Chapter 75. Team Entry Test and Retirement Ceremony Arrangements
After seeing Silence Suzuka off on her flight to Melbourne, Shuta An made the rare decision to end his workday early. Back home, he let himself sink into the sofa, closing his eyes for a brief rest, but the emptiness in his stomach soon forced him back on his feet. With no proper meal since morning, he stepped out again, intending to grab a late lunch.
It didn't take long for him to regret the timing. Being a holiday, the streets of Shinjuku were overflowing with people. The restaurants he usually frequented were packed to the point of absurdity, lines spilling out onto the sidewalks as if it were peak dinner hours rather than mid-afternoon.
"How is it still this crowded at this hour?" he muttered under his breath, irritation creeping in.
After a brief hesitation, he abandoned the idea of staying in the area altogether. Returning to his car, he decided to head toward Ikebukuro instead—a place he knew would at least offer more variety.
Ikebukuro, nestled in Toshima Ward, stood alongside Shibuya and Shinjuku as one of Tokyo's major sub-centers. In recent years, it had gradually transformed, with a growing influx of businesses giving parts of the district an almost unfamiliar atmosphere. For Shuta An, that shift worked in his favor—there were far more restaurants that matched his tastes.
He hadn't always felt comfortable coming here. Back when the economy was stronger, the area had been notorious for biker gangs, making even a minor traffic incident a potential headache.
Now, however, the environment had changed so much that walking through certain streets felt less like being in Japan and more like stepping into another country entirely.
After circling for a bit, he found a parking spot and slipped into a Mixed Asian restaurant. The place was busy, but not suffocatingly so—there were still a few empty seats. That alone was enough to ease his mood.
"Finally—no need to search again."
Once seated and after placing his order, his attention wandered across the room. It didn't take long before something—rather, someone—caught his eye.
To his left, an Uma Musume was struggling.
"So spicy—!" she gasped, taking a few hurried bites before immediately reaching for her water, gulping it down in desperation. Even through her mask, it was obvious she was overwhelmed; sweat beaded along her temples and soaked into the fabric, her composure completely undone by the dish in front of her.
Shuta An studied her for a moment before speaking quietly.
"Miss El Condor Pasa? I'm not mistaken, am I?"
She froze, then turned sharply toward him, eyes widening in surprise.
"Eh?! Shuta—"
Catching herself before drawing too much attention, she lowered her voice immediately.
"Shuta Trainer—good afternoon. What are you doing here?"
Shuta An raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "That sounds like my line. Shouldn't you be in France preparing for a G1 race?"
"Ah… well…" El Condor Pasa scratched her cheek, her earlier bravado dissolving into awkwardness. "Rigil is recruiting new members, so I volunteered to come back and help with publicity. I just got back from France."
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly, the skepticism in his gaze unmistakable.
"Is that really the only reason?"
"Ahaha…" She laughed weakly, unable to meet his eyes this time. "Actually—I haven't told anyone in the team that I came here to eat."
That answer, at least, sounded far more convincing.
—
By evening, Shuta An had already shifted into the Dream World. Under the fading light, he stepped onto the turf of Kokura Racecourse, preparing for the day's race—the Kokura 2-Year-Old Stakes.
His mount, Maruka Iris, wasn't particularly favored. Based on his past performances, he was only ranked eighth among the field. But as Shuta An adjusted his grip on the reins, his expression remained steady. Rankings meant nothing once the gates opened.
The track conditions were clear at a glance. Dry turf, likely the result of several consecutive sunny days. Combined with the relatively short 1200-meter distance and the 293-meter final straight, the race would demand early positioning—waiting until the final stretch would simply be too late.
"He can take the lead—if the start is clean enough."
His plan formed quickly, decisively.
From gate 10, slightly to the outside, the position wasn't ideal—but not impossible either. If he committed early, he could still seize control.
The gates burst open.
"St. Missile and Maruka Iris break sharply—! Shuta An and Tahara Seiki are charging for the lead side by side! Neither is willing to yield!"
The commentator's voice rose as the two surged ahead of the pack, their pace immediately stretching the field behind them.
At this distance, hesitation was fatal. Both riders knew it.
Four hundred meters in, just before the bend, the tension still hadn't broken.
Shuta An's gaze sharpened.
"So you're still not backing down—"
Then, without warning, he urged Maruka Iris forward again.
The response was immediate.
His stride lengthened, his speed climbing another notch even as they entered the turn. It was a risky move—accelerating on the bend wasn't something most would attempt lightly.
Tahara Seiki noticed at once. A flicker of hesitation crossed his mind.
"If I keep pushing—he might not hold in the final stretch."
That moment of doubt was enough.
St. Missile eased, just slightly—but decisively.
The lead was Shuta An's.
From that point on, he didn't look back.
Exiting the bend, he delivered two sharp right-handed whips, driving Maruka Iris forward with relentless precision. There was no conservation, no holding back—his approach was indistinguishable from how he would ride a G1.
And the result spoke for itself.
1:08.1.
A new track record for 2-year-olds over 1200 meters.
As the race concluded and the tension dissipated, Tahara Seiki walked up beside him, still processing what had just happened.
"That was insane," he admitted, shaking his head. "I'm not as relentless as you."
Shuta An only smiled, loosening his grip on the reins as the adrenaline slowly faded.
"I decided on that approach before the race even started," he said casually. "Honestly, I'm more surprised that it made you back off."
Tahara Seiki let out a long breath, a wry smile forming despite himself.
"You really are something else."
—
The results spoke for themselves—El Condor Pasa's return had delivered exactly the kind of impact Rigil Team was hoping for. Recruitment that year was unusually successful, bringing in several promising Uma Musume.
