On May 6th, the United States seemed to hold its breath. No professional sports events were scheduled, political parties temporarily suspended their election campaigns, and countless people used up their remaining annual leave. All attention converged on Churchill Downs Racecourse in Kentucky, where several G1 Twinkle Series races would be held that day—most notably, the Kentucky Derby.
Two days earlier, Shuta An and his group had flown in with Secretariat, arriving in Louisville, the largest city in the state. Yet the city offered little to see. Berno Light and Oguri Cap had gone out for a short walk but returned in barely two hours, both looking equally unimpressed.
"This isn't a commercial tourist city. Expecting a downtown like Los Angeles is asking for too much," Shuta An sighed. "Just rest up. We're here to attend the Kentucky Derby."
"Then why do all of us have to come?" Oguri Cap puffed her cheeks. "And the food here isn't as good as in Los Angeles—"
"Mainly because of Oguri, right?" Berno Light blinked with a teasing smile. "She's a French Two Crowns Uma Musume. Her recognition overseas is much higher."
"Exactly. None of this has anything to do with me," Shuta An laughed lightly. "I'm just an ordinary Trainer."
"That's why I'm glad my mom prepared a dress for me before we came. I had no idea what to wear to something like this—" Oguri Cap exhaled in relief.
Shuta An, on the other hand, wasn't troubled by fashion. Most guests wore formal attire, but he had fully intended to dress casually, something comfortable for the spring weather.
"If I wear a suit and have to stand outside for half a day, I'll melt," he had complained. As he wasn't an official guest, he had no desire to endure unnecessary discomfort.
However, on May 6th, Louisville's temperature dropped to a frigid 16°C. Naturally, Berno Light and Oguri Cap forced him into a suit. Still, he refused to sit in the VIP section. Instead, he and Berno Light chose a private box just behind it, immediately turning on the air conditioning.
This year's Kentucky Derby featured fifteen competing Uma Musume. The overwhelming favorite was Easy Goer. Second favorite: Sunday Silence, who had shattered records with her massive victory margin in the Santa Anita Derby. Third favorite: Awe Inspiring—Hot Pursuit—winner of the Flamingo Stakes. In Shuta An's eyes, the remaining contestants didn't stand a chance; only these three were true contenders.
"But if I remember correctly didn't Ann say earlier that if either Sunday Silence or Hot Pursuit won, it would still be considered an upset?" Berno Light asked, swirling the free local drink provided by Churchill Downs.
"Drink less. That contains alcohol," Shuta An reminded her before answering, "But yes, Berno's right. Under normal circumstances, if Easy Goer doesn't win, it counts as an upset."
"'Normally' huh?" Berno Light caught the nuance instantly. "But today isn't normal, is it?"
"Exactly." Shuta An nodded. "It rained heavily last night—twenty millimeters, according to the weather bureau. There's no way the track staff could've fully drained the dirt course overnight. So, if my judgment is correct—the dirt track condition today is the worst it has been in over twenty years."
Had Secretariat been there, she would have been stunned. In one night, the young man had assessed and deduced the track condition more sharply than many professionals.
"But didn't you say before—when Oguri was in Nagoya—that dirt gets faster when it's heavier?" Berno Light frowned in confusion.
"That only applies to Japan." Shuta An shook his head. "If you study the track construction, Japan and the U.S. use completely different dirt compositions. You can't apply Japanese experience here."
"So the track at Churchill Downs is harder to run on today than a normal track?" Berno Light murmured.
"This is Sunday Silence's opportunity," Shuta An said softly, narrowing his eyes as he watched the Uma Musume preparing for the presentation. "Easy Goer has only raced on a heavy track once—and she lost to Is It True by 1¾ lengths in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Classic."
"So—Easy Goer might be weak on heavy dirt?" Berno Light asked, instantly grasping the implication.
"Exactly." The young Trainer grinned. "Sunday Silence might have a better chance today."
"Then has Sunday Silence ever run on a heavy track?" Berno Light pressed.
"She has. Last year, in her debut season, she raced on a heavy track and won by four and a half lengths. So yes—she's strong on heavy dirt."
"Looking at it that way, Miss Sunday Silence really does have higher odds." Berno Light nodded. "But everyone still seems to be favoring Easy Goer."
"The race doesn't choose the winner based on popularity." Shuta An shrugged, resting a hand lightly on Berno Light's shoulder. "Just watch. Sunday Silence might shock everyone."
On the presentation stage, Sunday Silence stepped down and looked toward the distant VIP section. Her keen vision easily picked out her Trainer.
She turned her gaze toward Easy Goer. Unlike nearly everyone else on the field—she brimmed with confidence.
"Thanks to Mr. Shuta's information and that sudden heavy rain yesterday, everything is aligning for me—timing, terrain, and fortune." Sunday Silence clenched her fists, eyes blazing. "I will win the first crown of the Triple Crown this year! Easy Goer—you won't stop me!"
