The following evening, after soaking for a while in the hot spring, Shuta An dried himself off, changed into his pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed.
With no work scheduled that day, he had spent the entire time accompanying Oguri Cap and Berno Light on a leisurely walk along the Sapporo port. Yet strangely enough, by the time he returned to the hotel, he felt far more exhausted than when he spent a whole day hunched over his computer desk.
Even so, he still forced himself to stay awake to watch the Principal Stakes—the listed race Silence Suzuka had competed in earlier that day.
In this Derby prep race—Silence Suzuka seized her opportunity with precision, successfully claiming the sole Derby entry ticket allocated to the race.
"The battle for the top of this generation—" Shuta An murmured inwardly. "With Miss Suzuka's current strength, it's still difficult for her to meet the expectations placed on a true frontrunner of the era. But making it into the Derby alone already places her among the most outstanding Uma Musume of this generation."
Rolling over, he let out a silent sigh.
"And next time, I absolutely won't agree to such high-intensity shopping trips with Oguri and Berno," he complained inwardly. "An active Uma Musume's leg strength is on a completely different level from a normal human's."
With that final grievance, Shuta An closed his eyes—and swiftly descended into the Dream World.
Tonight, he would be riding Mejiro McQueen in the Iris Sho.
The name might sound unfamiliar, and for good reason. It was a One-Win Class race with a distinctive title—essentially no different from an allowance race, save for one detail: the prize money was two million yen higher.
Even so, should he and Mejiro McQueen win, Shuta An's share would amount to only 425,000 yen.
Converted into real-world value—the yen simply wasn't what it used to be.
"If possible, I'd still rather save U.S. dollars," he thought idly.
With such scattered thoughts drifting through his mind, Shuta An opened his eyes—and found himself seated in the jockeys' lounge at Kyoto Racecourse.
That day, JRA races were being held at three venues: Fukushima, Tokyo, and Kyoto. Yet none of them featured a graded main event. The highest-class race was the Musashino Stakes at Tokyo, an open race. Kyoto and Fukushima were hosting nothing above Three-Win Class.
Naturally, this meant that Japan's top jockeys—those affiliated with the Kanto Mihono Training Center—had mostly gathered at Tokyo. The next tier gravitated toward Fukushima. As for the Kansai Ritto Training Center jockeys, unless their main mounts were elsewhere, they were all competing at Kyoto, locked in fierce contention.
Shuta An himself was among them.
Alongside him were Yutaka Take and Hiroshi Kawachi—currently ranked first, second, and fifth nationwide—three Ritto-affiliated jockeys once again sharing the same battleground.
"Yesterday, I let Ann-kun win five races," Yutaka Take said as he approached with a grin. "Today, I'm definitely taking them back."
"But you weren't even second-most yesterday," Shuta An shot back without hesitation. "Kawachi-kun won three races. You only won one, didn't you?"
"I should've gone to Fukushima yesterday," Takayuki Yasuda—currently ranked fourth at Ritto—joined in with a sigh. "At least then I wouldn't have come up empty-handed."
"Leaving that aside," Shuta An said calmly, "I absolutely have to win the ninth race today. Trainer Ikee entrusted that horse to me a long time ago—and I even took part in his training personally."
"What's your evaluation?" Yutaka Take asked, already knowing which mount Shuta An was referring to.
"Very strong," Shuta An replied honestly. "He still has room to grow, but by his three-year-old autumn, she'll be fully developed. I believe he'll be extremely competitive in the Kikuka Sho."
"The Mejiro family's horse didn't even qualify for the Derby, yet he earns that kind of praise?" Yasuda said in surprise.
"He really is strong," Hiroshi Kawachi interjected as he sat down nearby, having just returned from dealing with personal matters. "He trained alongside Merci Atlas—the one I rode—and didn't fall behind at all."
"Merci Atlas won the Wakakusa Sho last month, didn't he?" Yasuda's eyes widened. "Kawachi-san, you're riding him in the Derby? It's hard to imagine…a horse that can keep pace with him is running in a One-Win Class today."
