**Chapter 26: Being a Horse Owner**
"Stringhalt doesn't have to be a dealbreaker."
Kitano stood up from his desk, stretching his arms after making this quiet declaration to himself.
A yawn escaped him almost immediately.
He'd spent the entire night glued to his computer, diving deep into research about stringhalt after his visit to Newborn Ranch. Pages of studies, forums, and veterinary journals had kept him up until dawn.
His conclusion? Stringhalt wasn't the end of the road.
By carefully managing a horse's "nerve-muscle-environment" system, the condition could shift from a career-ending injury to something manageable. Back in 2023, a program in Kentucky had helped eleven racehorses with stringhalt compete through full seasons. Cutting-edge neural repair tech could restore a horse to 85–90% of its peak racing condition.
But it wasn't cheap. Advanced treatments came with a hefty price tag, and daily training for a horse with stringhalt demanded way more time, money, and care than a healthy horse. For most owners, it was still a death sentence for a racing career.
Kitano powered down his computer and flopped onto his bed. He grabbed his phone, opened his social media, and posted a quick update: [Clinic closed for the day.] Then he shut his eyes.
"Make decisions with a clear head. That way, even if you regret them, you've got no excuses to hide behind."
It was a principle he'd lived by for his twenty-six years—a personal philosophy, really. As the adrenaline from his all-nighter faded, exhaustion hit him like a wave. He drifted off.
When he woke, the sky outside was dim, the room bathed in soft twilight. He checked his phone—no missed calls. A small relief. He dragged himself to the bathroom, and a cold shower snapped him back to life.
His stomach growled. While reheating leftover pasta in the microwave, Kitano's mind wandered—not to the immediate choice he faced, but to a question that had been nagging at him for a while.
What kind of horse owner did he want to be?
The answer was starting to take shape.
A producer takes care of foals, putting in the work to break them in properly. A jockey trains hard, rides harder, and pushes the horse to its limits in every race. A trainer keeps a sharp eye on the horse's condition, tweaking schedules and offering expert advice when needed.
But a horse owner? They hold the money—and the power. They can meddle in training, switch up race plans, or even decide a horse's fate on a whim. If they act on impulse or personal bias, they can throw the whole stable into chaos.
So, Kitano's answer was simple: 'Do what needs to be done, not just what I want to do.'
As for the other question—whether to buy Resistance Queen—he'd already made up his mind. Whether it was practicality or a tug of sympathy, if he took her on, he'd step up as a horse owner, no matter what.
The microwave pinged. Kitano pulled out the steaming plate of pasta, grabbed a fork, and sat at the small dining table. He fished out Kimura's business card from his pocket and dialed the number.
"Hello, Newborn Ranch. Kimura speaking," came a tired voice after a few rings.
"Hey, it's Kitano."
"Mr. Kitano!" Kimura's voice perked up, though it quickly softened with caution. "Have you… thought it over?"
"Could I bring a friend to the ranch tomorrow to take another look?"
"A visit? Of course, no problem." Kimura sounded a little deflated but kept his tone upbeat.
"Oh, and one more thing," Kitano added. "Is 1.2 million the final price?"
"No, no, no!" Kimura practically leapt through the phone. "If you're serious about Resistance Queen, we can talk lower!"
"No need," Kitano said, smiling faintly. "Let's stick with the original price. Could you prepare the contract?"
Kimura's excitement was palpable, even over the phone. Kitano could hear a faint rustle—probably Kimura scrambling up from a tatami mat, startling his family in the background.
The pasta had cooled slightly, but Kitano didn't mind. He twirled a forkful of noodles, opened LINE on his phone, and sent a greeting emoji to a contact labeled [Aiming for the World's Best Trainer — Go, Masaru!!!]
No reply. The message sat unread. He shrugged and focused on his food. The overnight pasta was a little chewy, and the sauce had a sour edge—not great, but edible.
His phone buzzed. A single "?" popped up from Masaru-kun
"I bought a new horse," Kitano typed. "Got time tomorrow to come check her out? Also, I might board her with Nishiken."
He hit send. The message flipped to "read" instantly.
"No prob (^-^)~" Masaru replied. "Leave it to me! I'll talk to my dad about boarding too."
A cheeky devil emoji followed. Kitano raised an eyebrow—since when did Masaru-kun type like that? But he brushed it off. Kids these days, especially the Gen 00 crowd, had their own way of texting.
Next, he called Tanaka, his trainer. Tanaka set down his half-eaten bowl of miso ramen to answer, curious why Horse Owner Kitano was calling. Kitano wasn't the pushy type, unlike some owners who micromanaged everything. Maybe the breeding ranch took most of the heat.
"I've got a new horse," Kitano explained. "She's got stringhalt, so it's a bit tricky. I'd like to board her at your stable, if that's okay."
"A lame horse, huh?" Tanaka said, thinking it over. It was late in the season to take on a new horse, especially one with issues. But he didn't hesitate long. "Sure, we'll make it work."
"Think we could treat her like Mejiro Pegasus?" Kitano suggested, referencing a famously managed horse.
"Pegasus? Yeah, we can do that," Tanaka said, relieved. But after a pause, he added, "You know, with lameness, there's a good chance she won't race well. You sure about this, Mr. Kitano?"
It was a fair point, one Tanaka didn't have to make. Kitano appreciated the honesty.
"Thanks for the advice," he said sincerely. "I've thought it through. Let's move forward."
He hung up, set his phone down, and turned back to his pasta. The stragglers stuck to the plate's edge were a small challenge, but he scraped them up with a satisfied grin. Tomorrow, he'd head to the ranch with Masaru's and take the next step.
For now, though, he'd finish his dinner.
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