Chapter 66. 153 Seconds of Making History
—
As they passed through the parade ring, Frankie Dettori kept his gaze fixed on Asmussen.
His intention was simple.
By doing so, he could subtly convey a message before the race even began—that throughout the race, he would be watching Asmussen closely.
If he could plant that idea in Asmussen's mind, it would become much easier to pressure both Asmussen and Geisway with Wolf Prince once the race unfolded, forcing the pace to become faster and more favorable to himself.
Meanwhile, Shuta was chatting casually with Stableman Azuma Ikuo.
"It's rare to get this many consecutive sunny days during an English summer," the young man remarked. "It's almost as if somebody specifically prepared perfect ground conditions for Teio."
"Indeed, we're very fortunate," Azuma Ikuo replied with a shrug. "But the luckiest thing is that Shuta-kun came to Europe early to acclimate. Everyone believes you'll definitely be able to perform at one hundred percent today."
"One hundred percent?"
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Shuta An's lips.
"No. Today I'll perform at one hundred and twenty percent. I'm going to win the Epsom Derby with Tokai Teio and make him the number one favorite for the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe."
"Everyone trusts Shuta-kun's ability," Azuma Ikuo answered. "And everyone believes in Teio's adaptability."
"That said, I really hope we never transport this late again."
The young man's expression became slightly displeased.
"Fortunately, Teio's condition didn't suffer this time. Otherwise, we would've had no choice but to abandon the Epsom Derby altogether. There simply wouldn't have been enough time left to adjust."
Hearing that, Azuma Ikuo wisely pretended not to hear anything. As a stableman, he certainly wasn't about to comment on decisions made by the people who paid his salary the way Shuta An could.
—
After leaving the parade ring and entering the track proper, Shuta An waved farewell to Azuma Ikuo before guiding Tokai Teio onto the turf of Ascot Racecourse.
By now, Tokai Teio had fully adapted to this course, whose scenery was entirely different from anything found in Japan. For him, a naturally integrated racecourse like Ascot felt far more comfortable than the noisy urban venues he was accustomed to.
Of course, that same natural terrain also made the course significantly more difficult.
Shuta An tightened the reins slightly.
He did not want Tokai Teio burning unnecessary energy simply because he became excited the moment his hooves touched the turf.
Keeping him under control, he gradually guided him toward the starting gate.
—
Inside the restricted area beyond the finishing rail, Matsumoto Shoichi, Uchimura Masanori, and Yoshida Katsumi stood together alongside several European breeders.
The breeders had come because they were interested in Tokai Teio.
While his pedigree was not especially fashionable by European standards, strong performances in both the Epsom Derby and the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe would dramatically increase his value.
Uchimura Masanori understood this perfectly.
Today's result would directly influence future earnings.
As a result, he found himself becoming increasingly nervous.
Looking up at the giant screen and seeing Shuta An's calm expression, Matsumoto Shoichi relaxed somewhat.
The transportation issue had never been intentional.
At that time, transporting horses from Japan to England was extraordinarily difficult.
Moreover, before departure, Tokai Teio had lost considerable weight due to the intense summer heat.
Believing that a delayed departure would reduce transportation risks, Matsumoto Shoichi had chosen to postpone the journey.
As a result, when Tokai Teio arrived in Britain, his stomach was noticeably round. He had not reacted poorly to transportation.
If anything, he had eaten a little too well.
Fortunately, Shuta An had solved the problem through the most straightforward method imaginable.
He increased his own riding weight and repeatedly trained Tokai Teio on Ascot's uphill sections until the excess weight disappeared.
—
One after another, all ten racehorses entered the starting gate.
Shuta An briefly glanced toward both sides.
Gate 1 contained, Barathea, partnered with Robert.
Gate 3 housed Blue Judge, runner-up in the Hardwicke Stakes that Shuta An had won earlier during Royal Ascot, once again partnered with Raymond.
After glancing at Shuta An, Raymond silently clenched his jaw.
"This time, I'm absolutely getting revenge for the last race."
Robert, however, was not paying attention to Shuta An at all.
His focus remained entirely on Barathea beneath him.
He knew that Barathea's owner had not personally attended. Instead, the owner's son had come in his place.
"I need to perform well today. I need more opportunities to ride quality horses."
That was all Robert could think about.
What he did not know was that the man occupying his thoughts was currently paying far more attention to Tokai Teio.
More specifically—
To Tokai Teio's saddle.
—
Click.
The sound of the starting gate opening had long since become familiar to Shuta An. Judging from the expected pace scenario, he tightened the reins slightly before the start.
The instant the gates sprang open, he released them and urged Tokai Teio forward.
Only a few strides after leaving the gate, Tokai Teio had already opened roughly a one-length advantage over Blue Judge.
However, Barathea truly deserved his reputation as the Italian Derby winner. Under Robert's guidance, he immediately matched Tokai Teio's acceleration.
Unable to shake his rival completely, Shuta An found himself unable to angle inward and secure the rail.
Instead, Tokai Teio remained to Barathea's left flank.
