Chapter 56. The Incomprehensible Explanation
"Well done, Suzuka."
Aware of the eyes surrounding him, Shuta An simply raised a firm thumbs-up.
Receiving the acknowledgment she had been waiting for, Silence Suzuka smiled brightly, turned, and headed toward the underground passage to prepare for the winner's live performance.
Just before she stepped inside, Labeeb hurried up behind her.
"Miss Suzuka."
Suzuka turned her head slightly. "Is something the matter?" she asked calmly.
In truth, she was not surprised at all. On the contrary, she felt a quiet satisfaction—her performance today had been worthy of drawing Labeeb over.
Labeeb met her gaze. "Why are you able to enjoy running?"
The question came directly.
"Because there are people who appreciate the way I run," Suzuka replied without hesitation. "They say running is instinct for us, but when someone truly recognizes you—when they watch you with understanding—you naturally perform better."
Labeeb pressed her lips together. "I see."
She turned her back slightly. "This will be our last meeting on the Twinkle Series track. Thank you for answering me. As I expected—someone like me can't learn your way."
"Why not?" Suzuka called after her.
"Have you never noticed the people around you? Has your Trainer always been dissatisfied with you? Have you never heard cheers meant just for you? Why do you say no one appreciates you?"
She clenched her fist unconsciously, memories of her time in Team Rigil surfacing.
"Those things aren't given freely," she continued quietly. "Not everyone receives them so easily."
Labeeb looked back, astonished. "Even you…weren't recognized before? It's hard to imagine."
"There was a time," Suzuka answered plainly. "Because of that, I changed teams and found recognition from my current Trainer. My former self had many flaws. In truth, much of the failure to be recognized was my own responsibility."
She stepped forward and turned to face Labeeb fully.
"But I overcame it. And I believe you can too. Yes, this may be our last encounter in the Twinkle Series. Still, I hope you continue standing on that stage—running for those who appreciate you, recognize you, and support you."
"I…" Labeeb faltered, unable to form a reply.
After the winner's performance concluded, Shuta An was already waiting at the entrance of the underground passage. Before Suzuka emerged, however, reporters had surrounded him.
"Silence Suzuka's victory secures consecutive Arlington Million titles for our team. Naturally, we're very pleased."
"We won't defend the title next year. Our focus will shift to the Australian and European Turf Twinkle Series."
"The Breeders' Cup? An interesting suggestion. However, Suzuka has domestic commitments in Japan this year, so she won't participate. That said, Team Sadalsuud will certainly attend."
"Which race? Mejiro Dober, who runs next in the Natalma Stakes, will compete in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies Turf on the first day, regardless of the Natalma result."
"Tokai Teio's plans? She has yet to debut officially. For now, the only requirement is that she remains healthy."
After offering concise answers, Shuta An disengaged and moved toward Suzuka, whose figure had just appeared.
She approached and handed him her suitcase. "Shall we return to the hotel?"
"The flight isn't until the day after tomorrow," he replied, taking it from her. "No need to rush. Let's drop this off and have a simple celebration nearby."
She nodded. Because reporters were still lingering, she restrained herself and followed quietly behind him.
After dinner, they walked back toward the hotel. This time, Suzuka walked ahead.
Shuta An remained silent behind her. The air between them felt heavier than before.
She broke the silence first. "Ann, my next race is the Tenno Sho (Autumn), correct?"
"Yes. The Tenno Sho (Autumn)—Japan's pinnacle middle-distance battle each year. Win it, and you prove yourself the strongest active middle-distance Uma Musume in the country."
"I heard Sunny Brian's recovery is going well."
"I've heard the same from Kitahara and Tojo. Her target is also the Tenno Sho (Autumn)."
Shuta An paused, realization dawning. "You want a rematch at Tokyo Racecourse this autumn, don't you? After the Classic, calling it a complete defeat wouldn't be inaccurate."
"Yes," Suzuka admitted easily. "If I don't defeat her, my thoughts won't settle."
She stopped walking and turned around, her expression radiant.
"And… if I win this Tenno Sho (Autumn), I hope my Trainer will grant me one selfish request."
Shuta An had made such promises before. He answered without hesitation. "Agreed. I'll hear it when the time comes."
"I will give everything to defeat Sunny Brian."
She turned back again, lifting her gaze to the night sky. Chicago's neon glow swallowed the stars, yet she continued to look upward.
"Win the Tenno Sho (Autumn), prove your strength," Shuta An said quietly behind her. "Then we'll begin preparations for next year's overseas campaign."
He almost reached out to pat her head—then stopped himself.
