Chapter 60. Former Estate
Before the celebration dinner began, Shuta An informed the three Uma Musume about his call with Secretariat.
"So when we head to the West Coast for the Breeders' Cup, we won't be staying at a hotel?" Tokai Teio's eyes widened. "We're staying in that house instead?"
For her, "Beverly Hills" and "Laurel Way" were secondary. What mattered was that it had once been her Trainer's home.
"If I refused again, I'd never hear the end of it," Shuta An said dryly. "Agreeing is simpler. But understand—after I transferred to Kasamatsu, I sold that property. It's no longer mine."
"I understand," Mejiro Dober replied seriously. "We'll treat it with care."
Silence Suzuka nodded as well, though she knew she would soon return to Japan to prepare for the Tenno Sho (Autumn). Her stay would be brief.
—
By the next morning—Tokyo time—Mejiro Dober's Natalma Stakes victory dominated racing headlines.
"New Hope of the Mejiro Family."
The phrase appeared repeatedly. It was not only media rhetoric; even within the Mejiro household, the sentiment circulated.
"Dober alone can buy us five years of development," someone stated during a private meeting.
Mejiro Ramonu stood immediately. "Are we placing everything on her shoulders? Supporting her is the least we can do. Progress isn't the burden of one runner."
Her words were measured—but sharp. Some within the family had long grown comfortable relying on others' success.
—
The following afternoon, Shuta An and his team boarded a flight from Toronto to Los Angeles.
As the plane descended over Southern California, Tokai Teio peered out the window.
"Near Hollywood Park, there's a huge stadium. What is it for?"
Shuta An stretched slightly. "You're thinking of The Forum. Multi-purpose arena. Home of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Los Angeles Kings."
"Oh! I thought it might be for Uma Musume training."
"With Hollywood Park Racetrack next door?" He shook his head. "Land in Inglewood isn't cheap. It's effectively prime Los Angeles real estate."
"Trainer~ you originally planned to book a hotel nearby?"
"It's next to LAX. What do you think?" He flicked her forehead lightly before leaning back. "I didn't sleep much last night. I'll nap."
They departed Toronto in the morning and arrived in Los Angeles just before noon. Shuta An had barely begun to ask whether they should eat at the airport or head directly to Laurel Way when his phone rang again.
Secretariat.
"Ann, you've arrived? I've arranged transport. I'm already here."
"Understood."
He hung up and turned to the others. "We're being picked up. Let's not keep them waiting."
The car wound upward through Beverly Hills, palm-lined streets growing quieter, estates larger.
At 1460 Laurel Way, an elegant Uma Musume stood waiting at the entrance.
"Good afternoon, Miss Miesque," Shuta An greeted promptly, forestalling any confusion.
Miesque smiled warmly. "Good afternoon, Shuta. And good afternoon, Miss Silence Suzuka, Miss Mejiro Dober, Miss Tokai Teio. I often see your names in the racing pages."
She inclined her head slightly toward Suzuka. "A pity you won't run in this year's Breeders' Cup Series. There's no 2000-meter turf division suitable for you."
Turning to Dober, she continued smoothly, "Yesterday's performance was excellent. Have you considered focusing primarily on the mile? In North America alone, you could contest seven or eight G1 events annually."
Shuta An's expression shifted subtly.
Miesque noticed—and redirected her attention to Tokai Teio.
"Your Full Bloom Stage approaches, does it not? North American media are already watching you. To be recruited while entering maturation—your Trainer must have seen extraordinary potential."
Teio blinked, absorbing every word.
Shuta An offered a concise introduction. "Miss Miesque guided Oguri Cap in mile races. She is also Chairperson of the Breeders' Cup organizing committee. And a friend."
That was sufficient.
All three Uma Musume bowed deeply. "Good afternoon, Senior Miesque!"
She gestured toward the entrance. "Come. Miss Secretariat is in the cinema room."
As she led them along the pathway, she glanced back with a faint smile.
"In Beverly Hills, there's an old saying: the taller the palm tree barrier and the larger the grounds, the greater the fortune."
They rounded the final bend.
"Prepare yourselves," she said gently. "Welcome to the Laurel Estate—your Trainer's former residence—situated at the end of Laurel Way, overlooking one of Los Angeles' most beautiful capes, spanning over a hectare."
She paused.
"It was once home to the best Trainer of the West Coast Tracen Academy."
Following Miss Miesque's lead, they moved along the palm-lined perimeter and passed through the estate's towering green barrier, finally catching their first unobstructed view of the world concealed within the Laurel Estate.
Miss Miesque was in unusually high spirits. Rather than the composed chairperson of the Breeders' Cup organizing committee, she felt more like an enthusiastic private docent.
