Chapter 62. A Difficult Journey
"It's nothing," Shuta An said at first, clearly intending to brush it off. His tone was casual, as if the matter were insignificant. "I've just been a bit out of sorts these past few days. I'll adjust by the weekend—it won't affect my riding."
Yutaka Take did not move aside.
Instead, he waved his hand repeatedly, his expression turning more serious than usual.
"No," he said. "Everyone at Ritto can tell something's off with you. Just say it."
He took a half step closer, his voice lowering slightly.
"If something goes wrong because of this, that won't be good. At the very least, let me hear it. Maybe I can help."
Shuta An let out a quiet sigh.
"Fine." He paused for a moment before adding, almost reflexively, "Though I don't think Take-san can help much with this."
"Huh!?"
Yutaka Take's eyebrows shot up immediately.
"That's a bit much, isn't it?" he said, clearly dissatisfied. "I might not be as thorough as you, but when it comes to domestic Racehorses, I don't think I'm lacking, do I?"
Shuta An did not respond to that directly. Instead, he shifted the conversation to the real issue.
"Trainer Matsumoto told me something," he said. "The British Jockey Club sent an invitation. They want Tokai Teio to run in this year's International Stakes."
Yutaka Take blinked once, then narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened.
Shuta An continued, his tone steady but carrying a trace of hesitation that he did not bother to hide.
"To be honest, I don't think Teio would have any problem racing at York. That part isn't what concerns me."
He paused briefly, his gaze lowering.
"The problem is the timing. The Takarazuka Kinen was already demanding. If he travels to England right after that, he won't get proper rest during the summer."
He exhaled quietly.
"If his condition doesn't recover properly—what happens when we reach the Japan Cup?"
Yutaka Take listened without interrupting, then responded after a short moment of thought.
"Didn't you already agree on the second half schedule with the team?" he asked. "The plan was for him to run the Japan Cup, right?"
Shuta An nodded slightly.
"That's right."
"Then what are you worried about?" Yutaka Take continued. "That Trainer Matsumoto might change his mind and add another race?"
"That's exactly it," Shuta An admitted, leaning lightly against the doorframe. "I can tell he's tempted by the invitation."
Yutaka Take let out a small breath and reached out to pat his shoulder.
"That's understandable," he said. "An invitation from Britain—anyone would hesitate."
He paused briefly, then continued more seriously.
"But you're overthinking one part of it."
Shuta An glanced at him.
"You need to trust Tokai Teio," Yutaka Take said.
His tone was calm, but there was no uncertainty in it.
"The International Stakes is still five weeks away. Even if he runs it, he'll still have time to rest afterward."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Do you not have confidence in him for the Japan Cup?"
Shuta An did not answer immediately.
Instead, Yutaka Take continued.
"I'll give you another piece of information," he said. "Trainer Ikee is planning to have Mejiro McQueen skip the Japan Cup this year."
That finally drew a reaction.
"Skip it?" Shuta An frowned slightly. "After losing last year, if he skips it this time—can the Mejiro family really accept that?"
"It was discussed after the Takarazuka Kinen," Yutaka Take explained. "Trainer Ikee suggested avoiding Tokai Teio in the schedule, so he proposed sending McQueen overseas instead."
Shuta An already had a rough guess.
"Which race?"
Yutaka Take gave a wry smile.
"You're probably thinking of the right one," he said. "The Melbourne Cup."
Shuta An nodded slowly.
"That makes sense."
"The saddle hasn't been decided yet," Yutaka Take added. "So I might not be the one riding him."
"It'll probably still be you," Shuta An replied. "Your riding is more than good enough."
This time, the roles reversed slightly. Yutaka Take let out a small laugh, though he did not respond further.
—
The next morning, Shuta An stood by the window, looking at the calendar.
"There's not much time left," he murmured.
Their departure for England was approaching quickly. Once he and the two Uma Musume left Sapporo, the training camp would effectively enter its final stage.
During that time, Tokai Teio would temporarily take on responsibility for managing daily matters within the team.
And not long after—Oguri Cap would return from England.
During Royal Ascot Week in the Dream Trophy Series, she had followed Shuta An's suggestion and entered a straight 1600-meter race. Once again, she had overwhelmed her opponent, bringing home both a trophy and a substantial prize.
Once she returned to Japan and arrived in Sapporo, the responsibility would naturally shift back to her. Whether it was daily management or assisting with the training of other Uma Musume, she would handle it without difficulty.
Because of that, Shuta An felt no concern about leaving.
