Chapter 57. The Reason for Choosing the Natalma Stakes
Although the Natalma Stakes carries G1 status, the overall level of Canada's Twinkle Series is merely average, and its organization reflects that. There was no gate-drawing ceremony. Four days before the race, Shuta An and Mejiro Dober simply received an email listing her post position.
"Gate five," Shuta An said after reading it. "Four to the left, four to the right. Perfectly centered."
Across from him, Dober paused her comic and looked up. "Gate five—that's actually quite good. Advancing early to secure position would be easy, and holding back for a late move is equally viable."
"The tempo won't be quick," Shuta An replied, tapping the coffee table and gesturing for her to look at the news on his screen. "Kirbys Song has already announced she'll set a slow pace."
On the screen was a quote: There are no rivals to contest the lead in the Natalma Stakes, so I won't attempt a runaway like Silence Suzuka.
"Even Canadian Uma Musume are citing Suzuka-senpai now," Dober murmured, momentarily distracted.
"She did just win the Arlington Million," he said evenly. "But once the Breeders' Cup arrives, the focus will shift to whoever qualifies."
"If I win the Natalma Stakes, I'll be part of that discussion, won't I?"
"Naturally." His lips curved slightly. "You would be one of only two debut-year Uma Musume to win a turf G1 in North America."
The other was the Summer Stakes, also held at Woodbine. Despite the name, it takes place only days after the Natalma. With identical prize money, Shuta An had chosen the earlier race to grant Dober maximum recovery time. Even a single extra day mattered.
There was another reason as well. The Natalma Stakes is a Triple Tiara Route Limited Race—perfect for activating Dober's "Queen's Reign" skill.
"If a skill exists, it should be used," he muttered.
Woodbine Racetrack stretched out beneath wide skies, its turf expansive and measured.
After reassessing the likely field and conditions, Shuta An adjusted her tactical plan.
"A slow pace favors forward positioning. However, the field is small, and while Woodbine's stretch isn't extremely long, it's longer than Hakodate's. More importantly, your strength lies in the chasing strategy. For your first G1 on a major stage, it's only logical to rely on what you do best."
He explained the race model thoroughly—positioning, fractional timing targets, when to begin her move, and how to avoid being boxed in.
"I have no objections," Dober replied immediately. The young lady of the Mejiro family understood every detail.
Tokai Teio, however, frowned when she heard the plan. "Dober-chan is using a chasing strategy again? Won't she get confused switching approaches later?"
"The brain isn't mechanical," Shuta An replied dryly. "Experience builds adaptability. If you're so unsure of your cognitive flexibility, perhaps I'll assign you front-running tactics in every future race."
"I'm extremely confident in my brain!" Teio protested at once.
Silence Suzuka, listening quietly, understood the value of multiple strategies—but she herself had never mastered more than one.
Sensing her thoughts, Shuta An said, "Perfecting one strategy to its limit is sufficient. Didn't you always prefer leading?"
"Yes," Suzuka admitted softly. "But knowing that, yet still allowing my relationship with Miss Tojo to deteriorate—it's embarrassing. When I return to Japan, I want to apologize."
"Then do so," he answered calmly.
Privately, he suspected Tojo Hana would struggle to accept it. In the Twinkle Series, results define correctness. If an Uma Musume achieves glory, unconventional methods are vindicated. Opposition becomes irrelevant.
The day before the Natalma Stakes, light rain fell over Woodbine.
The dampened turf unsettled Dober. "Will we need to revise the plan?"
Shuta An checked the rainfall metrics and drainage reports. "No. Woodbine's drainage isn't as efficient as Japan's, but a single night is sufficient. The surface will be good tomorrow. In fact, this turf is drier than Hakodate's. There's no reason to worry."
"I understand."
Her tension dissipated instantly. "I'll rest now. I want to inspect the course early tomorrow."
"Rest well. I'll be at trackside cheering."
He escorted her to the door. "Tomorrow night, we celebrate properly."
"Of course."
Inside the suite, Dober found Tokai Teio preparing to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Supermarket downstairs. I'm buying snacks and binge-watching a drama."
Teio slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Dober could only smile faintly.
Teio is relaxed. Tomorrow is my challenge alone. Of course she isn't nervous. It's only a debut-year restricted G1—not a Classic.
What she did not know was that Tokai Teio never took the elevator down.
