Chapter 71. An Unexpected Miracle (Part 2)
Shuta An turned, baffled, and looked at senior Shibata Masato. "Senior Shibata, what's the matter? Shouldn't we be heading to the underground tunnel to dismount?"
"Don't go down just yet," Shibata Masato said, fixing him with a steady gaze. "Do you know what happened at the second turn?"
"I don't," Shuta An replied, holding the whip and reins in one hand while scratching his head with the other. "I was dead last on Restoration. I couldn't see anything up front."
He paused, then added, "I did hear someone shouting—like a complaint. Did something happen?"
"Take-kun, riding Mejiro McQueen, shifted inward at the second turn and impeded five horses along the rail. The Stewards' Committee is already reviewing it."
Shuta An froze. "What does that have to do with me? Restoration and I weren't involved."
Shibata Masato shook his head. "You finished second, didn't you? If Take-san is ruled in violation, Mejiro McQueen will almost certainly be demoted. That would make you the winner of this Tenno Sho (Autumn)."
Silence fell between them.
Shuta An had never envisioned winning this Tenno Sho. And yet, the possibility now hovered before him—unexpected, unearned in the conventional sense.
Still, before heading to observe the ruling, he first guided Restoration back through the underground tunnel, dismounted at the second-place marker, and handed her over to the stable staff. Without lingering for congratulations or speculation, he made straight for the Stewards' office.
Inside, the first person he saw was not Yutaka Take but a visibly shaken Eda Teruo. The young jockey, barely a year into his career, had just finished explaining how he had been affected at the second turn.
Only then had he realized the cruel arithmetic of the situation. The current runner-up was not him—but Shuta An. Even if the protest succeeded, the title would pass to Shuta, not to Eda.
The memory of easing off in the final twenty meters now burned.
"If I hadn't given up… if I'd pushed harder…" His jaw tightened. Losing a first G1 victory in such a way was no small wound.
Shuta An greeted no one. He stood quietly at the edge of the room, watching the patrol footage replay.
After crossing the line, Yutaka Take had been preparing to acknowledge the grandstand when Shibata Masato cautioned him, "Don't celebrate yet. There's an objection. The result isn't final."
Such a tone would have been unthinkable from most jockeys. But Shibata Masato, one of the few in history to surpass 1,500 career wins, spoke from a position of unquestioned authority.
"Understood," Yutaka Take had replied, though he showed little concern. He believed his ride had been clean. When he entered the Stewards' office and saw that Shuta An was not among the objecting jockeys, his confidence deepened. If even Shuta had raised no issue, surely there was none.
But when Honda Yu testified that Yutaka Take had drifted inward and forced him to check sharply, Yutaka's composure faltered. Truthfully, he had not noticed. His focus had been locked on Pure Kurashini ahead and the immediate rivals around him. After Restoration's slow start, he had stopped considering anything behind.
Honda Yu's account was followed by similar statements from Yukio Okabe and Eda Teruo.
One steward muttered quietly, "This may warrant demotion."
Yutaka Take stiffened.
"I didn't drift," he insisted, though even as he spoke, doubt flickered behind his eyes. Admission would make the outcome inevitable.
The stewards said nothing further. Instead, they replayed the patrol camera footage, isolating the second turn. Once. Twice. Three times.
By the third viewing, Yutaka Take covered his face.
He stopped arguing.
He began apologizing.
The chief steward rose. "I will now proceed to the underground tunnel to announce the ruling."
The group filed out.
Shuta An returned in silence. In the tunnel, Yoshida Zenya was already waiting, visibly elated.
"I hardly know how to thank Shuta-kun," Yoshida Zenya said to his sons. "If any of our daughters were of suitable age, I'd gladly marry him into the family."
His sons offered awkward smiles.
Moments later, the chief steward delivered the decision.
Mejiro McQueen was demoted to last place.
Restoration, originally second, was elevated to first.
In her first attempt at a G1—and her final one before retirement—Restoration had claimed the Tenno Sho (Autumn) through an extraordinary twist of fate.
"A mare winning the Tenno Sho (Autumn)—her broodmare value just skyrocketed," Yoshida Zenya thought, barely containing his grin. "First season, we'll send her to Oguri Cap. Oguri Cap × Restoration—if those yearlings are offered to club members, Shuta-kun's popularity alone will guarantee overwhelming demand."
Where there was jubilation, there was also fury.
The mistress of Mejiro Shoji stood before the press, visibly incensed.
"Even if Yutaka Take erred, was it necessary to demote McQueen? Penalize the jockey if you must—but why punish the horse?"
Had it been another G1, perhaps the anger would have been muted. But the Tenno Sho was sacred to the Mejiro family.
