Chapter 62. Tokai Teio's Lucid Dream
In the days that followed, Silence Suzuka formally entered her recovery phase. Load was minimized, intensity restrained; the objective was systemic recalibration rather than performance gain.
Yet Shuta An's primary attention did not rest in reality.
Within the Dream World, Tokai Teio's camp had begun its decisive preparations for the Kikuka Sho.
At his recommendation, Trainer Matsumoto Shoichi implemented an aerobic-heavy conditioning block. Two weekly Slope Road sessions were maintained to reinforce climbing power and lactate tolerance, while daily swimming was added to expand cardiovascular capacity without joint stress.
Teio did not particularly enjoy the pool. But he endured it.
His personality inclined toward diligence; if something was assigned, he executed it without complaint. The entire camp took comfort in that reliability. As a small reward—one that mattered greatly to him—he was permitted additional apples in his diet.
These apples no longer required special procurement. A farmer in Aomori Prefecture had arranged a monthly supply exclusively for Tokai Teio. With harvest season at its peak, the fruit was crisp, fragrant, and abundant. Teio savored each one with quiet satisfaction.
After a Slope Road session, Assistant Higashi Ikuo took the reins from Shuta An.
"How was his response today?"
"Positive," Shuta An replied, running a hand along Teio's hind neck. "His cardiopulmonary efficiency has improved noticeably. The question now is whether his energy reserves can sustain 3000 meters."
"I believe he can," Higashi said firmly. "Tokai Teio has never betrayed those who support him."
He then met Shuta An's gaze.
"You understand how many people outside Ritto are waiting for the 'Father-Son Undefeated Triple Crown.' Honestly, I'm relieved Teio can't read. If he saw those headlines, the psychological load would be enormous."
"Don't carry that burden yourself," Shuta An said quietly, patting Higashi's shoulder. "Do what you can. Leave the rest to me."
Yet as race day approached, the pressure coiled tighter around him.
He had won the Kikuka Sho before. But this time was different.
Previously, losing a G1 meant temporary disappointment. Now, the title of "Undefeated Triple Crown" loomed within reach. The stakes were not a single victory—they were legacy.
The strain bled into his waking life. Oguri Cap, Silence Suzuka, even Berno Light noticed his growing distraction. Mistaking it for fatigue from personal obligations, Oguri and Berno refrained from approaching him at night. Suzuka attributed it to domestic matters.
He did not neglect his work. But the tension was visible.
Then, two weeks before the Tenno Sho (Autumn)—on the Monday of Kikuka Sho week—Mr. Kitahara burst into the office.
"Sunny Brian has registered for the Tenno Sho (Autumn)! Her trainer confirmed it will be her comeback race!"
Last year's two-time Triple Crown winner, returning.
Shuta An showed no surprise.
"You already knew?" Kitahara blinked.
"Suzuka informed me earlier," Shuta An replied calmly. "Given her trajectory, this was inevitable. If Sunny Brian intends to reclaim the title of strongest of her generation, she must defeat Silence Suzuka at the Tenno Sho (Autumn). Even a Japan Cup victory later would not fully reverse public perception otherwise."
"For her honor, she has no alternative."
Kitahara frowned faintly. "It sounds cruel."
"The Twinkle Series is cruel," Shuta An said flatly. "Everyone possesses talent. Everyone works relentlessly. Sweat, time, trainers' expertise—everything is consumed for a moment under the spotlight. And in the end, how many truly stand at the summit?"
Kitahara had no answer.
"What we can do," Shuta An continued, eyes returning to his monitor, "is accompany our trainees and fight for the highest possible honor."
He paused.
"You should be preparing for the Queen Elizabeth Cup. After Air Deja Vu missed the Autumn Flower Award, this is her optimal recalibration target."
Kitahara grimaced slightly. "I am."
Work resumed.
Sunday arrived.
On Kikuka Sho day, Shuta An watched Seiun Sky dominate wire to wire.
He returned home alone. Oguri Cap and Berno Light were away in Kasamatsu for an event.
Dinner was simple.
Before bed, he hesitated—then retrieved a bottle of non-alcoholic beer from the refrigerator.
"Tonight," he murmured, slowly drinking the Suntory brew, "Tokai Teio and I challenge the Kikuka Sho."
Only victory was acceptable.
Before lying down, he reviewed his abilities in silence.
His gaze settled on one skill in particular.
"One Mind, One Body."
A faint exhale escaped him.
