Chapter 41: After the Satsuki Sho

Having run the full 2000 meters on the turf at Nakayama, I gradually slowed down and veered outward from the course. My speed dwindled until I dropped to my knees on the grass.

"Ugh… haah—haah—"

Seeing Seiun Sky sprawled awkwardly on the track as well, I recalled the final moment before the finish line.

—I lost. She overtook me. It wasn’t even a nose difference—just a few centimeters in that battle… but I knew. I was certain of my own defeat.

But it wasn’t official yet. Only when the words "Official Result" flashed on the tote board would our Satsuki Sho truly be over.

I forced myself up and approached Seiun Sky, who had flopped onto her back on the grass. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and she didn’t even seem to notice me getting closer. I reached out to her. Bathed in my shadow, she cracked her eyes open slightly and gave me a weak, wobbly smile.

"Apollo-chan… you stamina monster…"

"You’re the one who raced like a madwoman. C’mon, can you stand?"

"Ahaha… Sei-chan’s knees are laughing too hard… can’t get up…"

Exhausted in both body and spirit, Seiun Sky didn’t even seem capable of lifting her hand toward mine. With no other choice, I shoved my hands under her arms and forced her upright. Limp as a ragdoll, she barely managed to stay standing once I slung her arm over my shoulder.

King Halo, who had charged into third place, and Special Week, who took fourth, rushed over to help support Seiun Sky. Together, we made our way back to the homestretch, where we stared up at the frozen tote board—still displaying "Photo Finish Under Review."

Several minutes had passed since the race ended, yet there was no sign of a decision. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder with each passing second. Finally, five minutes after the race’s conclusion—the tote board lit up.

—1st place: Seiun Sky. A nose difference behind in 2nd: Apollo Rainbow.

"After an extensive review, the results of the Satsuki Sho have been decided!! In 1st place, Seiun Sky by a mere 9 centimeters!! Just barely behind in 2nd, Apollo Rainbow!! And in 3rd, King Halo!!"

A roar of cheers erupted around us. Seiun Sky’s face brightened as she leaned on my shoulder. Meanwhile, I—

—The faint hope I’d clung to shattered. All I could do was bite my lip.

"…Congrats, Sei-chan."

My strained voice trembled, barely audible. The reality of defeat crashed down on me, burning behind my eyes. Seiun Sky, despite her exhaustion, savored her joy and whispered words of gratitude to me.

"Apollo-chan… thank you…"

The moment I heard that, I could no longer hold back the tears spilling from my eyes. I wanted to celebrate my friend’s victory—but I couldn’t even force a smile. Frustration and misery tangled together, and I sobbed as I wiped my tears with my wrist.

"…S-Sorry, I just… I’m so frustrated…"

Seiun Sky, the winner, tried to console me—but her words didn’t reach me. The harder I fought the tears, the more they flooded out. Sobs tore from my throat as I broke down in front of the entire crowd. My face was a mess, my makeup surely ruined.

Through my blurred vision, I saw Special Week and King Halo watching me with pained expressions. What kind of face was Seiun Sky making at me? …God, I’m the worst. Everyone must feel this frustration, yet here I am, making even the winner worry about me.

When Seiun Sky was called to the winner’s circle, I bolted straight for the waiting room. Had my trainer, who’d been near the finish line, seen me? I didn’t know—but I couldn’t bear him seeing me like this.

The waiting room was empty when I returned. Perfect. I needed to dry these tears and become the usual Apollo Rainbow again.

Standing in front of the mirror in the dim room, I tried to force a passable smile—but it refused to come. My face only twisted tighter, unable to hide the despair. Trembling hands pressed at my cheeks, but tears kept spilling from my eyes.

What should I have done? Tomio believed in me. I believed in Tomio. My body and mind were at their peak. I’d challenged the Satsuki Sho in the best condition of my life—even if I did have the disadvantage of the outermost gate. But in the end, losing was losing. The first leg of the Classics ended in defeat—2nd place. A gap of mere centimeters, haunting me no matter how much I regretted it.

"…Ugh… d-dammit… hic… uu…"

…During the race, I should have been able to enter the "Zone." My failure to awaken was one of the reasons I lost—the "Zone" alone could have decided this battle.

