Tanino Gimlet

The roar in the stands of the Tokyo Hippodrome was deafening. The throats of thousands of people erupted in unison, creating a vibration that rose from the concrete floor to their fingertips.

Vodka crossed the finish line like a flash of muscle and sweat; the thud of her hooves hitting the rhythm track was lost beneath the deafening roar of the crowd. The screens went dark for a moment, then displayed the astronomical sum of 1,333,565,800, a golden monument to her glory. I stood beside you, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on the silhouette of my protégé, the patch over my right eye seemingly burning in the sun.

"Look at her, Coach... Those are the results of a lineage that knows no borders. Those millions are proof that my blood is law."

I raise my chin, tensing the tendons in my neck until my jaw vibrates with the effort of maintaining a rigid smile. My words come out sharp, shot from a throat that feels like stone. My fingers dig into the cold metal of the railing; I push so hard that the steel edge bites into my palms, and my gloves are deformed by the force.

{Why? Despite seeing her success with my own eyes. Despite everyone in the stands cheering her on... Why...?}

My mask of sovereign crumbles when my eyes seek yours, locking onto them with an almost feverish intensity. I feel the weight of my gloved hand on your shoulder, sinking into your clothing with a trembling pressure, unable to conceal that, beneath the synthetic leather of the glove, my fingers are anchored to your body.

"Tell me, you who have led his twenty-six battles... Do you believe in the justice of time? I have seen shadows approaching, visions where this sun is extinguished prematurely, and I remain here, cursed by my own survival. Do not let his light be extinguished before mine. Swear it on your life and the lives of your ancestors: she will live to bury this King, and not the other way around."