In the past, Rigil had maintained an almost rigid standard—only the top-ranked candidate in the selection test would be accepted—but after witnessing how Shuta An operated, Tojo Hana had deliberately relaxed those restrictions. Talent, after all, did not always manifest cleanly in a single ranking.
In contrast, Sadalsuud Team remained completely silent.
No announcements. No tryouts. Not even a hint of recruitment.
That silence, however, was far from neutral—it created pressure.
"Honestly, isn't the entry threshold for Sadalsuud Team absurdly high?"
Symboli Rudolf remarked with a faint frown, glancing toward Maruzensky.
"Even you and I, before we matured, might not have qualified."
Maruzensky let out a soft laugh, covering her lips with her hand.
"Who knows what Shuta-kun uses as his evaluation criteria? Though—" her eyes curved slightly, "you're not thinking of recommending someone again, are you?"
Rudolf shook her head immediately.
"No. That's not it. The issue is that too many unaffiliated Uma Musume are holding out hope for Sadalsuud. As long as he doesn't formally close recruitment, other teams can't properly begin theirs. Right now, only Team Spica and Rigil are moving forward."
"Then just tell him," Maruzensky replied lightly. "You're not pushing anyone this time, so there's nothing awkward about it."
"It's not that simple." Rudolf's expression remained composed, but her reasoning shifted subtly. "After what happened with Suzuka's transfer, it's difficult for me to bring up recruitment matters directly."
Yet "difficult" did not stop her from sending a carefully worded message to Shuta An through Line, gently expressing her hope that Sadalsuud Team would confirm its stance soon.
—
Shuta An, seated at his desk reviewing training data, glanced at the message. He didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he stood up.
"Right. It's about time I check on Rice Shower."
At this hour, she would almost certainly be on the training grounds.
When he arrived, Rice Shower was already deep into her routine, running steady laps along the track. Around her, other Uma Musume quickly noticed Shuta An's presence, their gazes flickering toward him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
Rice Shower, however, remained completely unaware.
Or perhaps more accurately—she was too focused to notice anything else.
Shuta An paused at the edge of the field, feeling the weight of those surrounding stares. The attention alone made it clear that stepping forward to speak with her now would only create unnecessary pressure.
"If I approach her here—it'll just make things harder for her."
So he stayed where he was.
From a distance, he observed her stride, her rhythm, the subtle consistency in her breathing and pacing. It hadn't been long since he last evaluated her in detail, but even so, today's observation revealed something familiar—something that overlapped with the Rice Shower he knew from the Dream World.
"The foundation is there."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But as an Uma Musume, she's more susceptible to external influence. Her mentality—that's the real variable."
Confidence. That was the key.
Once, rebuilding that from the ground up would have been a complicated, delicate process. But now, with Sadalsuud Team's established reputation, the situation was fundamentally different. Simply being associated with the team carried weight—status, expectation, reassurance.
"Building confidence now isn't the problem."
His thoughts shifted, and with them, his earlier plan.
"Using Teio as a benchmark isn't appropriate anymore."
Tokai Teio was no longer just a promising trainee—she was an active competitor in the Twinkle Series, even considered a leading figure for the coming year. If a direct comparison or race were to backfire, it wouldn't just fail to help Rice Shower—it might deepen her psychological burden.
That option had to be discarded.
Which left only one viable choice.
"Kurofune." The decision came cleanly. "I'll need her to free up time the day after tomorrow."
Without lingering any longer, Shuta An turned and left the training grounds.
—
Back in the office, he moved efficiently.
A message to Tokai Teio—have her inform Rice Shower about the upcoming team entry test.
Another to Kurofune—reduce training intensity over the next two days and prepare for a test race.
The response he received nearly made him choke on his water.
"If I lose—will I be expelled?"
Shuta An stared at the message for a second, genuinely baffled by the leap in logic.
"How did you even arrive at that conclusion?"
He quickly corrected her misunderstanding.
"Sadalsuud Team has never dismissed a member. My requirements aren't complicated—train seriously, don't cause unnecessary trouble, and don't disrupt team cohesion. As long as those are met, performance alone won't determine your place."
Even someone like Stay Gold, often described by others as unpredictable, wouldn't violate those principles. Reputation within the Academy painted her as fiercely loyal—someone many admired, not someone who destabilized a team.
That was enough.
—
With the arrangements settled, Shuta An checked the time.
Four o'clock.
Technically, there was still an hour left in the workday, but after a brief glance at his screen, he shut the system down.
"Nothing meaningful will get done in the next hour anyway."
Leaving the Academy, he stepped into the soft glow of the setting sun. The sky was already shifting toward evening hues, a quiet reminder of how quickly the season was advancing.
"After Rice Shower's test—everything shifts."
The Shuka Sho.
The Cox Plate.
One domestic, one overseas—and Australia was entirely unfamiliar territory for Sadalsuud Team. Fortunately, the Shuka Sho field consisted largely of known quantities. That alone reduced the cognitive load.
Still, the calendar was tightening.
"The year's almost over."
His thoughts naturally drifted to Silence Suzuka.
Her retirement race would take place overseas—a first for a domestic G1-level Uma Musume. That alone carried symbolic weight. But beyond the race itself, something else needed consideration.
"A retirement ceremony—"
In the Dream World, it had been standard. Horses that achieved G1 victories were honored properly; those with multiple wins even had ceremonies fully supported by the governing body.
He remembered it clearly—Oguri Cap's ceremony, held that very night. The atmosphere, the farewell, the sense of closure shared with fans.
Suzuka deserved no less.
"Even if her final race isn't here—her farewell should be."
Her supporters deserved that moment.
Without hesitation, Shuta An pulled out his phone and opened his notes, quietly adding the item to his growing list of responsibilities—another piece in the intricate structure he was building, one decision at a time.