Chapter 65. The Opponents of Silence Suzuka
After returning to the hotel, Shuta An was informed by the staff that they could arrange special meals for him during his stay.
"That would help a lot," he replied without hesitation.
There was no reason to refuse such an offer. Asking him to go out every day in search of food for nearly a month would be unnecessarily troublesome, and if the hotel could resolve the issue directly, then it was simply a matter of paying for convenience. From his perspective, problems that could be solved with money did not need to be complicated further.
Over the following days, his meals gradually improved.
At the very least, he no longer had to face dishes that tested his patience—those strange combinations of flavors that seemed to exist purely to challenge one's tolerance. The thickly sauced steaks disappeared from his table, replaced instead by localized versions of Japanese cuisine. Even if the flavors had been adjusted to suit local tastes, they were still far more acceptable to him than what he ate before.
"It must be difficult for people who live here long-term," he murmured one evening, setting down his utensils as he finished eating.
"If this were London, there would be options—but in a place like York, it's not easy."
The thought passed quickly.
He returned to his room, sat down in front of his computer, and resumed his work without lingering on the matter.
The program from West Coast Tracen Academy was already running, its interface displaying rows of data and simulation parameters. Shuta An entered the segmented pace he had designed for Silence Suzuka, adjusting each variable carefully before starting the calculation again.
"The program can only show ideal conditions," he said quietly, leaning back slightly as he watched the process unfold. "What it produces is only a theoretical result."
He took a small sip of sparkling water, his gaze steady.
"Turning that into reality is my responsibility."
The distinction was clear in his mind.
There was still time before the race, but not enough to be careless.
"In about a week, the entry list will be finalized," he continued inwardly. "The draw comes right after. Once that's decided, there won't be much room left to adjust."
He tapped lightly on the desk, thinking.
"At least this time, I don't need to worry about team tactics."
That alone simplified a large part of the problem.
The Uma Musume entering both the International Stakes and the Yorkshire Oaks belonged to different Trainers. There were no teammates, no coordinated positioning, and no deliberate blocking strategies that needed to be accounted for in advance.
Shuta An had always avoided sending his Uma Musume into environments where such tactics dominated.
"Ireland…" he thought, his gaze lowering slightly.
That was a different kind of battlefield.
Under trainers like Aidan O'Brien, it was common to see multiple runners from the same stable working together. The favored runner would be protected, while the others took on supporting roles, interfering with opponents when necessary. Those who fulfilled those roles would often be rewarded after retirement, making the system self-sustaining.
Facing that kind of structure was not something he actively sought.
"But if we run into it eventually," he thought, his expression remaining calm, "we won't avoid it."
For now, however, that concern did not apply.
"In this race, there's no one to support them," he concluded. "No one to interfere with us."
That meant one thing.
"A direct fight."
—
The sound of pressurized gas snapping open suddenly broke the quiet.
"Ah—!"
Shuta An instinctively pulled back as the sparkling water in his hand sprayed across the desk.
"Seriously."
He set the can down quickly and reached for a cloth, wiping the surface with practiced efficiency before the liquid could spread further.
The moment passed quickly, and with the desk restored, his attention returned to the screen.
—
In the real world, he was in England.
In the Dream World, he remained on Honshu.
During this period, most of the top jockeys from Kansai had moved north to Sapporo and Hakodate, citing the summer heat as their reason. In reality, the competition there had intensified significantly, drawing nearly all of the strongest riders away from the main circuits.
Even Yutaka Take had joined them.
From Kanto, Umana Masayoshi had initially complained, only to follow soon after.
As a result, the situation on Honshu changed completely.
With Shuta An in Kansai and Yukio Okabe in Kanto, the pressure dropped sharply. The quality of mounts improved, and in many races, the strongest remaining competition did not reach the same level.
Under these conditions, Shuta An's number of wins increased steadily.
"It's a bit of a waste," he muttered one day after finishing his rides. "There haven't been many major races here recently."
The tone was calm, almost casual, but the implication was clear.
When Yutaka Take heard that, he could only roll his eyes. He had no energy to argue.
Maintaining his own position in Hokkaido already required his full attention.
—
Time passed quietly.
Before long, it was August 13th.
The entry list for the International Stakes was released.
The moment the email arrived, Shuta An opened it without delay.
"Nine entries." He read through the list once, then again. "That's more than usual."
The increase in numbers was not insignificant. From one perspective, it meant more uncertainty. From another—it created more space for disruption.
"This could actually favor Suzuka," he thought, his expression softening slightly.
He began reviewing the names in detail.
