Chapter 29. A Solo Journey Before the Kentucky Derby Part 2
Labeeb had believed—firmly—that after Silence Suzuka and Always a Classic had locked horns for such a prolonged stretch, the two frontrunners would inevitably collapse the moment they entered the final straight. If that happened, then an early acceleration on her part would make closing the gap trivial.
She was not alone in this judgment. Several Uma Musume positioned behind her had reached the same conclusion.
Yet the instant they burst onto the final straight, shock rippled through the pack.
Silence Suzuka had barely slowed at all.
"What's going on?!" Labeeb's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is she a stamina monster? She set that kind of pace, and we still can't reel her in?!"
Including Labeeb, not a single Uma Musume in the chasing group could comprehend what they were witnessing.
But Shuta An, standing quietly among the spectators, understood perfectly.
"There's nothing mysterious about it," he murmured. "Suzuka is losing speed—she has to. But the real question is this: the Uma Musume behind her were already far back. Are they truly accustomed to a pace like this?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"This tempo doesn't just drain the leader. It crushes the finishing kicks of everyone chasing."
When every competitor's condition deteriorates simultaneously, the deciding factor becomes grit. And unfortunately for the rest of the field, Silence Suzuka possessed that quality in abundance. Or rather—no Uma Musume capable of executing a runaway strategy ever lacked it.
Inside the private box, Secretariat stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, brows lifting slightly.
"Her grit is exceptional," she said. "It's her stamina that's lacking—but that's not something training alone can fix."
She folded her arms.
"This pace would be manageable in a Mile race. But beyond 1800 meters, it becomes a nightmare." Her gaze swept the stands below. "I don't know what he was thinking, having Silence Suzuka imitate my old style. The difference between us is enormous—yet he still set that goal."
"Should I call it arrogance…or confidence?"
Though her words were critical, the smile she wore betrayed her true feelings.
On the broadcast, the commentator's voice surged with excitement.
"Unbelievable! Silence Suzuka's speed shows no sign of decline! Could it be that after setting such an outrageous pace, the Dubai Turf champion will still deliver a wire-to-wire victory here at Churchill Downs?!"
"No." Secretariat shook her head lightly. "If she holds this gap, this performance will surpass Dubai. She's aiming for a lead of at least ten lengths."
Labeeb. Same Old Wish. Down the Aisle.
Every Uma Musume who had chosen to bide their time in the leading or chase groups now hurled themselves forward, desperately pursuing the chestnut-haired figure ahead.
"She went out that fast—there's no way she can last!"
Not one of them believed Silence Suzuka could maintain a lead carved out through such brutal stamina expenditure.
"Impossible… impossible… impossible!"
Labeeb ground her teeth together, wishing she could sprout wings and skim across the turf, tearing victory from Suzuka's grasp.
Down the Aisle felt the same disbelief—but after gauging the remaining distance and her own legs, she was forced to concede reality.
"This is rough," she cursed inwardly. "I need to avoid races with runaway runner like Silence Suzuka."
In that moment, she quietly abandoned any thoughts of entering next year's Dubai Turf.
Further back, Always a Classic—now sinking into the middle of the pack—was consumed by regret.
"If I'd known she could sustain that pace—I would've given up the lead and waited."
At the very front, Silence Suzuka knew none of this. What she did know was that her Trainer was standing by the finish line, watching her with everything he had.
"My stamina is running low," she admitted inwardly, her face calm even as her fists clenched and every muscle screamed. "But I can still hold on."
She listened—strained—for the sound of hooves behind her.
Nothing.
"I still can't hear them."
She didn't dare look back. Lowering her center of gravity, she surged forward.
The roar of the crowd sharpened, stabbing at her senses. Suzuka shut it out completely. In her vision, only the finish marker remained.
"Faster. I absolutely cannot be caught."
In the stands, Shuta An stared unblinking at her form.
"Suzuka's aura—it's starting to resemble Oguri's." His breath caught. "Is this the budding of a Zone?"
The realization didn't shock him—only its timing did.
"I didn't think this race would push her this far," he sighed.
The commentator, however, was utterly swept away.
"Silence Suzuka is not slowing! Neither Labeeb nor Down the Aisle can close the distance!"
"To witness a race like this before the Kentucky Derby—what a spectacle!"
"Take this moment in! Perhaps we won't see anything like it again until Breeders' Cup day!"
"Silence Suzuka has opened a gap of over ten lengths! The challengers behind her are completely powerless!"
"Churchill Downs' turf has become Silence Suzuka's personal proving ground! AlwaysaClassic was left behind long ago—this final 380 meters belong solely to her!"
"Silence Suzuka crosses the line! 1:47.2! The third-fastest time in Turf Classic Stakes history! A runaway triumph by Japan's escape artist!"
As her momentum faded, Silence Suzuka turned her head toward the stands.
Her eyes met Shuta An's instantly.
"You did great!" He raised his thumb, shouting with all his strength.
Though the crowd drowned his voice, Suzuka knew—without doubt—that she had been praised.
"Next race—the Takarazuka Kinen," she murmured, clenching her right fist against her chest. "I'll keep winning."
—
Just as he had told Secretariat, once the awards ceremony concluded, Shuta An and Silence Suzuka did not remain at the hotel to celebrate. Instead, they collected the luggage they had already packed that morning and, under the hotel's arrangements, departed directly for Louisville International Airport.
