Chapter 64. Satisfying Rewards and Tenno Sho (Autumn) Gate Position
Shuta An knew his own calculations. Tokai Teio was still within tolerable expenditure range. Her respiration rhythm, stride elasticity, and response latency all confirmed it.
Tokai Teio felt it too. The red line had not yet appeared. The final sprint remained viable.
They entered the Kyoto straight five lengths behind Sugai Naosuke and Hokusei Ciboulette.
Ahead, Yukio Okabe struck first.
Leo Durban responded sharply to the whip, his cadence rising another degree. Okabe's push-riding—refined after observing Shuta An's technique—was now more efficient, more mechanically synchronized.
He could not help but admire it.
Shuta-kun is a genius.
Yet something puzzled him. The ride had been conservative. Almost passive.
Pressure from the undefeated Triple Crown? Impossible. A jockey who had already conquered the American Triple Crown would not falter here.
Unless there was a variable he did not see. He had no time to analyze further.
Leo Durban surged past Hokusei Ciboulette.
"Leo Durban takes the lead! 300 meters to go!" the commentator roared. "Tokai Teio is finally accelerating!"
Shuta An delivered his first signal whip of the race.
Tokai Teio inhaled sharply.
Then she exploded.
Her acceleration curve was violent and immediate. She swept past Nice Nature on the left, cutting off Masahiro Matsunaga's planned outward move.
Matsunaga cursed under his breath. His hesitation had cost him positioning. He dragged Nice Nature wide, attempting to circle from the outermost lane.
But Shuta An was already in motion.
With relentless push-riding, he guided Tokai Teio past Hokusei Ciboulette and Vraie Etoile as their strides shortened.
Two hundred meters remained.
Leo Durban still led by three lengths.
The crowd ceased seeing the field.
There were only two horses now.
"Can Tokai Teio pushed through?" the commentator asked, echoing thousands of hearts.
In the VIP area, tension crystallized.
"We trust them," Matsumoto Shoichi said quietly.
Uchimura Masanori gripped the railing until his knuckles whitened.
Yutaka Take leaned forward. "Go, Ann-san."
On the track, Shuta An felt the shift beneath him.
Tokai Teio's stride began to fragment—subtle instability at toe-off. Stamina reserves approaching depletion.
So this is the limit.
He did not panic.
He activated the Dream World reward—Exhilaration.
His balance recalibrated instantly. Muscular coordination sharpened. Core engagement intensified.
He inverted the whip, holding it backhanded, shaking it rhythmically beside Tokai Teio's left ear—not striking, but driving neurological urgency.
His legs clamped tighter.
His waist powered each push.
He aimed to reduce his internal load by maximizing mechanical assistance.
"Two hundred meters! Overtake him!"
The sensation transported him back to the Belmont stretch with Sunday Silence—raw will against inevitability.
Tokai Teio abandoned all extraneous thought.
This is my dream.
Reality or illusion—it does not matter.
I will not lose here.
Her stamina drained.
Her speed did not.
One hundred meters.
Half a length.
"Leo Durban! Tokai Teio!" the commentator shouted, voice breaking rhythm. "Leo Durban! Tokai Teio!"
Okabe felt it too.
The pressure beside him was overwhelming—a force of intent almost physical.
Just this much difference!
But Tokai Teio drew level. Their shadows merged.
Shuta An's jaw ached from clenching. He poured everything—will, strength, breath—into the connection between them.
I promised.
At full velocity, Tokai Teio felt something awaken inside her.
This was different from training.
Different from spectating.
This was destiny.
At the finish line, the commentator's voice split the air.
"Tokai Teio!
He had done it!
The Kikuka Sho had tested him beyond expectation, but he claimed it!
Following the path of Symboli Rudolf!
Conquering Nakayama, Tokyo, and Kyoto!
Father and son!
Undefeated Triple Crown!"
The commentator's congratulations cascaded—historic achievement, youngest dual-nation Triple Crown jockey, American and Japanese crowns unified under one rider.
But Shuta An heard none of the statistics clearly.
He was breathing hard.
He guided Tokai Teio toward the grandstand.
Then he leaned forward and gently patted his hind neck.
After that, he bowed deeply.
Tokai Teio lowered his head at the same moment.
Perfectly in sync.
—
Shuta An woke abruptly and had to steady himself.
