In the Dream World, Oguri Cap was likewise set to challenge the Arlington Million.
Japan in this world was facing the same gradual economic downturn as reality, and precisely because of that, Oguri Cap's overseas expedition drew immense attention. Expectations piled up heavily upon her shoulders.
"Even so, the Japanese in this Dream World are still ridiculously wealthy," Shuta An muttered inwardly as he glanced toward the stands. Large tifos emblazoned with Oguri Cap's name and silhouette rippled among the crowd. "They can cross an ocean just to watch a single race."
The thought was half complaint, half amazement—but it sharpened his focus rather than dulling it. He straightened unconsciously.
This was a race he absolutely could not lose.
"With me riding her personally, how could I possibly perform worse than when Oguri ran alone?" Shuta An narrowed his eyes, watching the gray Uma Musume circling calmly before the start. "In the real world, she won by two lengths. Then here—I'll win by even more."
Having finalized his plan, he raised his head and met the gaze of groom Ikee, who held the reins. A brief nod passed between them. With practiced ease, Shuta An mounted the horse with the groom's assistance.
Once settled, he gave Ikee a thumbs-up.
The director caught the moment immediately, projecting it onto the giant screen above the track.
The response was instantaneous. Cheers exploded across the arena.
Whether in Japan or America, Shuta An now had an astonishing number of supporters. Though his riding opportunities in the United States were limited, his short-term stint at Arlington Racecourse over the past few months had produced eye-catching results: a win rate exceeding thirty percent, and a quinella rate nearing fifty percent. To gamblers, his presence alone was a guarantee—close your eyes and place the bet, and profits would follow. He had become a veritable gospel.
Today's Arlington Million was also his final ride in America.
He hadn't encountered truly overwhelming American horses during this period, and the prize money couldn't compare to what he earned in Japan. Still, the experience itself had been invaluable—the rivals here were, on average, stronger than most jockeys back home.
"So if I don't win this one," Shuta An murmured as Oguri Cap stepped onto the track, "wouldn't that be the worst kind of loss?"
Just like in the real world, Oguri Cap had drawn Gate 6.
After entering the gate, Shuta An's expression turned solemn. He didn't glance left or right, didn't spare a look at the crowd. His attention was entirely forward.
"Sir Shuta," came a voice from Gate 7. Earlie Fires pointed lightly toward Oguri Cap. "Is this your most important partner?"
The top jockey—an Arlington regular—had grown to admire Shuta An's skills over the past two months, and familiarity had naturally followed.
"That's right," Shuta An replied, turning his head slightly. He chuckled, rubbing Oguri Cap's nape with practiced affection. "He's the partner I've fought alongside since my debut. We've never lost."
"Undefeated?" Earlie Fires murmured thoughtfully. "No wonder you didn't plan to stay after riding Sunday Silence in the Belmont Stakes."
Shuta An twirled his whip once, then closed his fingers around it. "I'm taking this G1."
Earlie Fires's lips curved upward. "I trust your ability—but I won't be backing down either."
"Of course," Shuta An replied calmly, eyes returning to the track ahead. "A race without opponents would be unbearably dull."
Silence fell.
Then—the gates flew open.
Without a single cue from Shuta An, Oguri Cap surged forward, hooves striking the turf in a powerful rhythm.
Yet the moment he burst from the gate, a flicker of confusion crossed his movements. The Arlington 2000-meter turf course was unforgiving: less than fifty meters after the start lay the first turn. Such a layout was unfamiliar to him—even Japanese tracks with notoriously short final straights rarely forced a bend so early.
Still, he trusted his partner.
Even after a long journey across the sea, instinct told him that the familiar presence on his back would guide him.
And Shuta An answered without hesitation.
The whip fell lightly to the right.
"On a 2000-meter course like this, with an immediate turn," Shuta An's thoughts flowed with perfect clarity, "you have to be aggressive early. Hesitate, and you'll be boxed in by horses even more eager than you. That stretch before the next straight will become a nightmare."
