From Tokai Teio's words, and from the subtle look she exchanged with Mejiro McQueen, Yasui Makoto sensed an unspoken complexity—but he chose not to dwell on it.
Japan's racing system was originally modeled after Europe and America. From the very beginning, victory on the international stage had always been one of the highest measures of an Uma Musume and her trainer's abilities.
As global competition grew in importance, the number of Uma Musume venturing overseas increased steadily, along with the significance of international success.
Yet history showed that making a name abroad demanded standing atop Japan's racing scene first.
No point worrying about such distant goals now. First things first, we need to tackle the Classic Triple Crown.
"I understand. Like I said, I'll give it everything I've got," Yasui solemnly promised again.
"Good. Once things are finalized, I'll inform you immediately." Tokai Teio nodded seriously once more, but then her professional demeanor quickly melted into a cheerful smile.
"Alright! We've accidentally gotten carried away talking shop. Let's lighten the mood again!"
"Don't forget, this is Kita-chan's victory party for her first G1 win, her opening triumph in the Classic Triple Crown, the Satsuki Sho!"
"So let's toast again—to Kita-chan's amazing victory!"
"Yeah—cheers!"
Warmth and cheer once again filled the air, accompanied by the fragrance of fresh sushi, the sweetness of various drinks, and the sizzling aroma of grilled sanma fish.
An unexpected benefit of Kitasan's wide social connections was the tremendous support they'd provided so far. These resources had already borne fruit, and Yasui intended to keep making the most of them.
The next race would be the Japanese Derby. The ideal training plan naturally mirrored their approach for the Satsuki Sho: targeted special training first, followed by training races against experienced senior Uma Musume, and adjustments based on those performances.
Among the seniors helping Kitasan, both Vodka and Special Week had experience as Derby champions, and their support alone was enough to thoroughly identify any weaknesses.
If things went smoothly and they could also hold training races with Deep Impact and Orfevre, the benefits would be even greater.
To achieve that goal, Yasui needed to deliver on his promise to give his absolute best.
After the dinner party, Yasui planned to go home early and rest properly, ready to dive into tomorrow's training regimen.
However, Kitasan's invitation before parting had quickly changed his plans.
"Trainer, would you come over to my place tomorrow afternoon?"
"Backstage earlier, Grandpa kept insisting I must invite you over—he said he really wants to thank you properly."
"Trainer, you wouldn't believe how excited Grandpa was! I was just getting ready to perform, and he suddenly burst into the backstage area, saying he wanted to get on stage himself and sing a song."
"As if that would've worked—it's not Kouhaku Uta Gassen!"
"Anyway, I'll be waiting tomorrow, okay?"
Yasui understood Kitajima Saburou's excitement immediately and agreed without hesitation.
After decades of supporting races without a single G1 win, having that dream finally realized—and by his beloved granddaughter no less—would make anyone ecstatic. Clearly, this was the elderly man's heartfelt way of expressing his joy and appreciation toward Yasui as Kitasan's trainer.
However, when Yasui arrived at Kitasan's home the next day, the sheer scale of the celebration caught him completely off guard.
The enthusiastic butler opened the familiar wooden gate, and Yasui was immediately hit by a roaring wave of sound powerful enough to knock someone off their feet.
Dozens of Kitajima family apprentices, clad in indigo happi coats, lined both sides of the courtyard, energetically waving fans or rhythmically pounding enormous taiko drums.
The apprentices shouted spiritedly, chanting "Heave-ho!" in unison. Their drumming and chants echoed throughout the courtyard, causing even the large crimson lanterns hanging from the eaves to sway.
Under each lantern hung identical posters showing a certain black-haired girl triumphantly crossing the finish line.
In front of these fluttering posters stood an impressive three-meter-high tower of sake barrels. Positioned before it, dressed formally and playing lively music on a lacquered shamisen, was none other than Kitajima Saburou himself, grinning broadly like it was a national festival.
At that moment, Yasui knew without a doubt that Kitasan hadn't exaggerated at all. If not for the girl's firm refusal, her grandfather truly might have turned the Winner's Concert into his own personal Kouhaku Uta Gassen, singing classics like "Matsuri" or "Awa Odori" on stage.
"Trainer!"
A familiar voice cut through the cheerful noise, accompanied by the rapid tock-tock-tock of hurried footsteps on the wooden veranda beneath the eaves.
Turning reflexively toward the sound, Yasui froze in place.
Kitasan's normally ponytailed black hair was now elegantly styled into a neat bun, decorated with a gold-edged crimson hairpin shaped like a maple leaf.
A deep-blue obi gracefully highlighted her slender waist, subtly revealing the silver patterns of the inner kimono as she rushed forward. She held up the hem of her vivid scarlet sleeves, and as they swayed gently, they revealed her delicate wrists adorned with gold cords.
A faint, unfamiliar fragrance drifted toward him—completely unlike the familiar mixture of grass and sweat he knew. Perhaps it was sandalwood, or maybe the lingering scent of festival incense.
The same girl who had fiercely sprinted to victory yesterday with her face twisted in exertion, who'd laughed joyfully during the celebration dinner, now radiated an unusual air of graceful elegance.
But, of course, when she excitedly grabbed his arm and eagerly greeted him, that same lively, energetic personality came shining through.
For some inexplicable reason, Yasui's throat felt suddenly dry, and he unconsciously took a small step back.
"Trainer! I…"
Noticing his reaction, she hesitated, bit her lip lightly, withdrew her hand, and laughed awkwardly, shifting nervously in place.
"This outfit… Grandpa absolutely insisted I wear it. He said something like, 'A champion deserves the elegance of a proper furisode,' even though he never said anything like that before…"
"So… It must look pretty strange, right?"
Snapping out of his momentary daze, Yasui tugged nervously at his collar, trying to give her his usual reassuring smile.
"No… it suits you."
He spoke carefully, trying hard to maintain a normal tone, but found himself adding without thinking:
"What I mean is… you look lovely. Your new outfit today is really lovely, Kita-chan."
"Hehe… Actually, I wear this every time we have a festival... Ah!"
She habitually scratched her head, accidentally knocking loose her hairpin. She yelped in surprise, quickly catching it before it hit the ground.
"Oh, clumsy me… Trainer, give me just a second."
She gave him an embarrassed smile, placing the hairpin gently between her lips while turning away to quickly fix her hair.
Yasui unconsciously adjusted his collar again, forcing his gaze elsewhere, pretending to casually admire the festive atmosphere filling the courtyard.
Yet out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help noticing how she held the hairpin in her mouth, reminding him of all those times during training when she'd done exactly that—holding a hair tie between her lips as she tied back her ponytail.
"All set! Sorry for the wait!"
Having finished tidying up her hair, Kitasan reached out excitedly toward him again.
"And now… Welcome, Trainer, to today's special 'Champion Celebration Festival'!"