A Night Toward July

Before dawn, a light rain pattered down from the sky.

The deserted Monbetsu Racecourse had shed its daytime bustle.

But the silence was soon broken.

At three in the morning, the lights across the training grounds came on one row after another.

Clear hoofbeats came from the direction of the stables.

After yawning, Tanaka ambled toward the stands.

"You're remarkably energetic, Sato."

He greeted the solitary figure in the stands.

"It can't be helped. Besides, at my age, sleep only becomes more and more unbearable."

At sixty-three, Sato still looked robust, and his white hair was neatly combed.

Fifty-three-year-old Tanaka offered a few words of sympathetic agreement.

Then the two trainers sat side by side.

In their view, the horses began to draw nearer.

Horses preparing for upcoming races adjusted their condition here, while those that had just raced came here to ease their fatigue and recover their strength.

Besides riders, trainers occasionally appeared on horseback as well.

Some trainers were accustomed to gauging a horse's condition through firsthand experience.

Tanaka, who had not come from a riding background, preferred conclusions drawn from what he observed with his own eyes.

The two trainers each immersed themselves in their work.

"Her stride looks a little fatigued. It might be better to let her rest for a while longer."

Tanaka faithfully recorded his evaluation of the horse's condition.

Afterward, this assessment would be passed on to the owner along with suggestions for future races.

As for the owner's own decision—

That was beyond his control.

After training ended, Ochiai led the horse over to the edge of the stands.

"She's not in good condition."

He stated his opinion concisely.

"It can't be helped."

Closing his notebook, Tanaka slowly spoke as he looked at the chestnut mare before him.

Although she had shown promise for a time when she first debuted, her physical development had begun falling behind after she turned three.

After finally completing nearly nine months of rest, she had struggled badly on a heavy track in her first race back.

The owner's already dwindling patience had vanished completely.

Even without asking around, Tanaka knew where horses like this were most likely headed.

For them, the only road left was to keep running.

Ochiai's grip on the reins tightened slightly, but soon relaxed again.

He patted his companion's head.

Ever since he was very young, he had loved horses—creatures as beautiful as spirits.

That was why he hated horse racing.

And why he hated himself for being a rider.

It was the first time that the owner, trainer, rider, and ranch representative had all gathered to discuss Mejiro Tenma since her debut.

The meeting was held at an izakaya in town called "Hidaka."

The topic of discussion was Mejiro Tenma's projected next start.

Before it began, Kitano ordered a Genghis Khan barbecue set for four.

Everyone sat casually, as though they were about to discuss something as lighthearted as the weather or baseball.

The sea urchin side dish disappeared in just a few bites.

As the discussion began, Trainer Tanaka was the first to explain the proposed target race.

The seventh race at Monbetsu Racecourse on July 16, a two-year-old-only race called the Makayama Special.

The course was 1,200 meters on Monbetsu Racecourse's outer track, with a fixed first-place prize of 500,000 yen.

Kitano voiced his concerns about the distance, which was 200 meters longer than her debut race.

"1,200 meters... isn't that a little too long?"

Putting down the race card, Kitano asked uncertainly.

"It'll be fine. Even with the extra 200 meters, it won't be a problem for Pegasus."

Ogawa Joe answered Kitano's concern.

"Besides, by next month, her body should have developed further."

Mejiro Tenma's appetite had recently begun increasing gradually, and naturally, her weight had changed as well.

As her trainer, Tanaka offered his suggestion.

"For a two-year-old, it's very important to determine her distance range as soon as possible."

Of course, that was a luxury reserved for an "excellent student" who had escaped the maiden ranks early.

"One thousand meters, twelve hundred, fifteen hundred, seventeen hundred. Testing her range in that order can't go wrong."

Ogawa Joe nodded, then continued, "Given Pegasus's fighting spirit, she can at least handle races within the 1,200-meter range."

"She'll be fine."

Ochiai spoke up then as well.

Mejiro Tenma was a racehorse with principles of her own.

During races and training, she acted first according to the conclusions she reached herself rather than obediently accepting instructions.

When acting on her own produced a positive result, she often looked pleased with herself; when the result was unfavorable, she would pick herself up after a brief slump and make another attempt.

Rather than the overly simple and somewhat vague assessment of "fighting spirit," "strong personality" probably better summed up Mejiro Tenma's traits.

Having noticed this, Ochiai supported his mentor Tanaka's decision.

"Then I don't have any objections."

With his concerns gone, Kitano readily approved the proposed entry.

"Then let's all work together with next month's race as our goal!"

Tanaka was the first to raise his beer glass.

"Please take care of us!"

Kitano hurriedly stood and bowed.

After a fleeting chill, a faintly bitter, citrus-peel-like fragrance spread across his mouth.

"Thanks for the effort, President."

Tanaka said it jokingly.

Ogawa Joe and Ochiai raised their glasses as well.

People at the next table glanced over briefly, then quickly looked away.

It was probably another gathering of some unknown small company.

After the beer came salted Genghis Khan lamb.

As the lamb hit the charcoal fire, it soon began to sizzle.

After being turned at the right moment, the rapidly changing meat released an appetite-stirring aroma.

"Let's eat!"

All four reached out with their chopsticks.

It was not an especially complex flavor.

But grilled meat itself was simply the kind of food that easily brought happiness.

The tender, delicate texture alone, along with the juices bursting between their teeth as they chewed, made it impossible to stop.

Draining the final beer in one gulp, Kitano was the first to rise.

As he slowly walked home, he undid the second button of his collar.

The remaining snow beneath the rows of cherry trees should have melted long ago, yet a faint crispness still lingered on his tongue, as though he were holding half a thin sheet of ice that would never melt.

What would July be like when it came?

He found himself quietly looking forward to it.