"The driveway to the right descends directly into the underground garage," she explained. "It accommodates four vehicles—not merely four bays, but four rotating display platforms. However, Miss Secretariat keeps only two cars there. I've looked inside before; the space feels almost vacant."
They crossed the garden courtyard and entered through the main doors into the grand foyer. After changing into indoor shoes, Miss Miesque continued the tour, guiding them through the residence now owned by the most influential figure at the West Coast Tracen Academy.
Just as she prepared to elaborate further, Shuta An gently interjected.
"Senior Secretariat is in the cinema, correct? I'll go see her first. Please continue showing Suzuka and the others around."
Miss Miesque paused, then nodded with a knowing smile. "That's reasonable. In truth, you are far more familiar with this estate than I am."
Temporarily parting from the three Uma Musume, Shuta An descended a staircase beside the Great Room. As he passed the garage entrance, he glanced inside. The expansive space—capable of holding eight vehicles—contained only two, parked far apart from one another. Both were understated, executive-style cars.
"As expected," he murmured faintly. "To her, automobiles are instruments—nothing more."
If anything, his own indifference toward cars surpassed even Secretariat's.
He proceeded to the private cinema. There, with her back to him, sat Secretariat, watching the comedy film Romy and Michele's High School Reunion. Tokai Teio had rented the disc in Toronto and watched it in full, later declaring that she 'couldn't comprehend the characters' logic at all."
Perhaps it was cultural nuance, Shuta An reflected. He could not see her expression from behind, yet her unrestrained laughter echoed through the room. Clearly, she found the absurdity entertaining.
Still, her awareness remained sharp. She heard his approach, turned, recognized him, and paused the film before rising.
"Come," she said.
She led him to the adjacent juice bar. Pouring herself carrot juice and handing him a glass of ice water, she settled onto a stool.
"It seems your emotions have stabilized," she observed.
"I was never agitated," he replied evenly, taking a measured sip. The cold cut sharply down his throat. "I simply know this place too well. Nothing has changed."
"I made no alterations after purchasing it," she admitted. "You are not the only one familiar with this house. I stayed here often in the past."
A quiet interval followed.
"Why did you sell it?" she asked at last.
"I required capital," he answered succinctly. "At that time, I needed to take Oguri Cap on expedition to Hokkaido. Our academy lacked sufficient funding. I covered the cost."
She frowned faintly. "You sold your own home for a single campaign?"
"I had no home then," he said, tightening his grip around the glass. "You know why I left the West Coast. Departing as I did meant I would never return. No family. No employment here. The house had already lost its meaning. Paying property tax indefinitely was irrational."
He continued calmly, though his voice had lowered.
"The proceeds financed Team Sadalsuud's foundation. My trainees never worry about expedition expenses. They receive the best equipment suited to them. A portion was also donated to the Tracen Academy that accepted me."
He met her gaze directly.
"I do not regret selling it."
She exhaled, shaking her head faintly. "You always have your logic."
After a moment, she shifted tone.
"Regardless, you may use this residence freely. I will assign the full-service team—nutritionist, head chef, assistant chef, pastry chef, and security detail. For any additional matters, contact Miss Miesque. We established a limited liability company to manage our North American properties."
"Understood," he replied. Then, studying her expression, he added, "However, such generosity is rarely without purpose. What do you require?"
She turned toward the juicer behind the counter.
"There is something I wish to entrust to you. But it is not a short-term matter."
"Tell me first."
She looked back at him.
"You understand the significance of the American Triple Crown. Since my era, the West Coast Tracen Academy has not produced another Triple Crown champion. Meanwhile, the East Coast academy has produced an undefeated Triple Crown winner and another Triple Crown champion in consecutive years." (Oh right, Sunday Silence was Two-crown in Uma Musume's World. I forgot about that)
Her lips curved in irritation.
"It displeases me."
Her eyes fixed on him.
"I want you to train an undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume."
He hesitated visibly.
"I cannot work permanently on the West Coast. I must return to Japan. For a Central Tracen Academy trainee to win the American Triple Crown—realistically, the probability is negligible."
She considered this, then relented slightly.
"Very well. Then at least win the most prestigious jewel—the Kentucky Derby. That alone would suffice."
He fell silent.
"Your father won the Derby seven times," she pressed. "As his only heir, is claiming the Run for the Roses not your own ambition?"
Her gaze was unwavering.
In that moment, a particular Uma Musume surfaced in his mind.
If it were her—Perhaps the scenario was not entirely implausible.
He lifted his head.
"I understand," he said at last. "I will do everything within my capability."
A satisfied smile crossed her face.
"When the time comes," Secretariat replied, "the entire West Coast will stand behind you."
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