Everything had already been accounted for.
—
At the same time, far away in Britain, discussions were already underway.
Within the British URA Association, news of the upcoming expedition had begun to circulate.
"It's rare for Uma Musume from Japan to challenge our G1 races," one staff member said. "We should give them a proper shock."
"Shock them how?" another immediately countered. "By making things difficult for them? Are you trying to drive away future overseas participants?"
His tone carried a sharp edge.
"What's the benefit of that? Satisfying your own pride?"
A third voice, older and more measured, cut in before the discussion escalated further.
"You're overlooking something important," he said. "Shuta An's background is not something we can ignore."
The room quieted slightly.
"If we handle this poorly, we won't just embarrass ourselves," he continued. "France and the American URA will have every reason to mock us."
He paused briefly, letting the implication settle.
"Our middle-distance races are already under pressure from them. If we damage our reputation further, it will only make things worse."
That argument carried weight. Incidents in the past had already proven how quickly a race's reputation could decline after negative publicity.
"No one wants that," someone muttered.
Another voice spoke up.
"Hosting overseas participants doesn't come out of our own budget," he said. "It's government funding. Why should we be stingy?"
A faint smile appeared.
"If anything, this is an opportunity to show proper hospitality. That's how we maintain our standing."
There was a brief pause before he added,
"And besides, our current field isn't weak. Even if Shuta An has had impressive results, he's also suffered defeats."
He leaned back slightly.
"If we treat them well—and then defeat them properly—we gain both reputation and results."
The room gradually reached a consensus.
"Let's proceed that way."
—
If Shuta An had been present to hear that conversation, he would have found it difficult not to laugh.
From his perspective, the situation was much clearer. Among the British contenders this year, the strongest name was Swain.
But she would not be participating in the International Stakes.
Her focus was elsewhere.
The Epsom Derby was approaching, and any logical campaign would avoid stacking another major race immediately afterward. If anything, her path would likely lead toward the Irish Champion Stakes as preparation for another attempt at the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
Which meant—
The actual field at York would be different from what many expected.
And after reviewing the available race footage, Shuta An had already reached his own conclusion.
"As long as the turf stays dry—" He looked at the screen in front of him, his gaze steady. "Suzuka will have the advantage."
As for Mejiro Dober, the situation she would face in the Yorkshire Oaks was noticeably different from Silence Suzuka's.
Unlike the British International Stakes, the Yorkshire Oaks allowed participation from older Uma Musume who had followed the Triple Tiara route. That alone meant the pool of potential opponents was broader, and the range of variables she would need to account for was correspondingly greater.
Sitting in front of his screen, Shuta An carefully reviewed the information he had gathered, filtering through names and performances one by one. Among them, a few stood out clearly enough to warrant closer attention.
"Catchascatchcan—"
(I thought this name was typo or wrong translation, but this horse was real and even in twenties I happen to see a horse with similar name)
He murmured the name softly, his gaze narrowing slightly as he replayed the footage.
"She's only run three races so far, and none of them were graded stakes," he noted. "But she's won all of them."
Not just won—Dominated.
"The total winning margin exceeds ten lengths—that's not something to ignore."
He paused briefly before moving on.
"Shahtoush. This year's Epsom Oaks winner."
He leaned back slightly, thinking.
"But that's her only G1 so far. Her overall record isn't particularly oppressive… manageable."
Next—
"Crown of Light. Third place in last year's Yorkshire Oaks."
A known quantity.
Stable, but not overwhelming.
"And High and Low—"
He tapped the desk lightly with his finger.
"This year's Cheshire Oaks winner. Her strength shouldn't be underestimated."
After listing them out, he remained silent for a moment, letting the structure of the field settle in his mind.
Compared to Suzuka's potential opponents, the overall pressure on Dober's side was noticeably lighter.
"Not as strong," he concluded.
Then, almost immediately, his thoughts shifted.
"Which also means—" His expression remained unchanged. "Dober's current level is still below Suzuka's."
There was no judgment in that conclusion.
Only clarity.
"If the two of them were on the same level, I could already be celebrating."
But that was not the case—not yet.
—
At the same time, in the hotel garden, Silence Suzuka and Mejiro Dober sat together beneath a small gazebo.
The afternoon light filtered softly through the surrounding greenery, creating a quiet, almost secluded atmosphere. Compared to the intensity of training, this moment carried a rare calm.
Silence Suzuka had taken the initiative in starting the conversation.
With the upcoming expedition to England, there were many things she wanted to confirm—training schedules after arrival, adjustments for jet lag, pacing for the days leading into the race.