With his intent conveyed, Oguri Cap responded instantly. He accelerated, then decisively cut inward, seizing the rail.
That move carried her straight to the front.
Nothing lay ahead of him—no shadows, no bodies to chase. For many Racehorse, such an open view was dangerous. The instinct to run freely could overwhelm restraint, regardless of whether they were front-runners, mid-packers, or closers.
But Oguri Cap was different.
Shuta An tightened the reins just slightly.
The Gray Horse understood at once, reigning himself in with remarkable composure.
Behind them, the American jockeys—who had been poised to apply pressure—froze in surprise. Yet none chose to push forward. A slow pace, after all, served everyone's interests.
Especially Shuta An's.
His internal sense of time was razor-sharp—sharp enough that he had once advised Silence Suzuka on pace control without hesitation.
"Let's keep the first thousand meters at around sixty-five seconds," he decided calmly as they entered the straight before the grandstand.
Thus, spectators noticed something strange: Shuta An loosened the reins, yet Oguri Cap did not accelerate.
"Is his condition off today?" someone from the Shadai RACEHORSE Club asked anxiously, unable to hold back.
"That shouldn't be the case," Trainer Setoguchi Tsutomu replied, shaking his head. "Please trust Shuta-kun's riding. There is always a reason behind his choices. Only a handful in all of Japan can truly read his intentions—perhaps asking Take-san would give you an answer."
As if on cue, Yutaka Take was watching the broadcast from the jockeys' lounge.
"Oguri Cap is leading?" Hiroshi Kawachi exclaimed. "Is she too tense?"
"No," Yutaka Take said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. "That's not it."
He continued, voice measured. "Oguri Cap is naturally docile. Even with a clear view ahead, he won't recklessly accelerate. Shuta-kun is deliberately keeping the pace slow. It looks like he's leading, but in truth, the tempo isn't that of a front-runner at all—if anything, it's slow even for a closer."
He shook his head faintly.
"More importantly—these American jockeys are severely underestimating Oguri Cap."
Even though Oguri Cap had never once led a major race before, under Shuta An's deliberately ultra-slow pace—sixty-five seconds per kilometer—the Gray Racehorse still unleashed a superb finishing burst upon entering the final 310-meter straight, leaving no chance of being reeled in.
"He was allowed to dictate the pace far too easily," several jockeys admitted in post-race interviews. "And none of us expected Oguri Cap to produce such a sharp late kick while running in front."
During his own interview, Shuta An merely smiled.
"The slow pace was a spur-of-the-moment decision," he said calmly. "I honestly didn't expect anyone to come up and apply pressure. Being allowed to lead at sixty-five seconds per kilometer was— surprising. If someone had moved earlier, Oguri Cap and I would have relinquished the lead immediately. All I can say is that everyone was very cooperative today."
Yet for Shuta An and Oguri Cap, what followed mattered far more than any interview.
Afterward, they met privately with members of the Shadai RACEHORSE Club, Yoshida Katsumi, and Trainer Setoguchi Tsutomu. This discussion would determine the concrete arrangements for the final six months of Oguri Cap's racing career.
"To win the Arlington Million, Shuta-kun's contribution was the greatest," Trainer Setoguchi Tsutomu said without hesitation once greetings were over.
"The opponents were extremely cooperative," Shuta An replied, waving his hand with a light chuckle. "What I said earlier wasn't modesty. I truly didn't expect them to let me escape at that pace. For a moment, I thought I was riding a long-distance race."
"Even so," Yoshida Katsumi added, "this race alone earns Shuta-kun thirty thousand US dollars—far more than a domestic G1."
"After a few days' rest, Oguri will be preparing to return to Japan, right?" Shuta An shifted the topic naturally. "To be honest, I hope he can rest more during the autumn. He's accumulated several injuries already. At this stage, the most important thing is ensuring he can enter the stud farm safely, isn't it?"
