Chapter 9: Before It Begins
On the evening of the 22nd, Kitano experienced a rare bout of insomnia.
The last time he was this nervous was on the day he received his veterinary practice license.
Ever since he learned the results of the gate draw from Tanaka a few days ago, his thoughts had begun to spread like weeds.
Closing his eyes, Kitano repeatedly reminded himself: if he kept staying up late, his hairline would sooner or later become higher than those guys in the medical department.
The bedroom quickly returned to quiet.
Ten minutes later, Kitano opened his eyes again.
Although he knew that pouring a glass of warm water, taking a sleeping pill, and going back to sleep was undoubtedly the most rational choice in this situation, he still picked up the phone tucked under his pillow.
The screen's brightness made Kitano instinctively squint his eyes.
To protect his eyes, he turned on the bedside lamp.
Playing on his phone while lying down wasn't good either.
So, he sat up.
At this, his already scarce sleepiness completely vanished.
He suddenly felt an urge to say something.
He opened the app named “X.”
An update prompt popped up.
While the app was updating, Kitano struggled to think of content for a tweet.
He wasn't the type of person to casually display his life on social media.
Nor was his writing particularly noteworthy.
He couldn't, like other Horse Owners, naturally type out a long string of expectations or hopes before a race.
Until the screen slowly dimmed, Kitano had no clue what to write.
“How does one become a qualified Horse Owner?”
Finally, he wrote down his question.
As a first-timer Horse Owner, he truly craved an answer.
He clicked send.
Despite it being late at night, the tweet quickly garnered likes.
Besides his university mentor and alumni, many livestock industry professionals and individuals associated with the Veterinary Association were also following his account.
Occasionally, he would answer some medical questions about livestock on “X.”
It seemed he had accumulated a certain following among farmers and veterinary students because of this.
But Kitano had no intention of using this to expand his fame; even the personal profile section remained blank, just as it was when he first registered.
Aside from the casual likes, the tweet itself quickly fell into silence.
The few scattered replies were merely words of admiration or flattery from junior students who were also staying up late.
Kitano suddenly felt a little sleepy.
Just as he was about to lie back down, a notification popped up in the background, indicating he had received a reply.
It was a somewhat long tweet.
【@seiun0005: From the perspective of a Horse Owner, isn't having money enough? (laughs) But to go further and become a so-called “qualified Horse Owner” probably starts to get difficult. Not only the race itself, but also the situation of the ranch, Jockey, Trainer, stableman, farrier, and even the fans must be seriously considered. Just thinking about how to deal with these individuals with different demands would probably exhaust one's mind.】
From the avatar, it was clearly an elderly gentleman.
How are you still up so late, I wonder?
“So, how does one act like a qualified Horse Owner on race day?”
With an attitude of humble inquiry, Kitano continued to ask in a reply to the tweet.
A reply quickly followed.
【@seiun0005: My father often taught me to have respect for the race itself when he was still alive. If you don't have many ideas, how about trying to approach it with as serious an attitude as possible?】
After thanking the old gentleman, Kitano lay back down.
“A serious attitude, huh…”
The time was 4:53 AM the next day.
Ochiai opened his eyes before his alarm clock started making noise.
Local Jockeys usually didn't need to worry about oversleeping and missing a race, unlike their Central counterparts.
But he still set his alarm for 5:00 AM on race days.
And then woke up even earlier than the alarm.
Standing in front of the mirror, squeezing out toothpaste, his recently re-activated brain immediately started thinking about today's races.
The first race was a two-year-old mixed maiden race starting at 2:35 PM; the horse he was riding was a bit lazy.
The distance was exactly 1000 meters, and without a good gate position, he might have to use the whip early, applying appropriate pressure.
Then came the second race, a two-year-old fillies-only event.
The race distance was a bit longer, 1100 meters, and the gate was the outermost, number ten.
The horse had strong fighting spirit, but its ability wasn't outstanding.
After consulting with Trainer Hiroki Oguni, the decision was to adopt a slightly aggressive strategy.
The third race was also a two-year-old maiden race, 1000 meters, with gate six, which was middle-to-outer.
There was nothing to worry about regarding the horse itself; in fact, its training level even surpassed many neglected three-year-olds.
However, its ability was also not outstanding, and its physical development was not as expected.
With such a gate position, he had to be fully alert from the start.
If he were delayed by the horses squeezing in from both sides during the break, it could very likely lead to a crushing defeat.
After going over the fourth, fifth, and sixth races, ensuring all nine races for the day were reviewed, Ochiai's attention returned to reality.
The foam in his mouth had diminished to an almost imperceptible level.
After spitting out the remaining foam, he quickly wiped his face with a towel that wasn't fully wet.
He ate a plain sandwich with half a glass of ice water.
Then, he began his morning exercise.
During a break, Ochiai scrolled through his phone.
His feed mostly consisted of horse racing-related information.
He casually retweeted his idol Jockey Ando Hara's Derby prediction.
After showering, he changed into a serious-looking black tracksuit.
Then he put on a matching black trench coat.
Before leaving, he meticulously checked his shoelaces.
Such attire often drew teasing from his colleagues.
Even Central Jockeys dressed quite casually before officially starting work.
Many even went out directly in slippers.
Changing between several outfits was just an unnecessary hassle.
From this perspective, even local Jockeys who only needed to wear the same racing silks for several consecutive races sometimes drew envy from their Central colleagues.
Picking up his handbag, Ochiai walked out of the Jockey's dormitory.
He got on his bicycle, and the short distance to the racecourse passed in a flash.
After changing into his gear and briefly greeting the staff in front of the preparation room, Ochiai chose a spot where he wouldn't be easily disturbed and sat down.
While some people chose to reduce stress or pass the time by chatting, he wasn't that type.
When it was time for the race, Jockeys in various colored racing silks successively stood up and began to head towards the parade ring.
Ochiai's yellow and black racing silks were among them.
Amidst the live commentary and camera clicks, he leaped onto the horse's back.
Feeling the jolting beneath him, Ochiai tightly pursed his lips.
The race was about to begin.