Chapter 119.
Generally speaking, the promotional hierarchy for the second half of the Twinkle Series calendar is strictly regimented: the Autumn Tenno Sho, the Kikuka Sho, the Mile Championship, the Japan Cup, and finally, the Arima Kinen.
The Queen Elizabeth II Cup is rarely elevated to the status of a marquee promotional event. But this year, the paradigm had shifted.
The URA Association had authorized a massive, unprecedented budget specifically to artificially heat up next week's G1 major. The entire promotional apparatus was hyper-focused on a single entity: Mejiro Dober.
The URA had even dispatched specialized production crews across the globe—to Australia, the UK, France, and the US—to secure exclusive interviews with international Uma Musumes who had previously clashed with Mejiro Dober on the overseas circuit.
While the majority of this footage was chopped up and utilized for early promotional packages, the URA held the premium segments in reserve, intending to deploy them as a massive, emotional surprise. The ideal, cinematic scenario was for Mejiro Dober to secure a beautiful, flawless victory at the Queen Elizabeth II Cup, immediately followed by these tribute videos playing across the massive jumbo-trons at Kyoto Racecourse.
Of course, if the unpredictable variables of the turf intervened and Dober failed to achieve that fairytale ending, the expensive footage would simply be quietly archived into the vault.
However, this was hardly the first time the URA had gambled on a premature celebration only to be mathematically humbled by the reality of racing. They were used to the risk. If a catastrophic upset did occur, the only individuals who would truly suffer the crushing frustration would be Shuta An and Mejiro Dober herself.
During this rare gap week devoid of any G1 clashes, Shuta An meticulously supervised Dober's tactical preparations during the day, while strategically dialing back the training intensity for Rice Shower and Tokai Teio.
Initially, Shuta had intended to grant Rice Shower a complete, mandated rest period. However, Rice had stubbornly insisted on a gradual, phased reduction in her training load, wanting to maintain a baseline rhythm until the Japan Cup week. She argued that subjecting her body to a sudden, drastic drop in exercise intensity would disrupt her physiological equilibrium.
Analyzing the biological data, the young Trainer conceded the logic and approved her request. Ultimately, Rice's next deployment wasn't until the Arima Kinen—still over a month away—so any structured recovery program was mathematically sound.
And when the sun set, Shuta An's sleep schedule fractured. He would slip into the Dream World at erratic hours, aggressively embedding himself in the training routines of his upcoming racing partners. He spent hours conversing with the stablehands, meticulously extracting every possible data point regarding his mounts' temperaments, quirks, and physiological habits. He refused to step onto the American dirt blind; he needed to ensure his tactical responses were fully calibrated for any sudden anomalies that might erupt on the track.
Saturday finally arrived. The monumental Breeders' Cup festival officially commenced.
With no entries in the preliminary undercard, Shuta An simply relaxed in the bustling jockey's quarters, killing time chatting with Yutaka Take.
"It's a massive relief that both of us secured mounts for this festival." Shuta complained, leaning back in his chair. "If only one of us had made the trip, sitting in this room would be excruciatingly boring."
"That's undeniably true. If I had flown out here alone, I wouldn't recognize a single jockey in this room. I'd just be sitting in the corner, staring at the wall."
Take agreed, before offering a slight correction.
"Although, I highly doubt you would be bored, Ann-san. If you were here alone, every jockey in this room would be actively swarming you for a conversation."
"Networking with strangers is a massive drain on my stamina. I'd rather conserve every ounce of my mental energy to prepare for the actual races."
Shuta shrugged, his gaze sweeping lazily across the room.
It was true; several jockeys with middling win percentages were openly staring, trying to calculate an approach. But the young man had absolutely zero intention of initiating contact. America was not his primary battlefield. Building political capital with the local jockeys yielded zero tactical advantage—unless they happened to be prominent Trainers capable of brokering future G1 mounts.
It wasn't until the call for the fifth race of the day at Churchill Downs—the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies—that Shuta An finally stood up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his wrists.
"Alright. It's time to perform."
"Good luck out there!"
Yutaka Take offered a genuine, stress-free smile. Since he didn't have a mount in this specific race, he could wish his friend well without any conflicting psychological burdens.