In a few hours, they would be boarding a flight back to Tokyo.
The local American reporters were completely caught off guard by Shuta An's decisiveness. By the time they hurried to the hotel hoping to secure an interview with Silence Suzuka and her Trainer, they were met only with a polite apology—the two members of Team Sadalsuud had already left for the airport.
To ensure Silence Suzuka could rest without interruption, Shuta An had deliberately reserved access to the VIP lounge.
"God knows what those reporters would ask," he muttered quietly. "If they bring up plans for the latter half of the year, that's all still uncertain. Making promises now that might not be fulfilled later would only disappoint fans—and reporters would never let it go."
He was far too familiar with the temperament of American media.
When Secretariat later learned from a Student Council member that the reporters had failed to catch the two, her lips curved upward.
"He avoided them so he wouldn't make reckless promises?" she said lightly.
Despite Shuta An's apparent reluctance to disclose Silence Suzuka's schedule, Secretariat was convinced of one thing: the Young Trainer would absolutely arrange for another American challenge in the latter half of the year.
"It may not be the Breeders' Cup," she mused, "but something like the Matriarch Stakes wouldn't surprise me."
She was confident in her judgment.
Yet when Silence Suzuka herself asked about plans for a second overseas expedition, Shuta An's answer diverged completely from Secretariat's expectations.
"I've considered arranging another expedition," he admitted, "but after the Autumn Tenno Sho, there aren't any races in America that suit Suzuka particularly well. So instead, I'm thinking about Australia."
"Australia?" Silence Suzuka blinked.
"The Mackinnon Stakes," Shuta An continued. "A G1, 2000 meters on turf at Flemington. It should fall well within Suzuka's distance adaptability."
"I've never been there," Silence Suzuka said softly.
"Me neither…at least not recently," Shuta An shrugged. "But I think Suzuka will adapt to the tracks there just fine."
"If Ann says so, I believe him." The Uma Musume smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Should we say hello to Oguri-senpai before boarding later?"
"That's true—I haven't told her our return time yet." Shuta An raised an eyebrow, following Suzuka's train of thought. "Though Oguri and Berno should have already left Tokyo—"
After a brief pause, he decided it would still be better to notify them.
"What? You're not staying in Louisville for a few more days?" Oguri Cap's voice carried clear surprise. "Isn't that exhausting? Berno and I are leaving for Niigata tomorrow morning."
"It's fine," Shuta An reassured her. "I can rest at home. Oguri's Dream Trophy can't be delayed. Besides, I should report in anyway."
Oguri laughed lightly. "Berno says she feels much more at ease when Ann and Dober-chan are together."
"Relieved, huh…" Shuta An murmured inwardly. "Then who exactly makes you uneasy when I'm with them?"
He couldn't come up with an answer.
—
When Shuta An and Silence Suzuka arrived at Narita Airport, the time was exactly noon, Tokyo time.
"Good thing I slept on the plane," Shuta An said with a hint of relief. "Otherwise I wouldn't dare drive right now. I'll drop you off at Central Tracen first, then head home."
"Then I'll be in your care, Ann," Silence Suzuka replied easily. After a moment's thought, she added, "Should we eat something first?"
"Are you hungry?" Shuta An glanced at her. "If you are, we'll grab lunch after leaving the airport."
"A little," she answered calmly. "I barely ate on the plane. Mostly just slept."
"I see." As he led her toward the parking lot, Shuta An began considering what kind of meal would suit her best.
After paying the parking fee—an expense that made him wince slightly—he opened the car door.
"Let's go," he said with a small smile. "I'll treat you to the most authentic wonton noodles you can find in Japan."
"Wonton…noodles?" Silence Suzuka echoed, unfamiliar with the name.
"They're perfect for you right now," Shuta An replied as he drove away from Narita.
Though the weather had begun to warm, Silence Suzuka still swallowed lightly when the steaming bowl was placed in front of her.
Clasping her hands together, she bowed slightly. "Itadakimasu~."
She lifted her chopsticks and tasted the noodles.
Across from her, Shuta An waited for his own bowl—Tom Yum Goong–flavored soup noodles.
The noodles, treated with lye water, were springy and firm. As they settled on the tongue, a gentle sweetness emerged.
Silence Suzuka's eyes widened. After swallowing, she spoke softly, almost reverently. "Ann really knows how to recommend things… This is perfect for me right now."
"Well," Shuta An said thoughtfully, "my father used to tell me about a saying back home—'dumplings for departure, noodles for return.' I don't really know why it exists, but whenever I come back from an expedition, I always make myself a bowl of noodles."
(I can't find replacement for this Chinese food and culture)
He watched Suzuka eat, his gaze drifting.
After a brief silence, Silence Suzuka replied, "Even though this trip was rushed, it does feel like one experience has come to a close."
She raised her head, meeting the gaze of the Trainer she admired.
"But I don't feel that melancholy. Because I know the next journey has already begun."
Her voice steadied.
"The final battle of the first half of the Twinkle Series—the Takarazuka Kinen."
"For that race," she said earnestly, "please watch me, Ann. I will definitely win."
"I'll definitely watch you," Shuta An answered, nodding softly.