She spoke naturally, her questions clear and direct.
Mejiro Dober, on the other hand, found herself responding more than initiating. There were things she wanted to ask—things she had been thinking about.
But unlike Suzuka, she could not bring them up so easily.
After all, some matters were understood without being spoken; as long as everyone maintained that understanding, there was no need to break the surface.
Because of that, their conversation gradually shifted into a pattern where Silence Suzuka asked, and Mejiro Dober answered.
It did not take long for Suzuka to notice.
"Dober-chan," she said gently, turning slightly toward her, "do you have anything you want to ask me?"
Mejiro Dober hesitated. Her gaze shifted briefly, as if searching for a safe way to phrase what she had been thinking.
"That—"
She paused. Then, almost as if the words had slipped out before she could stop them—
"How is the Trainer's physique?"
Silence Suzuka blinked.
For a moment, she did not respond at all. Then, almost instinctively, she looked away slightly.
"I…haven't really paid attention to that," she said, her tone carrying a trace of awkwardness that was difficult to conceal.
Mejiro Dober reacted immediately.
"Sorry, that was a strange question," she said quickly, waving her hands as if trying to erase it. "I was just—curious."
She lowered her gaze slightly.
"I heard some rumors about the Trainer's time in America—that he could even compete against Uma Musume."
Her voice softened.
"I never had the courage to ask him directly. It feels like—that part of his past isn't something he wants to talk about."
Silence Suzuka let out a small, uncertain laugh.
"That's understandable," she said. "If I were him, I probably wouldn't want to bring it up either."
She paused, then added with a faint tilt of her head,
"But I didn't expect Dober to be interested in him."
Her tone was light, but observant.
"Everyone always thought you were afraid of interacting with the opposite sex."
"I still am," Mejiro Dober admitted quietly. "But with the Trainer—it feels like I might be able to try."
She paused again, her expression tightening slightly.
"Even so, I can't completely overcome it."
Silence Suzuka did not respond immediately. From her perspective, the situation was complicated in a way that words could not easily resolve.
If it were only her—
If she were the only one—
Then perhaps things would be simpler. But reality was not structured that way.
"I understand a little now," she thought.
Why Oguri Cap and Berno Light had been so straightforward. Why they had not hesitated.
"If it were just me—"
She let the thought fade without finishing it.
—
Time passed quietly over the next two days.
For Shuta An, there was no need to push himself during this period. With the long journey ahead, conserving energy became the priority. His routine became simple—rest, light preparation, and occasional review of materials.
Before long, the day of departure arrived.
"It'll take about two days to reach York," he said, looking at the itinerary before turning toward Silence Suzuka and Mejiro Dober.
"Once we arrive, I'll give you three days to adjust to the time difference and environment. After that, training begins."
He paused briefly.
"And because of the new URA regulations, if you want to explore the area, it'll have to wait until after the race."
"There's not much to see in York anyway," Silence Suzuka replied, shaking her head. "I looked into it. It's rich in history, but it doesn't really interest me. If I go, it'll just be to accompany you."
Mejiro Dober nodded slightly. "I feel the same."
Shuta An did not insist. If they had no interest in sightseeing, there was no reason to force it.
—
The journey itself proved far more exhausting than it sounded.
They departed from Sapporo in the evening, first flying to Tokyo, then transferring to an overnight international flight. After more than ten hours in the air, they landed in Dubai, rested briefly, and continued onward to Dublin.
By the time they reached Ireland, the accumulated fatigue had already settled deep into their bodies.
This time, Shuta An did not rush the schedule.
Instead of waiting at the airport, he booked rooms nearby, allowing everyone to rest properly before continuing.
"Get some sleep," he said simply.
Even so, he set multiple alarms for himself, unwilling to risk any delay.
—
After resting, they resumed their journey, finally arriving at Leeds Bradford Airport.
Waiting for them there were staff from the British URA Association, who guided them directly to the hotel near York Racecourse.
"It must have been a tiring journey," one of the staff members said politely as he drove. "We apologize that our budget doesn't allow us to arrange something like Dubai's chartered flights."
"I understand," Shuta An replied calmly.
"Dubai operates under very different financial conditions. As far as I know, European URA associations have been under some financial pressure in recent years. Adjusting expenses is normal."
The staff member laughed awkwardly.
"We're working on improving that."
Shuta An nodded lightly.
"I believe you."
But inwardly—he did not question the situation at all. Because from his perspective—
The current state of the British URA Association was entirely expected.
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