"To register our protest," she declared sharply, "Mejiro McQueen will not compete in this year's Japan Cup or Arima Kinen."
The announcement rippled through the reporters.
And in the midst of the uproar, Shuta An stood quietly beside Restoration—unexpected G1 champion—unable to decide whether this victory felt like destiny—or debt.
Shuta An made no comment on the Mejiro family's protest. In his view, Mejiro McQueen would most likely still line up for the Arima Kinen. And if that happened, he would not be returning as his primary jockey. Given the suspension and the magnitude of the loss Yutaka Take had just suffered, the Mejiro family would almost certainly continue backing him.
"More importantly—can I partner with Tokai Teio for the Arima Kinen?"
The thought lingered. Without the chance to see Matsumoto Shoichi today, he could only set the question aside.
"I'll ask Trainer Matsumoto when I enter the Dream World tomorrow. If Tokai Teio doesn't run, I'll reach out to the Yoshida family and see whether they have an entry planned."
In truth, his earnings in the Dream World this season had already been substantial. Even without a prime mount for the Arima Kinen, he would not suffer materially.
—
When he woke, the clock read six.
Breakfast. Drive home. Pick up Oguri Cap and Berno Light at the airport. Return to the hospital together. Leave the car for them. Rest one night. Fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow to prepare for the Breeders' Cup.
His day arranged itself neatly in his mind.
Then he remembered.
He had "picked up" a Tenno Sho (Autumn) victory in the Dream World last night.
He immediately opened the attribute viewer.
"Only those who pursue miracles may receive their favor. Without resolve, even if a miracle appears, it will descend upon another. You did not abandon the pursuit of a higher placing. Thus, you are granted an enviable opportunity."
"Reward: Health Preservation Tips After Using the Great Escape Tactic — by Aerolithe."
"Aerolithe?" He frowned. The name meant nothing to him.
"Health Preservation Tips after the Great Escape—" He considered it carefully. "This could be useful for Suzuka."
After the catastrophe in the Tenno Sho (Autumn), he had already been contemplating restricting Silence Suzuka's first 1000 meters to between 59 and 61 seconds going forward. The Great Escape tactic carried inherent risk. He had nearly decided against allowing her to attempt it again.
But now this reward complicated matters.
"I'll study it thoroughly first," he decided. "Only then will I decide."
—
After breakfast, he initially intended to head home directly. Yet the thought of Silence Suzuka waking alone shifted his plans. Instead, he stopped by the hospital first.
When he entered the ward carrying a thermos of fish soup and a steamer of carrot-and-meat buns, he found her already awake.
She was leaning against the headboard, gazing out the window.
"Suzuka, I brought breakfast."
She turned, surprised at the sight of the food. She had expected him to visit—but not this.
"They say fish soup helps recovery. And that shop makes carrot buns," he said lightly, placing everything on the table, as though yesterday's fear had belonged to someone else.
He opened the thermos, lifted the spoon—and hesitated.
"Should I feed you, or—?"
Silence Suzuka answered not with words, but by parting her lips slightly and waiting.
He sat beside her and steadied the spoon. He had fed Oguri Cap and Berno Light before—but never like this. Those had been informal, almost rough exchanges. This felt different. Intimate. Measured.
He lifted a spoonful toward her.
She leaned back.
"It's hot," she murmured.
He blinked. Oguri Cap had never cared about temperature. Berno Light had stopped caring after spending enough time with Oguri. He himself always ended up eating last at home.
But Suzuka had spoken. So he blew gently across the spoon.
Her cheeks flushed deep crimson.
It took over an hour to finish a single pot of soup.
Fortunately, she could manage the buns herself.
—
After tidying the utensils, he studied her expression.
"Suzuka—you look like you have something on your mind."
She hesitated.
"How do you see me, Ann?"
"You're Suzuka," he answered simply, unsure what she was driving at.
She clenched her hands slightly.
"Do you see me as a girl?"
He stiffened—then understood.
His tone grew serious.
"You know about my relationship with Oguri and the others. I haven't hidden it from Team Sadalsuud."
"Yes," she said quietly. "But after this Tenno Sho—I realized I can't keep hesitating."
The accident had forced clarity upon her. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.
He rose slowly from the bedside and glanced at the time.
"I think it's better to stay calm," he said. "You went through something traumatic yesterday. Decisions made in that state may not be rational."
He paused.
"I'm flying to America soon. Let's wait until I return. By then, you'll have had time to recover physically—and emotionally. If your feelings remain unchanged… then I will think seriously about how to respond."
He did not reject her.
But he did not accept her either.
And in that careful middle ground, Silence Suzuka understood something important:
This time, he was not running away.
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