Chapter 86. Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe Part 1
Thursday of Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe race week had arrived.
Today, the highly anticipated gate draws for the Arc would finally be announced. The draws for all the undercard races held on the same day had been finalized and released days prior, leaving only the main event hanging in the balance.
The recent Parisian weather had put Shuta An entirely at ease.
It had rained heavily for two consecutive days, forcing Longchamp Racecourse officials to scramble to maintain the turf. Barring any miraculous shifts in weather, the track condition would officially be listed as 'Heavy' on race day.
"Everything is falling into place exactly as I predicted. Truly wonderful."
The young man muttered, narrowing his eyes as he sat at his computer.
Nearby, Tokai Teio was lounging on the living room sofa, half-heartedly watching a local French soap opera. Truthfully, she was only watching it to kill time; the other channels were somehow even more boring. For Tokai Teio, it was just background noise and flashing colors.
Her true attention was entirely focused on the study.
The gate results are going to drop any minute now... Ann must be just as nervous as I am, right?
She thought to herself.
Meanwhile, Shuta An had opened his browser and navigated to Twittr, intending to draft a post the absolute second the results went live. He wasn't particularly nervous; as long as they didn't get cursed with a far-outside draw, everything would be fine.
Soon, an email from the French URA Association pinged in his inbox.
"Teio! The draw is in, come take a look!"
The young man called out.
Tokai Teio instantly vaulted off the sofa and sprinted over.
"I'm here, I'm here!"
She dashed into the study in a few quick strides, pressing herself against her lover's side.
"Let me see! What gate did the French URA Association give me?"
Shuta An clicked the email open. The message began with an agonizingly long string of overly polite, formal French greetings.
"Can't they just get to the point already?"
Teio, who couldn't read a word of French, muttered impatiently.
Although Shuta An could read it perfectly well, he couldn't be bothered with the bureaucratic pleasantries. He immediately scrolled down to the actual results.
"Oh!"
Both the young man and Tokai Teio exclaimed simultaneously.
"Gate 11!" Tokai Teio rubbed her hands together, visibly pleasantly surprised. "That's a really good draw!"
"Indeed, it's a very solid position. Absolutely acceptable, and infinitely better than being stuck on the far outside." Shuta An agreed. "This practically confirms our tactical approach."
The two exchanged a knowing glance, smiled, and said in perfect unison:
"Good-position senko!"
The rationale behind the choice was brutally simple.
User Friendly, the only dedicated pace-setter Uma Musume in the field, had drawn Gate 9—conveniently close to Tokai Teio. Barring a catastrophic low-probability event, like stumbling out of the gate, it would be effortless for Tokai Teio to mark User Friendly immediately after the break and secure a dominant stalking position.
Furthermore, User Friendly was highly likely to set a slow, controlled pace, which would allow Tokai Teio to cruise comfortably behind her.
A slow pace inherently favors Uma Musumes in the vanguard.
Although the final straight at Longchamp is notoriously long—which usually benefits deep closers—if the early pace is sluggish, everyone has plenty of gas left in the tank for the final sprint. Since every runner's explosive top speed has a hard-biological ceiling, a slow pace makes it mathematically impossible for the closers to bridge the gap once the leaders hit top gear.
From a purely tactical standpoint, the optimal solution for Tokai Teio was to closely mark the pace-setting User Friendly, maintain a prominent position throughout the race, and only unleash her explosive sprint as they turned into the final straight.
The only genuine risk was getting boxed in on the rail by outside horses, preventing her from finding a clear path to accelerate.
However, that wasn't a major concern for the petite Tokai Teio. Due to her compact frame and incredible agility, she could slip through narrow gaps that the taller, bulkier European Uma Musumes couldn't hope to navigate.
"Well, you just laid out the exact tactics yourself, Teio, so there isn't much more to cover on that front."
After confirming the draw, Shuta An casually pulled Tokai Teio onto his lap, preparing to brief her on the 17 opponents she would be facing.
"The Arc has a full gate this year. Even though you're the favorite, we cannot afford to ignore the rest of the field. Who's to say one of them won't suddenly deliver the race of their life?"
"That's right."
Teio nodded repeatedly, her cheeks flushed. Honestly, even if the young man had decided to initiate something intimate right now, she wouldn't have objected in the slightest—let alone when he was actually making a valid tactical point.
"Let's start with Mashaallah in Gate 1. She just won the Irish St. Leger, which is a grueling marathon, so stamina is absolutely not an issue for her on Longchamp's heavy turf. However, the Arc is 'only' 2,400 meters. And like I said, the pace is likely going to be very slow, which completely neutralizes her stamina advantage."
