Because of what had happened earlier, and because of how thoroughly she had given up on herself afterward, the bleakness of Ocean Steed 08's future was obvious to everyone.
She did not even get the chance to go through auction. Takezono bought her back directly.
Well, if you rounded things up, it was practically like getting her for free—cheaper even than that record-setting white filly from years back that had sold for four million yen.
With one bad update after another about the foal, the weight in Takezono's chest only grew heavier. But no matter what, he could not swallow this grievance. If a dull bird flew early, maybe it could still make something of itself; if a dull horse trained early, maybe it could at least be brought up to debut level. As for Orfevre—who had already been named by then—and the fact that she had sent this whole mess spinning off in the first place… well. So long as she did not end up as some broodmare Shadai had no use for, that would be punishment enough.
Because of his pride as an owner, and because he wanted to spite Shadai, Takezono had already made an enemy of them in public. Quite a few of the famous trainers and riders in the business were working with Shadai horses or horses from affiliated clubs, so when Takezono reached out, what he mostly got back were excuses and polite refusals.
For the first time in his life, he truly felt just how enormous Shadai was.
He was surrounded on all sides.
At that point, he could only start looking among the riders and trainers Shadai had left behind. As for the trainer, he had someone in mind already. His good friend Iwamoto would definitely be willing to train T.M. Opera O's child.
"Iwamoto-kun, I'm leaving Opera O's foal to you."
Just as expected, Iwamoto agreed the instant he got the call. He did not even ask what sort of foal was worth a special phone call like that. Later, when he first laid eyes on the filly, he regretted accepting quite a bit more than he had expected.
The rider, however, was much harder to settle on. Yet when Takezono started casting his net among the unaffiliated jockeys, the one who stood out from the rest was—
Wada Ryuji, the finest product of T.M. Opera O.
When Takezono thought back on the way he had once drilled Wada into shape, and the way T.M. Opera O had practically raised him by the hand, a sense of fate welled up inside him. More than that, though, was a feeling too awkward to put into words.
The next time Wada came to visit the old man, Takezono arranged to meet him and made his pitch.
"Wada-san, come take a look at Opera O's foal next year. You might just decide you want to be her main rider."
Wada dimly remembered it immediately. T.M. Opera O's foal scheduled to debut the following year—last year's youngster—that was the same little filly who had nearly gotten herself killed because of Orfevre's madness, wasn't it?
Fortunately, Ocean Steed 08 did not seem to fear either T.M. Opera O or Wada. When they led her out, she was clearly a timid filly who found people hard to approach—yet just like last year, the moment she saw a person, she tucked herself behind Wada as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Wada could only think that it had to be destiny.
The moment he reached out and started petting her, the little horse let out a faint, choking cry—and then stopped resisting altogether.
Had T.M. Opera O somehow taught this little filly to recognize the right sort of two-legged creature? How else could she be so obedient with Wada?
Once the little horse latched onto Wada, whether he wanted to ride her or not, ride her he would.
"Wada-san, go ahead and take the mount without worry. I trust this pairing completely. Even if she loses for a whole year, I won't change jockeys."
"Wada-kun, I'm counting on you!"
As the best man ever to ride T.M. Opera O, Wada Ryuji had no room to refuse. With Takezono isolated and out of allies, he had no choice but to shoulder the duty of piloting T.M. Opera O's child. It gave Wada the strange feeling that he had somehow ended up with another child to raise.
His real son, Haruki, had in fact been born that same year.
More than ten years later, that same ramshackle combination was coming together again. It was not just blood inherited from T.M. Opera O this time, either—this one also carried the crushing burden of avenging humiliation.
They had not registered the foal's name yet, since training preparations were so urgent, but with this second-generation patched-together crew now in place, naming her was not exactly difficult.
Takezono had been worrying endlessly over how lifeless and cowardly the little filly was. He wanted her to recover some energy, some spark, and so he decided to use dyna, "vitality," as part of her name. The old man had once spent time catching up on Pretty Cure and Ultraman Dyna, and their themes of light and hope standing against evil felt like the perfect blessing for this shabby little team.
And so, in the end, the filly was named:
T.M. Light Dyna.
When Iwamoto saw the chestnut filly that had been transported early to his stable, he felt a headache coming on. If he had not known what Orfevre had done, he would almost have suspected that Takezono was trying to sabotage him.
The little filly adapted terribly to unfamiliar environments. Her ability to move around was poor. She was like a newly weaned youngster who had no idea where she belonged. Her small frame only made the constant stumbling and random collapsing worse.
But when Iwamoto approached her, the little horse showed sharp wariness toward this unfamiliar two-legger. Not only did she pin her ears so hard they practically vanished, she even kept snorting at him.
"She's got strong caution. How's her desensitization to being ridden?"
