Chapter 93. ~~~
Longchamp Racecourse had opened its central infield to spectators for today's meeting, allowing Shuta An and Tokai Teio, running tightly along the rail, to hear the deafening cheers with absolute clarity.
The young man also noticed that the louder the cheers became, the more spirited and excited his partner grew.
As they swept past the 200-meter marker, Shuta An glanced to his left.
White Muzzle, under Reid's urging, had launched a powerful charge from the far outside and had already closed to within half a length of Tokai Teio.
"Now!"
Having already adjusted his rhythm before reaching the 100-meter marker, Shuta An instantly entered a state of complete selflessness.
His mind emptied.
Every thought vanished.
His entire consciousness focused solely on pushing and whipping, entrusting everything to the instincts his body had forged through countless years in the saddle.
"TOKAI TEIO HAS FINALLY BEGUN HIS FULL SPRINT! HE'S COMPLETELY CLEAR OF THE PACK!"
TWO HUNDRED METERS REMAINING! TOKAI TEIO! ONLY THE FINAL 200 METERS STAND BETWEEN HIM AND HISTORY!"
"ON THE FAR OUTSIDE, WHITE MUZZLE IS CHARGING RELENTLESSLY! WILL THE EPSOM DERBY WINNER CONQUER THE PRIX DE L'ARC DE TRIOMPHE ONCE AGAIN AFTER SEVEN YEARS? OR WILL WHITE MUZZLE FINALLY AVENGE HIS DEFEAT IN THE EPSOM DERBY?!"
By this point, the commentator had completely forgotten every other Racehorse in the field.
Only Tokai Teio and White Muzzle remained in his eyes.
Yet Matsumoto Shoichi, watching from the stands, noticed something no one else had.
The moment Tokai Teio launched his sprint, a Racehorse that had attracted virtually no attention before the race suddenly burst forward, following the lane Shuta An had opened.
Because Shuta An feared that using the left-hand whip would cause Tokai Teio to drift into the rail, he had relied exclusively on the right-hand whip throughout the sprint.
That decision left just enough space between Tokai Teio and the rail—
Enough for another horse to squeeze through.
E Saint-Martin—The Jockey of Urban Sea (USA) immediately locked onto that opening.
One hand drove Urban Sea forward with relentless pushing while the other swung the whip again and again.
Urban Sea exploded with astonishing acceleration, launching a ferocious attack on Tokai Teio from the inside.
"Go!"
Saint-Martin's expression had become frighteningly intense. Every ounce of faith he possessed was poured into Urban Sea.
His partner had won only two G3 races.
He had never won at Longchamp Racecourse.
But he firmly believed—
On today's heavy going, he possessed the ability to create a miracle.
"This is the moment to prove everything!"
He believed, with absolute conviction, that he and Urban Sea were charging toward the only correct path.
"Closer! Closer and closer to Tokai Teio!"
His excitement surged.
His pushing became even more violent.
Although Shuta An had entered the Zone, that did not mean he had completely shut himself off from the outside world.
The instant Urban Sea burst through the lane he had deliberately left open and steadily closed the gap, the young man had already sensed the overwhelming fighting intent radiating from the opposing Jockey.
Yet he never drifted back toward the rail to defend.
Instead—
He continued riding exactly as before.
His instincts told him that this was the correct answer.
And Shuta An chose to trust those instincts completely.
Rather than block Urban Sea, he devoted every ounce of concentration to drawing out even greater performance from both himself and Tokai Teio.
With only thirty meters remaining, Shuta An could already feel the hot breath escaping Urban Sea's nostrils against his leg.
At that distance—
Even if he wanted to switch to the left-hand whip and shut the door, it was already impossible.
Meanwhile, on the outside, White Muzzle continued closing under Reid's determined ride.
The three Racehorses now thundered forward almost perfectly abreast.
Behind them, Opera House, in fourth, trailed White Muzzle by roughly a length.