Even though it had been only a dream, the sensation of winning an undefeated Triple Crown in Japan still thundered in his chest. His pulse was fast, his breathing uneven.
So this is what it feels like.
He pressed a hand to his sternum and forced himself to inhale slowly until his heart rate normalized.
Once composed, he opened the attribute viewer.
After the Satsuki Sho—an amulet. After the Japanese Derby—another amulet.
"If it's a third amulet—" he muttered darkly.
But when the interface loaded, it did not display the familiar panel. Instead, mist filled the screen.
A few seconds later, text materialized.
"Congratulations."
It explained that in established history, Tokai Teio had never run the Kikuka Sho. After the Derby, he had suffered a fracture. The Triple Crown opportunity had vanished. The father-son undefeated Triple Crown—something that should have emerged decades later—had been advanced because of his interference.
He had altered the timeline.
The message continued: although the previous rewards had seemed modest, they had addressed immediate needs. This time, the reward would correspond to the magnitude of the achievement.
Reward: A new training manual capable of effectively improving Tokai Teio's physique.
Shuta An's expression shifted from tension to satisfaction.
This was not cosmetic or accessories. This was structural.
If Matsumoto Shoichi's original plan had been followed, the fracture would have ended Teio's Classic path. This manual provided proactive reinforcement rather than reactive mitigation.
Up to now, Shuta An had reduced workload intensity and eliminated private races to minimize injury probability. That was defensive management. This manual offered systemic enhancement.
A fundamentally different strategy.
"I'll study this thoroughly and restructure Teio's training block," he decided.
Silence Suzuka's Tenno Sho (Autumn) preparation was already largely mapped, so allocation of cognitive bandwidth remained feasible.
Only a few days remained before the race.
As he entered the office, he overheard Kitahara on a call discussing the weekend.
"Good morning," Shuta An replied when greeted.
"Confident?" Kitahara asked.
They both knew the reference.
"Fully confident in Suzuka's ability," Shuta An said. "But Sunny Brian presents a psychological variable. I'm concerned about potential mental inhibition."
Kitahara nodded. Pressure intensified as race day approached. He recalled Air Deja Vu crying alone before the Oaks.
"Suzuka won't externalize stress like that," Shuta An said calmly. "If she needs release, she'll run laps."
"That sounds like her," Kitahara laughed. "Go beat Sunny Brian."
"No," Shuta An corrected. "Sunny Brian must beat us. The generational strongest title already belongs to Suzuka."
Kitahara smiled helplessly. "I can't imitate that mindset."
"You'll need to," Shuta An replied evenly. "Or you'll suffer for it."
It was not arrogance. It was risk framing.
Over the next two days, Shuta An immersed himself in the new training manual. Its methodology required careful integration—biomechanics, load distribution, recovery sequencing. It was not plug-and-play.
By Thursday morning, he was confident he could apply it without destabilizing Tokai Teio's adaptation curve.
At 2 p.m., gate positions for the Tenno Sho (Autumn) would be announced.
The venue: Tokyo Racecourse. Distance: 2000 meters, turf.
A critical structural feature: shortly after the start, runners enter a bend.
For a front-runner, a wide draw compresses tactical space. Securing early lead becomes energy-expensive.
Inside gate = geometric advantage.
Outside gate = contested acceleration window.
He monitored both Silence Suzuka and Sunny Brian's assignments.
At exactly 2 p.m., the URA email arrived.
He opened it immediately, ignoring formalities.
"Gate 1, Stall 1 — Silence Suzuka."
He stood up so abruptly his chair rolled backward.
"Perfect."
There was no better configuration for a front-running specialist at Tokyo 2000 meters.
He felt the probability curve tilt sharply upward.
Then he checked Sunny Brian.
"Gate 8, Stall 12."
A far outside draw.
For a front-running type returning from layoff, that was structurally unfavorable. To secure lead from there, she would have to expend energy early—either rushing to clear the field or risk being parked wide into the first bend.
Shuta An leaned back slowly.
This was not overconfidence.
This was geometry.
If executed correctly, Silence Suzuka would control pace from the rail, dictate tempo, and turn the Tenno Sho (Autumn) into her race from the first 300 meters.
The board was set.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
For anyone interested, or just want to support me. Hit the membership button to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/cw/ModerateCitizens