"Faithful Son—no G1 wins yet, but second in the Eclipse Stakes. Lost to Daylami."
He paused briefly, recalling the race.
"Daylami placed fourth in the Epsom Derby. That's not a weak opponent."
He moved on.
"Chester House—first time in a G1. Won a listed race by a large margin."
His gaze remained steady.
"That depends on whether she can handle pressure."
Next—
"Limpid. Winner of the Grand Prix de Paris."
Even if it was not part of the Triple Crown, it remained a race of significant standing.
"Strong enough to matter."
Then—
"Exclusive—Coronation Stakes winner."
He considered briefly.
"Her strength relies partly on uphill sections. That advantage doesn't exist here."
Which meant—
"She's less dangerous at York."
Finally—
"One So Wonderful."
His fingers slowed slightly against the desk.
"Won the Sun Chariot Stakes—but performed poorly earlier this year."
He did not dismiss her. Instead, he leaned back slightly, considering the inconsistency.
"Unstable runners can still be dangerous if they peak at the right moment."
That alone was enough to keep her within consideration.
—
After finishing the list, Shuta An did not immediately close the file. Instead, he sat quietly, letting the information settle.
"These five—"
He repeated the thought slowly, not as a conclusion, but as a point of focus. It wasn't that the other participants could be ignored. In a race at this level, overlooking any opponent was a mistake.
But experience had taught him that trying to treat every variable equally often diluted attention.
What mattered—was identifying where pressure would come from.
"These are the ones that can disrupt Suzuka," he thought, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk in a slow, even rhythm.
He began reconstructing the race in his mind—starting positions, pace variations, how each of these runners might respond under different conditions. The process unfolded naturally, each scenario building upon the last, until a rough structure began to take shape.
After a while, he leaned forward again and adjusted the program parameters.
"For Suzuka, this isn't an easy race," he admitted inwardly, though his expression did not change.
But difficulty was not something he avoided.
"If it were easy, there would be no point."
He watched as the program processed the new data, the results slowly taking form on the screen.
"What matters is that she understands them clearly," he thought. "As long as she knows where the pressure comes from, she won't be caught off guard."
That was enough.
The rest—would be decided on the track.
—
The following day, York Racecourse released the remaining key information—the starting gates for the International Stakes, along with the finalized entry list for the Yorkshire Oaks. The announcement came earlier than expected, and Shuta An opened the webpage almost immediately, his attention sharpening as he searched for the names he cared about.
"Let me see… Suzuka's draw is…" he muttered, scrolling through the list with a steady hand. When he found it, his brows lifted slightly, and his tone carried a trace of surprise that he did not bother to conceal.
"Gate 2—that's actually better than I expected."
Silence Suzuka had not drawn the innermost position, but gate 2 still placed her close enough to the rail to maintain control without being boxed in. The bib number was separate and did not interfere with the gate assignment, which removed a potential source of confusion during the race.
"That saves me a headache," he said quietly, leaning back in his chair as he considered the implications. "Gate 2 gives us options."
His gaze shifted to the adjacent positions, and his thoughts began to move forward in a structured manner.
"Gate 1 is Faithful Son. She prefers to lead, so if the race unfolds naturally, she'll go to the front," he continued, his tone gradually settling into analysis.
"That actually works for us. Suzuka doesn't need to fight for the huge lead outright. She only needs to apply pressure—just enough to make it look like she's struggling to contest it, forcing Faithful Son to raise the pace and expend stamina."
He paused briefly, then continued.
"Gate 3 is Kitza. She doesn't like to lead and usually stays in the middle. As long as Suzuka breaks cleanly, there's no risk of being obstructed early on."
With those two factors established, the opening phase of the race was already taking shape in his mind. From there, the rest depended on how effectively Suzuka could control the rhythm.
"As long as she can take over the lead at the right moment, York's terrain will work in her favor," he thought.
"The course is flat, which reduces the strain on sustained pace, and that's exactly what she needs."
Even the long 900-meter final straight, which seemed to favor late closers at first glance, did not trouble him too much. Silence Suzuka's finishing ability was not weak, and on dry, fast turf, the explosive power of Japanese Uma Musume was fully capable of matching their European counterparts.
"The only time it becomes a problem is when the ground demands raw strength," he concluded inwardly.
"As long as the surface remains stable, there's no disadvantage."
That reasoning reaffirmed his earlier decision. Choosing York over more demanding courses like Ascot or Newmarket had never been a coincidence—it had been a calculated choice.
His attention then shifted to the Yorkshire Oaks.
