Chapter 73. Emerging Gossip
The chasing drill concluded with Mejiro Dober edging past Tokai Teio by a head at the line.
"It appears Secretariat's instruction has been highly effective," Shuta An remarked after observing the entire sequence. His tone carried quiet approval; both cadence control and stride efficiency had improved measurably.
Tokai Teio beamed at the praise. "Secretariat-senpai helped us tremendously. She's incredible. Even though she specializes in the dirt Twinkle Series, her understanding of turf racing is remarkably precise."
"Secretariat has competed on turf before," Shuta An replied evenly. "And American dirt differs structurally from Japanese dirt. Speed emphasis here is closer to Japanese turf dynamics. At her level, cross-surface analysis is routine."
Both Uma Musume nodded in agreement.
For Mejiro Dober, however, affirmation was secondary to strategy. "Trainer…how should I run this Breeders' Cup?"
"I'll finalize the plan on Friday," he answered after brief consideration. "We need the gate draw for the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies Turf before committing."
Thirteen entrants were registered. None came from the Natalma Stakes; all were domestic American runners. On raw ability, Dober held a clear advantage. She could deploy a deep-closing tactic from nearly any stall and likely overwhelm the field in the stretch. Yet Shuta An disliked extremes. Both runaway and hard late-surge strategies carried volatility. This time, he wanted controlled adaptability—positioning without overexposure.
At his computer later that evening, he reviewed the registry list again. "Thirteen total. All local," he murmured. "I'll need full race footage on each."
Preparation for the Tenno Sho (Autumn) had consumed his attention; the Breeders' Cup required rapid information assimilation now.
His thoughts drifted briefly to Oguri Cap and the possibility of retirement from the Dream Trophy Series. If that occurred, Berno could resume assistant duties. The logistical efficiency would be substantial. Still, idleness would not suit Oguri. He dismissed the idea.
This year's draw ceremony was held at the Chateau Marmont. Tokai Teio remained at Laurel Way; Shuta An drove Mejiro Dober alone to the venue.
They arrived early.
"It appears this is strictly procedural," he noted after parking. "No reception. We'll eat afterward."
"I understand," Dober replied. Then, after stepping out, she added softly, "Trainer…you may call me by my name directly as usual. I will adjust."
He paused briefly, then nodded. The transition would not be difficult.
Inside, attendants guided them to their assigned seats—center front, fully visible to cameras and guests.
Shuta An scanned the room. "Interesting placement," he muttered. "Whether intentional or incidental, visibility is high."
Dober recognized the implication. Sitting beside a man in such a public position would once have unsettled her deeply. She steadied herself.
The person beside me is Trainer. I trust him. I will not falter.
When the ceremony commenced, Shuta An noticed the procedural shift.
"This year, sponsors are conducting the draw."
The event sponsor for the Juvenile Fillies Turf was Grey Goose. The drawing guest was Sidney Frank, founder of the brand. He offered no promotional remarks—only a nod—before beginning.
Six names were drawn.
Seventh: Mejiro Dober.
Sidney Frank smiled faintly in Shuta An's direction before reaching into the container.
Beside him, Dober whispered repeatedly, "Outside gate… outside gate…"
Objectively, an exterior stall would reduce congestion risk for a filly with late acceleration. Shuta An did not vocalize a preference—but he agreed with the logic.
Frank revealed the card.
"Gate thirteen."
The outermost stall.
Frank displayed a mild apologetic expression as he held it up for the audience.
Shuta An felt no irritation. He turned toward Dober.
Her fists were clenched—not in frustration, but determination.
"The outermost gate is fine!" Mejiro Dober had already ignored the presence of her Trainer beside her, clenched her fists, and cheered herself on in a particularly, particularly cute tone.
And for the first time that evening, Shuta An allowed himself a faint, satisfied smile.
—
At the entrance of the Chateau Marmont, reporters quickly surrounded Shuta An and Mejiro Dober.
When asked about drawing the outermost stall, he answered with a composed smile. "Gate thirteen isn't bad for Dober. We're not using a front-running tactic. Yes, the outside covers slightly more ground, but since we'll be adopting a late-surge tactic, the positional impact is minimal."
He neither revealed his genuine satisfaction nor expressed complaint. Public statements required calibration.
The questions soon expanded beyond the Juvenile Fillies Turf.
"Team Sadalsuud isn't entering other races, but what's your view on the favorites in the major divisions?"
Shuta An had only reviewed three fields in detail: the Breeders' Cup Classic, the Breeders' Cup Turf, and the Breeders' Cup Mile.
"In the Classic, I see little room for an upset. Skip Away is operating at an elite tier. I don't believe anyone in this field can realistically threaten her."
"For the Turf, Chief Bearhart—winner of the Canadian International—has top-level strength. However, I don't expect her margin to be as decisive as Skip Away's."
"As for the Mile, I favor Spinning World from Europe. Hollywood Park's turf differs somewhat from European surfaces, but frankly, the domestic American field lacks equivalent depth. The United States does not lack turf aptitude; rather, I suspect many turf-suited runners have been absorbed into dirt classifications within the Twinkle Series structure."
He concluded with a mild shrug, as though disappointed by structural inefficiency rather than individual talent.
Back at Laurel Way, he instructed Mejiro Dober to avoid high-intensity work before the weekend. Pool sessions and light gym activation would suffice. Preservation, not stimulation, was the priority.
In his room, he finalized the race model.
Given the outermost gate and the clear ability gap, he adjusted the pacing algorithm. Instead of a single explosive late surge, Dober would initiate progressive acceleration mid-race, gradually compressing the leaders' advantage. This reduced reliance on an instantaneous burst and lowered musculoskeletal strain.
"Distributed load, reduced injury probability," he murmured, satisfied with the projections.
Then a headline caught his eye:
"Shuta An Drives Secretariat's Beloved Car to Breeders' Cup Draw Ceremony!"
He clicked it.
The article had already been deleted.
He exhaled sharply in irritation. Sensationalism without conviction—publish, provoke, retract. Unlike Japan, where the URA's oversight discouraged reckless tabloid escalation, American media required different containment.
As long as Dober and Teio were undisturbed, he could ignore it.
At dinner, neither Mejiro Dober nor Tokai Teio mentioned the incident. Their demeanor remained stable—evidence that containment had been swift.
After finishing his steak, he looked toward Dober, who was studying a bowl of lotus root starch with quiet focus.
"I've completed Saturday's race model. I'll run a program simulation tonight. If variance stays within tolerance, I'll brief you tomorrow."
Tokai Teio immediately raised her hand. "I want to listen too."
"Of course," he replied. The pacing framework could apply to her as well.
Later, after both Uma Musume returned to their rooms, Shuta An stepped into the garden where Secretariat's assistant was waiting.
"About this afternoon's matter—"
"It has been resolved," she said with a slight bow. "We informed the source and issued a formal warning through West Coast Tracen Academy. The article was withdrawn without resistance."
"That's reassuring." He paused. "However, I have an additional request."
She straightened, attentive.
"I want preventive measures in place. No interviews, no contact attempts directed at Dober or Teio before Saturday's race."
"Understood. Security will be reinforced. No unauthorized media access will be permitted near Miss Mejiro Dober."
He bowed deeply. "Thank you."
With that assurance, the tension that had lingered since the afternoon dissipated. He trusted Secretariat's team; their operational speed had already demonstrated competence.
Returning to his room, he reopened the tactical model and began verification.
Probability matrices, pace segmentation, positional elasticity.
No interference.
No instability.
Only execution remained.
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