Chapter 72. Return to Los Angeles
After leaving the hospital, Shuta An returned home to retrieve his car, then drove toward Narita Airport.
The highway stretched ahead, but his thoughts remained behind—in that hospital ward.
Silence Suzuka's confession replayed itself with inconvenient clarity. To claim it had not affected him would have been dishonest. He had delayed his answer, yes—but delay did not mean indifference.
By the time he reached Narita and picked up Oguri Cap and Berno Light, he had already decided there would be no concealment.
On the drive back, he explained everything.
"I'll leave the car with you, Berno. Oguri still doesn't have a license."
Yet both Uma Musume were clearly more interested in the earlier topic.
"So, Ann," Oguri Cap said plainly from the back seat, "did you accept Suzuka?"
"Not yet," he replied without hesitation, eyes fixed on the road. "Yesterday's events were intense. I think she may have been influenced by that. This isn't something to decide impulsively."
He caught Oguri's expression in the rearview mirror and added, "And I want to hear what you and Berno think first."
Oguri merely hummed in response.
After dropping them at the hospital, he handed Berno the keys.
"I'll take the train home, rest properly, and prepare for tomorrow's flight to Los Angeles."
"I thought you might stay in Tokyo a few more days," Berno said regretfully. "But I know Miss Dober needs monitoring and training there."
"It's only a listed race for now," Shuta An said calmly, "but I'm confident it will be upgraded to G1 within two years. Dober won't have another chance at it. The purse is six hundred thousand dollars—over eighty million yen. The Hanshin Juvenile Fillies only pays sixty-five million."
"The Mejiro family isn't short on money, are they?" Oguri asked.
"They're short on both honor and liquidity," Shuta An replied with a faint shrug. "Reputation matters—but their finances aren't as strong as before. Dober wants to contribute."
Berno sighed. "The economy still hasn't recovered. Dream Cup earnings haven't dropped yet because sponsorship contracts are locked in. When they renew, prize money will probably shrink."
"There's nothing to be done," he said evenly. "I can support you all regardless. Think of it as traveling. Staying home forever would be dull."
He refused to let them become ornamental figures—admired but idle.
Oguri Cap fell quiet.
"I really can't do anything except run…" she admitted inwardly, unsettled by the thought.
—
Back home, Shuta An bathed, then began responding to messages.
Mejiro Dober and Tokai Teio had both watched the Tenno Sho (Autumn). They had tried to contact him afterward; he had ignored them in the chaos. Now, seated in the quiet of his living room, he began replying one by one.
After confirming Dober's condition, he reviewed her preparation. She had followed his program precisely—yet had added supplementary exercises.
He analyzed them carefully.
Technically sound. Not excessive. No structural risk.
"But why did she add them herself?" he wondered.
"For now, it's acceptable," he concluded.
"After I arrive in Los Angeles, we'll schedule a serious chase-up at Hollywood Park. I'll send precise timing targets later."
"I understand," Dober replied immediately.
Tokai Teio's message carried a different tone.
"I've reduced my intensity," she wrote. "After watching the Tenno Sho, I don't want you worrying about me."
He exhaled softly.
"I'm researching improved conditioning protocols for you as well," he replied.
"I won't disappoint you!" Teio answered with characteristic brightness.
Privately, she shook her head.
"I can't make him so anxious that he'd rather pay a fine to enter the track and stop me from running—"
Suzuka's near-disaster had shaken them all.
—
He replied to others as well—Symboli Rudolf, Mejiro Ramonu—offering reassurance and thanks.
Only then did he message Secretariat.
"Suzuka is stable. Hairline fracture. Two months' rest. Also—thank you for looking after Dober and Teio. I'll be in Los Angeles the day after tomorrow."
The reply came quickly.
"I noticed both of them received your instructions. I wondered when you would contact me."
He blinked.
"You're at 1460 Laurel Way?"
"Of course. Since you weren't in Los Angeles, did you expect me to let them follow your training plan unsupervised?" Secretariat responded evenly. "I've been overseeing their work."
He paused.
That explained it.
"Their rhythm felt familiar," he murmured. "So it was yours."
"Then allow me to thank you properly," he typed. "Guidance from a Triple Crown champion is invaluable."
"Hmph," came the reply. "Mejiro Dober is diligent. But Tokai Teio… that one is exceptional. I believe she'll become remarkable. Though she mentioned you are unusually cautious with her."
"Yes," he admitted. "Because of her physical vulnerabilities. Or rather—because of her excessive talent."