At Iwamoto's question, Takezono's face twisted like a bitter melon.
"No one but Wada-san can get on her. So if you want mounted work, we can only do it when Wada-san is present."
It was a gigantic headache. Wada was a jockey—he could not be in the stable every single day.
Iwamoto was deeply troubled, but there was nothing for it except to take things one step at a time.
For the first two weeks, no actual training was possible at all. In the stable, Light Dyna behaved like a retired old horse, collapsing wherever she pleased. The only time she showed any life was when food appeared, and even then her appetite was far below that of other foals her age. Fortunately, once she got used to the assistants, she started eating a little more.
Every day, Iwamoto personally brought her carrots. Bit by bit, that familiarity built up, and at last Light Dyna would allow the handlers to put a halter on her and lead her out for walks.
As for getting her used to a rider…
That was completely impossible.
They could only wait for Wada to come help on days he was free from races. Still, since Dyna was nearly perfectly obedient when Wada was around, he never needed to worry once he was in the saddle. And when it came to the daughter of his old man T.M. Opera O, Wada naturally threw himself into the work without hesitation.
After a stretch of awkward adjustment, the ramshackle little team finally reached the stage of a gate trial.
Though beyond that desperate burst of speed she had shown when fleeing for her life from Orfevre, Iwamoto still had not seen any real strengths in Light Dyna.
But he wanted to believe that at the gate, at least, she might surprise them.
Wada swung into the saddle. Led forward by Iwamoto, the little filly approached the gate—
Then, just as they were about to enter, Light Dyna abruptly tilted her head aside and dodged the opening. She planted herself in front of the gate and refused to move.
This was bad.
That was the first thought in both Wada and Iwamoto's minds.
This filly might have gate trouble.
Wada remembered one of Ikezoe's old horror stories all too clearly: man and horse glaring each other down outside the stalls in sleet and rain for ages on end.
Dad, T.M. Opera O, save me.
After a long period of coaxing—begging, really—Dyna finally learned to quicken her pace coming out of the gate.
But—
Wada had assumed mounted training would be easy enough. He had thought she would at least understand an acceleration cue. Instead, Dyna completely ignored his rhythm, his driving, even the hint of the whip, and strolled straight through as if she were on a leisurely outing. None of that explosive force she had once shown while fleeing Orfevre was anywhere to be found.
At that point, Wada felt justified in saying that Dyna's race aptitude was even worse than his own.
Perhaps that was simply the fate of T.M. Opera O's children.
At this point, all anyone could do was pray for a smooth debut.
He had the faint feeling he had heard a white-haired filly's rider say something very similar a few years earlier.
One thousand meters in seventy seconds—
No, that was the white filly's number.
Dyna's was one thousand in sixty-five seconds, barely enough to let her register for a debut race.
That white filly, meanwhile, had torn through a gate trial in fifty-nine seconds and made all-out running look effortless.
While Iwamoto and Wada were still agonizing over how to train Dyna, Takezono got hit with another bolt from the blue.
Orfevre was preparing to debut early.
Her training was going beautifully. The club was full of confidence. They were aiming for an August race.
Takezono gnashed his teeth. He began seriously considering the possibility of sending Dyna into the same debut race and repaying tooth for tooth.
Iwamoto and Wada felt bitter all over. They tried to persuade him to wait, to think long term, but Takezono had already come to a cold-blooded conclusion.
"If Dyna races Orfevre in the debut, that's when the cost is lowest. Either we'll learn that Dyna can take her head-on and not come out second best, or Orfevre will go mad and drag them both down, or we'll learn that Dyna really has been traumatized by colts and will only be good for fillies-only races."
"All of those questions are cheapest to answer in a debut. Dyna's progress is limited as it is. The earlier she starts, the more room there is to work with."
For a man who usually let his emotions run wild over racehorses, Takezono's approach was shockingly cold and practical. At that point, Iwamoto and Wada had nothing left to say. All they could do was keep training Dyna and pray for a sudden awakening.
Dyna merely dipped her head toward Wada.
Whether she had actually understood any of it was anyone's guess.
More bizarre—and, frankly, worse—was what happened to her coat. The smooth chestnut hair on her body began slowly darkening, threatening to copy her father's famously ugly, muddy chestnut coloring. A few months later, Dyna looked more like a reddish bay than a proper chestnut.
At this rate, she might not have much appeal later on.
Whether Wada prayed for Dyna to suddenly comprehend everything overnight, or secretly wished for more time, the day of her debut came all the same.
August 14. Niigata, Race 5. 1600 meters. Heavy going. Fifteen runners.
The fated debut.
The first clash between destined enemies.
Orfevre stood there overflowing with arrogance.
Ikezoe radiated confidence.
Dyna looked as though she had been turned out to pasture.