"Seven entries this year—" he murmured, scanning the list again. "That's on the lower side."
Compared to Suzuka's situation, Mejiro Dober's race presented a different set of concerns.
"I still don't know her gate," he said, resting his fingers lightly on the desk. "But ideally, she should draw outside."
The reasoning was simple and did not require further elaboration in his mind.
"An outside gate gives her freedom. She can move forward or drop back as needed, and she won't be forced into a passive position. If she draws inside, she might get pinned down, and that would limit her options."
That possibility lingered in his thoughts, not as anxiety, but as something that needed to be accounted for.
Bringing Mejiro Dober to York had never been a decision made lightly. He had already accepted that maintaining her undefeated record was not the highest priority here. If necessary, that title could be sacrificed—but only if the result justified it.
"If she can win here—and then complete the Triple Tiara in autumn—"
The idea extended naturally.
"An undefeated Four-Tiara."
The phrase carried weight even in his own thoughts. It was not merely about adding another title; it was about reshaping how she would be perceived.
"That would elevate her beyond her current standing," he thought. "It would push her reputation to a level where comparisons to previous generations become unavoidable."
As for Mejiro Ramonu, he did not believe there would be any resistance.
"She wouldn't oppose it," he concluded calmly. "If anything, she would welcome it."
The current condition of the Mejiro Family was already clear to anyone willing to look. A gradual decline across generations was not something that could be ignored, and it was certainly not something Ramonu would accept as inevitable.
"She wants her successors to surpass her," he thought. "That's the only way forward."
His thoughts shifted briefly toward another family.
"The Symboli family—" He leaned back slightly, his gaze unfocused for a moment. "They don't have this problem."
Unlike the Mejiro Family, the Symboli family maintained a quieter presence, but their stability was evident. Their management, though less visible, appeared far more efficient.
"That's not luck," he thought. "That's structure."
That realization lingered just long enough to lead him somewhere else entirely.
To himself.
He stared at the screen for a moment, his expression steady but thoughtful.
"I don't have any underlying issues," he said inwardly. "So eventually—"
The conclusion came naturally.
"there will be a next generation."
It was not an urgent matter, but neither was it something to ignore completely.
"Even if it's early, it's better to think about it now," he thought. "I won't let things end up like the Mejiro Family."
The idea of gradual decline, hidden behind temporary success, was something he would never accept for himself.
At that moment, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What are you thinking about?"
Silence Suzuka stood behind him, her hands already resting lightly on his shoulders as she began to massage them with a gentle, practiced motion.
"Is it something difficult?"
"Nothing like that," Shuta An replied, not attempting to hide it. "I was just thinking about the future."
He turned his head slightly.
"Our future."
Silence Suzuka blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.
"Isn't that a bit early?" she said, covering her mouth lightly as she spoke.
Shuta An gave a small smile, then shook his head.
"Maybe," he said. "But it's not something that should be ignored forever."
He paused briefly, then shifted the topic back to the present.
"Let's focus on the race first," he said. "You saw your gate, right?"
"Gate 2," Silence Suzuka nodded. "It's a good position."
She looked at him directly.
"Is there anything I should pay attention to?"
"There is," he replied, turning fully toward her.
"Faithful Son will try to lead. When that happens, don't let her settle into her rhythm too easily. Close the gap just enough to force her to respond, but don't overcommit. It has to look natural."
Silence Suzuka listened carefully, then frowned slightly.
"That sounds like acting."
"In a sense, it is," he admitted.
She hesitated for a moment.
"Will they fall for it?"
"If this were Japan or Dubai, I wouldn't suggest it," Shuta An said calmly. "But this is England."
He met her gaze directly.
"They don't consider you a real threat."
Silence Suzuka blinked, clearly puzzled.
"But the media has been praising us—"
"That's exactly why," he replied.
He leaned back slightly, his tone steady.
"Which carries more prestige—defeating a weak opponent, or defeating one that's been praised as strong?"
The answer came to her immediately.
"The latter."
"Exactly," he said. He continued, his tone unhurried.
"If you lose, they can explain it away. They can say you weren't in top condition, or that you couldn't adapt. If you win, they can shift the narrative and focus on the victor instead."
He let the thought settle.
"In the end, the story always adjusts itself."
Silence Suzuka took a slow breath, her expression gradually sharpening.
"Then the only thing that matters is the result."
"Yes," Shuta An replied.
She nodded, her gaze steady.
"I won't become a stepping stone," she said.
Shuta An reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but controlled.
"And I won't let you become one," he said quietly. "We didn't come all this way for that."
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