Chapter 109.
The final bend of Flemington Racecourse was a vast, sweeping arc, completely utterly divorced from the sharp, violent angle of the first. If the pristine white railing hadn't served as a visual anchor, Rice Shower would have genuinely believed she was already galloping down another straight.
This gentle curve feels incredibly smooth.
She thought, her equine limbs extending and contracting with a mesmerizing, effortless grace.
My stamina reserves are practically overflowing. It's time to start coiling up for the final acceleration.
In the saddle, Shuta An instantly felt the subtle, kinetic shift in his partner's center of gravity.
He's gathering himself for the sprint on his own? The young man blinked in surprise. Is this raw racing instinct, or just sheer experience?
He leaned heavily toward instinct, considering the horse beneath him had never set foot on Australian turf before today.
But he's absolutely right. It is time to start our advance.
Given the standard, grinding pace of the race and Rice Shower's lack of explosive, instantaneous burst speed, Shuta An knew they had to utilize his bottomless stamina to secure a dominant front position now.
Seeing his mount proactively shifting gears, the young man seamlessly synced with his rhythm. He methodically wrapped the thick leather reins around his wrists, tightening his grip, and smoothly flipped his riding crop from a backhand to a forehand hold.
Up ahead, Greg Hall was acutely aware that the next 1000 meters would be a brutal crucible. Top Rating was setting the pace, but Hall kept nervously glancing over his shoulder, hunting for the inevitable shadow of the stalkers.
He hadn't noticed anything alarming during his previous checks, but as they crested the midpoint of the final curve, Hall shot one last look back and saw the terrifying, unmistakable silhouette of Shuta An gathering his reins.
Here they come!
Hall snapped his attention forward, aggressively dropping his center of gravity and violently scrubbing the reins.
I have to move right now!
He absolutely refused to let Shuta An swallow his lead without a dogfight. If Rice Shower blew past Top Rating, the psychological dam would break, and the rest of the trailing pack would swarm him. A total collapse now would make the final results unspeakably ugly.
Ghk—so uncomfortable!
As Shuta abruptly shortened the reins, the heavy metal bit pulled sharply against Rice Shower's mouth, forcibly restricting her stride. Unaccustomed to the raw physical domination of a jockey's handling, panic flared in her chest.
Just as quickly, the pressure vanished. Rice Shower sucked in a desperate breath.
What was that?! Being suffocated like that feels awful!
But a fraction of a second later, Shuta An silently, ruthlessly hauled the reins back again, choking her momentum a second time.
Yet, triggered by the intense physical restriction, Rice Shower's body instinctively fought back, surging forward with a harder, faster tempo to break the tension.
How can he just issue commands like this?! Can't he just use his voice?!
Rice Shower complained bitterly in her mental void. If she possessed her human body, she would be pouting furiously.
A real Trainer would never treat me this roughly!
But Shuta An couldn't hear the indignant protests of the girl trapped within the dream. His face remained a mask of absolute, icy focus. He rhythmically repeated the suffocating pull-and-release technique, gradually transitioning his weight into a relentless, driving push-ride.
Rice Shower continued to mentally grumble even as her body obediently accelerated. It wasn't a full-blown sprint yet, but the steady, grinding surge of speed was more than enough to methodically devour the gap between herself and Top Rating.
By the time the sweeping bend finally began to straighten out, Rice Shower had bizarrely acclimated to the rhythmic suffocation.
If I wasn't the one actively controlling this; it actually feels like this brutal method is perfectly stimulating my muscles.
She realized, her breath syncing with the violent pulls.
Every time the bit bit into her mouth, it temporarily shattered her distracting thoughts, forcing her physical form into an acute, hyper-focused state of readiness.
But just as Rice Shower fully surrendered to the rhythm, as they roared into the endless final straight in a commanding third place, the whip Shuta An had been holding in a forehand grip finally moved.
Like drawing the string of a heavy recurve bow back into a perfect, deadly crescent, Shuta's right arm coiled, swung in a flawless, violent arc, and brought the crop down hard across Rice Shower's hindquarters.
CRACK.
The sound was shockingly loud over the thunder of hooves.
Agh!
Rice Shower's soul violently shuddered. Completely unaccustomed to physical strikes, the sudden, searing pain made her feel as though her very consciousness was going to shatter into pieces.
