**Chapter 9: Before You Begins**
The night of May 22nd found Kitano wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Insomnia hadn't gripped him like this since the day he passed his veterinary licensing exam. Ever since Tanaka called a few days ago with the slot lottery results for Medaima's debut, his mind had been a tangle of restless thoughts, growing wilder by the hour.
He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering to himself, "If you keep this up, your hairline's gonna recede faster than a med school grad's." The joke was enough to calm him for a moment, and the bedroom fell silent.
Ten minutes later, his eyes snapped open again. He knew the smart move was to down a glass of warm water, maybe pop a sleeping pill, and try to sleep. Instead, he grabbed his phone from under the pillow. The screen's glare made him wince, so he flicked on the bedside lamp to save his eyes. Sitting up, he felt the last traces of sleepiness slip away.
A sudden urge to say something—anything—hit him. He opened the X app, ignoring the update notification blinking at him. Kitano wasn't one for oversharing.
His social media presence was sparse, his profile still blank from when he'd signed up years ago. Unlike other horse owners who could whip up poetic posts about their hopes for race day, he stared at the dimming screen, stumped.
Finally, he typed: *How do I become a good horse owner?*
As a first-time owner, the question felt raw, almost desperate. He hit send.
Despite the late hour, likes trickled in quickly. His followers—mostly university mentors, alumni, livestock professionals, and Veterinary Association members—were an eclectic bunch. He occasionally answered livestock health questions on X, which had earned him a modest following among farmers and vet students.
But fame wasn't his goal, and his tweet sank into the void after a few generic replies from late-night students, mostly envy and well-wishes.
Kitano yawned, sleeping tugging at him again. Just as he was about to slide back under the covers, a new reply popped up.
[@seiun0005: As a horse owner, having money helps, right? (lol) But being a *good* owner? That's trickier. It's not just the horse—you've got the ranch, the trainer, the rider, the stablehands, the farriers, even the fans. Balancing all their needs is a lot. Start there.]
The profile picture showed an older man, probably in his sixties. Kitano smirked. "Up this late, huh?" he muttered, then typed back: *So how do I act like a good owner on race day?*
The reply came fast.
[@seiun0005: My dad used to say respect the sport itself. If you're not sure what to do, just take it seriously. Give it your all.]
Kitano thanked the stranger and sank back into bed, mulling over the words. "Take it seriously," he whispered. The clock read 4:53 AM.
[TL: After searching it really exists (lol), Maybe the author is really asking. XD]
---
Across town, Genta Ochiai woke before his 5:00 AM alarm, as he always did on race day. Local riders like him didn't have the luxury of oversleeping, though he envied the central circuit jockeys who could roll in late without missing a race. He dragged himself to the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush as his mind kicked into gear.
First race: a mixed two-year-old colt event at 2:35 PM, 1,000 meters. Medaima, his mount, was a bit lazy. With no gate advantage, Genta might need to push him early, maybe even use the whip to keep him focused.
Second race: two-year-old fillies, 1,100 meters, gate ten—outermost. The filly was scrappy but not a powerhouse. After talking with trainer Hiroyuki Oguni, he'd settled on an aggressive approach to make up for her limits.
Third race: another two-year-old colt race, 1,000 meters, gate six. The horse was well-trained, outpacing some neglected three-year-olds, but its strength and growth were underwhelming. With a tricky gate like that, Genta would need to stay sharp to avoid getting boxed in by the pack.
He mentally ran through the fourth, fifth, and sixth races, ticking off all nine for the day. By the time he spat out the toothpaste foam, his focus was razor-sharp. He wiped his face with a damp towel, ate a quick vegetarian sandwich with a half-glass of ice water, and started his morning workout.
During a break, he scrolled through his phone, his feed flooded with racing updates. He retweeted a Derby prediction from his idol, rider Ando Hara, then showered and slipped into a sleek black tracksuit and windbreaker.
Before heading out, he double-checked his shoelaces—a habit that drew chuckles from colleagues. Central riders often showed up in slippers, but Genta stuck to his routine. Local riders, stuck in the same uniform for multiple races, sometimes earned the envy of their big-league peers for keeping things simple.
Bag slung over his shoulder, Genta hopped on his bike and pedaled to the racecourse, a quick ride from the riders' quarters. After changing into his gear and exchanging brief nods with the staff, he found a quiet corner in the preparation room. While some riders chatted or lounged to kill time, Genta kept to himself, mentally running through his races.
When the first call came, riders in their colorful silks filed toward the paddock. Genta's yellow-and-black plaid stood out as he swung onto Medaima's back. The colt shifted beneath him, restless but ready. Genta tightened his lips, feeling the familiar jolt of adrenaline.
The race was about to start.
---
Every a 100 power stones, I will share 1 bonus chapter.
You can ask me anything about this Book.
You so can ask me about games, comics, novels, and music. I give as much as possible honest thought.
Also join my discord link in description.
Thanks for reading.