Debut Race

Kitano's palms were sweating slightly.

The tie around his suit collar made it a little hard for him to breathe.

As a veterinarian, he rarely had occasions that required such formal attire.

"Number six, Hokuto Rakusetsu, Hokuto Rakusetsu! Chris Lena can no longer catch up!"

"In one burst, Hokuto Rakusetsu opened up a lead of three lengths! Hokuto Rakusetsu takes it!"

"A fair and square contest!"

Snow-white betting slips fluttered through the air. Combined with the equally white dirt track, they created the illusion, for a brief moment, that the season had changed.

Kitano nervously swallowed, his shirt plastered to his back beneath his black suit.

The next race would be Mejiro Tenma's.

"D-Don't worry, Mr. Kitano. Pegasus will definitely be fine!"

Although he was trying to reassure him, Ogawa Masaru, who had attended as the ranch's representative, had an obvious tremor in his voice.

Kitano nodded silently.

It was time to go.

He headed for the parade ring.

Along the way, he encountered few people besides the stablehands leading their horses.

Without any mandatory requirement, not many owners came to watch the races in person.

Two or three local reporters outside the railing watched him with curious looks.

After accepting the race card handed over by a staff member and thanking them, Kitano stopped by the entrance to the preparation room.

Before long, the jockeys emerged while stretching their bodies.

Ochiai easily spotted Mejiro Tenma, who stood out conspicuously among the horses.

Then he lightly swung himself into the saddle.

"When this kid first arrived, he was a little mischievous. But today, he suddenly calmed down again, as if he knew he was about to race."

"He's in excellent condition!"

Kobayashi, the stablehand holding the lead rope, said with a smile as he patted Mejiro Tenma's dusty-gray head.

The breeding ranch had advised them during the handover that this racehorse might be the type to be somewhat sensitive to racing.

So before the race, he had put a pair of green earmuffs on Mejiro Tenma.

"Understood."

Ochiai nodded slightly from the saddle, then made no further movements.

Kobayashi led the racehorse in circles for the parade inspection.

Despite it being his first race, Mejiro Tenma remained remarkably composed. He even tilted his head curiously toward the cameras when passing the press area.

A reporter took the opportunity to press the shutter, snapping several photos in succession.

Even if he could not use them for his assignment, they would still be nice to keep.

The reporter inspected the photos with a satisfied expression.

"Please take care of him!"

As Mejiro Tenma passed before him, Kitano solemnly bowed toward the figure in the yellow-and-black racing silks atop his back.

After a brief pause, Ochiai finally realized what had happened and nodded slightly in return.

By then, Kitano had already disappeared behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Ochiai tucked his whip beneath his arm and headed for the track.

Mejiro Tenma occasionally shook his head as they proceeded, but the moment he entered the starting gate, he adopted a more serious demeanor.

As he adjusted his posture, the muscles on the insides of Ochiai's thighs tightened slightly.

The last horse entered the gate as well.

In the stands, Kitano and Ogawa held their breaths almost simultaneously.

The instant the gates sprang open, Mejiro Tenma launched forward.

His center of gravity shifted back slightly, but Ochiai quickly corrected it.

Then he swiftly assessed the situation on the track.

Just as he had worried before the race, horses from both the inside and outside were squeezing toward the center.

The former wanted to avoid the deep dirt piled up along the inside, while the latter sought to reduce the distance they would lose.

For the horses starting from the middle gates, that meant facing pressure from both directions at once.

Fortunately, Mejiro Tenma broke from the gate fairly well in his first real race. Though not enough to establish a clear positional advantage, it still allowed Ochiai to seize some initiative in the early stages.

Abandoning the conservative strategy of edging slightly inward and conserving stamina near the front, Ochiai increased the force of his urging.

He tried to contend for the lead.

Mejiro Tenma responded at once, beginning to accelerate early.

"The third race at Monbetsu... has begun!"

Only then did the commentator, who had reacted half a beat late, begin speaking.

"Number nine, Fura Flying Steed, had a poor break. Number one, Rag Supreme, is in front, while number six, Mejiro Tenma, slightly behind him, is also contesting the lead."

Mejiro Tenma's head swung violently back and forth in rhythm with Ochiai's urging, great blasts of hot air pouring from his nostrils.

Rider and horse chased without regard for stamina, and the distance between them and Rag Supreme visibly began to shrink.

Before the early stages had even fully unfolded, the ten racehorses had already been spread apart by a fairly noticeable distance.

Ochiai tilted his head slightly to observe the pack behind him, then quickly faced forward again.

The situation was already quite clear.

In short-distance dirt races, accelerating was often more difficult than it was on turf.

Unless there was an opponent clearly above the class of the field, horses that gained an advantage at the start could usually secure a good placing.

At the moment, the greatest threat to Mejiro Tenma was Rag Supreme, who had fallen in behind.

However, Ishikawa, the jockey riding Rag Supreme, soon gave up on reclaiming the front and shifted slightly outward to follow behind Mejiro Tenma.

Only after noticing Ishikawa's change in strategy did Ochiai stop urging his mount through the middle stages.

Before he could even pull the reins, Mejiro Tenma stopped accelerating on his own.

The numb, aching sensation rising from the roots of his thighs grew stronger, and Ochiai hurriedly lifted his rear to adjust his center of gravity.

While the jockeys engaged in their tactical battle, Kitano blanked out at an utterly inappropriate time.

From where he stood, all he could see were rows of backsides raised high like monkeys'.

It was not a beautiful sight in the slightest.

Even with his eyes wide open, he could hardly make out anything useful beyond blurred outlines speeding past.

In the time it took him to space out, the pack had already reached the third and fourth turns.

Ochiai turned his head, and the jockeys behind him began swinging their whips back and forth.

Even amid the thunderous pounding of hooves, each sharp crack through the air could be heard clearly.

Rag Supreme, who had been gathering strength for so long, finally began his attack.

Ochiai instinctively clenched his teeth.

His rear struck the horse's back more and more frequently, and it became difficult for him to maintain strong urging motions with his hands.

Gripping the whip in reverse, Ochiai held the reins one-handed and flicked the whip beside Mejiro Tenma's ear.

After the warning flick, Mejiro Tenma tilted his neck slightly.

As though he had noticed Rag Supreme running alongside him, his little ears beneath the green earmuffs flattened visibly.

Then, before any signal could be given, he began accelerating.

Ochiai, who had been preparing to follow up with an actual strike, dropped heavily onto the horse's back.

There was no room to calmly adjust himself.

He could only go with the momentum, charging into the final straight in an awkward riding posture almost parallel to the horse's back.