"If I were Gosden, Mashaallah's trainer, I would instruct her to contest the lead with User Friendly. I'd want her to force a suicidal pace to drag the rest of the field into a pure war of attrition, allowing her stamina to shine."
Shuta An absentmindedly rubbed Teio's head as he spoke. The Undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume trembled slightly at the sudden, intimate contact.
Seemingly oblivious to her reaction, the young man continued,
"But unfortunately for them, Mashaallah has never utilized aggressive pace-setting tactics in her career. I highly doubt Gosden is reckless enough to gamble on a brand-new, untested strategy on a stage as massive as the Arc. So, we can safely assume Mashaallah will stick to her usual front-running stalker tactics."
"Because of that, there's only one thing you need to do regarding Mashaallah."
Shuta An said, tightening his arm around Tokai Teio.
"While maintaining your strong position near the front, you need to seamlessly cooperate with the outside Uma Musumes to completely box Mashaallah in on the rail, denying her any clear path to break out."
"Wow... that sounds so cruel."
Teio gasped softly, though the young man could practically feel her vibrating with eager anticipation to execute the maneuver.
Employing this meticulous, methodical approach, Shuta An spent the next few hours breaking down the exact situations and counter-strategies for all 17 opponents. By the time he finished, it was time for dinner.
"I have to report for isolation at Longchamp Racecourse on Saturday night."
Teio murmured, turning around and burying her face in her lover's chest.
"I want to absorb as much of Ann's energy as possible over these next few days."
"It's only a single night of isolation." Shuta An replied, gently flicking her forehead. "You still need to abstain of contact for the four days leading up to the race. Oguri, Dober, Suzuka—all of them strictly adhere to this rule."
Tokai Teio pouted, clearly disappointed that her request had been denied, but she didn't argue. She knew her lover was right. Even though she was arguably the most successful Uma Musume under Team Sadalsuud's banner right now, she couldn't demand special treatment regarding race-week discipline.
—
Sunday arrived with crystal-clear skies, but the sunshine did nothing to change Longchamp Racecourse's official track condition, which remained firmly listed as 'Heavy.'
Although today was globally billed as 'Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe Race Day,' the Arc was not the only Grade 1 race on the card. Eager to enjoy a full day of world-class racing, Shuta An arrived at Longchamp early in the morning and claimed his seat in a private VIP Box.
However, after the day commenced, the young man reviewed the schedule and realized that the Arc was actually slotted as the third G1 race of the afternoon. That meant he wouldn't actually have much time to casually enjoy the view from his elevated box.
"It would be so much better if it were the final race of the day. It's literally called 'Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe Race Day,' yet they still have several races scheduled after the main event concludes. I vastly prefer the Japanese scheduling system."
Shuta An muttered to himself, taking a sip of mineral water.
"The Japan URA Association always schedules the major events—excluding the Japan Cup—as the penultimate race of the day, followed by a lower-level stakes race. This allows the casual spectators who only care about the main event to leave early, which naturally and safely disperses the massive crowds."
He paused, chuckling softly.
"Though, looking at it from another angle, the French system makes sense too. The people who want to leave immediately after the Arc can do so, which provides an even longer window to filter the audience out of the venue."
After watching the second G1 of the day, the Prix de l'Abbaye de Longchamp, Shuta An stood up and left the VIP Box. He needed to head down to the paddock rail to cheer on Tokai Teio before she raced.
Exiting the exclusive VIP corridors, the young man was immediately confronted by the sheer density of the crowds choking the public walkways.
He frowned.
"Are there really this many people here today?"
He shook his head in disbelief as he surveyed the grandstands. It was standing-room only; the spectators were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, without a single empty square foot of concrete visible anywhere.
"With a crowd this massive, what kind of sonic boom is going to hit when the Arc paddock presentation begins?"
Shuta wondered aloud. Relying on his excellent physical conditioning, he relentlessly pushed his way through the dense throng until he finally secured a spot right against the paddock railing.
In exactly three minutes, Teio and the other 17 competitors would emerge from the tunnels and take their places on the presentation platform in gate order to greet the audience.
Although Shuta An constantly emphasized the importance of never underestimating any opponent, on a personal level, he didn't care about the other 17 Uma Musumes stepping onto that platform. He was only there to see Teio.
After Sapience (Gate 10) finished her presentation and stepped down, it was time for the undisputed star of the show.
