As they entered the backstretch opposite the grandstand, Shuta An glanced sideways.
Sugawara, still beside him, remained relaxed—just as he had been moments earlier.
A faint smile tugged at Shuta An's lips.
"He doesn't think I'll wait until the final corner like everyone else, does he?" the young man teased inwardly.
At the same time, he subtly increased the pressure of his driving. Feeling the signal at her hind neck, Mejiro Dober glanced sideways and instantly understood.
He wants to start early—to avoid getting boxed in on the inside.
If this were her own body, she would never attempt such a move. But this wasn't her body. This is McQueen's body—the one with the strongest stamina my subconscious could imagine.
There's no way this won't work.
With that conviction, Mejiro Dober obeyed.
She began to accelerate smoothly, opening a gap on AzumaEast, climbing from fifth to second, sweeping past the original pacemaker Meinel Geist, and closing to within two lengths of the leader, Osumi Rocchi.
"Even if Mr. Take wants a slow escape," Shuta An assessed calmly, "Meinel Geist's original pace was a bit too fast. Even under control, the 1000-meter split will probably still be around sixty seconds."
—
After reaching his conclusion, Shuta An was no longer eager to press forward.
He simply allowed Mejiro McQueen to maintain a stable distance behind Osumi Rocchi, neither closing in aggressively nor applying pressure, leaving Yutaka Take free to dictate the pace ahead.
"McQueen may have endless stamina, but he can't maintain a full sprint for over a thousand meters," Shuta An thought calmly as he rode. "At this point, he needs to regroup before tackling the Yodo Slope. Besides—"
His gaze sharpened.
"Mr. Take's Osumi Rocchi—his strides are already starting to lose rhythm."
Yutaka Take, influenced over time by Shuta An, no longer clung stubbornly to the belief that absolute unity with the Racehorse was the entirety of riding technique. He had begun to learn Shuta An's powerful pushing ride. Yet due to his height—170 centimeters, tall for a jockey—the effect was limited.
Unlike Shuta An, who had once compensated for Sunday Silence's stamina loss through sheer physical output in the Belmont Stakes, Yutaka Take found it difficult to make up for Osumi Rocchi's rapidly draining reserves once his stamina bar dipped.
Sensing his partner's fatigue, Yutaka Take took advantage of the curve and glanced back.
There—slightly to his left—were Shuta An and Mejiro McQueen.
"Is Ann-san planning to run the inside?" Yutaka Take frowned.
Osumi Rocchi clearly no longer had any chance of victory. His choice now was simple: go wide, or cut in.
Going wide would open an acceleration lane for Shuta An. Cutting in would block it—though Shuta An could simply shift McQueen a step outward and pass regardless.
No matter which option he chose, it wouldn't truly trouble Shuta An.
"Tsk."
Unwilling to resort to petty tactics, Yutaka Take guided Osumi Rocchi slightly outward, yielding space.
Mejiro Dober noticed the movement instantly.
"Is this a trap?" she hesitated. "Like waiting for me to close in and then suddenly cutting back to bump me?"
But the man on her back had no such suspicion.
"Mr. Take really is something else—" Shuta An thought with a faint smile. "He's probably ready to make me pay for dinner tonight."
Casually, he flipped the whip—unused until now—from a backhand grip to a forehand one, then shifted it into his left hand.
The first whip of the race landed cleanly.
Mejiro Dober startled, but her body reacted on instinct, surging forward.
"Seriously—" she pouted inwardly as she accelerated. "If you wanted me to speed up, couldn't you just say so? Why whip me?"
Her thoughts spiraled further.
"This is my lucid dream, right? Shouldn't I be able to accelerate just by thinking about it? Why does a whip still work—"
A dangerous idea surfaced.
"Does my subconscious actually like this sort of thing?"
She froze. Having drawn adult manga meant she wasn't ignorant of such topics—after all, repetition dulled even the most devoted genre fan. Variety was necessary.
"Am I…secretly into S&M?"
Mejiro Dober immediately shut that thought down, sensing she was one step away from tumbling into an unfathomable abyss.
Naturally, Shuta An had no idea that such thoughts were unfolding within the body he rode, nor could he possibly imagine their content.
—
He overtook Osumi Rocchi with ease. Now, the scenery ahead belonged to only one jockey and one Racehorse.