"I've mostly used this for entirely different circumstances."
He set aside the empty bottle, slid beneath the covers, and closed his eyes.
Just before sleep claimed him, he activated the skill.
Shuta An fell asleep at 10 p.m. Tokyo time.
At that exact moment, it was 6 a.m. in Los Angeles.
Under normal circumstances, Tokai Teio would already be awake—washing up, finishing breakfast efficiently, and beginning her morning routine. But today, as she blinked at the clock through half-lidded eyes, an unfamiliar impulse surfaced.
Just a little longer.
Almost absentmindedly, she pulled the covers back over herself.
And drifted deeper.
—
When Shuta An opened his eyes in the Dream World, he immediately sensed elevation and motion.
He was seated in a saddle.
Beneath him—Tokai Teio.
Gate number five.
The same gate from which Symboli Rudolf had started in his own Kikuka Sho.
JRA could call it random.
Shuta An did not believe in coincidences.
Higashi Ikuo, clad in formal attire, walked ahead holding the reins. The air around the waiting area was dense with attention. The spectators' gazes did not conceal their expectations.
"Undefeated Triple Crown—" Higashi murmured. "Father and son dominance."
Behind him, Shuta An closed his eyes briefly, recalibrating his breathing.
No one understood Tokai Teio's physiological parameters better than he did. The attribute feedback was clear: 3000 meters exceeded his optimal distance adaptation range.
But he had already won the Satsuki Sho. He had already won the Japanese Derby.
For a two-crown champion, the Kikuka Sho was not optional.
Could he suggest avoiding it? Could he recommend an alternate route, ignoring the crescendo of public anticipation?
No.
All he could do was force probability to bend.
"Defy the Fate," he murmured inwardly.
As they moved toward the track entrance, a chorus of young voices pierced the tension.
"Go, Ann! Go, Teio!"
He turned.
Children, lifted on their parents' shoulders, were waving enthusiastically.
He gave them a thumbs-up.
Then leaned forward slightly, squeezing his legs gently and patting Teio's hind neck.
"Teio. You hear them? We cannot disappoint them."
He snorted in response.
"Let's prove we are the strongest."
—
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles—
Tokai Teio realized she was dreaming.
The sensation was unmistakable. Her posture was different. Her body was not humanoid. Yet the transition felt strangely natural.
It's a lucid dream, she concluded.
More surprising, however, was the presence of a rider on her back. Her first instinct was to throw him off. But as the man spoke with the handler beside her, she froze.
The name.
The voice.
It was identical to her Trainer's.
Fine. It's just a dream.
When he stroked her hind neck, though, something clicked.
The touch. It was exactly how her Trainer rubbed her head.
Could it be…my subconscious?
She almost flushed—if a horse could.
Then she noticed the surroundings. Kyoto Racecourse.
So I'm running a race?
Her competitive spirit ignited instantly.
Even in a dream, I'm winning.
As Tokai Teio stepped onto the Kyoto turf, Shuta An assessed conditions with professional detachment.
Good track rating. Dry surface. Ideal elasticity.
Advantageous to Teio.
His gaze shifted briefly toward Hokusei Ciboulette in the distance.
If the early pace remains controlled, she retains efficiency. If it becomes a sustained high-tempo contest, her glycogen depletion curve accelerates.
He exhaled slowly.
Teio, meanwhile, was fascinated.
Running on four limbs felt oddly liberating. In reality, crawling across academy grass would be mortifying. Here, it was exhilarating.
Lucid dreams are incredible.
She flexed experimentally, enjoying the spring of the turf.
Then another presence approached.
Yukio Okabe, astride Leo Durban.
Their history was complicated. The Oguri Cap incident years ago had left residue. Professional courtesy existed, but warmth did not.
Unexpectedly, Okabe spoke first.
"I'm conflicted."
Shuta An raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Tokai Teio is Rudolf's offspring. As someone who respects the 'Emperor,' I want to witness father-son supremacy. But as a jockey, my duty is absolute. I ride Leo Durban. I must win."
Shuta An's lips curved faintly.
"There's no need for conflict."
Okabe's eyes sharpened.
"Because," Shuta An continued evenly, "regardless of what you attempt today, it will not prevent Tokai Teio and me from winning this Kikuka Sho."
The statement was not emotional.
It was clinical.
Then he guided Teio forward, leaving Okabe behind.
Ahead lay 3000 meters.
Beyond his optimal range.
Beyond his comfort.
But not beyond resolve.
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