"That's true," Yoshida Katsumi acknowledged—but his expression carried hesitation. For the members of the Shadai RACEHORSE Club, more races meant more revenue. If they followed Shuta An's implicit suggestion and avoided something like the Autumn Tenno Sho, would everyone truly accept the loss?
He chose not to argue, instead saying carefully, "Didn't we already discuss Oguri Cap's future schedule before?"
Shuta An froze for a moment, then slapped his forehead. "Right. I've been riding in America for too long—I forgot. Since it was already decided, there's no point in changing it now."
After a brief pause, he added, "I was actually considering whether Oguri should run in the Breeders' Cup Series here. But staying in America that long would cost more, and JRA's quarantine rules wouldn't allow it anyway. I was overthinking things."
The policy itself was reasonable—JRA-affiliated Racehorse who overstayed overseas expeditions would face lengthy isolation upon returning. It wasn't something to criticize.
Yoshida Katsumi caught the faint reluctance in Shuta An's voice. A sudden idea struck him, and he spoke up, smoothly taking over the conversation.
"In the future," he said, "Shadai Farm will work toward introducing top-class broodmares, with the Breeders' Cup as a long-term objective."
"..."
Shuta An was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected such a response to an offhand remark.
"Well—whatever happens, happens," he said at last, lips twitching faintly, choosing not to pursue the topic further. After all, he had no intention of involving himself too deeply in the affairs of this Dream World. He was, in the end, only a passerby.
—
Early the next morning, Shuta An was awakened by the sea breeze of Florida—he had forgotten to close the window the night before.
"This feels much better than New York," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he rolled out of bed. Instead of heading straight to wash up, he stepped onto the balcony and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, squinting at the sunrise spreading across the ocean. For a fleeting moment, the thought of buying a house here crossed his mind.
The cool breeze quickly cleared his head.
"Winning the Arlington Million—there should be a reward, right?" he thought, opening the attribute viewer with faint anticipation.
"Reward acquired: New mechanism — Skill Evolution. Under qualifying conditions, learned skills may be evolved. Each skill may only be evolved once."
"Can I use this on myself?" That was Shuta An's immediate reaction.
He brushed his teeth while examining the new function. Indeed, his own skills could be evolved—but as he scanned through them, he found that every evolution condition was unusually strict. The closest one to completion belonged to a skill he had nearly forgotten.
"SS Creator. Evolution condition: Ride five G1 Uma Musume with SS bloodlines in the Dream World, or train five G1 Uma Musume in the real world corresponding to SS-blooded Uma Musume in the Dream World. Current progress: 1/5 (progress shared between both worlds)."
Shuta An pondered for a few seconds before realizing who that "1" referred to.
"So Suzuka is—no wonder the Dream World couldn't find a match." He shook his head lightly. "Sunday Silence here won't begin breeding until next year—just like Oguri Cap."
"But even so," he mused, "meeting this condition in the Dream World alone would take years. The real world might actually be faster."
He exhaled softly. "Still, I can't just recruit team members for the sake of progress. I'll let it take its course."
After tidying up his toiletries, Shuta An patted his cheeks to fully wake himself.
That motion sparked a sudden thought.
"If Silence Suzuka is an Sunday Silence-blooded Uma Musume—then how much has 'SS Creator' already affected her?"
Curiosity flickered through him. He opened Silence Suzuka's panel in the attribute viewer.
His pupils shrank.
The first value that entered his vision was—400.
And beside it was the label—Intimacy.
"This—?" Shuta An immediately opened Oguri Cap's interface. The same value there had long since stabilized at 1000.
"Suzuka's only been with the team for a few months," he murmured, stunned, "and she's already reached forty percent of Oguri's level?"
For the first time, Shuta An clearly realized that the "SS Creator" skill didn't merely enhance training efficiency.
It was quietly influencing something far more subtle.
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