Chapter 69. Yorkshire Oaks I
After spending nearly an hour in relaxed conversation with John Gosden, Shuta An finally took his leave. Without lingering further, he returned to York Racecourse accompanied by his assistant.
Although it was the day of the Yorkshire Oaks, Gosden himself had no intention of attending. While he did have a Uma Musume entered on the card, she was not competing in the main event, and for a veteran of his standing, races outside major stakes rarely held enough appeal—unless they involved a "star of hope" worth personal attention.
Shuta An, however, operated differently.
Team Sadalsuud adhered to an elite development strategy, and the Uma Musume under his guidance seldom appeared in minor races beyond their early outings. Because of this, whenever circumstances allowed, he made a point of watching every race live. Each appearance, no matter how small, carried evaluative value.
By the time he stepped into the Box, the third race had just concluded, and preparations for the Yorkshire Oaks were already underway.
"Although I don't know what Oguri Cap said to Dober yesterday, I just hope she won't be too nervous," he thought to himself as he walked in.
At that same moment, Mejiro Dober stepped out from the pre-race lounge. As she passed by, her gaze lingered briefly on the television inside, where footage of Silence Suzuka crossing the finish line the day before continued to replay.
But what surfaced in her mind was not the race itself.
It was the conversation she had shared with Oguri Cap.
"I always knew it, but hearing it said out loud still startled me," Mejiro Dober murmured softly to herself.
"If I look at it that way, then even if my performance isn't as good as Suzuka-senpai's, it shouldn't matter and yet, it still feels strange."
Since that discussion, a thought had quietly taken root deep within her heart. Because of the circumstances surrounding the Mejiro Family, she had never been willing to voice it openly—
"I can't let the Trainer become entangled in my family's problems because of me."
She shook her head lightly, forcing the thought back down as she refocused on the present.
"For now—I just need to deliver a result worthy of everything the Trainer has done for me."
—
Suzuka's overwhelming victory the day before had not only shaken the audience, but also altered the atmosphere surrounding today's race.
As a result, Mejiro Dober received an unusual level of attention. The York Racecourse management had even compiled footage of several of her past G1 performances, broadcasting them on the large screens throughout the venue alongside commentary from guest analysts.
However, influenced by Suzuka's record-breaking run, the analysts' tone had clearly shifted. Their commentary leaned heavily toward praise, avoiding overly critical breakdowns.
After listening for a short while, Shuta An lost interest.
"It seems guest analysts are the same everywhere," he muttered under his breath. "Unless you bring in a top-tier Trainer, it's hard to hear anything truly meaningful."
Beside him, Oguri Cap casually fed him a cherry.
"So sour!" he reacted immediately, frowning as he spat out the pit. "Oguri, don't you think this is sour?"
"Not really?" Oguri Cap replied without hesitation, continuing to eat. "It's not especially sweet, but it tastes fine."
"Ann, just give up," Berno Light said with a laugh, patting his shoulder. "Oguri's sense of taste isn't something normal people can rely on."
At that, the other members of Team Sadalsuud present all nodded in agreement.
"What do you mean?" Oguri Cap frowned slightly, clearly dissatisfied. "Back at Ascot, didn't you also say the food I liked tasted good?"
"That's because Royal Ascot is a special case," Berno Light explained, turning toward her. "During that week, even I thought British cuisine might not be as bad as people say—but after it ended, and you took me around the rest of the area, I realized how naive that thought was."
At this, both Tokai Teio, who had only arrived the day before, and Silence Suzuka, who had already stayed for nearly a month, nodded repeatedly in agreement. The other Uma Musume present also joined in, voicing similar sentiments.
For many of them, this was their first time visiting Britain, and through firsthand experience, they had developed a certain sympathy for the Uma Musume who trained here long-term.
(Too biased here narration. It might be right for York, but I found other places which kinda nice this year.)
"Even carrots—something that should taste good no matter how you cook it can end up like this…" Agnes Digital clutched her head, her expression pained.
"I really don't understand it. If it weren't for being able to see so many Uma Musume here, I wouldn't last even a day."
"Once we return to Japan, I'll treat everyone to proper food in Sapporo for a few days," Shuta An said, patting his chest as he looked around at the lamenting group. "Consider it my thanks for coming all the way here to support Dober."
"I want Arctic surf clam!"
"I want cod!"
"Hokkaido milk desserts!"
The response was immediate. Energy returned to the room in an instant.
"They're really easy to satisfy," Shuta An sighed.
—
Meanwhile, unaware of the lively discussion taking place in the Box, Mejiro Dober was walking through the parade ring.
The spectators offered polite applause to each Uma Musume as they passed, and she naturally received her share.
Yet when she compared it to the cheers she was accustomed to in Japan, the difference was unmistakable.
There was a distance here.
A restraint.
"Then I just need to close that distance myself," she thought quietly after stepping out of the ring. "Just like Suzuka-senpai did yesterday."
"Trainer has already prepared the strategy for me. As long as I execute it properly, there won't be any problems."
—
As Mejiro Dober exited the parade ring, Shuta An left the Box alone.
Neither Oguri Cap, Berno Light, nor Silence Suzuka followed him.
The three shared the same understanding without needing to speak—
Right now, the one Mejiro Dober needed to see—was him.
—
By the time Shuta An reached the grandstand area, he briefly greeted several familiar Trainers before lifting his gaze toward the large screen.
On it, Mejiro Dober had already arrived near the starting gates and begun her warm-up.
The 2400-meter course at York did not utilize the full circuit. Instead, it began midway along the back stretch, followed a sweeping horseshoe-shaped bend, and then opened into the long final straight, forming a layout resembling the letter "U."