"There are still more than six hundred meters left," Shuta An calculated calmly. "Time to gradually prepare McQueen for full acceleration."
His pushing ride steadily intensified.
After passing Osumi Rocchi, Mejiro Dober didn't recklessly surge forward. Instead, she maintained a pace clearly faster than before and settled into a controlled cruise.
Sprint only after entering the final straight. Otherwise, you waste energy on meaningless turns.
This was knowledge Shuta An had drilled into her. Her understanding of racing far surpassed that of her classmates at Central Tracen Academy, who had yet to experience real competition.
Because of this, Shuta An felt unusually at ease. Of course, he attributed it to Mejiro McQueen's gentle temperament and exceptional controllability.
—
"Isn't it too early to take the lead?"
In the stands, Trainer Ikee Tairo watched anxiously.
"McQueen's stamina isn't the issue, but with a passing pace of sixty-point-four seconds per kilometer, won't he lose speed by going to the front this early?"
Beside him, the mistress of the Mejiro family raised her eyebrows slightly.
On her other side sat Shinji Okuhira, Mejiro Ryan's trainer.
"Mejiro Ryan is in excellent condition," he said calmly. "His responses look sharp. His chances of winning this Kikuka Sho are very high."
Compared to Ikee Tairo, the Mejiro family's mistress held Shinji Okuhira in higher regard—after all, he had personally trained Mejiro Ramonu, the family's Triple Tiara Racehorse.
She turned to him and nodded with a faint smile, offering no further comment.
Ikee Tairo's expression darkened.
After voicing his concern for McQueen, Okuhira's remark felt like a quiet rebuke. Yet Ikee could only swallow his frustration. The man was an elder, a Triple Tiara trainer—arguing would only end with Ikee publicly apologizing, even if he were right.
So he said nothing.
He could only pray silently that Shuta An and Mejiro McQueen would seize victory—and with it, bring him honor.
—
Entering the final straight.
Three hundred meters to go.
Without even glancing back, Shuta An knew—every opponent with remaining strength would be launching their sprint now.
"Let's go," he murmured, leaning low against Mejiro McQueen's back. "We've taken the lead. There's no way we're giving it up."
"Accelerate… accelerate… accelerate."
This time, Mejiro Dober heard him clearly. Without waiting for another whip, she surged forward of her own accord.
Shuta An raised his eyebrows in surprise—and immediately abandoned the idea of whipping. At this stage, the whip existed only to force acceleration. Since he was already accelerating, it was unnecessary.
"What's happening?!" the live commentator shouted in disbelief. "No whip—no whip at all! Just pushing! Shuta An is relying purely on his pushing ride to make Mejiro McQueen accelerate!"
"Just pushing! Just pushing!" High up in the stands, the veteran commentator's eyes widened in disbelief. "Shuta An hasn't whipped even once, yet Mejiro McQueen is still accelerating!"
For someone who had spent decades in the industry, what he was witnessing was exceedingly rare—especially on a G1 stage.
"Only pushing, and he's widening the gap again! Mejiro McQueen is pulling away from the field! It's as if he's grown wings!" His voice rose with excitement. "The bloodline of the 'Endurance Mejiro' is surging once more on the turf of Kyoto Racecourse!"
On the track, Shuta An had already left second-place Shiraishi (White Stone) three lengths behind. Even so, he turned his head slightly, casting a conspicuously clear glance over his shoulder.
The gap is open, he assessed calmly. But it's only three lengths.
The strength in his pushing ride did not diminish in the slightest.
As expected, we still need more, he thought. That way, when Mr. Take rides McQueen in the Arima Kinen, the pressure will be even greater.
In moments like this, Shuta An didn't mind creating a little trouble for Yutaka Take. Imagining his friend's future predicament only made him grin inwardly—and push even harder.
—
Mejiro Dober, too, was burning with excitement.
The final straight of the Kikuka Sho—
For her, in the real world, this was a stage she would never step onto in her lifetime.
But in the Dream World—I can experience it.
Even though she could no longer hear the pounding hooves of her pursuers, she dared not relax.
So how could I possibly let you catch up?!
She clenched her teeth, her entire being brimming with the resolve of someone fighting for honor itself.