Suzuka did not notice. With her back still to him, she simply responded with a soft acknowledgment, signaling she had heard every word.
After resting a day in Chicago, Shuta An and Silence Suzuka boarded their return flight to Toronto.
When they landed at Toronto Pearson International Airport, Shuta An exhaled and muttered, "I wonder how Teio and Dober have been while we were away. They both said everything's going smoothly, but I hope that's truly the case."
"In terms of condition, neither Teio nor Dober would misjudge themselves," Suzuka replied calmly. "Are you worried about something else?"
He nodded. "I'm more concerned about them going out on their own. Even if nothing actually happens, repeated exposure to risk adds psychological pressure over time."
Suzuka covered her mouth lightly and laughed. "There's even less reason to worry about that. Do you really think Teio and Dober would wander around freely when you're not here?"
"Why wouldn't Teio?" he countered. When he was in Toronto, Tokai Teio often visited busy commercial districts.
"That's different. When you're at the hotel, Teio believes that if anything goes wrong, you'll rush to her immediately. Her trust in you is obvious."
"I'm not Superman," he muttered, though there was no irritation in his tone.
After returning to the hotel, Shuta An went to shower. Suzuka did the same. Tokai Teio and Mejiro Dober were absent from their shared guest room and therefore had no idea Suzuka had already come back.
The two of them were in the hotel gym.
Tokai Teio had challenged Dober to a contest on the stationary bikes.
Dober had not been particularly interested—until Teio proposed the wager. If Dober won, Teio would willingly model for her, wearing any outfit she chose. If Teio won, Dober would cover all of Teio's honey drink expenses for the summer.
When Dober heard the terms, she felt something stir.
Teio's talent is extraordinary—but did she forget my specialty?
Relying on her focused training background, Dober rode at eighty percent effort and still comfortably surpassed Teio's proud record.
Teio's ears drooped instantly. She could already envision herself being treated like a dress-up doll.
By the time they returned to their guest room, Suzuka—wrapped in a bath towel—had just slipped back into her own bedroom, missing them by mere moments. Teio noticed the suitcase in the corner and immediately understood.
She pulled out her phone and messaged Shuta An.
"Trainer! Where are we celebrating Suzuka-senpai's victory tonight?"
"After Dober wins the Natalma Stakes, we'll celebrate properly in California," he replied. "Toronto can't compare."
Teio grinned at the screen. "Then I'm already looking forward to Dober's Natalma Stakes!"
After finishing the exchange, Shuta An searched for the venue of this year's Breeders' Cup Series.
Hollywood Park Racetrack.
He froze slightly at the result.
Although both shared the name "Hollywood," Hollywood Park was roughly a thirty-minute drive from the iconic district—not far, but not particularly close either.
For him, another detail mattered more.
From there—it's only about a ten-minute walk to that house. That house—the one he had once owned and later sold for a considerable sum. Should I at least look at it from a distance when we're in California?
The thought surfaced briefly, then faded. There were more pressing concerns.
Mejiro Dober's Natalma Stakes was less than a month away.
Her first G1 challenge. Even if the field appears slightly weaker on paper, it's still a G1. There's no room for complacency.
He had full confidence in Dober's ability, but racing allowed for sudden, explosive performances from unexpected rivals.
If not for the Breeders' Cup's age restrictions, Europe would still be the better overseas target at this stage. More G1 opportunities. The only question is whether Dober would adapt to those tracks.
He thought of her previous performance at Hakodate. That showing convinced him she could likely handle turf similar to York.
If we aim for York, there are only two suitable G1 options. The final decision would depend on her Japanese Oaks result.
Unaware that her Trainer was already sketching out international campaigns in his mind, Dober simply noticed that her training program began to shift after his return.
Explosive power drills increased. Cardiopulmonary endurance sessions were reduced.
To her, the adjustment felt like relief.
The primary endurance exercise had been swimming. Appearing in a swimsuit before Shuta An was, for Dober, an almost insurmountable psychological barrier. Whenever swimming sessions occurred, it was Tokai Teio or Silence Suzuka who relayed performance data to him afterward. The feedback lacked the precision of direct observation, but there was little alternative. If he stood poolside, Dober's limbs would stiffen instantly; she could barely complete basic strokes.
Seated outside the pool area one afternoon, Shuta An recalled a conversation with Mejiro Ramonu.
He had specifically asked about Dober's supposed psychological shadow.
Ramonu had answered plainly: Dober has never had what you would call psychological trauma.
If that's true—then what exactly has been driving her behavior all this time?
The question lingered in his mind, unresolved.
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