The day after the 2,000 Guineas Stakes—if the change of date was determined by whether one had slept, then perhaps it could still be called the same day.
Almost immediately after the victory banquet, he had boarded a flight back to Japan. After more than ten hours in the air, followed by roughly an hour and a half of swaying on the monorail and Keihan Main Line, he finally arrived at Kyoto Racecourse, the site of the Spring Emperor's Prize, before the race began.
He passed through the owners' entrance, wiping away sweat that had trickled down to his chin as he moved through the stifling air.
He had not really noticed it in Hokkaido or the United Kingdom, but the moment he set foot on Honshu, he keenly felt the change of seasons.
The sauna-like season would soon be upon them.
Racing during this period would become especially difficult—after all, horses, like people, were creatures that struggled with the heat.
He glanced at the second-floor stand, where several owners with runners had already taken their seats. After hesitating briefly, he continued downward to the grassy area at the center of the paddock.
He let out a heavy sigh, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He had grown somewhat accustomed to this kind of schedule, but rushing from the United Kingdom back to Japan with scarcely a moment to catch his breath was bound to be exhausting. Before long, though, someone called out, "President Kitano," forcing him to open his eyes again.
Trainer, owners, and even several passing JRA staff members all offered enthusiastic congratulations on yesterday's victory at Newmarket.
Even when he first met up with the stable, Trainer spoke first of yesterday's Guineas rather than the Emperor's Prize looming right before them.
Then again,