Once they entered the backstretch, Shuta An no longer held Sunday Silence at a slightly rear position. Instead, he began edging forward with quiet determination.
He didn't raise the whip. He didn't make any dramatic motions. He simply increased the pressure of his pushing ride—just enough for Sunday Silence to understand him without words. Up ahead, the front-runners and their jockeys showed no reaction to the black horse steadily closing in.
Pat Day, atop Easy Goer, had of course noticed. But he felt no urgency.
Churchill Downs' final straight is roughly 380 meters—a paradise for front-runner . There was no need to accelerate yet. Better to keep Easy Goer conserved—then launch him in the final straight, exactly as Claude R. McGaughey III instructed. He wouldn't deviate.
—
Up in the stands, Charlie Whittingham had calmed down. Shuta An hadn't tried anything reckless since the early positioning, which was a relief in itself.
Watching the shifting formation, Charlie's brows lifted. "I think—I understand what he's planning."
"Huh?" Yoshida Zenya blinked. He didn't expect such a sudden reversal from the trainer who'd worried about Shuta An mere minutes ago.
"Just watch how he positions in the final straight. If I'm right—" Charlie leaned closer. "Then Shuta-kun shouldn't return to Japan. He could make a name for himself here. He'd become a top jockey in America, I'm certain of it."
"Then you'll have to tell him that." Yoshida Zenya sighed. "But I don't think he'll stay."
"Why?" Charlie sounded genuinely baffled. "He'd have far better prospects here than back home. I can give him resources most American jockeys would kill for."
"Because he already has his main horse in Japan." Yoshida Zenya's gaze settled on the young man in the distance. "A partner who has followed him since his debut. And there's another horse—a one-year-old—who chose him as its jockey mere days after birth. Shuta-kun won't stay."
"True." Charlie fell silent. Considering what he'd learned of the young man, Yoshida Zenya's explanation made sense. But he wasn't done hoping. "If he can't stay permanently, I at least want him to come to America for short-term rides each year."
"That's something you'll have to tell him. After all, I've never signed Shuta-kun as my main jockey—I can't order him around." Yoshida Zenya chuckled.
While the two men talked, Sunday Silence slipped into the final turn.
—
"Indeed—you don't truly understand the difference between American and Japanese dirt until you race on it yourself." Shuta An observed the horses around him, murmuring quietly.
Japanese dirt was pure sand—100%. Add water, and the surface gets faster. But Churchill Downs was different. Seventy-five percent sand, twenty-three percent silt, two percent clay.
Yesterday's heavy rain meant the track, now rated heavy, was slower—harder to run on—than a dry surface.
"To hit max speed on this surface today—one must start early."
The moment the realization settled, Sunday Silence began exiting the final turn. Shuta An lifted his left hand—and struck the first warning whip.
—
"A left-hand whip? Not a right-hand whip to move inside?" Claude R. McGaughey III caught sight of the motion. It puzzled him for a heartbeat before he brushed it off. "Must be nerves. The pressure of the Derby must have rattled him."
He did not believe a first-time Derby jockey could remain calm enough to avoid mistakes.
But what Claude didn't know—was that this "inexperienced" young man had once ridden alongside a World Champion Horse from debut to peak. He had conquered the greatest turf G1 of all—the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. How could the Kentucky Derby intimidate him?
Sunday Silence burst into the final straight—and Shuta An delivered another sharp left-hand whip.
"Easy Goer. Pat Day. Claude III watch closely. This is how you're going to lose the 'Greatest Two Minutes.'"
—
Pat Day immediately searched for an escape route. "There—just a few steps right, and we can pull out—"
But before he could lift his left-hand whip—
A dark figure appeared exactly in the path he intended to take.
Blocking him.
Completely.
"Don't even think about escaping from the outside. Stay exactly where you are." Shuta An didn't need to speak. His positioning declared everything.
"Dammit!" Pat Day finally understood.
Sunday Silence had stubbornly guarded the outside the entire race—not due to error, but to trap Easy Goer here.
"To block me now, he'd rather turn a 2000-meter run into 2100?!"
Shuta An didn't care what Pat Day realized. Driving Sunday Silence diagonally in front of Easy Goer, he glanced at the front group. The other horses now had to slow slightly to maneuver behind him if they wanted to pull out.
He immediately switched his whip to the right hand—and continued pushing with every ounce of strength he had, right hand swinging rhythmically like a windmill.
—
In the VIP box, the entire Sunday Silence camp leapt to their feet.
Charlie Whittingham clenched his fists so hard they trembled. "That's it… that's it… that's it!"
Yoshida Zenya's jaw dropped. "Could it be—?!"
