One Last Resort

In mid-April, I headed to Tokyo Metropolis, choosing to land at Narita Airport, which I had rarely used before.

Before leaving Japan, there was still the matter of discussing Atalanta's next-race plans with Trainer Majima.

I rode one long escalator after another, inching forward amid a bloated crowd packed shoulder to shoulder.

This time, I had traveled as light as possible, so I was spared the rare hassle of collecting checked baggage.

The train pulled out of the airport station.

Since it was already late afternoon, there were slightly more passengers aboard than expected.

However, after transferring at Narita Station to the branch line headed for Kobayashi, the carriage became much emptier.

With around twenty minutes left before arrival, I took the opportunity to consider her possible next races in advance.

According to the information Trainer Majima had sent beforehand, there were theoretically three possible next-race options in the first half of the year.

In early June, the Grade 2 Meguro Memorial over 2,500 meters on Tokyo turf.

In mid-June, the Grand Prix Takarazuka Kinen over 2,200 meters on Hanshin turf.

And—

The Spring Emperor's Prize over 3,200 meters on Kyoto turf.

From an owner's perspective, none of the three races were ideal choices.

The Meguro Memorial had a suitable travel burden and race distance, with relatively lower competition, but it was held at Fuchu, whose long straight was unfavorable for a front-runner.

As for the Takarazuka Kinen, even if leaving early could offset some of the effects of traveling from Kanto to Kansai, earning a result in such a high-level field would not be easy.

And then there was the Spring Emperor's Prize.

Even setting aside the distance being beyond Atalanta's range, it was a race she had almost no chance of winning.

Why were people in this era