After the banquet ended, Oguri Cap left the hall, leaning heavily against the corridor wall.
The gray Uma Musume's back rested there, her breathing a little uneven. Shuta An stood close, supporting her shoulder, while Berno Light followed a step behind, habitually glancing around to ensure no one was approaching.
"Wait a moment!"
Just as the three members of Team Sadalsuud stepped out of the hotel, preparing to head back to Tokyo Racecourse to retrieve their car, a familiar voice called out from behind.
Oguri Cap was the first to turn around. Seeing who it was, she instinctively stepped forward. This was something she needed to respond to herself—she would not let her Trainer speak in her place.
"At 2400 meters, I admit it—I am no match for Miss Oguri Cap." FolkQueen placed her right hand over her chest, her posture upright and sincere. "Miss Oguri Cap, would you be interested in a rematch next year…in a Mile race? A true 1600-meter contest."
"This…" Oguri Cap turned her head slightly, looking toward Shuta An. "Trainer?"
"In the second half of next year, Oguri will be participating in the Breeders' Cup Series," Shuta An said calmly after clearing his throat, deliberately drawing FolkQueen's attention to himself. "Most likely the Mile. If Miss FolkQueen wishes, she can sign up for the same race."
"The Breeders' Cup Mile—" FolkQueen pressed her lips together, thinking for a moment. "I understand. I'll consider it."
Her gaze returned to Oguri Cap, sharp and unwavering. "Let's meet again in America next year. Then, I'll show you what kind of performance I can deliver at my true distance."
"Alright." Oguri Cap forced a smile—mostly because she had eaten far too much. "But I'll still win."
"Is that so?" FolkQueen neither affirmed nor denied it. "Then… we'll see."
—
Because he was driving, Shuta An hadn't touched even a soft drink at the banquet.
The moment he arrived home, he went straight to the refrigerator, poured himself a full glass of barley tea, and collapsed onto the sofa. With his legs stretched out, he opened his phone, ready to browse Twinkle Series fans' reactions to today's Japan Cup.
"She's way too strong! To run that kind of time in a comeback race—she's completely beaten the bowed tendon!"
"That's incredible—Bowed tendon is basically a death sentence for many Uma Musumes, yet she overcame it with sheer willpower. Insane."
"As an Oguri Cap fan, I honestly thought the comeback was just PR to calm us down. Turns out everything was real. Oguri Cap never gave up on us."
"Bowed tendon can't defeat Oguri Cap! Oguri Cap is invincible!"
"Everyone's focused on the bowed tendon," Shuta An thought quietly.
In truth, it was fortunate her injury was mild.If it had been a severe case—I'd be discussing baby names with Oguri right now.
—
Of course, not everyone was talking about injuries.
"Creek couldn't even get close at the end. Looks like winning the Autumn Tenno Sho only happened because Oguri Cap was saving herself for the Japan Cup."
"Inari One fell even harder T_T … Is she already declining?"
"Transferred to Central at the start of the year and already declining in the second half? That's brutal."
"No one's talking about Obey Your Master? She actually took third—how is that not amazing?"
"2:22.1… This can't be Oguri Cap's limit, right?"
"Japan's strongest! From her Trainer's interview, she's definitely aiming for the world next year. I hope she walks a different path from Symboli Rudolf."
"Who's Symboli Rudolf? The one who didn't even place in a G1 in America?"
"That's because she had no logistics support, poor condition management, and even fractured mid-race!"
"Still no overseas G1 placing tho www"
Seeing the usual online squabbling spiral out of control, Shuta An curled his lips and locked his phone.
—
Elsewhere, he wasn't the only one reading post–Japan Cup reactions.
Nase Fumino. Super Creek. Inari One's Trainer. Many others.
The same words sparked entirely different emotions.
For Inari One's Trainer—who knew he had misjudged the race—those critical, mocking comments oddly brought relief. At least the blame wasn't being hidden.
For Inari One herself, every harsh word became fuel.
"I'll absolutely show my true self at the Arima Kinen!" She bit her lip, her fists clenched tight.
—
As for Nase Fumino, Super Creek's fourth-place finish was never something to be ashamed of. Losing to Oguri Cap was nothing disgraceful. Yet she also knew—better than anyone—that the Uma Musume she trained carried an intense desire to defeat Oguri Cap. And in this Japan Cup, Super Creek had failed to seize her chance, suffering yet another decisive loss.
At this point—cheering her up might matter more than analysis, Nase Fumino thought.
"Super Creek," she said gently, "do you have anywhere you'd like to go during your week-long holiday?"
Super Creek turned her head in surprise. She hadn't expected such a question.
After a brief hesitation, she answered honestly, "I'd rather stay at the academy and train. I know exactly why I lost—my explosive power wasn't enough. I don't want to fall behind Oguri-san next time."
"No," Nase Fumino replied firmly. "Work and rest must be balanced. You've just finished a race of extreme intensity. Training now would only raise your risk of injury. Rest properly first—then return stronger."
"If that's your advice, Trainer…" Super Creek pursed her lips. "Then I want to go to Enoshima."
"Enoshima?" Nase Fumino nodded after a moment. "Alright. Then we'll go tomorrow."
"Yay!"
Super Creek raised both hands, her mood lifting instantly. The lingering gloom from the Japan Cup loss scattered like mist. Compared to today's defeat, she now found herself far more excited about her upcoming "date" with her Trainer.
The next morning, Shuta An woke far later than usual.
Still groggy, he reached instinctively for his phone, intending to check whether anyone had messaged him while he slept. His screen immediately filled with congratulatory messages—friends, acquaintances, even people he barely remembered exchanging pleasantries with him.
Yet among that flood of identical congratulations, one message stood out.
From Silence Suzuka.