For this race, Shuta was booked to pilot Serena's Song.
In the paddock, Trainer D. Wayne Lukas delivered his pre-race instructions with a tone of clinical indifference.
"Just run her. You have full tactical autonomy to plan the route, Mr. Shuta. Honestly, the exact placement doesn't matter, so long as she crosses the wire without sustaining any physical injuries."
Hearing that specific directive, the young jockey instantly decoded the subtext.
In Lukas's eyes, Serena's Song was nothing more than a sacrificial pawn today—a tactical decoy deployed to muddy the pace.
Frankly, Shuta wasn't surprised. The stable's absolute ace, Flanders, had completely annihilated the field in her previous prep race with terrifying, overwhelming dominance. It was only natural that the stable's entire strategic focus—and the betting public's money—was heavily concentrated on her.
However, just because Lukas had preemptively written Serena's Song off did not mean Shuta An was going to surrender.
"I can feel it—this girl possesses an absolute, bottomless well of potential."
The young man murmured softly, gently stroking Serena's Song's neck as he settled into the saddle.
If Shuta were to run a biometric and tactical analysis himself, he would unhesitatingly rank Serena's Song as the most inherently talented of his five Breeders' Cup partners.
The stablehand holding the lead rope heard the Asian jockey's quiet praise but remained completely silent. Frustrated by the stable's blatant favoritism and the fact that his horse was being treated as disposable fodder, the groom was in a foul mood. However, basic professional courtesy prevented him from openly mocking the jockey's optimistic assessment.
Years later, that silence would be the single greatest professional decision the stablehand ever made.
Serena's Song had drawn an abysmal starting position: Gate 11.
In a tight, twelve-horse field, an outside draw was mathematically disastrous for any strategy reliant on securing an early lead. However, Shuta An possessed a profound, encyclopedic comprehension of the mechanics of American dirt racing. He knew with absolute certainty that choosing to drop back and settle into a trailing position would mathematically eliminate any possibility of victory.
I must actively, aggressively push for position the moment the gates open. Even if I cannot secure the absolute lead, I must lock into the second-place slot and stalk the pace.
Finalizing his tactical blueprint, Shuta glanced back toward the jockey's quarters before entering the gate, a sharp, predatory smile curving his lips.
Take-san. Watch the monitors closely and take notes. I am going to demonstrate the absolute rhythm of an American dirt race.
He and Serena's Song stepped smoothly into Gate 11.
Clack!
The starting gates slammed open. Shuta immediately released the tension on the reins. Serena's Song, her adrenaline red-lining after being confined in the gate, violently exploded forward, bursting onto the dirt with terrifying enthusiasm.
Although she initially conceded ground due to the wide, disadvantageous draw, the young jockey immediately applied aggressive, calculated pressure. He urged his partner forward, accelerating with surgical precision, slicing past one opponent after another. By the time the pack violently converged entering the first bend, Shuta had successfully bullied his way into second place, perfectly stalking the overwhelming favorite, Flanders.
Watching the monitor from the stands, Trainer Lukas raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine professional respect crossing his face.
"Oh... as expected of Shuta. He managed to secure the absolute optimal positioning for Serena's Song given that atrocious gate."
But his expression quickly darkened, and he shook his head.
"However, actively choosing to stalk Flanders is a massive tactical error. Flanders possesses a notoriously violent, hyper-aggressive fighting spirit. If Serena's Song attempts to apply pressure from the rear, considering the fundamental disparity in their baseline parameters and the current distance, she is going to be completely violently shaken off in the final bend. She'll burn out and never recover."
In Lukas's internal calculations, his expectations for Flanders were astronomical—he genuinely believed she possessed a ceiling comparable to a fusion of Hokuto Vega and Sky Beauty. As for Serena's Song, if she managed to scrape together one or two low-tier G1 victories in her career, it would be considered a successful return on investment.
But Shuta An did not share that calculation.
It is time to deliver a brutal, unforgettable lesson to Flanders and Pat Day.
The young jockey locked his sights onto Pat Day's back, preparing to utilize the brutal, unforgiving dirt of Churchill Downs as his personal classroom.