(Heyaa guys~
So how r u doing so far? Bytheway, have you pulled for Kitasan Black and played for Trackblazer?
Anyway, I want to flex a little about my luck. You see, I pulled Kitasan Black from her banner in 200 gachas echanged for its guarantee. This should be unlucky.
BUT, in these processes, I got 2 New year Opera O, Wedding Air Groove, Vampire Rice, Autumn Gold City, and Tosen Jordan. This was an unexpected fortune. Since last year I was so focused on Supoka's gacha and had small numbers Uma.)
Chapter 81. New Sponsorship Plan
Shuta An did not take advantage of Sadalmelik LLC's resources to rebook flights. Grace as the liaison and his assistant given by Secretariat, had assured him she could secure first-class seats on JAL without difficulty, but he had already purchased tickets himself. Cancellation penalties, even now, still bothered him on principle.
In the VIP lounge at Los Angeles International Airport, he leaned back and looked at Tokai Teio.
"After we return, you'll settle down and prepare for final exams, correct? No overseas trips this year. And if you fail, Dubai next year is off the table."
"I'm fine!" Teio puffed up confidently. "I already studied everything in advance. I'll get great grades!"
He shifted his gaze to Mejiro Dober. "You can postpone because of the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies. But your name wasn't on the deferred list."
"I took mine before coming here," Dober replied simply. "Debuted Uma Musume can schedule exams flexibly. Even retests have limited scheduling options."
He nodded.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Since the West Coast visit, Dober no longer edged away when seated close to him. In the past, proximity triggered visible tension. Now she sat calmly at his side, posture steady.
He chose not to ask. Whatever had shifted within her, it was positive. That was enough.
Dober herself understood the reason.
The slap.
When Bob Baffert had been forced to retreat in humiliation, something fundamental loosened inside her. A fear she had carried for years—faceless, generalized—had cracked. She could now sit beside her Trainer without the old reflexive dread.
She had even tested shortening the distance further.
Not yet.
"Slapping him again is not a solution," she told herself firmly.
The thought of encountering him again made her brow crease. Violence was inelegant. Ramonu-nee would certainly disapprove.
She shook the thought away.
The following day at 5:05 PM, Team Sadalsuud arrived at Narita International Airport.
After returning Teio and Dober to Central Tracen Academy, Shuta did not go home. He cleaned up briefly at a nearby apartment, changed, and went directly to the hospital.
When he entered the room, Oguri and Berno had left minutes earlier.
Silence Suzuka was propped against the headboard, reading a picture book gifted by a visiting academy student. Simple. Gentle. Appropriate for recovery.
"It seems I've interrupted," he said lightly.
"Ann just got back, didn't he? Did you come here without going home?" she countered.
A counter-question.
He recognized the sign. Beneath the composure was tension. He did not answer immediately. Instead, he sat down beside the bed.
She closed the book.
Their eyes met.
The room grew quiet. He swallowed once before speaking.
"Do you remember what you asked me before I left?"
A soft hum.
He did not allow her to repeat it.
"I've decided." He reached forward and placed his hand over hers. "Even if Suzuka's feelings change someday, mine will not."
Her lips parted slightly. Surprise overtook the rehearsed possibilities she had imagined during his absence.
"When I saw you lose speed in the Tenno Sho (Autumn), I wished I could take the injury instead." His voice tightened briefly. "I couldn't. But from now on, I will keep every promise."
"I want you smiling. I will do everything possible to prevent another injury. I will help you achieve results worthy of your talent—both in the Twinkle Series and the Dream Cup."
He held her gaze steadily.
"The leading scenery you chase—I want to see it too."
Her free hand moved instinctively, covering his.
"If I'm not with Ann," she murmured, eyes lowered shyly, "even the most beautiful scenery would feel incomplete."
He rose slightly from the chair and drew her gently into his arms. The embrace was careful—mindful of recovery, mindful of fragility.
After a moment, he spoke softly near her ear.
"After you're discharged—move out of the academy. Come live with me."
The words lingered in the quiet hospital room, carrying more weight than any inheritance, any sponsorship, any race.
—
Outside, evening settled over Tokyo.
Inside, something far more decisive had just begun.
