Chapter 100.
The gate assignments for the rest of the field filtered through to Shuta An and Mejiro Dober, revealing a heavily skewed demographic.
"There are five separate Mejiro Family runners in this race alone. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was the Spring Tenno Sho."
Shuta An quipped, leaning back against the couch.
"Well, Grandmother really wanted as many of us to participate as possible."
Mejiro Dober turned, gently burying her face against the young man's chest. Her voice dropped to a soft, melancholy murmur.
"She... she probably feels that her time is running out. When she was convincing McQueen and the others to enter, her words carried a heavy sense of finality."
Shuta An didn't offer any hollow platitudes, choosing instead to quietly wrap his arms around her, letting her draw comfort from his steady heartbeat.
"Ramonu has essentially seized control of the family's operational authority. Aside from officially holding the title, she is effectively the head of the Mejiro house now."
Dober continued, finding solace in his touch.
"Before all this, Ramonu-nee even reached out to Oguri-senpai to discuss a strategic partnership. The details were kept quiet, but they apparently reached an agreement immediately. Oguri-senpai called it a win-win."
"Cooperating with Kasamatsu... sounds like they're building a stable pipeline to funnel talent straight from the regional tracks into Tokyo."
Shuta An analyzed, his mind racing.
"If that's the case, what Miss Ramonu is really after is the institutional scouting and guidance expertise that Kasamatsu's training center possesses."
Sensing her lover drifting off into tactical thoughts, Dober fell silent, content to simply watch him think.
I used to desperately wish I could catch up to Ryan and Bright.
The undefeated Triple Tiara winner reflected, marveling at how completely her world had turned upside down.
And now, I'm the one standing at the summit, being chased.
I'm used to being looked up to with awe by the younger girls at the Academy. But when I really think about it, I used to stare at Ryan and Bright with that exact same expression. It's all because of you...
She gently traced the fabric of his shirt.
You've changed me so, so much.
Cute, wonderful, radiant—qualities the former Mejiro Dober had desperately yearned for, yet feared to even dream of possessing, because she believed she was fundamentally incompatible with them.
She had spent years searching for a way to become an Uma Musume worthy of those virtues, hitting a brick wall until her family introduced her to the Trainer who had engineered a French Two Crowns victory.
Though he was of the opposite gender she had always kept at arm's length, Dober knew on a primal level the moment they met that this man would grant her the miraculous transformation she had only ever fantasized about.
And reality had exceeded her wildest expectations.
"Until now." she whispered, tilting her head up to press her cheek against his chest, listening to the rhythmic, comforting thud of his heartbeat. "I have finally become the person I always dreamed of being."
With the demons of her past put to rest, Mejiro Dober's ambitions for the Tenno Sho (Autumn) extended far beyond a simple trophy:
Having finally realized my own dream, I want to plant the seeds of that dream so that the next generation of Triple Tiara runners can harvest them.
On Saturday evening, after dropping Mejiro Dober off at the Tokyo Racecourse stables, Shuta An chose to drive back to his apartment rather than stay at a nearby hotel. Tomorrow morning's logistics were going to be a military operation, and he wanted to sleep in his own bed.
With Dober locked into the Tenno Sho, only Admire Vega and Kurofune would be joining him in the stands from Team Sadalsuud.
Teio and Rice Shower had been strictly ordered to remain at the Academy to continue their respective prep regimens.
Of course, even without orders, Rice Shower—who was staring down the barrel of a historic Kikuka Sho run next weekend—would never have dreamed of traveling to Tokyo just to spectate.
While public attention was currently saturated by the hype of the upcoming "Imperial Viewing Race." the media machine was simultaneously working overtime trying to resurrect the old blood feud: the third clash between Rice Shower and Mihono Bourbon.
Pundits were endlessly debating whether Rice Shower's historic Japanese Derby triumph was a miraculous fluke, or if Mihono Bourbon had finally hit an uncrossable wall that would result in a crushing defeat at the Kikuka Sho. The internet was a warzone of conflicting opinions, and reporters had aggressively tried to drag Shuta An into the fray to get a soundbite.