"The final straight is 900 meters—" Shuta An murmured, speaking casually to Whiteley, the Trainer of Cloud Castle, who stood beside him.
"That distance is more than enough for Dober to fully unleash her sprint."
His eyes remained fixed on the screen as his thoughts continued to turn.
"I want to see her produce the fastest last 3F she's ever run since her debut in the Twinkle Series—right here."
Although Shuta An hoped that Mejiro Dober would be able to fully unleash her sprint on the final straight, the tactic he had arranged for her was not a simple hold-and-rush approach. Instead, he had deliberately positioned her between front-running and stalking—requiring her to secure an outer position within the mid-group during the race.
"Drawing gate 1 isn't ideal," he had told her before the race.
"After the start, you need to find a way to move outward into the mid-pack. Don't get trapped on the inside going into the final straight. There's no guarantee the others won't close in and block your path, so it's better to avoid that risk entirely."
These instructions had been firmly etched into Mejiro Dober's mind.
As the runner assigned to gate 1, she was the first to enter. After settling her stance within the starting gate, she turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on Lady in Waiting, who was preparing to enter gate 2.
This opponent had secured a listed race victory two years prior, but beyond that had never placed within the top three in any major European stakes races. Before the race, Shuta An had already classified her as a negligible threat.
Mejiro Dober withdrew her gaze almost immediately.
Although Lady in Waiting did not appear particularly dangerous in terms of strength, her preferred running style conflicted directly with the positioning Mejiro Dober intended to take. That alone made her troublesome.
An opponent who lacked overwhelming ability yet occupied the same tactical space could easily become an obstacle—especially if one carelessly settled behind her and ended up being escorted into a "private box" during the decisive phase.
Mejiro Dober had heard such examples more than once from her seniors.
She had no intention of becoming one of them.
"After the start, I'll circle behind her and move outward," she reminded herself repeatedly. "By the time we reach the straight opposite the stands, I need to be ahead of her on the outside. I can't give her the chance to slow me down."
By the time all runners had entered the gates, Mejiro Dober had already adjusted her condition to its peak.
Then—
"Click!"
The sound of the starting gates opening was heavier and more muted than in Japan, yet when it reached her ears, it still detonated like thunder, shattering the stillness of her thoughts.
In that instant, her body moved before conscious thought could follow.
She launched forward.
"Mejiro Dober's start speed is a bit slow," the live commentator remarked frankly.
However, standing near the finish line and watching the big screen, Shuta An showed no dissatisfaction.
"Her start is fine."
—
Inside the Box, Oguri Cap frowned slightly. "What's wrong with Dober's start?"
"Exactly," Tokai Teio added. "It looked completely normal to me."
Air Groove, however, seemed to grasp the commentator's perspective. "Perhaps he isn't comparing her to the runners in this race—but to Suzuka-senpai yesterday?"
Hearing her name mentioned, Silence Suzuka gave a small nod.
"That's possible. But it's not a fair comparison. My running style requires me to secure the lead, so I naturally place a lot of emphasis on starting technique. Dober-chan isn't running that kind of race. As long as her start is stable, that's sufficient. There's no need to refine it to that level."
"Short-distance runners are different," Kurofune explained quietly to Curren Chan. "For them, the start, the middle phase, and the final sprint are all critical. A single mistake is almost impossible to recover from within such a short race."
"That's still far beyond me," Curren Chan replied, spreading her hands lightly. "I'm not even sure yet whether I can enter Central Tracen Academy."
"There won't be any problem," Silence Suzuka said, turning to look at her. "I heard it from the Trainer. He believes you'll definitely make it."
"Really?" Curren Chan's expression brightened in surprise, though inwardly she let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"So it was something he said—Senior Suzuka must have heard it from Big Brother."
Her thoughts shifted subtly.
"Or maybe, she's just trying to encourage me."
While Curren Chan was still processing this, the situation on the track had already deviated from expectations.
Mejiro Dober had fallen to the very back of the pack.
This outcome had not been part of the plan.
Based on pre-race estimation, she had expected to settle somewhere around fourth position after the start. However, the runners to her right had held their lines tightly, leaving no openings for her to move through.
Faced with that situation, Mejiro Dober made a clean decision.
Rather than forcing her way forward and risking entrapment, she allowed herself to drop back completely, then moved outward from behind, passing High and Low in sixth place and cleanly escaping the unfavorable inside lane. By the time she completed the maneuver, she had successfully repositioned herself on the outside of the field.
"Is Mr. Shuta's philosophy such that he would rather sacrifice rhythm than risk being boxed in?" Whiteley remarked with a light chuckle beside Shuta An.
It was less a question than a provocation.
After all, the current leader, Cloud Castle, was his trainee. From any conventional standpoint, drawing gate 1 only to fall to the rear of the field could easily be seen as a waste of advantage.
Shuta An did not respond.
His gaze remained fixed on the screen.
Although Mejiro Dober now trailed the field, the gap between her and the leader was still under five lengths. On the dry turf of York, such a deficit was far from insurmountable. In his assessment, recovering that distance on the final straight would not pose any real difficulty.
Whiteley, however, appeared unconcerned.
He was well aware of Mejiro Dober's finishing speed, but from his perspective, disrupting one's rhythm at the start of a G1 race was rarely a sound decision.
"She won't seriously try to accelerate from the very back, catch the field in one run, and hold the lead all the way to the finish—will she?" he thought to himself.
"If she truly had that kind of ability, then why compete in the Triple Tiara in Japan at all? Wouldn't it have made more sense to challenge the English Triple Tiara this year instead?"