Had I not met the conditions? Was it positioning or—? I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter now. The Satsuki Sho was over.

The more I dwelled on it, the more my mistakes became clear. Letting Seiun Sky take the lead and having my hesitation exploited. Holding back at the final corner out of fear of the "Zone." If I’d pushed just a little harder in the homestretch, I could’ve won. Every memory sapped the strength from my body. Why? Why couldn’t I—? The questions looped until my mind ran dry.

Slumping onto the floor where Tomio and I had strategized, I cried all over again. And as if luck had truly abandoned me—that was the moment Tomio walked in.

"Apollo—"

I heard his jacket hit the floor. He rushed to me, asking, "You’re not hurt, are you?" All I could do was shake my head while wiping my tears. Relieved, he took my hands and squeezed them tightly between his. His palms were warm—but trembling.

"…The Satsuki Sho… you were so close."

"……"

"It was my strategy that failed. You ran an incredible race… but I didn’t prepare enough for Seiun Sky. More than anything, I never predicted what would happen when Green Belt and Seiun Sky tangled… That’s entirely on me. I’m so, so sorry, Apollo."

Tomio’s voice was calm, his expression still—yet he bowed his head to me. I wanted to argue, to say no, but the weight in his demeanor stopped me.

"I underestimated the disadvantage of the outermost gate. I underestimated Green Belt and Seiun Sky. You gave everything to my strategy… Please, don’t blame yourself."

His eyes were steady, but beneath them simmered a quiet, terrifying anger. Not directed at me—no, this fury was turned inward.

"I was too naive. I should’ve been more cunning. We should’ve discussed how to handle a duel with Seiun Sky. And that’s not all. I should’ve—I should’ve…"

—We’re the same, I realized. I didn’t believe for a second that he was at fault. And yet, here he was, refusing to place even a speck of blame on me. We were mirror images. The bitterness of defeat still lingered, but the regret for the past suddenly felt lighter. A teary laugh bubbled up in my throat.

"Pfft… We’re just alike, you and me."

"Huh…?"

"This Satsuki Sho—I never thought it was your fault, Tomio. If I’d pushed harder, I could’ve won. But you don’t think it was my fault either. You’re sitting here thinking that if you’d planned better, we’d have won. That’s why… we’re the same."

"…………"

"…So this loss? It’s ours, Trainer. We both had weaknesses. We didn’t tighten every bolt—and that’s why Sei-chan beat us."

Finally, I wiped my tears and stood. The experience of the Satsuki Sho settled into my mind—every success, every failure, all logged as cold, objective data.

—The unbearable humiliation is now fuel for victory. All that’s left is to rise from this defeat… not alone, but with him.

"We lost today… but this razor-thin defeat is gonna make us stronger, Tomio. So let’s stop blaming ourselves and… from now on, move forward as one. True ‘horse and rider’—yeah?"

What are your strengths, Apollo Rainbow? Say it. Bottomless stamina and a will that never breaks. No matter how bitter the loss, no matter how hard reality knocks me down—I can’t give up.

Didn’t I preach this to King Halo before last year’s Hopeful Stakes? "A true champion isn’t defined by wins—it’s defined by never quitting." "Results might not come immediately, so you grit your teeth and work harder. What matters is whether you give up."

My ultimate goal is the Kikuka-shō. I won’t lose sight of it—I’ll turn even this defeat into strength. Apollo Rainbow doesn’t lie—not to her past self, and not to the friends who believe in her.

I clasped Tomio’s hand, and together, in silence, we swore to rise again.

—I’ll never forget the bitterness of this Satsuki Sho.

The day after the Satsuki Sho ended.

Trainer Momozawa Tomio had been tormented by intense regret for days. Needless to say, it was because Apollo Rainbow had lost the Satsuki Sho. Worse still—he understood that most of the reasons for that defeat lay with himself. Unable to sit still, he invited his mentor, Tenkai Hikari (trainer of Mejiro McQueen), to his office.

Trainer Momozawa had reached the limits of his own skills. While he excelled in nurturing talent, the Satsuki Sho defeat had exposed his weakness in practical execution—race strategy.