The leading trio had completely broken away from the rest of the field.
But Shuta An paid no attention whatsoever.
His body continued its almost mechanical—yet astonishingly powerful—pushing rhythm.
The opposing Jockey likewise continued urging Urban Sea forward.
Stride by stride—
The gap shrank.
The two horses were now virtually running head to head.
Then—
In the very next instant—
Saint-Martin's expression froze.
"TOKAI TEIO CROSSES THE FINISH LINE! CONSECUTIVE VICTORIES IN THE EPSOM DERBY AND THE PRIX DE L'ARC DE TRIOMPHE! THE MONARCH OF JAPAN STANDS TRIUMPHANT BENEATH THE SKIES OF LONGCHAMP!"
Pulled out of the Zone by the commentator's thunderous voice, Shuta An's lips slowly curved into a radiant smile.
The margin of victory was narrow.
Barely half a head.
Yet it was decisive enough that no photo finish was required.
The winner was unmistakable to the naked eye.
"Urban Sea."
Breathing heavily after exhausting every ounce of strength during the final few hundred meters, Shuta An reluctantly extended his hand toward the opposing Jockey.
"Your performance was truly exceptional."
The Jockey accepted the handshake before quietly asking,
"When you had the opportunity to pull clear of the pack—you deliberately chose not to let Tokai Teio accelerate immediately, and instead waited before launching your sprint."
He looked directly into Shuta An's eyes.
"Was that intentional... or not?"
"Yes." Shuta An answered without the slightest hesitation. "It was intentional."
"Hah..." The Trainer let out a long, bitter sigh. "I was completely outplayed."
Shuta An felt too embarrassed to admit the truth.
He had merely been guarding against the possibility that someone would exploit that lane.
He had never been targeting Urban Sea specifically.
Looking at the Trainer's disappointed expression, the young man ultimately chose to let the misunderstanding remain.
—
In the grandstand, Uchimura Masanori and Matsumoto Shoichi threw their arms around each other.
Uchimura Masanori laughed and cried at the same time, nearly jumping in place, while Matsumoto Shoichi wiped away his tears against the Horse Owner's shoulder.
Nearby, Stableman Azuma Ikuo and the rest of the stable staff had already embraced one another, openly weeping.
For nearly the entire race—
They had been consumed by despair.
The only moment they had dared to hope was when Shuta An finally guided Tokai Teio out of the pack.
Then Urban Sea had suddenly erupted through the inside.
At that moment—
Everyone had felt their hearts leap into their throats.
Now that victory had finally been secured—
Only then could they truly breathe again.
"Excellent..."
"Excellent..."
"Excellent..."
Every member of the camp had become like a broken record, capable only of repeating those same words.
Even the reporters surrounding them with cameras could clearly feel the overwhelming joy.
"After all..." A local French reporter murmured softly, "it's the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe."
—
Across the sea in Japan, however, the atmosphere inside the JRA jockeys' lounge differed greatly from the jubilation surrounding Tokai Teio's connections.
Even Yutaka Take, who was especially close to Shuta An, wore an expression filled with mixed emotions.
"Ann-san has basically cemented himself as the undisputed greatest now, hasn't he?"
Norihiro Yokoyama was the first to break the silence.
Yutaka Take let out a quiet sigh.
"Now I honestly don't know how I'll ever catch up to him."
He paused before adding,
"I'm going overseas for training next year as well."
"I'm going too!"
Umana Masayoshi, who had claimed his second and third major victories earlier that year, immediately joined in.
"And if I ever get the opportunity— I want to challenge the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe too."
"The Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe."
The senior-most among them, Yukio Okabe, slowly closed his eyes.
"In the future—It will become the proving ground every person in Japanese racing dreams of conquering to prove they are the strongest."
But deep down—
He understood better than anyone else.
Replicating what Shuta An and Tokai Teio had accomplished today would be extraordinarily difficult for anyone who came after them.