"That's why," Shuta An grinned, confidence seeping into his tone, "I'm taking him out of the allowance races today."
Because he had already announced his participation at Kyoto this week—and because Manager Kohara was working tirelessly to showcase his value—Shuta An was riding in every flat race at Kyoto Racecourse that day.
Naturally, that excluded the fifth race.
A jump race.
He neither held a jump jockey license nor intended to obtain one. Such races offered little prize money and carried excessive risk—something a jockey with ample flat-racing opportunities had no reason to pursue.
Shaking his head, Shuta An stood up.
"Time to head to the waiting area and get ready to mount."
"The first race isn't my problem," Hiroshi Kawachi shrugged. "I'll just cheer for Take-kun from here."
"Hey!" Shuta An spun around indignantly. "Didn't I treat you to a bowl of udon yesterday?"
"Wasn't that provided by Kyoto Racecourse?" Kawachi pouted. "And didn't Shuta-kun eat a third of it the moment it arrived?"
"…!"
Left speechless by the accusation, Shuta An promptly fled the scene.
"Hoo hoo~" Yutaka Take followed in high spirits.
In this 1800-meter dirt maiden race, he would be riding the second favorite, Aizen Fox. Shuta An, meanwhile, was mounted on the top favorite, UnCloudy, from Setoguchi Tsutomu Stable.
It was already May. Ninety-nine percent of horses that had yet to break their maiden by this point were mediocre at best. No jockey expected to find a long-term partner here.
Even so, UnCloudy hailed from Setoguchi Tsutomu Stable. That alone was reason enough for Shuta An to stay sharp—ensuring neither he nor his mount would stumble today.
A few minutes later, Yutaka Take returned to the jockeys' lounge first, his expression gloomy.
"That's rough," Hiroshi Kawachi teased. "You led the entire race, but the moment you came out of the fourth turn, Shuta-kun just blew past you."
"The pressure never stopped," Yutaka Take admitted helplessly. "The pace wasn't what I wanted at all. From tactics to execution, it was a complete defeat."
He let out a breathy laugh.
"Good thing it wasn't a graded race. Otherwise, the blow would've hurt a lot more."
Shuta An arrived at the waiting area for the ninth race at Kyoto Racecourse with a record of four wins from seven mounts today.
Here, he would meet Mejiro McQueen. Together with this Ash-white Racehorse of the Mejiro Family, they aimed to claim victory in this One-Win Class race, step into the Open Class, and accumulate as much capital as possible in preparation for the Kikuka Sho.
Ikee Tairo stood in the owners' and connections' viewing area, eyes fixed on the giant screen, anticipation filling his chest.
"Please—let Shuta-kun and McQueen break free from the One-Win Class together," he murmured. "McQueen, show them your strength. I want Shuta-kun to continue partnering with you into the Kikuka Sho. I've entrusted you to Japan's strongest jockey—don't disappoint me, or the Mejiro Family's representative."
In the Dream World, Mejiro McQueen herself was completely unaware of the expectations being placed upon her.
Led into the waiting area by the stable groom, the Ash-white racehorse appeared unusually restless. May's heat had already begun to settle over Kyoto, and the rising temperature weighed heavily on his body.
High temperatures were a challenge even for thoroughbreds. When conditions grew harsh, JRA racecourses would hose down horses to prevent heatstroke. Noticing McQueen's agitation, the stable groom quickly guided him toward the shower area.
Cool water cascaded over him body, far more comfortable than enduring the stuffy air of the stable. Back at Ritto or at the Mejiro Family's ranch, he could only rely on fans for relief. Compared to him, however, the ones truly suffering were the people around him.
The stable groom, dressed in a formal suit, endured the heat and the splashing water alike, his clothes quickly becoming damp and uncomfortable. As for Shuta An, although the jockey's waiting room was air-conditioned, he barely had time to enjoy it—he had been riding almost nonstop today. If not for changing his racing silks after every race, he might have felt even worse than the groom by now.