—
The opening stages developed almost exactly as the jockeys had anticipated.
Starting from Gate 7, Asmussen and Geisway burst forward aggressively. They seized the lead and immediately cut toward the inside rail.
Close behind them, Frankie Dettori positioned Wolf Prince only one length back.
The intent was obvious.
The pressure was obvious.
The moment Geisway showed the slightest weakness, Frankie would immediately move forward and force the pace.
—
Meanwhile, Shuta An settled Tokai Teio comfortably in fifth.
He remained slightly ahead of Barathea.
Between him and Wolf Prince stood Commander in Chief—the dual Derby winner of Britain and Ireland this season—as well as Desert Team, winner of this year's Princess of Wales's Stakes.
As they approached the end of the long back straight and prepared to descend into the Swinley Bottom section, Shuta An silently calculated.
"Twenty-five seconds for the opening four hundred meters. A fairly standard beginning."
—
Entering the first turn, the sharp angle naturally reduced the field's speed.
At the same time, Shuta An deliberately guided Tokai Teio slightly wider.
He wanted extra room.
If Barathea drifted outward later, avoiding contact would become much easier.
"Teio is lighter than these European horses. If there's body contact, we'll definitely be the ones at a disadvantage."
His understanding of that reality was crystal clear. For now, the opening four hundred meters had passed without incident.
But Shuta An remained vigilant.
"Let's see what kind of pace develops through the first thousand meters."
After all—with a clever opportunist like Frankie Dettori positioned near the front of the field, Shuta could not shake the feeling that trouble was coming.
As they entered the second uphill straight, Shuta An estimated that roughly one minute had passed since the race began.
"As expected, those two sharp bends slowed the field considerably," the young man thought to himself.
"Still, this is an uphill section. Accelerating here would only waste stamina. For now, it's safer to keep Teio exactly where she is."
Because the course was essentially triangular in shape, every turn was exceptionally sharp.
Shuta An had absolutely no intention of allowing Tokai Teio to enter full acceleration before reaching the final bend.
"For now, just endure a little longer."
The young man tightened the reins slightly, preventing Tokai Teio from attempting to surge past Commander in Chief and Desert Team on the uphill stretch.
Mick Kinane, the rider aboard Commander in Chief, was the type of jockey who achieved results through sheer force rather than tactical sophistication. To put it simply, his head was full of muscle, and most of his race strategy came directly from his trainer's instructions.
For this race, Cecil had given him only one task:
Watch Frankie Dettori. Move when Frankie moves.
As a result, Kinane's attention remained fixed entirely on Wolf Prince, and he completely missed Shuta An's earlier restraint of Tokai Teio.
Robert aboard Barathea and Roche aboard Desert Team, however, both noticed the subtle action.
"Does Tokai Teio want to move forward?"
Robert observed more carefully.
"No. Shuta An is deliberately holding her back. He doesn't intend to accelerate here."
For several seconds, he considered nudging Barathea slightly leftward to provoke Tokai Teio and create difficulties for Shuta An.
In the end, he abandoned the idea.
Over the past month, he had witnessed Shuta An's performances throughout Europe, particularly during Royal Ascot.
If he started trouble now, he could not guarantee he would not pay for it later.
—
As the second uphill straight approached its end, Shuta An finally relaxed.
"One minute and forty-five seconds through sixteen hundred meters. That's definitely not a fast pace."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"This is an ideal development for Teio."
The moment they entered the final bend, he took advantage of the sharp turn.
Guiding Tokai Teio toward a gap on the outside, he slipped ahead of Tenby, who had previously been positioned behind and to his left. Then he threaded directly between Commander in Chief and Desert Team, settling just behind them.
Even Kinane, who had paid little attention to him until now, could not ignore Tokai Teio's advance.
"He's moving up here?"
His eyes widened.
"Using the bend to gain position? But you can't accelerate through a turn like this, can you?"
Immediately, Kinane prepared to coordinate with Roche.
His intention was obvious.
If they closed the available space, they could force Tokai Teio and Shuta An to search for another route once they entered the home straight.
However, just as Kinane transferred his whip into his left hand and prepared to strike, Roche suddenly urged Desert Team forward several strides.
The move instantly created space.
A clear path opened for Tokai Teio.
Kinane froze.
"What is this guy doing?"
He could not understand it at all. His plan had died before it even began.
—
Meanwhile, Roche quietly exhaled.
"Good thing I reacted quickly."
Inwardly, he had already reached his own conclusion.
"Kinane probably wanted to stir Commander in Chief's fighting spirit by creating contact with Desert Team. But I'm not stupid enough to fall for that."
—
Near the stands, Matsumoto Shoichi raised an eyebrow.
Like Kinane, he no longer understood what was happening among the front runners.
Why had Shuta An advanced on the bend? Why had Kinane voluntarily yielded space?
And why had Robert, riding Barathea, also begun moving forward alongside Tokai Teio, aggressively inserting himself between him and Barathea while simultaneously pressuring Desert Team?
"Is this what Europe's top-level G1 racing looks like?"