It was clear he had relied too heavily on his charge, Apollo Rainbow. He had already blamed himself for the Make Debut accident and the Hopeful Stakes loss, but the Satsuki Sho defeat finally convinced him things couldn’t continue like this—leading to this meeting with Tenkai Hikari.

Apollo Rainbow had told him, "Stop blaming yourself," but there were lines he couldn’t cross. After all, Apollo Rainbow had fought relentlessly with her rigorously trained body, enduring countless disadvantages and misfortunes without breaking. He couldn’t shake the thought that she absolutely didn’t deserve blame—he did.

Because Momozawa Tomio’s strategies weren’t perfected to the same extreme degree as Apollo Rainbow’s physique. Contingency plans for worst-case scenarios, analyzing how opponents would mark Apollo, flexible tactical adjustments based on track conditions—the trainer knew none of these were first-class. Their past results had only been possible due to Apollo Rainbow’s growth.

Had he done anything beyond raising her? He resolved that the only time he would "stop blaming himself" was when he himself became first-class.

And the reason Momozawa called Tenkai Hikari to his office was simple—he wanted her to rip into him. To expose every flaw and scold him for it.

When Trainer Tenkai entered, Momozawa cut straight to the point. "Tenkai-san, did you watch the Satsuki Sho?" Playing with her side-swept hair, Tenkai replied curtly, "I did." Their long acquaintance let her instantly recognize the desperation in his eyes and fidgeting—and what he was asking for. That was precisely why she refused to hand him the answers for his own growth.

Tenkai sipped her coffee as she pondered. Listing Momozawa’s shortcomings would take forever: his lack of strategic versatility, his own inexperience, his vulnerability to unforeseen circumstances. Pointing these out in the context of the Satsuki Sho would end this meeting quickly.

But considering his potential, Trainer Tenkai decided to be a little cruel. At the very least, she had no intention of spoon-feeding him specifics like "if you’d done X, you would’ve won."

"If you’d committed to marking Seiun Sky during the Satsuki Sho—Apollo would’ve had a 99% chance of winning."

"Gh—"

The kind young man’s face twisted in pain, his fists tightening on his knees. Tenkai wasn’t being needlessly harsh. Seeing him suffer—someone she’d doted on like a younger brother—felt like knives carving into her. Yet she pressed on without flinching.

"You need to identify your strategic weaknesses yourself. If I were to give one hint… try empathizing with the other horse girls. You care so much about Apollo that you neglect seeing things from their perspectives."

"...Understood."

Though these words were a major clue, even deriving the optimal solution from hints alone would strengthen him. Growth meant mastering one thing he couldn’t do before. It was fine to fail big, or realize his mistakes, so long as he grew step by step.

Tenkai hadn’t elaborated on "the right answer for the Satsuki Sho," but for Momozawa, that one remark was enough.

Momozawa Tomio was a sharp young man. Though still immature in many ways, his passion and earnest spirit hinted at greatness. And this narrow, painful defeat at the Satsuki Sho would become invaluable experience—not just for Apollo Rainbow, but for him. That was her conviction.

Tenkai nibbled a cookie and cast a gentle look at Momozawa.

"Tomio-kun, you became Apollo’s trainer because she reverse-scouted you, right?"

"...Yes, that's right."

"Which means she believed in you from the very first glance, didn’t she?"

"…………"

Momozawa silently nodded in affirmation. His mind replayed the exact words Apollo Rainbow had shouted when they first met in the library—"Please! Make me the strongest stayer there is!" That’s right. She had trusted him from the very beginning. Trainer Momozawa met Tenkai’s gaze, searching for the conclusion to this conversation.

"It’s true Apollo has always believed in me, ever since we met. …But what’s your point?"

"Tomio-kun. You should have more faith in yourself." Tenkai’s voice softened slightly. "You’ve had this bad habit since your assistant trainer days—the moment you hit a wall, you lose confidence.

But you are talented. If my words aren’t enough to make you believe in yourself, then trust the you that she believes in. That’s what true unity between horse and trainer means. Now then, I’ll take my leave."

With that, Trainer Tenkai stood and exited the room. It was a gentle encouragement—a veteran’s gift to her successor.

Alone in the silence left behind, Momozawa interlaced his fingers and sat motionless for a long, long time.