The entire Longchamp crowd leaned forward in eager anticipation as Tokai Teio finally stepped out into the open.
As she ascended the steps to the platform, Shuta An heard a jagged, heavily accented roar of "Tokai Teio!" erupt simultaneously from all directions. The sheer physical force of the soundwaves slamming into his back made the young man feel as though he had just been pushed by an accelerating car.
Shuta An, having anticipated a loud reception, quickly opened his mouth slightly to equalize the pressure and covered his ears, barely fending off the deafening onslaught.
However, as he watched the platform, he noticed a brief flicker of genuine shock cross Tokai Teio's face. He could see her calves trembling slightly beneath her racing silks.
Teio?!
The young man's heart immediately spiked with anxiety. The race was about to start; if she suffered a sudden panic attack or physical issue now, they would have to scratch her.
But a fraction of a second later, Tokai Teio flashed a brilliant, unshakable smile, instantly calming Shuta An's racing heart.
When Sapience had walked down, Tokai Teio knew it was her turn. She hadn't needed a reminder from the staff.
As she strode toward the platform, she couldn't help but reflect.
When I raced in Japan, because it was my home turf, I always received thunderous cheers the moment I stepped onto the paddock stage. Last time at Ascot, the applause was incredibly enthusiastic, but it still couldn't quite compare to the roar of a home crowd.
But this time—I've arrived carrying the prestige of an Epsom Derby victory. Will the reception be even louder than back then?
The moment she reached the absolute peak of the display stage, her name violently detonated from every corner of the venue. Completely unprepared for the sheer, physical volume of the roar, Tokai Teio's legs trembled, and she genuinely nearly lost her footing.
This... this is unbelievable! It's infinitely louder than Ascot!
Tokai Teio looked left, then right, utterly awestruck. It seemed as though every single spectator in the grandstands, regardless of nationality or section, was screaming her name. They were cheering as if she had already won the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
Really... now there are even more people I absolutely cannot afford to let down today.
The Undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume unleashed a blindingly radiant smile and waved energetically to the surrounding crowds, ensuring that every section of the stands received her dedicated fanservice.
It wasn't until she managed to spot her lover's face amidst the chaotic sea of humanity below that she paused, offering a subtle, private nod in Shuta An's direction. Only then did she reluctantly turn and step down from the stage, concluding her presentation.
Vert Amande, the Uma Musume breaking from Gate 12, stepped onto the stage immediately after Tokai Teio.
She knew perfectly well that her international popularity couldn't hold a candle to the Japanese superstar's. But as she listened to the applause from the stands—which, while enthusiastic, was undeniably a mere fraction of the deafening roar Tokai Teio had commanded—she couldn't help but stare at Tokai Teio's back as the latter began her warm-up stretches.
If I somehow manage to defeat Tokai Teio here today—will I command cheers like that in the future?
Vert Amande thought, a fierce competitive fire igniting in her chest.
Vert Amande's trainer, Lemaire, astutely noticed the sudden, sharp shift in his Uma Musume's emotional state.
Is she feeling humiliated because the crowd's reaction to her was so vastly inferior to Tokai Teio's?
Lemaire raised an eyebrow. He wasn't particularly surprised by her reaction, nor did he intend to intervene.
In fact, he thought this was an excellent development.
If Vert Amande can successfully channel that bitter unwillingness into pure racing fuel, it will be immensely beneficial to her performance.
Lemaire turned away, no longer feeling the need to monitor his runner, and prepared to head back up to the VIP section to watch the race unfold.
As a veteran trainer with nearly twenty years of experience at the highest levels of European racing, he had yet to secure a single Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe victory. Realistically, looking at the monstrous field this year, he believed that barring a catastrophic string of upsets, he still wouldn't be winning it today.
But there's always a lucky underdog who pulls off an impossible upset in the Twinkle Series—so why can't I be the one favored by Lady Luck today?
Carrying that faint, ethereal thread of hope, Lemaire casually brushed past Shuta An in the crowded walkway.
Neither man made any attempt to greet the other.
Lemaire assumed that the young Asian man probably had no idea who he was, and initiating a self-introduction would reek of a pathetic attempt to curry favor with the trainer of the heavy favorite.
Shuta An, on the other hand, knew exactly who Lemaire was—but only because of his encyclopedic knowledge from the Dream World. If he suddenly initiated a conversation and accurately named the man, he would likely be perceived as a borderline-insane stalker.
And so, the two trainers merely exchanged a brief, professionally courteous glance, offered a mutual nod, and went their separate ways.