Slacking Professionally at Tracen [24]

Though he was a notorious slacker who took every opportunity to laze around, Kitahara Sota never compromised when it came to serious business.

Seeing him suddenly spring into action, everyone was startled. Even Eclipse gave him a second glance, and Tokai Teio stared at him, expression oddly surprised and disbelieving.

By contrast, Special Week and Oguri Cap quickly adjusted. After all, both had trained under Kitahara previously. While they might not be familiar with his infamous exploits, they certainly knew his capabilities as a trainer. They quickly shifted into a serious mindset.

Special Week was the first to be tested. After a mid-distance run, Kitahara measured her reflexes, strength, and flexibility through a set of exercises he’d previously assigned.

Normally, after these basic tests, they would move on to another training field for further evaluation. But Kitahara remained quiet after noting down the data, showing no intention of moving. Instead, he frowned deeply.

“Special Week.”

“Y-yes?” Kitahara’s serious tone made Special Week anxious, a sense of unease rising in her chest.

And sure enough, her worries soon came true.

“You didn’t follow the training plan I set for you, did you?” He lifted his head, calmly fixing his gaze on her.

Special Week hesitated for a moment before hurriedly shaking her head. “No, no, I followed it very strictly—”

“I’m not talking about the plan on the training field.” Kitahara’s brows furrowed as he glanced toward her legs. “You’ve been sneaking snacks in your dorm, haven’t you?”

Uma Musume were like professional athletes—training on the field was just one part; careful management of their diets was equally crucial. Aside from devising their training routines, Kitahara had clearly laid out dietary restrictions, and evidently, Special Week hadn’t adhered to them.

“I…I only ate a tiny bit…” Special Week’s voice grew smaller with every word, her head gradually lowering in shame.

Beside him, Tokai Teio blinked, utterly baffled. Tugging lightly on Kitahara’s sleeve, she asked, “Trainer-san, how could you possibly know that?”

It wasn’t just Tokai Teio—even Eclipse was puzzled, and Oguri Cap tilted her head in confusion. All three simultaneously fixed questioning gazes on him.

“It’s simple, really.” Kitahara closed his pen, then pointed its tip toward Special Week’s thighs, waist, and upper arms. “If you’d strictly followed my program, these areas would’ve slimmed down slightly, becoming more toned. Instead, they’ve become a bit rounder. Your weight has probably gone up, hasn’t it?”

Hearing this, everyone turned to scrutinize Special Week again. But no matter how they looked, they couldn’t spot any difference. And besides, Special Week had only trained under the new plan for a few days—there shouldn’t have been any visible change yet. Had Special Week not admitted it herself, Tokai Teio would’ve assumed Kitahara was bluffing.

Even legendary trainers had to physically touch their charges to estimate their condition, with more detailed assessments requiring extensive testing. Yet Kitahara had just glanced at Special Week, hardly examining her closely, and still reached such a precise conclusion. It defied common sense.

Blushing furiously, Special Week nodded timidly. “Umm…I’m sorry, Sato-san. I promise it won’t happen again…”

“No need for that.”

“Eh?!” She raised her head in panic. “Please don’t be angry, Sato-san. I realize I was wrong…”

“I’m not angry,” Kitahara interrupted gently. “Don’t misunderstand. I mean that we can change your training schedule. If you find yourself snacking at night, I’ll design a more flexible program that consumes those extra calories effectively. It might even yield better results—but only if you follow it strictly.”

He lightly tapped Special Week’s forehead with his pen cap, sighing softly. “Next time, just tell me beforehand if you feel the plan isn’t working, or if anything’s uncomfortable. A training schedule has to be tailored to your actual condition. Never hide these things from me.”

“Yes, I understand.” Special Week bowed her head sheepishly.

But Kitahara wasn’t finished yet. Glancing down at the numbers scribbled in his notebook, he continued:

“Also, your current running style—I mean your basic running form, not race strategy—has some flaws. It’s passable, but not optimal. Today’s Friday; by Monday, I’ll have three new running styles for you: one for training, one for relaxation, and one specifically for races. They might be a bit challenging to learn, so prepare yourself mentally.”

