Before the Start

On the night of the 22nd, Kitano suffered from insomnia for the first time in a long while.

The last time he had been this nervous was the day he received his veterinary license.

Ever since he had learned the results of the gate draw from Teacher Tanaka a few days earlier, his thoughts had begun to spread wildly like weeds.

Closing his eyes, Kitano repeatedly reminded himself, If I keep staying up late, my hairline will end up even higher than those guys from the medical department.

The bedroom quickly returned to silence.

Ten minutes later, Kitano opened his eyes again.

Although he knew that, under such circumstances, pouring himself a glass of warm water, taking a sleeping pill, and going back to sleep would undoubtedly have been the wisest choice, he still picked up the phone tucked beneath his pillow.

The glow from the screen made Kitano squint instinctively.

To protect his eyes, he turned on the bedside lamp.

Playing on his phone while lying down was bad too.

Then he should sit up.

With that, what little drowsiness he had left vanished completely.

A sudden urge to say something rose within him.

He opened the app called "X."

An update notification popped up.

While the app updated, Kitano struggled to think of what to post.

He was not the sort of person who casually displayed his life on social media.

Nor was his writing particularly impressive.

He could not, like other owners, naturally type out a lengthy post about his outlook or expectations before a race.

Even as the screen gradually dimmed, Kitano had no idea what to write.

"How do you become a qualified racehorse owner?"

In the end, he wrote down his question.

As a first-time owner in his first run, he truly craved an answer.

He tapped post.

Despite it being the middle of the night, the post quickly received likes.

Besides his university mentor and former classmates, quite a few people in the livestock industry and those associated with veterinary associations followed his account.

Occasionally, he answered medical questions about livestock on X.

It seemed that he had accumulated a certain number of followers among breeders and veterinary students because of that.

However, Kitano had no intention of using it to expand his reputation. Even his profile remained blank, just as it had been when he first registered.

Other than those casually tapped likes, the post itself soon fell silent.

The scattered replies were merely words of either envy or flattery from younger students who were also still awake, directed toward their senior.

Kitano suddenly felt sleepy.

Just as he was about to lie back down, a notification popped up that he had received a reply.

It was a somewhat lengthy post.

[@seiun0005: Speaking purely of being an owner, isn't having money enough? (lol) But if you want to go further and become what people call a "qualified owner," I'm afraid it starts getting difficult. You have to seriously consider not only the horses themselves, but also the farms, jockeys, trainers, stable staff, farriers, and even the fans. Just figuring out how to deal with all those people with different demands is enough to rack your brain.]

Judging by the profile picture, he was clearly an elderly gentleman.

It's impressive that you can stay up that late.

"Then how should one behave like a qualified owner on race day?"

With a sincere desire to learn, Kitano continued his question beneath the post.

A reply came quickly.

[@seiun0005: When my father was still alive, he often taught me that one must hold respect for racing itself. If you have no clear idea what to do, why not try facing it with the most earnest attitude you can?]

After thanking the old gentleman, Kitano lay back down.

"An earnest attitude..."

It was 4:53 the next morning.

Before his alarm could make a sound, Ochiai opened his eyes.

Local jockeys generally did not need to worry, like their Central counterparts, about oversleeping and missing a race.

Still, on race days, he always set his alarm for five in the morning.

Then woke before it.

Standing before the mirror with toothpaste squeezed onto his brush, his brain, which had only just begun functioning again, immediately started considering today's races.

The first race was a mixed two-year-old maiden race beginning at 2:35 in the afternoon. His mount was the somewhat lazy type.

The distance was exactly 1,000 meters. Without an advantageous gate, he might have to go to the whip early and apply an appropriate amount of pressure.

Then came the second race, restricted to two-year-old fillies.

The distance was a slightly longer 1,100 meters, and the gate was number ten on the far outside.

The horse had plenty of fighting spirit, but its ability was not especially outstanding.

After discussing it with trainer Oguni Hiroyuki, they had decided on a somewhat aggressive strategy.

The third race was another two-year-old maiden race, over 1,000 meters, from gate six slightly toward the outside of the middle.

There was nothing much to worry about regarding the horse itself. In fact, judging by its training, it was better prepared than quite a few poorly disciplined three-year-olds.

However, its ability was likewise not particularly outstanding, and its physical development had fallen short of expectations.

With a gate assignment like this, he would have to stay completely alert from the very start.

If the pack closing in from both sides delayed it at the break, a crushing defeat could easily follow.

Fourth race, fifth race, sixth race... Only after going through all nine of today's races did Ochiai's attention return to reality.

The foam in his mouth had diminished to the point of being barely noticeable.

After spitting out what remained, he quickly wiped his face with a towel that was not yet fully damp.

He ate a plain sandwich with half a glass of ice water.

Then he began his morning workout.

During a break, Ochiai scrolled through his phone.

Most of his feed consisted of information related to horse racing.

He casually reposted his idol, jockey Andohara's Derby prediction.

After showering, he changed into a somewhat formal-looking black tracksuit.

Then he put on a black trench coat over it.

Before leaving, he meticulously checked his shoelaces.

This sort of outfit often drew teasing from his colleagues.

Even Central jockeys dressed quite casually before officially starting work.

Quite a few of them even headed out in slippers.

Changing through several sets of clothes was nothing but an unnecessary hassle.

In that respect, local jockeys, who only needed to wear the same racing silks even when riding several races in a row, occasionally drew envy from their Central counterparts.

Picking up his bag, Ochiai left the jockey dormitory.

He got on his bicycle, and the already short distance to the track passed in the blink of an eye.

After changing into his gear and briefly greeting the staff outside the preparation room, Ochiai chose a spot where he would not be easily disturbed and sat down.

Some people chose to ease their pressure or pass the time through conversation, but he was not that type.

When it was time for the race, jockeys in silks of every color rose one after another and began heading toward the parade ring.

Ochiai's yellow-and-black silks were mixed among them.

Amid the commentary and camera shutters, he swung himself onto the horse's back.

Feeling the jostling beneath him, Ochiai pressed his lips tightly together.

The race was about to begin.