Derby Dancer by Thom Stone
Heiwa. Heiwa. Ima doko ni itteiru?
The rain brings rise to that distinct smell of horseshit, wafting up from the barren derby tracks near Minami-Funabashi Station.
Standing on the platform, a man checks his watch.
He wears no ring on his ring finger and he grasps some unperceivable object, tightly.
Blood begins to trickle out from the crevices of his clenched fist as each drop further dyes the rain puddle beside his feet a rosy pink, but he doesn’t cry or show any indication of pain.
Instead his eyes, murky and seasonable as a fishing pond, dart both ways down the track.
In an effort to settle his heightened nerves, he takes a deep breath in through his nostrils, savoring that smell that no one save an equestrian can stand.
He recalls a scene from growing up in rural Kyushu, riding English style against the summer wind, whipping his horse ahead of his less determined schoolmates.
He had always held a distaste for them, a deep-set repugnance for their passive-aggressive politeness, their blind conformity, their calm, complacent uniformity.
He never wanted to complain about the rain with them, or compare grades, he just wanted to be alone with his horse, Heiwa.
His family didn’t matter, nor did they ever matter to him.
He always was a quiet child, with quiet pleasures and quiet frustrations.
Nande, koitsu ga shizuka da kanaa?
He simply didn’t have loud happenings to report to them, nor would he care to even if he did.
Whatever he wanted to say, he relayed to his horse in careful whispers, as if he feared someone eavesdropping.
Everyday, after suffering through all the jeers and jibes on behalf of his peculiar character, he would come home and ride his horse as his only solace.
His parents wanted to love him and comfort him, but they simply didn’t know how.
They were decent middle-class people, but when their pursuit of wealth led them to move to Tokyo, they became more and more close-minded, confounded by others who were not bold thinkers and doers like themselves.
To them, his feelings seemed indeterminable, his mind all but unreachable.
He cared for Heiwa like a lover, tenderly fingering through his mane and spoiling him with compliments every night before he left him in the stable.
As an adult, he became an adept rider and Heiwa too developed great endurance and speed, enough so to enter the Tokyo derby races.
Itsumo boku no koto ga ichiban hoshii da.
He had bet on the derby matches with what money his parents had lent him since he moved to Funabashi back in high school, desperately in search of a job that would satisfy his father for the time being—he never found one.
Since he almost always won his wagers, betting on jockeys had proven quite a lucrative business for him but now that he was to be on the other side of the derby tracks, he began to worry that he might finally lose, going all in on a bet toward his own success.
But when his training began, his worries vanished and he began to relish in the simple, intoxicating thrill of the race, sailing over hurdles and beating clocks with Heiwa as his vessel.
When it came time for the first race of the season, they were more than ready.
Storm clouds had rolled into the Chiba Prefecture a day early, denying the NHK morning report’s certainty of sunshine.
Rumors of an approaching typhoon began circling about the derby tracks, spooking some of the younger riders into second-guessing.
The horses raised their heads and whinnied like sirens approaching death.
He was summoned along with the other riders to a necessary meeting, discussing the likelihood of the typhoon’s approach that afternoon.
Taifuu ga kitteiru no ni, shinpaishi nakucha ikenai da yo.