(There is no race explanation here. But based on the real life record, Sunday Silence win the Kentucky Derby)
That night, after his shower, Shuta An collapsed onto the bed and drifted into sleep almost instantly. When he next opened his eyes, he was already astride Sunday Silence. He wrinkled his nose lightly, breathing in the dampened scent of earth. The rain-soaked dirt of the racecourse released a rich aroma into the air, and a quiet sense of satisfaction washed through him.
"My body feels loose and my mind is sharp today," he murmured from the saddle. "I need to run in a way worthy of this condition."
Lifting his gaze, he observed the track. Nearby, the other fourteen horses and their partners were also settling their nerves, adjusting their breathing, tuning their bodies.
"Hm—" Shuta An synchronized his breath with Sunday Silence's, finding that subtle, perfect overlap.
This sensation—it's like becoming one.
It was something no riding manual had ever taught him—this was the very technique Yutaka Take had once boasted about, the "secret" behind why people called him a genius. Although Shuta An had defeated Yutaka Take more often than not, he had still taken the man's advice seriously. And now—here, at the Kentucky Derby—he was putting it into practice for the first time.
A few minutes later, with the staff's guidance, Sunday Silence slipped obediently into gate 10. Settled inside, the young man cast a glance to his right. In gate 13 stood Easy Goer, with Pat Day already in position. Both rider and horse looked composed.
But Shuta An's sharp eyes noticed Easy Goer scraping at the sand with his left hoof—restless, impatient. Pat Day surely noticed it too, yet made no attempt to stop him.
'He's letting him hold onto that agitation?' The possibility struck him.
"So he wants him to seize an early position," Shuta An whispered to himself.
While he was still considering Pat Day's strategy, an interview was taking place in the paddock. American reporters surrounded Trainer Charlie Whittingham and Yoshida Zenya's entourage. Yoshida Zenya had prepared answers for the usual barrage—why he bought Sunday Silence, what expectations he held for her today. Charlie Whittingham was ready for questions about their horse's condition.
But every question fired at them—was about Easy Goer. Not one reporter asked about Sunday Silence. After several rounds, Charlie Whittingham finally snapped.
"I'm Sunday Silence's Trainer! Today, I'm only answering questions about Sunday Silence!"
The reporters scattered at once like startled birds. Yoshida Zenya's mouth twitched, exchanging an exasperated glance with Whittingham.
"We're really being underestimated," Whittingham growled. He glared at the young man still waiting to enter the gate. "Kid from Japan—if you can just win this damn race, I'll throw every resource I have at you afterward. Just give me the satisfaction of slapping these East Coast reporters in the face!"
Beside them, a Japanese reporter quietly recorded everything—Whittingham's outburst, the Americans' dismissive behavior.
'With this alone—I can write a nationwide sensation after the Derby', the reporter thought gleefully.
Meanwhile, the Easy Goer camp radiated confidence. Trainer Claude R. McGaughey III surveyed the track calmly. "Even though this is the kind of heavy dirt where Easy Goer once lost, I've instructed Pat Day to make him aggressive in the gate. As soon as it opens, he'll take an early position. We won't repeat last year's mistake."
"I trust McGaughey's judgment," Ogden Phipps, Easy Goer's owner, declared. "Easy Goer will be 'Secretariat the Second.' He'll be our new Triple Crown champion."
"Naturally." McGaughey's confidence overflowed. "That cheap horse Whittingham trains isn't his opponent."
Both camps brimmed with certainty—but the moment of truth was only two minutes away.
—
Click!
The gates burst open.
Shuta An drove Sunday Silence forward instantly. At the same time, Pat Day and Easy Goer executed McGaughey's plan flawlessly. Easy Goer lunged out like a released arrow, slipping smoothly into the leading group. Pat Day glanced sideways, then nudged Easy Goer diagonally toward the inner rail, securing the ground-saving lane with practiced ease.
But Shuta An, positioned slightly further inside, refused to take the convenient inner path. Instead, he directed Sunday Silence outward—three wide.
"He's going to lose ground like that." Charlie Whittingham's brows creased. "I told him to take the position he felt best, but this—isn't this too disadvantageous?"
"Trust Shuta-kun," Yoshida Zenya said. "You know his riding. If he chose that position, he has his reasons."
"I hope you're right." Whittingham exhaled heavily. "I just hope he truly believes in what he's doing"
As they swept into the first turn, the formation grew clear. Houston took the lead, while Easy Goer settled firmly into the leading group, three lengths behind.
Two lengths behind them, Shuta An and Sunday Silence deliberately stayed off the rail—leaving the inner lane completely open, as though rejecting it on principle. Even in the curve, they remained safely outside, as if some invisible barrier kept them from drawing any closer.
Two lengths behind Sunday Silence trailed the rest of the pack.
But to experienced spectators, those horses hardly mattered now. Some stayed behind by tactical choice—but others simply lacked the strength to keep up. And this early in the race, the difference between the two would soon reveal itself.
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