Neither of them noticed the faint flicker of bewilderment that passed through Mejiro McQueen's eyes.
—
Elsewhere, far from the racecourse, Mejiro Dober finished sending the short manga she had just drawn on her digital tablet to the email address of the Uma Musume who had commissioned it. She glanced at the clock and froze.
"It's already this late again," she muttered.
"I'll just take a quick shower and go to bed. If I soak in the bath, I won't sleep until two or three, and then I'll oversleep for tomorrow's training." Having made her decision, she stood up from her desk.
"I still have a few years before my debut—" Mejiro Dober sighed softly. "I wanted to debut as early as possible before, but after seeing how Bright-nee looked after losing the Satsuki Sho—I've become timid again."
With that thought lingering in her mind, she stepped into the bathroom.
By the time she had dried herself, changed into her pajamas, and slipped under the covers, exhaustion overwhelmed her. She fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
Mental fatigue, after all, was far more effective than any sleeping aid.
—
When Mejiro Dober opened her eyes again, what greeted her was not the familiar ceiling or the cute decorations of her room.
There were people.
People nearby. People farther away.
And…someone riding on her back.
"W-What's going on?!"
The shock sent her body trembling. The person holding the reins in front of her was a man—already difficult enough for her to accept. But the sensation from her back made it painfully clear that the one mounted there was also a man.
Her thoughts overloaded. She didn't even know how to walk anymore, moving only by instinct in short, sluggish steps.
From the saddle, Shuta An immediately sensed something wrong.
"It's like a completely different horse took over just now," he thought.
The idea was absurd. Yet as it crossed his mind, the corner of his mouth twitched. He leaned forward, lowering his body. Bringing his mouth close to Mejiro McQueen's ear, he spoke in a calm, gentle voice.
"I'm Shuta Ann. I'll be partnering with McQueen today. Let's work hard and win this race."
The moment his words ended, Mejiro McQueen came to a sudden stop.
The stable groom did not forcefully tug the reins. He simply stood still, allowing him a moment.
But the soul residing within this body was anything but calm.
For Mejiro Dober, the words she had just heard were far too shocking.
"Is this—a dream? Or reality?"
The question echoed endlessly in her mind.
"Am I not Mejiro Dober? Why am I being called McQueen-senpai? And the person riding me is named Shuta An? The same Shuta An? Even the voice is exactly the same—"
As these thoughts raced through her head, she suddenly realized something strange.
Her mental pressure was easing.
"It's because I know he's on the saddle, isn't it?" she quickly concluded.
"Fine," the young lady of the Mejiro Family steadied herself. "This body may be McQueen-senpai's, but right now, I'm the one using it."
She lifted her head.
"The race is next—and I'm going to win it with Shuta-kun."
With her thoughts temporarily sorted out, Mejiro Dober followed the body's instincts, calmly preparing to step onto the battlefield that belonged to the two of them.
—
For this race, Shuta An had drawn gate number three.
It was a 2200-meter turf race. Based on earlier discussions with Trainer Ikee Tairo, the plan was clear: move forward early, secure a third or fourth position, and control the pace—around sixty-one seconds per kilometer.
But Mejiro Dober, now inhabiting Mejiro McQueen's body, thought otherwise.
"A 2200-meter race—" she reasoned. "From what I know about McQueen habits, if we run up front, we'll definitely get swallowed by those late-charge monsters."
"And even if it's McQueen's body—the one inside is me."
Her decision formed quickly.
"I'll hold back—and then sprint it out with them at the end."
Shuta An, unaware that his partner's soul had changed, nevertheless sensed a subtle difference from her usual training demeanor.
"He feels a bit like Miss Dober in the real world," he thought. "Especially that coldness toward the stable groom."
For racehorses, the groom should have been the one they trusted most—not the jockey on their back. Yet Mejiro McQueen's current reactions irresistibly reminded Shuta An of that shy Uma Musume who showed indifference to everyone else—except him.
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