The Crown Without a Saddle

An afternoon where only time drifted slowly by.

The gentle sunlight, now slanting across the track, poured down and made the grass before them seem exceptionally bright.

As they watched the petite figure walking toward the winner's ceremony area on the screen, a fresh wave of murmurs quickly broke out among the racing fans.

"That kid really wore herself out—"

"So this is what a Central winner's ceremony looks like."

"A winner's ceremony like this... it's my first time seeing one..."

After negotiations between the stable and the racecourse, they decided on a winner's ceremony with neither the winner's saddlecloth changed nor a victory banner draped over her.

The red-and-white winner's ropes were held up on either side by stable hand Okisawa and Majima.

The moment Atalanta stepped onto the grass, the long-lasting applause rose once again.

Sasagawa, who had jogged over, bowed and shook hands with the few connections one by one. But when it came to Mr. Murata, the representative from the breeding farm looked somewhat stiff.

The trainer and jockey embraced at last, tears they had held back since the race ended finally spilling down their faces.

He folded and unfolded the number cloth Sasagawa had handed him, then greeted the approaching chestnut mare with a slightly nervous gaze.

Foam faintly whitened Atalanta's lips. She still seemed frightened by the scene before her, and after stopping on the grass, she anxiously rubbed her head against the shoulder of the jockey beside her.

Taking one end of the winner's rope, Sasagawa naturally stroked the chestnut mare's head. Majima, standing on the other side, wiped away his tears and raised his arm as well.

Atalanta, having her head patted by both her jockey and trainer, narrowed her eyes like a kitten.

As he handed the number cloth back to