.
At the same moment Shuta An guided Fort Wood outward, D. Boeuf adjusted Big Stone's position as well. Without the slightest hesitation, he urged Big Stone forward and launched his own challenge toward Dernier Empereur.
Meanwhile, Frankie Dettori wanted a better view of the battle unfolding ahead. He gave Sharman several strikes, allowing his mount to carry him into a position where he could clearly observe Shuta An's actions. At this point, he was still five lengths behind.
With three hundred meters remaining, Fort Wood drew alongside Dernier Empereur.
Thierry turned his head and caught sight of Shuta An, who was completely absorbed in his push-riding. His heart immediately tightened.
"I have to work just as hard! I can't let my teacher use him as an example to lecture me again!"
Turning back, Thierry began imitating the young man beside him, driving with one hand while swinging a windmill whip with the other.
However, unlike Shuta An, Thierry was using a right-handed whip.
As a result, Fort Wood drifted slightly to the right while Dernier Empereur shifted slightly to the left. Together, they completely sealed the gap between them.
D. Boeuf once again became the victim.
He could only strike several more left-handed whips, guiding Big Stone tightly against the rail and hoping to break through on Dernier Empereur's inside.
By the time D. Boeuf finally caught up to Thierry, Shuta An and Fort Wood, now at the front of the field, were only a little more than one hundred meters from the finish line.
"Damn it! Catch them!"
Grinding his teeth, D. Boeuf summoned every ounce of strength he possessed and began driving furiously. Big Stone responded admirably, immediately surging past Dernier Empereur and launching a challenge against Fort Wood.
At this moment, Shuta An's world had become a chaotic symphony.
The commentator's shouts.
The crowd's thunderous cheers.
Fort Wood's hoofbeats.
The hoofbeats of the competitors behind him.
Even his own breathing.
Everything blended together into a single torrent of noise.
He still could not find that state of absolute concentration he had experienced before. But there was one thing he knew with certainty.
These final one hundred meters allowed no room for hesitation.
Even though his arms were beginning to ache and burn, Shuta An continued to push and whip with all his strength. Step by step, Fort Wood carried him closer to the finish line.
Frankie Dettori watched everything unfold clearly.
"He's really going all out."
He silently made his assessment and decided that when the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe arrived, he would keep a close eye on Shuta An.
"I absolutely cannot allow him to take the lead entering the final straight. His stamina, his pushing endurance, and the efficiency he displays in the closing stages are genuinely top-class."
"FORT WOOD CROSSES THE LINE!"
Just as Shuta An was approaching his limit, the commentator's voice finally rang out.
Half a length behind, D. Boeuf could only watch helplessly as victory slipped away from his grasp. Frustration filled his heart.
He firmly believed that if not for the cooperation between Thierry and Shuta An—both at the start and during the final sprint—Big Stone would have won the Grand Prix de Paris.
Frankie Dettori guided Sharman across the finish line in fifth place. Quite satisfied with the unexpected twenty thousand francs in prize money, he thought happily:
"I can go out and enjoy myself tonight."
Having finally recovered enough to think clearly, Shuta An gathered himself. As Fort Wood gradually slowed down, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to extend a fist toward D. Boeuf first.
Faced with the young man's gesture of goodwill, D. Boeuf smiled wryly and returned the fist bump. He then watched as Shuta An turned and exchanged a high-five with Thierry.
"How was it? My pace-setting was incredible, right?" Thierry beamed proudly after finishing fourth.
"It really was incredible." Shuta An immediately gave him a thumbs-up. "For a moment, I thought Fort Wood wouldn't be able to catch up. Dernier Empereur also ran exceptionally well today."
"Before the race, my teacher told me to set a comfortable pace for Fort Wood." Thierry frowned. "Shuta, if you tell him that, I'm definitely going to get scolded again."
"Alright. I definitely won't mention anything like that to Mr. André Fabre later."
Understanding the implication behind Thierry's words, Shuta An readily agreed.
Frankie Dettori also walked over.
"So, first time experiencing teamwork. How does it feel?"
D. Boeuf, who had originally intended to leave, immediately chose to remain where he was and continue listening.
"So that was teamwork—"
Having only just learned from Thierry that the race had unfolded according to André Fabre's pre-race arrangements, Shuta An's emotions were still somewhat complicated.
"I'm actually wondering whether I should share some of my prize money with Thierry."
"Haha!"
Frankie Dettori burst into laughter as though he had just heard an excellent joke.
Pointing at Shuta An, he said, "Although I know that kind of thing is forbidden in Japan, your reaction is a little too innocent."
"It's not innocence. I'm just not used to something this—" Shuta An searched for the right word, failed to find it, and simply shrugged.
"This time, you were the one benefiting from the teamwork."
Frankie Dettori patted him on the shoulder.
"Just wait. When Tokai Teio comes to Europe, you'll experience firsthand what it feels like to be the target of teamwork."
"I'm looking forward to it."
The image of his trusted partner, still resting in Japan, surfaced in Shuta An's mind.
At that moment, an inexhaustible surge of courage welled up within his heart.