And Wada, because of the odd state of her training, was full of unease.
The earlier accident between the two had already become widely known among racing fans. Shadai's behavior had earned plenty of disgust, but racegoers were honest enough to vote with their feet when it came to Takezono's revenge plan.
Orfevre. Flaxen chestnut. First favorite.
Light Dyna. Chestnut—maybe bay. Fourteenth favorite.
A short-tempered little colt in heat promised fierce competitiveness in the race itself. By contrast, Dyna's background and training offered absolutely nothing remarkable. There seemed to be no reason at all to support her.
By the time they reached the stalls, both the organizers and the riders were uneasy.
Would Orfevre come at Dyna with that filthy habit of his again?
Listening to the fans yelling about it, the officials felt only exhaustion. Some of them even resented Takezono's recklessness. But before long, they would not have time left to resent anything.
As they lined up for the gate, Orfevre did exactly what everyone feared—and somehow, exactly what everyone expected.
He started acting up toward Dyna again.
When Ikezoe hauled on him with all he had and still could not stop him from charging over, Wada truly panicked. If Orfevre really mounted Dyna, Wada himself was likely to be thrown.
But when Orfevre came in, he was not hanging anything out. Instead he flattened his ears and opened his mouth wide, lunging to bite Dyna. Wada and Ikezoe both reacted almost at once, dragging the two horses apart.
At least he had not tried to mount her. A savage temper was better than that, Wada thought.
Anyway, Dyna was drawn wide. She was a slow, late-running type. Orfevre had a middle gate. In theory, they should not cross paths again.
Maybe Dyna had been frightened by him all over again, because she hesitated outside the stalls. Only after Wada patted her hindquarters did she finally slip inside.
Maybe that spot actually worked on her?
There was no time to dwell on it. The gates were about to open.
The instant they sprang, Wada—already well aware of Dyna's abnormally slow reaction time—drove her hard from the outset. She just barely managed to take up a midfield position rather than dropping in among the worst of the slow breakers.
That let him breathe a little easier. Dyna was slow by nature, yes, but because she did not accelerate sharply, stamina was not such a worry. Maybe if the stragglers came back, she would still have a chance.
Then he heard Ikezoe shouting from behind, and the panic in the man's voice made Wada glance back on instinct.
If Orfevre wanted to pass the pack, then let him pass—why was he shouting like that?
And then the rear of the field erupted.
"Orfevre is cutting through the pack! Is he trying to seize the front already?!"
But after forcing his way free of the wall of horses, the small-bodied Orfevre came straight at Dyna.
No. No, he's coming for me.
"Ollie!" Ikezoe screamed.
The terror on Ikezoe's face was plain as day, but the violence of Orfevre's charge was even more real, and Wada was certain that in that moment he himself was even more frightened than Ikezoe.
Even though he had been bracing himself for something, the sheer force of Orfevre slamming bodily into him nearly knocked Wada out of the saddle, and the crowd gasped as one.
Wada fought with everything he had to stay upright. The leg that had taken the hit screamed with pain.
Damn it. My leg's going to snap. Dad, T.M. Opera O, save your son.
Dyna seemed to understand on her own that Orfevre had gone berserk. Without waiting for any signal from Wada, she yielded the path and let Orfevre surge ahead under Ikezoe's urging. Watching Orfevre merely cut across in front and seal off their way rather than crash again, Wada's feelings became indescribably complicated.
Ikezoe could only shoot him an apologetic look.
You know you're going to get dragged for this. At least control the beast, or neither of us is getting out of this clean.
"Orfevre cuts out sharply and collides with Light Dyna! Light Dyna has dropped back!"
"The collision between Orfevre and Dyna seems to have affected the whole pack! The field is all jammed up!"
By the time the commentator had finished describing Orfevre's violence, the race had already reached the final bend. No matter how badly Wada wanted to swallow the injustice, this was the point where he had to urge Dyna forward and go for the win.
Luckily, Niigata's absurdly long straight still gave closers a chance.
But in front of them was Orfevre.
Could they really get past him?
He was acting up again.
Dyna had already swung six wide around the outside, but even that drew Orfevre's attention. This time the impact was even fiercer. It felt as if Orfevre truly intended to put Dyna on the ground.
To Wada, Orfevre felt like some tiny stroke of cosmic misfortune, grinding him and the filly down over and over.
Just two years earlier the colt had been trying to mount Dyna.
Now he was snorting at her and clawing at her like a demon.
Wada finally snapped.
Even a clay Buddha had a temper. He and Dyna were nearly pinned against the outer rail, and from such a good position Ikezoe still could not keep Orfevre under control?
Fine, then. Let them all go down together.
For the first time in his life, Wada used the whip in reverse, signaling Dyna to edge closer to Orfevre—and then he let loose on her hindquarters with a series of full "windmill" swings.