The ranch staff who had come from Japan were nearly in tears. If Sunday Silence won the Derby, he'd be returning home as a Kentucky Derby champion—a glory that would elevate the entire ranch. Bearing all their expectations—
Shuta An lowered himself, pressing his full weight forward onto Sunday Silence's neck, driving him with everything he had. And then—
Charlie Whittingham, eyes blazing, roared toward the media section:
"Where is Easy Goer?!"
After crossing the finish line, there was no need for slow-motion replays—everyone at Churchill Downs had seen it clearly with their own eyes.
Sunday Silence had thundered past the post, three lengths ahead of the field.
"Yes!" Shuta An's exhilaration exploded out of him. He flung his whip skyward, raising his right arm to the stands, his index finger stabbing toward the sky like a declaration carved in flame.
Yoshida Zenya and the others needed no explanation.
"Triple Crown declaration—" he breathed.
The same thought flashed through every member of the Sunday Silence camp: Does Shuta-kun truly believe he can conquer the Triple Crown?
But the radiance in the Young man's posture left little room for doubt.
Charlie Whittingham, meanwhile, was absolutely delighted.
"That's how you do it! To hell with those damned reporters! To hell with the 'Second Coming of Secretariat'! To hell with Easy Goer, with Claude R. McGaughey III, with Pat Day—damn them all!"
He vented until satisfaction returned to him, then exhaled deeply and straightened his suit, ready to greet the press as a triumphant king. Yoshida Zenya also snapped back to reality—he, too, would be dragged into interviews. After all, he was now the owner of the Kentucky Derby horse.
But while joy swirled through one side of the racetrack, disappointment suffocated the other.
Claude III had sensed disaster the moment Sunday Silence pinned Easy Goer in place.
"He planned it from the start—What an old fox Charlie Whittingham is." He swore inwardly. "Damn it—Easy Goer's stamina was more than enough. I should have let him run wide and trade stamina for position."
Ogden Phipps, though disappointed, was composed. The media had dubbed Easy Goer the "next Secretariat"—yet Secretariat would never have faltered at the Kentucky Derby.
But instead of turning his frustration toward Claude III, he simply said, "Let Easy Goer rest. We'll strike back at the Preakness Stakes. It's only one Kentucky Derby. It means nothing. This time—Sunday Silence was just lucky."
"Mm!" Claudio III nodded sharply. "I'll make sure Easy Goer takes revenge in the next race!"
Yet the one suffering the most was undoubtedly Hancock. He had believed selling Sunday Silence—who had stumbled even in major races—had been a smart, profitable escape.
But now? The horse he let go had just won the Kentucky Derby.
"If I sold him now, the price would be dozens of times higher!!" The thought dug into his chest like a knife.
It had already hurt when Sunday Silence won the Santa Anita Derby. This, however, was agony. Tonight, Hancock resolved to drink until he collapsed. Otherwise, he feared his regret might kill him.
But Shuta An had no time to ponder the bitterness and joy of others. The host riding over to interview him approached quickly. Straightening his posture, the Young man met the host with a brilliant, composed smile.
"Good afternoon~"
"Good afternoon, Shuta… Ann…" The host struggled with his name, but Shuta An took it lightly with a warm smile.
"Congratulations on your Kentucky Derby victory. How do you feel at this moment?" Experienced as he was, the host wasted no time.
"Excellent! Absolutely fantastic!" Shuta An answered without hesitation. "Before coming to America, I knew the Kentucky Derby's prestige. But honestly—I always imagined myself watching from the stands. To not only participate, but carve my name into its history—It's wonderful. Truly dreamlike."
"Before the race, most people believed Easy Goer—the Eclipse Award Best Two-Year-Old Male—would win. Were you under heavy pressure?"
"Not really." He shrugged. "Easy Goer's only loss last year was on a heavy track. Today's track was heavy. And Sunday Silence, despite running on an unfavorable track before, won brilliantly. I believed he would suppress Easy Goer."
The next question hit the curiosity of every spectator:
"How did you decide to stay in third on the outside the entire time? Was it an instruction from Trainer Whittingham?"
Shuta An answered instantly—because he had been the architect of the race from the very beginning.
"Easy Goer was the biggest threat. When I saw him pushing forward at the start, I deliberately held Sunday Silence back, staying diagonally behind him to observe. By the final straight, I predicted when Pat Day would try to trigger Easy Goer's acceleration and I moved first. Sunday Silence responded perfectly, surged again, and blocked Easy Goer's path to pull out. He could unleash his full power, but Easy Goer had to slow down and go around before accelerating. The difference was decisive. His victory was simply the natural result."
"I see—then how do you view Sunday Silence's future?"
"This is only his second G1 victory. Many will say today's win was luck. But next, he and I will prove our strength. We will win the Preakness Stakes, and then the Belmont Stakes. This year, America will witness a new Triple Crown winner—and his name is Sunday Silence!"
He finished his declaration and once more turned to the stands, raising his right index finger high, unwavering, like a promise etched into the sky.
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