"Excessive…" Secretariat understood immediately. "Then will you suppress it—or—?"
He answered without hesitation.
"Of course the latter."
—
The next morning, after visiting Silence Suzuka once more, Shuta An boarded a 5 p.m. flight bound for Los Angeles.
By 11 p.m. local time, after more than nine hours in the air, he landed in Los Angeles. Secretariat's assistant was already waiting at the terminal. After greeting him, she loaded his luggage and drove him straight to 1460 Laurel Way.
"Teio and Dober must have caused you a great deal of trouble during this period," Shuta An said in the car, offering his thanks.
"It's our responsibility," the young woman replied with a polite smile. "Both Misses are gentle and extremely diligent. They've given us no trouble at all. In fact, we've all decided to support Miss Mejiro Dober in this year's Breeders' Cup. And Miss Secretariat is very pleased with their performance. She even told Miss Miesque that if Tokai Teio were to remain on the West Coast, she is confident she could become an American Horse of the Year—while running exclusively on turf."
In the American Twinkle Series, dirt races carry greater prestige than turf events. From that remark alone, Shuta An could gauge how highly Secretariat regarded Tokai Teio.
"Teio won't settle in America permanently," Shuta An said with a faint smile, "but if the opportunity arises, I would like to bring her back to challenge the Breeders' Cup Turf Classic."
"Then I'll be cheering for Miss Teio when that day comes," the assistant replied brightly.
When the car stopped at Laurel Way, Shuta An stepped out with his suitcase—and immediately saw Mejiro Dober and Tokai Teio waiting at the entrance.
"Shuta Trainer! Long time no see!~~" Tokai Teio called out before running straight at him and throwing herself into his arms.
"We spoke on Line yesterday," he replied dryly. "If you don't let go, I can't move."
A few steps away, Mejiro Dober stood quietly, watching with a soft smile. Once Teio released him, Dober inclined her head.
"Welcome back, Shuta Trainer."
"That sounds odd," he muttered. "This should be training time. Still, take a short rest. I need sleep. We'll resume proper work this afternoon."
"Understood," they answered in unison.
His bedroom remained exactly as it had in childhood. This sleep did not pull him into the Dream World; it was ordinary, undisturbed rest.
When he awoke, he exhaled softly. "It's been a while since I slept like that."
After washing up and changing, he headed downstairs. Direct observation mattered more than video calls; Line conversations could never convey subtle shifts in posture, cadence, or muscle response.
Because the assistant had heard his earlier instructions, lunch was already prepared when he entered the dining room.
At home, practicality outweighed presentation. A bowl of tonkotsu ramen—easily rivaling anything served in Tokyo—accompanied by a modest spread of side dishes, was more than sufficient. He ate until nearly full.
"Thank you for the meal," he said, placing his hands together briefly in appreciation.
"I'm glad it suited your taste," the chef replied with a respectful bow.
"It surpasses most ramen shops in Tokyo," Shuta An added. "It fits my palate perfectly."
Earlier, Tokai Teio and Mejiro Dober had already finished eating and were preparing for training.
"Shuta Trainer says our condition looks good on Line," Teio remarked, adjusting her gloves, "but we can only relax once he evaluates us in person."
"There are only a few days before the race," Dober said softly. "I want my condition to be flawless. I don't want to trouble him."
"I trust Secretariat-senpai's guidance," Teio continued. "She was instructed by Shuta Trainer's father. Her methods won't conflict with his plans. And I can feel the improvement from the supplemental sessions."
Dober turned her gaze toward the distant coastline. "Let's show him the results ourselves."
Teio's expression grew more serious. "I don't want what happened at the Tenno Sho to happen again."
When Shuta An arrived at the training ground, the two had already completed their warm-up.
He pressed his heel into the turf, testing the resilience, then nodded. "Excellent maintenance. When I was a child, this track was sand. Secretariat converted it."
"The grass feels similar to Tokyo Racecourse," Teio observed.
"There's resemblance," he agreed, "though the elasticity reminds me more of Santa Anita Park."
"I haven't been there yet," Teio admitted. "I did persuade Secretariat-senpai to let us try the surface at Hollywood Park."
Shuta An shifted his attention to Dober. "You trained at Hollywood Park. How does that turf feel?"
"It's adequate," she answered calmly. "I can execute my finishing burst without restriction."
"That's sufficient."
He checked the time and looked back at them.
"Since you're warmed up, we'll run a chasing drill. Teio sets the pace. Dober begins half a second behind and pursues. Sixty percent effort. I want to observe synchronization and stride retention."
"Understood!"
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