The young man's response? He flat-out blocked every single one of their numbers.
I have the Tenno Sho (Autumn) to win tomorrow. Why on earth would I waste brain cells on your manufactured drama?
—
Sunday morning broke bright and clear. Because the event carried the rare Tenran Keiba designation, the Emperor and Empress of Japan would be physically present in the royal box to observe the races. Consequently, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department had locked down the surrounding districts hours in advance, clearing the streets and establishing an impenetrable security perimeter.
To completely bypass the traffic hellscape, Shuta An woke up significantly earlier than usual.
He drove straight to Central Tracen Academy, scooped up Kurofune and Admire Vega, and blitzed toward the Tokyo Racecourse before the police road closures took full effect. Parking in the restricted staff zones, he escorted the two girls directly into the hyper-exclusive Stakeholders' Box.
"The suite directly above us is where the Emperor and Empress will be seated today."
Shuta An explained, kicking his feet up on the sofa. As foreigners who had spent their formative years outside traditional Japanese protocol, neither Kurofune nor Admire Vega carried any superstitious reverence for the imperial household.
"Since we're right underneath them, does that mean our viewing angles and hospitality are top-tier?"
Admire Vega asked, her characteristic gothic deadpan masking genuine curiosity.
"Well, you're getting essentially the exact same perspective as the Emperor's private balcony." Shuta An grinned. "Miss Rudolf and the Chairman of the URA Association are actually up there right now, keeping them company and acting as commentators for the royal box."
"Sounds exhausting." Vega deadpanned, making it abundantly clear she would rather face a firing squad than endure hours of polite, high-society small talk.
"Indeed. There were heavy rumors floating around that Teio-senpai was being groomed to inherit the Student Council President seat from Rudolf. Looking at it now, dodging that bullet is probably the greatest blessing of her life."
Kurofune chuckled.
The young man mentally cataloged their reactions, filing them away for future amusement.
Though, if Teio actually had the chance, she'd probably jump at it just to proudly stand where Rudolf stood, he thought privately.
A moment later, the sliding glass door of the upper terrace clicked open. Symboli Rudolf stepped out onto the protruding balcony, leaning over the railing to scan the sprawling, meticulously manicured turf below.
"From this vantage point, the maintenance crew has kept the Tokyo course in pristine condition." the Student Council President murmured to herself, thoroughly inspecting the grass. "I sincerely hope today's Tenno Sho delivers an explosive, unadulterated battle of pure strength."
"It's going to be a masterpiece."
Shuta An called out from the French doors downstairs, raising his voice just enough to carry upward.
"Shuta-kun? Are you already downstairs?" Rudolf turned, her expression flashing with genuine surprise. "How on earth did you get past the police cordons this early?"
"I made a pit stop at the Academy at dawn to pick up the team."
Shuta An replied. Though he couldn't physically see her from his angle, he could hear the distinct amusement in her tone.
"Keep in mind your specific Box is going to be subjected to an extra layer of security sweeps by the Imperial Guard very shortly. Make sure your guests cooperate."
Rudolf reminded him professionally.
"Understood. Thanks for the heads-up."
Shuta An acknowledged. Security sweeps in a Tenran Keiba were notoriously invasive, but since he had zero illegal items or illicit intentions, he had nothing to worry about.
Reflecting on the track conditions, not a single drop of rain had fallen over Tokyo all week. To prevent the turf from desiccating under the autumn sun, the groundskeeping staff had heavily irrigated the soil on Friday. Coupled with the wear and tear from yesterday's twelve grueling card races, the turf rating was hovering right around Good to Yielding. It was, by all metrics, a fair, fast racing surface.
"Tokyo's drainage system is honestly too advanced for its own good." Shuta An muttered, turning to chat with the girls behind him. "For a turf track here to officially drop into a Heavy classification, you practically need a direct typhoon hitting the stadium on race day. Otherwise, it's physically impossible to bog down."
"Japanese tracks run significantly faster than dirt or turf circuits overseas, generally speaking."