The opening was no different from the others, but the final lines diverged. After her congratulations, she informed him of her next race schedule—and, just like her debut race, expressed the hope that Shuta An could come watch in person and offer his guidance.
When his eyes landed on the race name "Kaleido Flower Award," information surged through his mind at once. In an instant, he understood the intent behind Miss Tojo Hana's arrangement.
(What race is this? Real life Silence Suzuka started to race in the beginning of the year as his debut and a three-year-old race in February)
"So next week… Silence Suzuka will be heading to Nakayama to run a one-win class race," Shuta An murmured. "Miss Tojo really is taking the cautious route."
If Silence Suzuka won that 1-win C race, her next target would naturally be the Yayoi Sho—similar track conditions—followed by a direct challenge to the Satsuki Sho.
It was a schedule that left little room for mistakes.
If Silence Suzuka stumbled in the Yayoi Sho, then the Satsuki Sho would be out of reach entirely. And from what Shuta An had seen through the attribute viewer, Silence Suzuka was ill-suited to long distances. Miss the Satsuki Sho, and she would be forced into a Derby pre-race just to gamble for qualification.
"Escape in a 2400-meter race at Tokyo…" Shuta An shook his head. "That's asking for too much."
If he were the one arranging her schedule, he would have chosen the Kisaragi Sho—a G3, 1800 meters on Kyoto turf in February. Win there, and go straight to the Satsuki Sho. Lose, and fall back to the Yayoi Sho. One extra layer of fault tolerance.
"But even that might not help much—"
Based on Silence Suzuka's condition the last time he saw her, even accounting for growth, Shuta An felt she still wasn't fully prepared to handle graded races.
"If she ends up third in the Yayoi Sho, that'd be the worst outcome."
There was a reason for that judgment.
In the Twinkle Series, qualification was determined by prize money. From debut races up through 3-win classes, only the winner earned prize money. In open, listed, and graded races, only the top two were rewarded.
The Yayoi Sho was an exception—its top three finishers earned a direct ticket to the Satsuki Sho.
Third place meant qualification…but no prize money.
Fail to place top five in the Satsuki Sho, and one would be forced into a Derby pre-race. Fail there, and summer races would become mandatory just to prepare for autumn. From a long-term perspective, third place was an almost meaningless position.
Still, Silence Suzuka's schedule was Tojo Hana's responsibility. Shuta An had no intention of interfering. After mentally grumbling about the prize money system, he set his phone aside, got out of bed, and went to wash up.
—
Oguri Cap's next race was unquestionably the Arima Kinen. Seven weeks remained until then, and Shuta An decided to allocate three of those weeks as Oguri Cap's holiday.
"Oguri will take a good rest during this time," he announced over breakfast.
"Yay!" Both Oguri Cap and Berno Light cheered in unison.
"I'm going back to Kasamatsu!" Oguri Cap declared immediately. "It's been so long—I want to visit the academy and see everyone."
"Then I'll go with you," Berno Light added. "I don't have anything scheduled before the Arima Kinen anyway. Trainer, are you coming too?"
At the end, the chestnut-haired Uma Musume turned to Shuta An, clearly inviting him along.
He shook his head. "I won't be going back. I'll probably be quite busy during this time."
"I see…" Oguri Cap's eyes flickered for a moment, but she didn't press further. She trusted her Trainer completely.
And Shuta An wasn't lying.
Over the next three weeks, he truly had much to do.
For example—later that very day, after seeing Oguri Cap and Berno Light off, Mejiro Ramonu came to visit.
This time, however, she wasn't alone—Mejiro Dober accompanied her.
That alone was enough to surprise Shuta An.
Ramonu had mentioned bringing a junior from the family, and Shuta An had assumed it would be Mejiro McQueen—the most favored of the Mejiro lineage at present. He hadn't expected Mejiro Dober instead, especially given how severe her androphobia had been before.
"What would you like to drink?" Shuta An asked after leading them into the living room.
"I'll have the same as last time," Mejiro Ramonu replied easily. She had visited often enough that her preferences were well known.
"..." Mejiro Dober hesitated, then muttered something in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"What was that?" Shuta An hadn't heard clearly and asked again from behind the bar.
"Iced Americano," Mejiro Ramonu answered in her stead.
"Oh?" Shuta An raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a… distinctive preference, Miss Dober."
"Not very ladylike…right?" Mejiro Dober lowered her head, her voice trembling faintly, like a stress response.
Noticing this, Shuta An immediately dropped the subject. Once the drinks were prepared and set on the coffee table, he took the main seat.
"So," he said calmly, lifting his cup, "what brings you here today, Miss Ramonu? I believe my part-time work wrapped up a few days ago."
"Actually, it wasn't my idea," Mejiro Ramonu replied with a smile. "It was Dober—"
"No!" Mejiro Dober's face flushed red as she hurriedly interrupted.
"Then shall we leave now?" Mejiro Ramonu narrowed her eyes, turning to look directly at her junior.
"..." Mejiro Dober averted her gaze, staring into empty space. The iced Americano in her hands seemed to grow even colder.
"Alright," she muttered at last. "It was my idea. Um… I want to use points."
"I recall saying you could just tell me on Line," Shuta An reminded her. "There was no need to come all the way here."
"This isn't something that can be discussed without being here," Mejiro Ramonu said knowingly.
"Oh?" Shuta An's interest was piqued.
"Um… I hope you can be—"
"Be what?" Shuta An raised an eyebrow, looking toward Ramonu.
"Dober hopes—" Mejiro Ramonu cleared her throat, preparing to speak for her.
"I want you to be my model!"
Mejiro Dober squeezed her eyes shut, blurting it out at full volume.
"EH?!"
Mejiro Ramonu exclaimed first.
"A… model?" Even Shuta An was momentarily stunned.
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