A miracle happened.
Dyna, for some reason, responded brilliantly to that windmill barrage on her rump. She braced against Orfevre and launched a full-force countercharge. Orfevre failed to block her path. The two horses slammed shoulder-to-shoulder.
Ikezoe was finished for this.
And Dyna was probably going to come out of the race injured badly enough for a long layoff.
But if there was ever a moment to stake an entire career on one drive, this was it.
Wada's windmill whip became rhythmic, relentless. And in every gap between strokes, he shoved with everything he had, driving at the back of Dyna's neck with savage force.
It was a monstrous push, the kind of power one expected from some foreign master horseman. From atop the saddle, Wada even saw Dyna's ears suddenly prick upright.
As if he had flipped some impossible switch, Dyna burst forward with a speed and force Wada had never seen from her before, smashing straight through Orfevre's blockade.
They hit the line.
It did not feel as though they had lost to Orfevre.
"Orfevre and Dyna hit the line together! Final placings will require a photo!"
Three red lamps lit at once.
The stewards were reviewing the finish.
After the race ended and Wada was finally allowed to dismount, the left leg that had been crushed between Orfevre and Dyna gave way beneath him and nearly sent him to the ground. The doctor called it a muscle contusion with a small fracture mixed in.
He would need rest.
Still, at least T.M. Opera O's kid had not thrown him.
That counted for something.
Ikezoe had barely gotten out of the saddle before he was summoned to the steward's room. He was going to be flayed alive in there.
By the time Wada, after receiving emergency treatment, limped into the room, the other riders had already turned it into an open-air market, shouting around Ikezoe in all directions.
Ikezoe argued desperately that Orfevre had gone completely beyond his control, but a jockey failing to control his mount was still his responsibility. So although he had reason to feel aggrieved, he still got the inevitable suspension.
During the early stages of the race, Orfevre's cutting had materially interfered with the rest of the field. In the middle and latter stages, his repeated and violent impacts on Dyna had been unprecedented. Stripping him of his placing was beyond question.
Because the case involved multiple severe offenses, Orfevre was ordered back to the yard and barred from racing for at least three months, pending retraining and a passing re-evaluation.
Light Dyna was officially awarded first place.
Wada himself was fined for excessive whip use, though in light of the circumstances it was very much a raised hand coming down lightly.
After the prize ceremony, once Wada, Iwamoto, and Takezono had finally finished up, Iwamoto told him that after taking the windmill whip on the rump, Dyna had actually seemed to be in excellent condition. She had shown none of the usual empty, hollow post-race exhaustion. Still, to be safe, they had already sent her for turnout and recovery after her check. Her next race would likely not come until the end of the year.
Did that mean Dyna simply had an unusually high tolerance for the whip?
Or was it that she reacted especially strongly to Wada's driving?
Takezono's face remained thunderous, but he praised Wada's ride nonetheless.
"In a situation like that, any rider who stays aboard is already passing. A rider who can still draw fighting spirit out of his horse is a good rider."
"It seems Shadai's race education for Orfevre is lacking from top to bottom. In discipline and in actual race ability, she lost to Dyna's team. A horse like that can definitely be beaten. She's disgusting, but beatable."
"This debut left me very dissatisfied with the race itself, but very satisfied with the two of you as a partnership. Wada-kun has proven he's the right rider to support Dyna. There's no point discussing anyone else from here on. If Dyna takes the Triple Crown, then we'll go abroad in her four-year-old season and fulfill the ambition T.M. Opera O never got to realize."
"Dyna's proved she isn't afraid of colts, and she certainly isn't afraid of Orfevre. She showed her nerve and her courage and beat her outright. That means we can prepare for mixed company in the Classic year. Good. Then we hunt Orfevre down. Every G1 she enters, we shave her bald."
Only at that point did Takezono's expression finally soften.
"Then it's the Triple Crown."
"But the Kikuka Sho…"
"The theory is still one step at a time. But I believe in Dyna now. When the Kikuka Sho comes, you'll believe in her too—just like you believed in T.M. Opera O back then."
Takezono had publicly declared war on Orfevre's camp.
But this time it was not a howl of humiliation and hatred.
It was an open challenge.
A formal war proclamation.
The debut race, tragic and stirring in equal measure, had filled Dyna's camp with fighting spirit and confidence. From that race alone, Light Dyna had already proved herself worthy of being T.M. Opera O's child.
Though…
That muddy, ugly chestnut coat of T.M. Opera O's really was not helping matters.
Well. Maybe once Dyna shed her winter coat, it would improve.
As an unofficial trainer and an official jockey, Wada was able to visit Dyna even while she was away on turnout.
And after that, Dyna would naturally prove herself worthy of being Wada's very own good mother.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
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