Instead, she sat quietly outside Shuta An's door, eyes closed, nostrils flaring slightly—listening. (This girl really is something else. In every fanfic, her trait remains)
On the day of the Natalma Stakes, everything unfolded exactly as Shuta An had predicted. The rain from the previous evening had long since drained from Woodbine Racetrack, leaving the turf firm and fast. Stepping onto the course with special entry permission, Shuta An pressed the sole of his shoe into the grass and felt the rebound.
"This is perfect for Dober's finishing burst," he said with certainty. "Dry, quick, and responsive. If Kirbys Song insists on crawling through the early fractions, she'll have no chance of holding on."
The tactile feedback reminded him faintly of Tokyo Racecourse. While Woodbine's homestretch was shorter, its 400 meters were still more than sufficient for a decisive late drive.
"The weather's clear. Track condition ideal. Field manageable. Timing, location, and circumstances—all aligned."
Satisfied, he returned to the VIP box to wait.
Inside the waiting room, Mejiro Dober had secured special permission to bring her sketchpad and paints. With her phone confiscated and hours to pass, she refused to idle away the morning watching race broadcasts.
Seated before her board, eyes closed, she painted not from observation but imagination—small desserts she had grown fond of at the hotel, birds she had glimpsed in a nearby park. The act steadied her breathing.
A knock at the door pulled her back.
Noon.
Lunch arrived, delivered by Woodbine staff.
Later, after a brief meal outside the track, Shuta An returned to the box with Tokai Teio and Silence Suzuka.
"Two hours until post time," he noted.
"I can't wait to see Dober-chan run!" Teio chirped, utterly free of tension.
"I hope she wins efficiently," Suzuka said softly. "She still has another race in the United States afterward."
"That's only a Listed race," Shuta An replied. "The level is unpredictable. When I submitted registration, Miesque was unusually enthusiastic in her reply. That likely means the preliminary field wasn't strong."
"In North America, dirt dominates," Suzuka observed. "Debut-year, turf, non-G1—it won't attract the top echelon."
"Unless a European challenger appears," Teio interjected quickly. "Europe's turf standard is extremely high."
"That wouldn't trouble me," Shuta An said calmly. "Hollywood Park's turf is similarly dry. Power-oriented European runners accustomed to heavier ground might struggle."
He paused. "And Europe has plenty of debut-year G1 opportunities. There's little incentive to cross the Atlantic for a Listed purse unless the prize money outweighs prestige."
"What about Dober's schedule?" Teio tilted her head.
"If she skips this, Japan offers limited options before the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies. And once she turns older, North America's turf G1s remain viable. Adapting early is rational."
Teio accepted the reasoning, then added brightly, "When I debut, even if it's overseas, I want to race in Europe."
"Fine, fine," he replied, nodding repeatedly.
Back in the waiting room, Dober completed two more sketches, then deliberately stopped. Energy conservation mattered now.
Despite Shuta An's careful breakdown of her opponents—emphasizing their limitations—her nerves refused to subside.
This was her first G1.
All her life she had watched senior members of the Mejiro family and her teammates stand on such stages. Now she would step onto it herself.
Her heart pounded violently beneath her palms. It felt ready to burst from her chest. Her complexion paled; nausea rose—not from physical illness, but from mounting psychological pressure.
As a spectator, I was nervous. But never like this.
She lowered her head, biting her lip.
Just treat it as any other race. Execute. Don't fixate on them.
By the time she made her way to the check-in counter, she had only barely regained composure. Sweat dotted her forehead; she wiped it away before signing in.
After completing procedures, she withdrew to a quiet corner, waiting for the call to enter the paddock.
Trainer will be watching the tunnel exit.
The thought anchored her.
I cannot appear flustered. I cannot make him worry.
She forced a faint smile and reconstructed her usual calm exterior.
"Hoo…" A controlled exhale. "Stay calm."
—
"Stay calm," echoed another voice elsewhere.
Mejiro Ramonu turned to glance at the younger Mejiro family members trembling behind her.
"It's merely a debut-year G1. You're not even racing. If you're shaking already, what will you do when it's your turn?"
The juniors faltered under her gaze. Only Agnes Digital, invited as Dober's close friend, summoned the courage to respond.
"I won't be nervous," she said gently, restraining her usual fervor. "When I stand on the track, I can feel everyone's aura up close."
Ramonu's eyes curved slightly. "No wonder you and Dober became close despite the age difference. Miss Digital, your mindset exceeds my expectations."
Her approval was quiet—but unmistakable.