At that moment, Mejiro Dober faintly sensed the sound of something shattering.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with Mejiro McQueen's body. Shuta An could feel it clearly—his partner beneath him was displaying the very best form of his career.
"This is his three-year-old autumn…" he thought, the wind screaming past his ears. "If he doesn't age prematurely, he'll only continue to grow stronger…"
His thoughts drifted naturally.
"No wonder Teio and McQueen cared so deeply for each other in the real world. Strong individuals are always drawn together." He calculated calmly. "If their debuts are a year apart, they won't clash in the Classic races—but once they're older, they're destined to meet."
Recalling Tokai Teio's recent condition, Shuta An reached a clear conclusion.
"In middle-distance races, Teio will have to be fully serious against McQueen. And in long-distance races—" He clicked his tongue softly. "She'll basically have no chance."
"Fortunately," he added inwardly, "they're not from the same generation. Otherwise, Teio's Triple Crown dream would already be doomed."
—
Fifty meters remained.
In the VIP section, Trainer Ikee Tairo clenched his fists and rose to his feet.
"So strong~" he whispered, leaning forward. "Is this McQueen's true form?"
Nearby, Trainer Shinji Okuhira watched Mejiro Ryan struggling into third place, his expression barely concealing his embarrassment. Before the race, he had never believed Mejiro McQueen could threaten Ryan so decisively.
If the victory had been narrow, excuses could have been made—jockey differences, race flow.
But now, the truth was undeniable.
The gap between Mejiro McQueen and second-place Shiraishi had stretched to four lengths. No argument about jockey skill could bridge that chasm.
"Indeed," Okuhira murmured. "He has truly inherited the blood of Mejiro Titan."
Hearing this, the Mejiro family's mistress paused. The faint embarrassment she had felt earlier quietly dissipated, replaced by a trace of emotion.
"How wonderful," she said softly. "Old man… perhaps this child can truly fulfill your dream."
But only with this jockey, she added silently.
—
"Mejiro McQueen crosses the finish line!" The commentator's voice thundered. "A sibling's triumph in the Kikuka Sho! Did you see that, elder brother?!"
"This is the power of Mejiro blood! A commanding victory by three and a half lengths!"
"Shuta An's second Kikuka Sho! Mejiro's second Kikuka Sho!"
"A new long-distance star is born right here!"
"And now Shuta An faces a delightful dilemma—will he ride Mejiro McQueen or Oguri Cap in the Arima Kinen at year's end? Giving up either would be painful for any jockey!"
This question echoed not only in the booth. The Mejiro family's mistress turned her gaze toward Trainer Ikee.
Ikee laughed awkwardly. "Shuta-kun mentioned it before the race. He wants to ride Oguri Cap. If McQueen runs in the Arima Kinen, he'll recommend Take-kun to ride him."
At the name Yutaka Take, her expression softened.
"Then I should thank him," she said with a small shake of her head. "Very well."
—
On the track, however, the most excited one was neither jockey nor trainer.
It was Mejiro Dober.
"So this is what it feels like to win a G1—" Even dreaming about it was overwhelming. "If only I could experience this in the real world~"
The joy alone nearly made her faint.
The dizziness lingered—right up until she woke the next morning.
At breakfast, when she saw Mejiro McQueen happily enjoying dessert, she blurted out without thinking:
"McQueen is really amazing."
Mejiro McQueen froze, startled, her hand trembling—she thought Dober had noticed how much she was eating.
Later, during a quiet afternoon tea, Mejiro Dober replayed the lucid dream in her mind.
Why was Shuta An the jockey? Why did she dream of being whipped? And why…did she find it strangely sweet?
She cupped her cheeks with both hands, warmth spreading across her face.
"This is really strange, isn't it?"
—
And Shuta An, after waking up, tallied the rewards he had obtained from last night's Kikuka Sho in the Dream World while washing up. Aside from the fixed prize money, there was also something he had never received before—
"Ankle Brace. After use, it permanently and slightly reduces the probability of injury during races in the Twinkle Series."
"So it's a long-term version of a good luck charm," the Young man understood immediately. "Still, it's quite practical."
He paused for a moment, then let out a soft sigh.
"It's just a pity that once it's used, it can't be transferred to another Uma Musume."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
For anyone interested, or just want to support me. Hit the membership button to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/cw/ModerateCitizens