Silence Suzuka declined the proposal calmly and without hesitation. Remaining in the Central Tracen Academy dormitory was the rational decision. As an Uma Musume competing in the Twinkle Series, daily access to the academy's training tracks, therapy rooms, and academic facilities was essential. Moving out would only introduce logistical friction.
More importantly, she understood the social ecosystem of the academy. Rumors among teenage girls spread at remarkable velocity. If it became known that she had moved into her Trainer's home, speculation would eclipse her recovery and racing goals. She had no intention of becoming the center of that narrative.
Shuta An accepted her reasoning immediately. It aligned with both competitive practicality and reputational risk management.
After a long embrace, he helped her lie back down just as Oguri entered with a lunchbox.
The gray-haired champion gave him a look that was half teasing, half affectionate. "You came straight from the airport, didn't you? Overzealous."
"It's scheduling efficiency," he replied lightly. "I assumed you'd be heading out around now."
He stepped behind her and began kneading her shoulders. She swatted his hands away with a pout.
"You just got back from America too. Let Berno drive you home."
He blinked. "Since when does Berno have a license?"
"A few days ago. She's fine as long as traffic's light."
He glanced at the clock. Rush hour.
"I'll take a taxi," he decided. "Let Berno come up."
He had originally intended to tell Oguri and Berno about acquiring the Secretariat's assets after returning home. But he refused to create informational asymmetry among the three. The disclosure would happen when all were present.
That night, lying in bed, he mentally organized the backlog: weekly conditioning logs, Mejiro Dober's away-race reports, and the more delicate task—ensuring that their American accommodations remained confidential. Wealth, once displayed, altered perception. Even Trainer Tojo Hana of Team Rigil remained unaware of the scale of what he had secured overseas. Only Kitahara, his long-standing confidant, knew the full picture.
Kitahara's response had been immediate and strategic.
"Ann-san, why not sponsor a race through the URA Association? If we accelerate its grading, the team's Uma Musume won't need to go abroad just to find suitable G1 fields."
The idea reframed capital not as indulgence, but as structural leverage.
Shuta's mind connected it to another race.
"The Oguri Cap Memorial is still SP-1 in the Tokai region, correct?"
Kitahara nodded. It was scheduled for promotion to Jpn3 next year.
"Skip Jpn3," Shuta replied evenly. "Promote it directly to Jpn2."
Kitahara hesitated only briefly before realizing funding was no longer a constraint.
At present, Jpn2 exchange races typically offered 30 to 40 million yen to the winner. The Oguri Cap Memorial, limited to older Uma Musume and run over 2500 meters on dirt, had been paying 20 million. Shuta proposed increasing the winner's purse to 50 million yen—more generous than most Jpn2 events, though still below Jpn1.
The Chairman of Kasamatsu Tracen Academy accepted without resistance. He even revealed preliminary discussions about expanding the grandstands at Kasamatsu Racecourse due to consistent sellouts.
Shuta disagreed.
Capacity expansion addressed spectatorship. It did not strengthen competitive infrastructure.
"Allocate the budget toward training facilities instead," he advised. "After the promotion to Jpn2, challengers from other regions will arrive. If prize money increases, local athletes must elevate accordingly. Defending home turf requires preparation, not seating."
The Chairman immediately concurred.
It was a decisive shift. The Oguri Cap Memorial would evolve from a regional symbol into a nationally competitive dirt endurance test. A 2500-meter dirt Jpn2 race posed rating challenges for eventual G1 status; gathering sufficient performance metrics for international recognition would be difficult. Still, retaining the Jpn designation was not inherently disadvantageous—it simply restricted overseas participation.
What mattered was ecosystem stability. Central dirt programs would inevitably pressure regional circuits. The question was whether Tokai-based Uma Musume could sustain dominance over such a demanding distance.
Kitahara grinned when Shuta raised the concern.
"They'll all start extra stamina training."
Shuta did not smile as widely—but he did not disagree.
Within two weeks, the sponsorship contract was drafted. The Oguri Cap Memorial would enter the following season as one of the most lucrative Jpn2 dirt races in the calendar.
Capital, when directed precisely, could reshape competitive geography.
And Shuta An had only just begun reallocating his.
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