"If we can't win the Japan Cup this time, please replace me." Contrary to his resolve, Haruki's voice held none of the dramatic ups and downs of a shonen manga.
Wada, on the other hand, seemed to want to say something but stopped himself, averting his gaze slightly.
Ordinarily, whether for the owner's interests or out of consideration for Haruki's wishes, most people would probably have gone along with it and agreed.
But after giving it some thought, the owner shook his head and refused.
"There's no need to push yourself so hard. Haruki, like Duraran, is still young. It's always good to try more things."
After saying that, Haruki, who had been tense with all his strength, lowered his shoulders as though both relieved and disappointed.
"Thank you... no, I am profoundly grateful for everything the president has done for me."
He let out a heavy breath, then bowed seriously in this direction.
A beat later, Wada bowed as well.
As long as the people and horses remained, their bonds would endure. Having reached this point in his career as an owner, he had gained a different understanding of the motto of Matsumoto, the late chairman and owner who came before him.
The Jockeys who performed on the stage and became known to the public, and the true heart of the sport—the Racehorses themselves.
Like the two wheels of a cart or the two wings of a bird, the two depended on each other. If either side was missing, serious problems would arise.
That was why horse racing really was a lot like Formula racing. Once the discussion ended, neither Wada, who normally rushed to pay the bill, nor Haruki, who had fallen silent as if embarrassed after declaring his resolve, left their seats.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm not late,