Chapter 89. Tactical Misdirection
Shuta An's prediction proved accurate. This year's Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe was won by Sakhee. However, even he hadn't expected the margin of victory—the filly stormed home six lengths clear of the runner-up.
"Truly terrifying..." the young man couldn't help but murmur. "Will Teio have to face an opponent like her in next year's Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe?"
"Even against someone like that, I won't give up!" Tokai Teio declared as she tugged lightly on her Trainer's shoulder.
"I know Teio would never surrender to any opponent."
Shuta An gently patted the hand resting on his shoulder before smiling faintly.
"Alright, let's call it a day. Everyone should head back to the dorms and get some rest."
"Trainer still has to drive home? It's already so late." Kurofune blinked as she rose from her seat.
"Don't worry." Shuta An waved dismissively. "I have a small apartment near the academy. I'll just stay there for the night."
At those words, Rice Shower revealed an expression of sudden understanding. Apparently, she had been wondering the same thing Kurofune had just asked.
Catching sight of Rice Shower's reaction, Shuta An became even more convinced of her future.
"Unlike in the Dream World, long-distance G1 races in the Twinkle Series are far more appreciated in the real world. Rice Shower will definitely receive even greater love from the fans than she ever did there."
—
After escorting several of the Uma Musume back to their dormitories, Shuta An touched the pass that Symboli Rudolf had given him some time ago. Thinking of Mejiro Dober, who was now training on the West Coast of America, he shook his head with a quiet smile.
"I suppose this thing will come in handy someday."
With that thought, he left Central Tracen Academy.
A few minutes later, he arrived at his small apartment. After taking a quick shower, he climbed into bed, preparing to drift off to sleep.
"Tonight, the Dream World reaches the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe as well—and just like today, the track will be heavy—"
Just before closing his eyes, Shuta An abruptly sat upright.
"I remember now!"
In that instant, the elusive flash of inspiration that had slipped through his fingers finally returned.
"I'll test it thoroughly later."
Filled with renewed confidence, he closed his eyes and entered the Dream World.
—
Today's opening event was merely a Listed race, one unrelated to him, so Shuta An remained in the jockeys' waiting room, quietly observing the condition of the track.
The race was contested over 2000 meters, and its eventual winner employed front-running tactics.
"So the turf on the final straight really is even less favorable for late closers."
Shuta An narrowed his eyes.
"To win here, you have to advance to the front of the pack before exiting the false straight, then unleash your sprint after entering the home straight. Trying to explode with a late kick and overtake a dozen horses down the stretch is practically impossible."
The conclusion perfectly matched the inspiration he had recovered.
"Fortunately, Teio drew a favorable gate—" Shuta An secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "Drawing either the innermost or the outermost gate this time would've been a nightmare."
—
The second race of the day, the Western Stakes, reunited Shuta An with Kitwood.
"According to André Fabre, Kitwood handles today's turf well. Although the distance differs from the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, this will be a good chance to test my theory."
With that thought, he swung into Kitwood's saddle.
As they reached the false straight, Shuta An gradually guided Kitwood toward the front of the field. Upon entering the final straight, he merely gave the colt a subtle signal before asking for acceleration.
Heavy, rain-soaked ground robbed Kitwood of the explosive burst normally seen on firm footing. However, every other horse in the race suffered from the same limitation.
Benefiting from the positional advantage secured before the straight, Shuta An and Kitwood narrowly held off Voleris by a head to snatch victory in the Western Stakes.
"Just as I thought."
The experiment had produced exactly the result he expected.
However, anyone familiar with experimentation knew that a single successful result proved nothing. Every experiment required a control group.
Thus, in the third race—the G2 Opera Stakes—Shuta An deliberately adopted the opposite approach. Riding Elizabeth Bay, he kept her buried in midfield, only asking her to accelerate after entering the final straight.
Relying on relentless urging and a powerful windmill whip, Elizabeth Bay charged through the field.
Then, with only ten meters remaining before the finish line, Christophe Soumillon watched in astonishment as Shuta An suddenly threw his entire body forward, pressing down on ElizabethBay's neck to encourage every last inch of extension from her stride.
Almost instinctively, Christophe Soumillon mirrored the exact same motion on his own mount.
Elizabeth Bay and Verveine crossed the finish line locked together.
The stewards deliberated for nearly thirty minutes before finally announcing a dead heat. Both horses would share the victory.
"That was close!" Shuta An let out a slow breath. "As expected, you can't afford to be behind when entering the final straight. You have to reach the front beforehand."
Facing Shuta An for the first time in a major stakes race, Christophe Soumillon finally understood why this young Asian jockey had managed to earn the respect and friendship of Walter Swinburn in such a short time.
"For every remaining race today, I have to stay completely alert whenever Shuta An is involved," he silently warned himself.
—
The fourth race, the G1 Marcel Boussac, saw Shuta commit fully to front-running tactics.
He deliberately established an exceptionally slow opening pace, covering the first 600 meters in forty-two seconds over the heavy ground.
Once they entered the home straight, he simply rode his mount normally. Although the lead never expanded dramatically, none of the pursuers managed to reel him in either.
In the end, he crossed the finish line half a length in front, claiming his third consecutive victory of the day.
"I'm speechless—truly speechless."
Olivier Peslier, aboard the runner-up, could only shake his head repeatedly.
"Shuta completely dictated this race. I knew the pace was slow, but I kept thinking a lead of only one length would be easy to catch. Even starting from the outermost gate, he still outplayed me."
Yet despite the defeat, the race was not without value.
Peslier was scheduled to partner Shemaka in the upcoming Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, and this race had made one thing unmistakably clear.
Today's Longchamp turf was extraordinarily demanding.
"I really have to seize the initiative and secure a forward position."
As he watched Shuta An walk toward the post-race interview, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
"So... Shuta figured this out as early as the second race today? Then in the Opera Stakes, did he deliberately switch tactics just to mislead the rest of us?"
A trace of regret surfaced in Olivier Peslier's heart.
"What a pity the next race is already the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. Otherwise, I would've loved to see whether he would continue using different tactics in the remaining races just to deceive all of us."