But the body's primal instincts, provoked by the sting of the whip, detonated. Her stride lengthened explosively, her speed abruptly shifting gears until she was instantly operating at eighty percent of her absolute maximum velocity.
In a matter of dozens of meters, Rice Shower had pulled dead even with Top Rating.
And then, Shuta An swung the whip again.
Hiss—!
Rice Shower gasped, and miraculously, her legs found another gear, her speed climbing even higher.
What... what is happening to me? She plunged into a terrifying spiral of self-doubt. This is my Dream World. If I genuinely hated this, my subconscious wouldn't allow it to continue.
But it just keeps—ah!
Before she could finish the thought, another sharp crack of the whip bit into her flank.
Desperately trying to organize her chaotic thoughts, Rice Shower peered deep into her own mind.
It's happened so many times in a row— is it possible that my subconscious— actually wants him to treat me like this?
She arrived at a conclusion so scandalous, so utterly devastating to her innocent worldview, that she had never dared to even conceptualize it before.
The burning sting of the whip radiated across her skin, but buried just beneath the pain, Rice Shower felt a faint, terrifyingly electric spark of pure, intoxicating pleasure.
Her thoughts completely froze.
Do I... do I actually have this kind of twisted desire buried inside me?
Shuta An was completely oblivious to the profound, existential awakening occurring beneath his saddle. His expression remained terrifyingly stoic. As they flashed past the 200-meter marker, he seamlessly reversed his grip on the whip, tucking it away, and poured every ounce of his core strength into a violent, all-out push-ride.
Having hit his absolute peak velocity, Rice Shower's speed was now being artificially sustained entirely by the young man's relentless, punishing physical drive.
But he wasn't the only one suffering.
The grueling reality of a 3200-meter marathon was violently tearing down the rest of the field. The strides of the other twenty racehorses had turned stiff and jagged. For many of the local contenders, this was a distance they would only attempt once in their entire careers. In terms of pure, unadulterated stamina, Rice Shower was operating in a completely different dimension.
"RICE SHOWER HAS BROKEN THE FRONT! BUT JEUNE IS STALKING HIM LIKE A SHADOW!"
The Australian commentator roared over the stadium speakers.
"IT'S A BRUTAL ONE-ON-ONE DOGFIGHT BETWEEN RICE SHOWER AND JEUNE! CAN THE JAPANESE JOCKEY HOLD ON?! HE'S CLINGING TO A TWO-LENGTH LEAD!"
Jeune was carrying a handicap of 56 kilograms—a massive 5 kilograms lighter than Rice Shower. That weight discrepancy felt like an anchor being lifted off the Australian horse's back.
Wayne Harris, locked in Jeune's saddle, was acutely aware of the mathematical advantage he held. Smelling blood in the water, he aggressively unleashed his windmill whip.
With a 5-kilogram advantage, Rice Shower's legs are going to turn to lead in this final furlong! 100 meters is more than enough track to run him down!
Harris's heart hammered with manic excitement.
I can definitely win this!
But Shuta An didn't flinch. He didn't reach for the whip again. He simply locked his jaw, his body moving in flawless, violent synchronicity with his horse, physically carrying Rice Shower forward through the pain.
Rice Shower, suddenly spared the sting of the crop, snapped out of her flustered daze and re-entered a state of absolute, hyper-focused concentration.
"RICE SHOWER IS REFUSING TO BREAK! JEUNE IS GIVING EVERYTHING, BUT HE JUST CAN'T CLOSE THE GAP!"
"THE FINAL 20 METERS! THE MARGIN HOLDS AT ONE LENGTH! RICE SHOWER SHATTERS THE PURSUIT AND CROSSES THE WIRE! HISTORY AT FLEMINGTON!"
The Japanese commentator's voice cracked with hysterical joy.
Wayne Harris slumped in his saddle, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. All he could do was watch in stunned defeat as Shuta An stood up in the stirrups, violently punched the air toward the roaring grandstands, and then leaned down, pressing a deeply affectionate, lingering kiss to his partner's sweat-slicked neck.
In that exact instant, Rice Shower's consciousness completely short-circuited.
He... he just kissed me?!
Even trapped in the void of the dream, Rice Shower could feel her entire soul burning up with an overwhelming, catastrophic heat.