Kurofune chimed in, crossing her arms.
Shuta An pivoted to Admire Vega.
"Which means, Ayabe, if you ever decide to take your talents abroad for an international expedition, adapting to radically different track firmness will be your absolute top priority."
"Then why doesn't the domestic URA Association just rip up the native grass and lay down the exact same turf species used in Europe?"
Admire Vega asked, her brow furrowing as she voiced a long-standing grievance.
"Wouldn't that align us with global standards and make it much easier for our Tracen Academy graduates to dominate overseas?"
Shuta An's mouth twitched. Right, she's still essentially a middle-schooler mentally when it comes to global economics and botany, he reminded himself, softening his tone before explaining.
"Ayabe, you haven't reached that module in your curriculum yet. Once you hit junior high geography and agricultural science, it'll make sense. Because of regional climate variances, the specific grass cultivars heavily favored in European circuits simply cannot survive the brutal summer humidity and heavy rainfall cycles native to Japan. We can't just copy-paste Europe's turf blueprint; we are forced to cultivate strains that can actually endure our domestic climate."
"Is that so..."
Admire Vega muttered, a complex mix of realization and lingering embarrassment washing over her. She had spent years listening to frustrated senior graduates loudly curse the URA Association on social media, accusing the board of stubborn isolationism and refusing to modernize their tracks.
She had genuinely believed that simply relaying the turf tracks would magically solve Japan's historical struggles in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. Hearing her Trainer break down the brutal reality of climate and root viability completely shattered that naive worldview.
Kurofune, meanwhile, sat quietly through the botanical lecture. Her heart belonged to the dirt tracks.
While Japanese dirt courses didn't share the exact chemical composition or lightning-fast speed of American dirt circuits—which demanded brute strength and specific footing—she had already deduced through countless hours of cross-referencing that mastering power distribution was the absolute key to conquering them.
—
By 3:00 PM, after a quiet lunch in the suite, the young man decided to pull Kurofune and Admire Vega away from the VIP lounge. Instead of waiting idly, he led them down to explore the massive commercial zones operating on the second and third floors of the grandstand.
Because of the historic "Tenran Keiba" status, Tokyo Racecourse had pulled out all the stops, rolling out exclusive, limited-edition merchandise for all seventeen participants in today's Tenno Sho (Autumn) main event.
Entering the packed pop-up store, Shuta An took one leisurely lap and promptly walked right back out.
He had zero need to browse; his apartment was already overflowing with official Mejiro Dober memorabilia. Every single time a new item cleared production, the URA Association mechanically shipped a complimentary copy straight to his doorstep.
Even so, he could immediately tell that Dober's stock was moving at a blistering pace. Entire display racks had already been stripped completely bare by ravenous fans.
What genuinely shocked him, however, was the staggering demand for Twin Turbo's merchandise. The erratic runaway's items were selling out even faster than Mejiro McQueen's elite collection.
Ah, the undeniable cult appeal of a reckless, kamikaze Great Escape runner.
Shuta An smiled inwardly.
Ever since Silence Suzuka had retired from the active roster, seeing an Uma Musume commit entirely to a suicidal, front-running Nige strategy in the Japanese Twinkle Series had become a rare, almost extinct spectacle.
Mejiro Palmer preferred to cleverly regulate and control the pack's tempo; Twin Turbo, on the other hand, actively spat on pacing strategies, burning all her fuel in a glorious, blazing sprint from the very moment the gates opened. Her sheer unpredictability made her a fan-favorite phenomenon.
With Turbo tearing up the front lines today, the race pace is guaranteed to stretch out in a way that heavily favors Dober's late-closing style.
The young man analyzed, standing by the store entrance as he watched Kurofune and Admire Vega aggressively debate which souvenirs to buy.
Eventually, Kurofune emerged victorious, proudly wrapping a vibrant, limited-edition Mejiro Dober cheering towel around her neck. Admire Vega, maintaining her trademark stoic restraint, quietly slipped two Mejiro Dober summer-dress victory outfit collectible badges into her handbag, carefully avoiding meeting her Trainer's knowing gaze.
