The entire Kyoto Racecourse was blanketed in an eerie silence, broken only by the relentless drumming of rain and the heavy breaths of the crowd.
Had anyone, before this year's Kikuka Shō, claimed that Narita Brian would not be the champion, they would have been dismissed as telling a poor joke.
But today, right before everyone's eyes, that joke had become reality.
Narita Brian was defeated—undeniably, unquestionably defeated. The gap between her and the winner wasn't a nose, not a neck, but a devastating, soul-crushing distance—
Five lengths.
The record Narita Brian set in the Japanese Derby was paid back in full this day, as if to say the gulf between her and Dream Weaver was as vast as the one between her and every other Uma Musume.
Even the commentary box fell into a stunned hush. No one could believe what had just unfolded. Sugimoto Kentaro's partner collapsed into his chair, muttering under his breath in disbelief, "It can't be… It can't be! If she had this kind of ability, why would she skip the first two classic races?"
The commentator, who had supported Narita Brian since her debut, couldn't make sense of it.
As a public figure, he'd sworn time and again—in who knows how many settings—that if Narita Brian failed to win the Triple Crown, he would do this or that.
Before the race, such words were just empty banter. Now, they carried a dangerous weight.
Driven by dread and a touch of humiliation, his mind clouded by the shocking result, he instinctively leaned into the microphone and declared.
"A setup! This had to be a deliberate ambush against Narita Brian! They waited until she'd grown complacent after two classic wins and targeted her here, in the Kikuka Shō!"
He'd only meant to vent, but once the words started, they flowed faster and fiercer, fueled by emotion. Even Sugimoto Kentaro, who'd just begun to collect himself, couldn't cut him off in time.
"That's it! Isn't she from some fallen noble family? They must've used Narita Brian's momentary letdown to steal the win and restore their name in the racing world!"
"Hah… I see it now, I see everyth—"
"Shut up! What exactly do you see?!"
Face pale with alarm, Sugimoto Kentaro didn't hesitate—he kicked his colleague clean off the chair, rushed to the console, and cut the microphone.
All the while, he urgently signaled the staff to restrain his former partner.
For a commentator to personally stir up controversy at a professional event of this caliber—a G1 race—meant severe repercussions. Not only would any future partnership with Sugimoto Kentaro be impossible, he'd be lucky to ever work a central race again.
But Sugimoto Kentaro had no time to worry about that now. His mind was already racing toward what would come next.
If his ex-partner had kept quiet, things might have been manageable. But now that those poisonous words had been broadcast, his public influence was sure to draw a crowd of supporters.
And the truth was, most of the audience was bitterly disappointed that Narita Brian had missed the Triple Crown. With their hopes crushed, fed that twisted narrative, many would inevitably direct their resentment toward Northern Dreams.
If public opinion were allowed to fester… Sugimoto Kentaro felt a cold sweat drench his shirt. He quickly pulled the microphone close and announced:
"The world of heroes is vast as a river full of fish! Narita Brian's defeat is no disgrace—it is proof of glory! Proof that this generation shines with not one star, but many. Only when the night sky of horse racing glitters with countless bright stars can each generation surpass the last, and our sport flourish ever more!"
"The Kikuka Shō does not define their careers. At year's end, in the Arima Kinen, they will face seasoned veterans—they will represent this generation against the living legends of the turf!"
In those fleeting seconds, Sugimoto Kentaro had scraped his mind dry. Unlike his ex-partner's reckless accusations, he had to reframe the narrative with hope—and make the audience excited for Northern Dreams' future, too.
Satisfied he'd struck the right note, he took a deep breath and declared in a clear, strong voice:
"But for now, rather than looking ahead, what we must do is cheer for our champion! For the first time in thirty-five years, an Uma Musume has claimed the Kikuka Shō with a Great Escape!"
"The name Northern Dreams will be etched into history! And the best response we who witness it can offer is to praise the victor!"
With that, Sugimoto Kentaro nervously closed his eyes. Never in his career had he spoken so much in one burst. But to undo the damage his ex-partner caused, he had to pull the crowd back from wild conspiracy theories and redirect their attention to the track.
He had to show them: Northern Dreams was no treacherous assassin. She was a standard-bearer of the Kikuka Shō's Great Escape legacy, and her victory deserved celebration.
Over the racecourse, only Sugimoto Kentaro's heavy breaths echoed briefly after his speech. For a moment, the stands remained quiet.
Then, gradually, applause began to rise—scattered, almost drowned out by the rain, but there. Some had chosen to stand against the tide and offer blessings to the new Kikuka Shō champion.
Dream Weaver had heard it all—the ex-commentator's outburst, Sugimoto Kentaro's recovery. Yet she showed no reaction. Even facing that thin, hesitant applause, her expression didn't flicker.
Truth be told, this was the least applause she'd received since her debut victory.
Back then, even after beating the highly-touted prodigy Tokai Teio, and in her second scripted world triumph over Orfevre—the so-called future of Japanese racing—she'd been met with roaring praise.
But perhaps the public's desire for Narita Brian's Triple Crown had run too deep. Maybe the ex-commentator's parting shot had been too persuasive.
Even a five-length victory in the Kikuka Shō couldn't make them accept her.
To Dream Weaver, it didn't really matter.
Her main mission wasn't to win the crowd's affection. Her goal was back-to-back Tenno Shō wins, to defeat Narita Brian at her peak. All she needed was to win, race after race.
As for cheers?
She didn't need them.
Facing the dark, looming stands, Dream Weaver impassively placed a hand over her heart and gave a slight, formal bow. The red cape on her right shoulder slipped loose, falling into the mud below.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! Webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.