When Shuta An woke up, a strange clarity washed over him— the unmistakable calm of sage mode.
The Dream World's races still lingered in his mind, vivid as reality itself. Compared to merely watching from the sidelines in the real world, the dream had been so exhilarating that his heart still felt as if it were galloping. He got out of bed, opened the attribute viewer as always and then froze.
A line of text appeared, making his eyes widen.
"Series quest 'Road to the American Triple Crown' has been triggered. Therefore, the Kentucky Derby victory reward is temporarily withheld. Rewards of different levels will be issued later based on the completion of the series quest."
"So because I said all that dramatic stuff yesterday, even the quest updated itself?" His mouth twitched helplessly. With a sigh, he went to wash up.
"I barely ate anything at the buffet—I was too busy taking care of Oguri." He muttered while stretching, stepping out of bed.
The Preakness Stakes would be held at Pimlico in half a month—but that had nothing to do with him anymore. Sunday Silence had also beaten Easy Goer in reality. Whether he won or lost in the dream would no longer affect Shuta An's actual work.
So after breakfast, he took Oguri Cap and Berno Light back to West Coast Tracen Academy.
"Oguri still needs to continue rehabilitation at the research institute. That's the top priority for our team. Everything else can wait," he told Secretariat before leaving the hotel with the two Uma Musume.
About an hour later, a Uma Musume arrived at the hotel.
"I wanted you to meet them," Secretariat shrugged, "but Shuta An rushed off. Couldn't stop him."
"It's fine. Meeting him after the American Triple Crown is over will do," she replied lightly. "There's nothing urgent for now."
Shuta An didn't participate in Sunday Silence's Preakness preparations. For the next two weeks, he was fully devoted to Oguri Cap's treatment. Her suspensory ligament inflammation had mostly healed. According to Dr. Grace, she could begin rehabilitation training in the summer.
It was good news for Team Sadalsuud—if all went well, Oguri could return to racing in autumn or winter.
"It's a pity. The plan was for her to surpass Symboli Rudolf in her senior year, but she'll spend most of this one healing." Shuta An couldn't help feeling a pang of regret.
Symboli Rudolf herself regularly checked on Oguri's progress, and each time she finished asking, Tokai Teio would tug at her sleeve, urging her senior to visit America during summer to meet her future Trainer.
Meanwhile, Shuta An didn't neglect his part-time work with the Mejiro Family. Even though Team Sadalsuud wasn't staying at Mejiro Ramonu's house this year, he remained diligent. Under his monthly guidance, Mejiro Dober had accumulated quite a number of points—even though she still communicated with him awkwardly through her family members.
"I wonder what she plans to do with that many points—" He pondered occasionally.
Japan's domestic Twinkle Series Classics soon concluded as well: Shadai Kagura won the Oka Sho. Dr. Spurt took the Satsuki Sho.
But after watching the replays, Shuta An was unconvinced.
"They don't come close to Yaeno Muteki—Oguri probably won't need to pay attention to this year's Classic favorites when she returns."
Berno Light initially thought he was being arrogant—until she watched the replays herself. "It really doesn't feel like last year. Is this generation too weak?" she murmured.
Shuta An also checked the Dream World versions of the Classics. The results matched the real world. But one thing caught his attention—Shadai Kagura's main jockey was Yutaka Take.
"So he won a Classic—" Shuta An muttered irritably.
Assistant Ikee even joked during their chat, "If Shuta-kun had participated in the Oka Sho, Yutaka Take definitely wouldn't have won."
"But I definitely couldn't beat him in the Spring Tenno Sho," Shuta An replied truthfully.
It wasn't humility—Yutaka Take's partner for the Spring Tenno Sho was truly formidable. A name Shuta An remembered well from the real world.
Inari One.
"If Oguri aims for the Arima Kinen, then her biggest opponent will be Inari One." With that thought, Shuta An decided to gather more information—just in case.
In the Dream World, things were different. Here, he did need to help Sunday Silence prepare. As the main jockey, he had to coordinate with Charlie Whittingham to handle Easy Goer in the Preakness Stakes.
"We can't count on rain this time. And Pat Day will definitely adapt—he'll have a countermeasure ready," Charlie said, then turned to him. "Shuta, got any ideas?"
"No," Shuta An shrugged, "but Pat Day and Mr. McGaughey definitely plan to make Easy Goer move early."
"'Early,' huh" Charlie repeated the word, and then his eyes sharpened. "I see."
He grinned, turning to Yoshida Zenya, who looked lost.
"I think I've found our tactic for the Preakness."
"What is it?" Yoshida asked eagerly. Sunday Silence's value as a future stallion would only rise with more G1 victories—what owner wouldn't want that?