"Trainer! How does this look?!"
Kurofune beamed, striking a dynamic pose with the towel secured around her head.
"You look like you're about to run a marathon instead of watching one."
Shuta An deadpanned playfully.
—
By 3:25 PM, they had returned to the private viewing suite.
The stadium clock ticked down. In precisely five minutes, the seventeen elite Uma Musumes slated for the Tenno Sho (Autumn) would step out onto the presentation stage, parading past the grandstands so the judges, fans, and trainers could visually assess their pre-race condition.
"Senior Dober is 100% going to steal the show! The only real question is how deafening the roar of the crowd is going to be compared to Teio-senpai's record!"
Kurofune announced, grinning smugly.
The night before, Kurofune had locked herself into a high-stakes, petty text-message wager with Curren Chan over Line, heavily betting that Mejiro Dober would command a more thunderous, overwhelming wave of adulation from the Tokyo crowd today than Tokai Teio had managed to command during her legendary Takarazuka Kinen victory.
(As for what kind of unholy tidal wave of sound Teio was going to trigger at the upcoming Japan Cup next month, well... nobody even dared to calculate that.)
After all, Teio held two pristine European G1 titles under her belt. Statistically, roughly 99% of racing fans in Japan worshipped the ground Tokai Teio walked on, with the remaining stubborn 1% stubbornly grumbling that she had never conquered the Spring Tenno Sho.
A sharp, warning chime echoed across the public address system. The presentation segment was officially commencing.
From the cavernous, shadowed depths of the Tokyo Racecourse underground walkway, the seventeen Uma Musumes emerged in a single, disciplined file.
Walking dead-center at the absolute front of the procession, her head held high with a serene, absolute confidence, was Mejiro Dober.
The massive walls of spectators packed shoulder-to-shoulder along the grandstand balconies erupted instantly. The sound barrier shattered under the weight of tens of thousands of voices roaring simultaneously, waving their arms frantically to catch her eye, offering a deafening wall of cheers, applause, and encouragement.
Dober, who had spent years shrinking away from the spotlight, was now utterly unfazed by the worshipful scale of the reception. A gentle, radiant smile graced her lips as she gracefully raised a hand, waving back to the adoring masses lining both sides of the track.
Just a few paces behind her, Sekitei Ryu O—who had drawn Gate 2 for the Tenno Sho—watched the sheer scale of the reception with undisguised, bitter envy.
Though she had managed to capture her very first Stakes victory earlier in the season, she had heartbreakingly stumbled, settling for a silver medal in the fiercely contested Daily Hai. Ordinarily, a rising star coming off a stellar performance in a prestigious Grade 2 would command massive media attention.
But today? Today belonged entirely to the dark horse.
The undefeated Triple Tiara winner leading the parade soaked up almost 90% of the stadium's collective energy. Compared to her, the remaining sixteen competitors practically looked like stage-hand extras in a play meant for a single protagonist. Even Mejiro McQueen—the legendary, two-time Spring Tenno Sho queen who was tasked with walking at the very tail end of the single-file line—was drawing a fraction of the raw, earth-shattering volume currently being poured over Mejiro Dober.
It's as if... every single person sitting in this stadium has collectively decided they want Mejiro Dober to take the crown.
Sekitei Ryu O thought, her jaw tightening as she gripped the fabric of her running uniform.
Well, too bad. Because I'm going to rip that fairytale right out of her hands.
If she could somehow pull off the upset of the century and slay the undefeated Triple Tiara queen on an Imperial Viewing stage, the resulting shockwave would permanently cement her name in the history books.
Of course, the risks were astronomical.
If she shattered the hearts of the tens of thousands of Dober stans sitting in the stands, she might literally need a police escort to safely exit the stadium. But Sekitei Ryu O didn't care about the optics. For an ambitious runner of her caliber, securing a Grade 1 title and punching her golden ticket into the elite Dream Trophy Series was the only goal that mattered.