Chapter 12: Graded Stakes Are Juicy
It’s been about two weeks since I returned from the training center.
A ranch is a busy place.
And I don’t mean that as an exaggeration.
The mornings are early, the afternoons are full of work, and even in the evening there isn’t a clean stopping point.
Horses don’t live by the clock.
If they’re hungry, they neigh.
If they’re itchy, they rub their rear ends against the fence.
If they’re sleepy, they sleep.
If something annoys them, they kick or bite.
In other words, someone is always complaining about something.
“Saku! He drank my water!”
“Liar! I didn’t drink it! I just sniffed it!”
“Sniffing it is already too close!”
“Saku! They’re being too loud!”
“Saku! I’m hungry!”
“You just ate!”
At my shout from the middle of the pasture, the foals all looked at me with blank, innocent expressions.
You guys think making that face will get you out of trouble, don’t you?
To be fair, it kind of does.
“…haa.”
I leaned against the fence, sighing.
The sky was high, the wind slightly chilly. It’s autumn in Hokkaido.
At one end of the pasture stood a horse who somehow managed to look unnecessarily important all by himself.
Mr. Crown.
“Hmph.”
What’s with the hmph?
Bathed in sunlight, he snorted and looked my way from a strangely dramatic angle.
“Saku. What do you think of me right now?”
“Crown, why are you standing like you’re posing for a magazine cover?”
“Because I’m a champion.”
“You haven’t even raced yet.”
“In spirit.”
“That’s a very convenient argument.”
Since he was the one colt we kept, I admittedly had a bit of a soft spot for him.
He’s cheeky, talks too much, overly confident, and surprisingly lonely.
If he were human, he’d be the overwhelming type. But since he’s a horse, somehow it’s fine.
As I was thinking that, the landline inside the main house started ringing.
A loud, old-fashioned ring that felt completely out of place.
I could see Grandpa moving straw in the back of the stable, but he showed no sign of answering it.
I guess that means I’ll have to.
“I’ll go answer the phone.”
“Ordering apples?”
“Probably not.”
I set down the hay, returned to the house, and picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Sakurai Farm.”
“Ah, Saku-kun? It’s Okabe.”
“Ah, Mr. Okabe. Hello.”
His voice was as gentle as ever.
For some reason, hearing him always made me feel a little calmer too.
“Sorry for calling out of the blue.”
“It’s fine. Probably.”
I said probably because I could still hear shouts from the pasture.
“Saku! Something’s flying!”
Coming from outside.
“It’s about Stone. We’ve decided on the race.”
“Ah, okay.”
“Yes. The Turquoise Stakes in December. Nakayama, 1600 meters turf.”
“Ah… a G3.”
At least I’d studied enough to know that much.
“Right. It’s restricted to fillies and mares, and I think it’s the least demanding option for Stone right now.”
I see.
Mares only.
And 1600 meters.
“We’ll run her once in October. If the performance isn’t bad, she’ll go straight to the Turquoise Stakes and retire afterward. That’s what I’m thinking.”
“I see…”
It’s realistic.
It’s very realistic.
If this were a game, I think I’d just decide to “take every G1 race I can get my hands on!”, but in reality, it seems you have to take a step back.
“Stone’s working hard.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes. Ultimately the decision is yours and your grandfather’s, but that’s my recommendation.”
“I understand. Let’s go with that plan.”
“Thank you. I’ll contact you again with more details about the schedule.”
“Yes, please do.”
“Talk to you later.”
The call ended.
As I returned the receiver, I exhaled softly.
“The Turquoise Stakes, huh…”
A G3 race.
At Nakayama.
It somehow sounded properly prestigious.
Not that there were probably any improperly prestigious graded races.
◇
“Anyway.”
I stood in front of the stalls.
“I got a call from Mr. Okabe.”
“Oh.”
“Oooh.”
“Phone!”
“Okabe?”
“Is Okabe food?”
Was that last one actually hungry? I just fed you breakfast already.
“Stone’s next race plan has mostly been decided.”
“Stone?”
“What’s a Stone?”
“Can you eat it?”
“A rock?”
“the hard thing?”
The foals didn’t really know Stone, did they?
“It’s a stone, but not that kind of stone.”
“Which is it?”
“I don’t get it!”
“Saku’s saying complicated things again!”
Keep quiet.
Then, despite not being related to StoneBreak at all, Crown puffed out his chest.
“Big Sis Stone is definitely going to win!!”
“Maybe.”
The vague answer earned me an annoyed look.
“Say she’s gonna win!”
“It’s a graded race. It’s a big deal.”
“You’ve got no dreams!”
At that, all the foals tilted their heads simultaneously.
So cute, hey
“Who’s Stone?”
“What’s a graded stake?”
“It sounds tasty!”
“Juicy!”
“Steak!”
“Saku! Give us some graded stake!!”
You’re herbivores. Steak has nothing to do with you.
“Where are you guys even learning these words?”
I couldn’t help blurting out the question.
My involuntary retort was met with a calm response from the broodmares from the next stall.
“You know that gourmet food special on TV the other day?”
“You watched it?”
“I did.”
“You? A horse?”
“Horses watch TV too. We get bored.”
You guys were living surprisingly cultured lives.
Another mare joined in.
“And sometimes your grandpa leaves the daytime variety shows on before going outside. That’s where they pick up some weird words.”
“Your educational environment is a disaster.”
“Expecting proper education around here is your first mistake.”
Fair enough.
Meanwhile, the foals were getting increasingly excited.
One of them was chanting:
“Juicy! Juicy!”
While nibbling on another foal’s ear.
These guys seemed capable of turning literally anything into a game.
One of the broodmares lazily called out:
“Hey kid, there’s no point explaining it to foals. They’re in the phase where they think just the way some words sound is funny.”
“That’s a phase?”
“Sure is. Just say something like ‘Turquoise’ and they’ll play around with it for hours.”
“Turquoise!”
“Turquoise!”
“Taco!”
“Iz!”
They really started playing.
“Incredible. You were right.”
“Never underestimate a mother.”
I couldn’t tell whether that was a profound statement or a completely shallow one.
### ◇
That night.
Grandpa and I were eating dinner.
“So, are you going to go watch it?”
The old man said, sipping his miso soup.
“In December?”
“Yeah.”
“Not sure.”
I wanted to.
But arranging for someone to cover the ranch wasn’t simple, and travel expenses weren’t cheap either.
“It depends on whether you want to see it or not.”
That was all Grandpa said before returning to his grilled fish.
“Of course I’d like to see it, but…”
“Then go.”
He broke apart another piece of fish.
“She’s the star attraction of this ranch.”
The poster girl.
I suppose she was.
Though she didn’t really feel much like one.
“But anyway.”
Grandpa set down his teacup.
“If she wins, we’ll be having sushi.”
“Nah. Let’s make it steak.”
“That’s unusual.”
Grandpa glanced at me.
Well, after hearing steak shouted about a hundred times today, it just felt right.
“Once in a while, you know.”
“Well, fine.”
At this ranch, if one of our horses won, we’d probably celebrate with good food.
And if they lost, we’d probably eat something anyway.
Maybe that was enough.