Charlie leaned in and explained the plan in a whisper. Shuta An didn't need to hear it. The old trainer could see the recognition in the Young man's eyes—
they had both reached the same conclusion.
May 20th, at Pimlico Race Course—spring draped the venue in gentle sunlight, the kind of mild, refreshing weather that made people believe every poetic rumor about the season. Yet Trainer Charlie Whittingham's mood was anything but pleasant.
Easy Goer had been crowned the overwhelming favorite once again, and the reasons from fans and analysts were endless.
Sunday Silence's Kentucky Derby win? "Because the track was heavy."
Shuta An's positioning? "Underhanded—he blocked Easy Goer's path to accelerate."
Pat Day's performance? "He underestimated the opponent; this time he'll be serious."
Sunday Silence's form? "He's weaker overall and should show fatigue here at Pimlico."
A chain of criticisms, all pointing in the same direction—Easy Goer deserved to be the favorite.
Before Shuta An mounted, Charlie Whittingham spoke in a low, firm voice.
"Shuta—we need to deliver a heavy blow to these prejudiced people."
"I will." Shuta An bumped fists with him—an unspoken promise passing between rider and trainer.
Meanwhile, in the VIP seats, Yoshida Zenya and his entourage watched with tight brows.
"To be honest, losing this race wouldn't bother me that much," Yoshida murmured. "But Shuta-kun vowed he'd win the American Triple Crown with Sunday Silence. Losing the second leg would be troublesome."
A Japanese reporter sighed. "He shouldn't have said that in the first place. Easy Goer's strength is obvious. Winning once was already incredibly lucky—winning three straights is unrealistic. And if he loses even once, the pressure from media and fans will crush him."
"Even so," Yoshida cut in, "we can only support him now. Besides, Sunday Silence's victory is in my best interests."
Their accompanying experts nodded. "If Shuta-kun keeps winning, it might even inspire Japanese jockeys to go overseas and learn."
"Not that every jockey has Shuta-kun's skill," the reporter retorted. "We can't expect them to replicate his achievements."
"But studying abroad will definitely raise the overall skill level," Yoshida replied. "And jockey progress is vital for the industry too."
The group murmured agreement.
After mounting, Shuta An immediately sensed it—Sunday Silence was in high spirits. Yet he held it back, as if fully aware that now was not the time to unleash its full strength.
The young jockey gently rubbed the horse's neck. "Good boy~ let's give these blind guys a real shock later."
As if understanding him perfectly, Sunday Silence let out a crisp, eager whinny.
Shuta An chuckled, stroking its head. "Alright, alright. I'll take that as a yes."
Nearby staff overheard and smiled wryly. To them, it was nothing more than a jockey's harmless quirk—after all, even they highly favored Easy Goer for revenge today.
The Preakness Stakes track layout was simple: a final straight of 250 meters, one full lap on dirt, and that was it. At 100 meters shorter than the Kentucky Derby, it favored rivals who were fresh and had skipped the Derby entirely.
This year, several such "ambushers" were present. But none of them concerned Shuta An. Compared to Easy Goer, the rest posed no threat.
Eight horses lined up for the Preakness. Sunday Silence drew the outside—Gate 7. Easy Goer drew the inside—Gate 2.
Upon seeing the draw, Shuta An grumbled to Whittingham: "If we win again, will they shove us into Gate 1 at the Belmont and hand Easy Goer the outer lane?"
"I can see that happening." Whittingham nodded gravely. "Claude McGaughey might very well do that."
"Let's focus on the Preakness first." Shuta raised a finger. "Since we're way out here, I'll take a passive start again. But this time I plan to conserve early and react spontaneously."
"I'll leave everything to you," Whittingham replied with complete trust. In his long career, he had only won the Derby twice—and one of those victories came from this very partnership.
"With that kind of trust," Shuta said softly, "I can't let you down."
He closed his eyes as the staff led Sunday Silence into the gate.
Ride as planned. Trust in Sunday Silence's talent. That is all.
Once fully inside, he opened his eyes—and immediately met Pat Day's piercing stare. The veteran jockey carried the humiliation of Churchill Downs like a burning brand. Suppressed from start to finish by an outsider from Japan—it had been unbearable. This time, he had come for revenge.
"Easy Goer and I will repay everything—tenfold," Pat Day declared. The noise of the crowd didn't matter. Shuta heard him clearly.
Shuta grinned. "I won't give you the chance."
The reply hit Pat Day like a slap.
"Fine." His voice dropped cold. "Then show me… the Japan's riding skills."
Shuta only smiled back.
Watching from a distance, Claude McGaughey III felt a faint chill. 'Is Pat letting Shuta's mind games get to him? If he loses his composure—I might need a new jockey for Belmont.'