He could not help feeling amazed.
"The jockeys are far more scheming than in Japan."
Tokai Teio had previously won G1 races in France and Australia.
However, neither the Prix Ganay nor the Queen Elizabeth Stakes carried the prestige of the Epsom Derby.
This was Matsumoto Shoichi's first time personally participating in a race of such stature.
—
As they approached the entrance to the home straight, Kinane abandoned his whip and began driving Commander in Chief forward with everything he had.
However, the severe angle of the turn caused Commander in Chief to drift outward several strides.
And Shuta An seized the opportunity instantly.
A fleeting opening.
A single moment.
First came a right-handed strike. Then a firm gathering of the reins. Then the pushing began.
After the whip landed, Tokai Teio shifted outward two steps.
The instant Shuta An's driving motion synchronized with his stride, he exploded forward.
Like a blade slipping through a crack, he sliced directly between Commander in Chief and Desert Team before bursting clear.
—
Up front, Geisway had led from the start. But under Wolf Prince' relentless pressure, he never had an opportunity to relax and recover. Even though the pace was merely average, her speed was finally beginning to fade.
Unfortunately for Frankie Dettori—Wolf Prince was not in much better condition.
Dettori attempted to launch his move and pass Geisway. Yet before Wolf Prince could properly accelerate, three figures swept past him in succession.
First Tokai Teio.
Then Commander in Chief.
Then Barathea.
"Tsk!"
Frankie immediately understood.
There was nothing left to do.
He could only watch as Tokai Teio, Commander in Chief, and Barathea broke away from the field.
—
Four hundred meters remained.
Only Commander in Chief was still remotely close.
Everyone else had been left far behind.
Barathea, currently third, already held a nine-length advantage over Geisway in fifth.
"The decisive moment is here!"
Uchimura Masanori stared at the giant screen.
Although his voice was low, everyone could hear the tension within it.
"Everything depends on Shuta-kun now!"
Matsumoto Shoichi gripped the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Beside them, Yoshida Katsumi's gaze moved repeatedly between Tokai Teio and Barathea.
The European breeders interested in Tokai Teio remained comparatively calm. Even so, Gosden and André Fabre found themselves holding their breath.
—
As Tokai Teio entered a close-quarters battle with Opera House and Barathea, countless accumulated skills activated simultaneously.
And after two hundred meters of relentless driving—
Shuta An entered a state of absolute clarity once again.
At that moment, it felt as though his body no longer belonged to him.
Every movement became instinct.
Every action became natural.
His breathing synchronized perfectly with Tokai Teio's rhythm.
His movements matched every stride.
Teio stepped forward. Shuta drove.
Teio extended her hind legs. Shuta lifted the reins.
It was as though he himself was galloping across Ascot Racecourse.
The broad, powerful rhythm of his riding merged seamlessly with Tokai Teio's stride. For a moment, the spectators forgot to cheer.
Only the commentator continued fulfilling his duty.
"TOKAI TEIO HAS COMPLETELY BROKEN AWAY FROM THE LEADING GROUP!"
"COMMANDER IN CHIEF IS STILL ATTEMPTING TO CHASE THE THREE HORSES AHEAD! BUT HE APPEARS TO BE RUNNING OUT OF STAMINA!"
"BARATHEA AND BLUE JUDGE REFUSE TO SURRENDER! BLUE JUDGE IS ACCELERATING!"
"BUT TOKAI TEIO HAS ALREADY LEFT BOTH OF THEM BEHIND!"
"ONE LENGTH! JUST ONE LENGTH IS ENOUGH!"
"TOKAI TEIO CROSSES THE FINISH LINE FIRST!"
"TWO MINUTES THIRTY-THREE POINT FOUR FIVE! A FINAL ONE-LENGTH ADVANTAGE THAT NO RIVAL COULD ERASE!"
"THIS IS TRIPLE CROWN WINNER TOKAI TEIO FROM JAPAN! SHUTA AN AND TOKAI TEIO HAVE MADE HISTORY!"
"DERBY WINNERS, ECLIPSE STAKES WINNERS, EVEN MULTIPLE CLASSIC CHAMPIONS—NONE COULD STOP HER!"
"A TRIPLE CROWN CHAMPION TRULY STANDS ABOVE THEM ALL!"
—
At the instant Tokai Teio crossed the finish line, Shuta An's upper body was practically draped across his back.
His arms stretched forward, pressed against the base of his neck.
Only after they had traveled more than twenty meters beyond the finish did he finally emerge from that extraordinary state.
It felt as though his soul had returned to his body.
"Ha... ha... ha..."
Breathing heavily, he gathered the reins and guided Tokai Teio into a slow turn back toward the stands.
At that moment, Frankie Dettori caught up alongside him.
"I'm impressed."
The Italian smiled bitterly.
"You and Tokai Teio deserve to be the biggest favorites for this year's Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe."
Shuta An was exhausted. Even so, he managed a faint smile and gently waved a hand.
"Until the result is decided, being the favorite doesn't mean anything."