“…Understood.” Special Week’s face clouded slightly, nodding slowly. She didn’t notice anything odd about Kitahara’s words.

Tokai Teio, however, stood frozen.

Special Week and Oguri Cap were from small towns and hadn’t debuted yet, so they didn’t notice anything odd, but Teio was different. She’d learned many trainer-related things herself, planning to win the Triple Crown on her own, so she knew exactly how difficult it was to design a new running form.

Running was natural to Uma Musume. Unless completely oblivious, any girl would naturally adopt a style best suited for her over years of running. While imperfect, their chosen style would inherently suit them.

Changing such an ingrained style demanded extensive knowledge and deep familiarity with the Uma Musume’s physique. Even seasoned trainers struggled with such tasks, let alone a rookie.

And it wasn’t just difficulty; time was also an issue. Accumulating the required knowledge and thoroughly understanding the Uma Musume’s body took considerable time. Most trainers spent weeks initially observing their charges before fine-tuning their programs, continually revising based on gathered data.

Only after thorough understanding—usually after at least a year—would a trainer attempt something like changing running form. Even then, such adjustments required meticulous planning and tests. Poor execution might even degrade performance.

There were, of course, standard textbook methods that trainers commonly adopted because they were safe, proven, and easy to teach—allowing more time to work on other areas.

But Kitahara’s mention of designing “three” entirely new running styles, each with its own specific purpose, sounded absurd.

Tokai Teio seriously suspected this unreliable trainer had completely lost his mind. To protect her teammates from his potential madness, she felt compelled to question his decision—this was too outrageous.

“Trainer-san, when you talk about changing her running form… you mean textbook forms, right?” Tokai Teio cautiously inquired.

“Of course not. Not just adjustments—completely new designs,” Kitahara clarified, looking puzzled. “You’ve studied trainer manuals yourself, haven’t you? You should know the difference.”

Exactly—I know! That’s why I think you’re losing your mind!

Teio’s lips twitched slightly. Still, she politely pointed out, “But isn’t there too little time for something like that…”

“You’re questioning my abilities?” Kitahara calmly exposed her doubts without a hint of embarrassment. “Fair enough. People have doubted me before, since I admittedly don’t look like a reliable trainer. But thankfully, we have an example here.”

Under Teio’s skeptical gaze, Kitahara turned toward Oguri Cap.

“Oguri, you still practice ‘that’ running style I designed for you, right?”

Quickly understanding his meaning, Oguri nodded.

“Do you want me to demonstrate it here?”

“Only if you’ve practiced regularly. If not, it might be risky.”

“It’s fine. I still practice regularly, just rarely show it.”

Under Tokai Teio’s watchful eyes, Oguri Cap stepped onto the track, adopting a peculiar starting stance—unusually low, even lower than textbook recommendations.

A second later, Teio understood exactly why her posture was so extreme.

Bang!

With a muffled burst of energy, Oguri shot forward like an arrow. Her form was astonishingly low, as though gliding just above the ground. Her speed was significantly faster than usual, yet paradoxically her footprints were lighter, indicating reduced energy expenditure.

Teio blinked in astonishment, shock gradually surfacing on her face. “This…this is…”

“It’s a competition running form I designed for her years ago,” Kitahara explained casually. “It’s faster but puts more strain on her bones and muscles. She can use it occasionally, but practicing it too frequently is dangerous. It’s understandable that you didn’t know.”

Watching Oguri carefully, Kitahara began scribbling notes, sighing softly as he wrote. “But that was years ago. Looking at it now, I was still too inexperienced then. This style has plenty of room for improvement, especially now that she’s grown and fully matured. It’s going to take a lot of adjustments. Ugh, sounds like such a hassle…”

Teio fell silent for a moment before finally speaking, her voice distant. “How long did it take you to design this running style for her?”

“You mean just the pure design work, or the entire process including data gathering and testing?”

“All of it.”

“Well, let me think…” Kitahara rested his chin in thought. “Since I was also treating her body at the time, most of our days were spent resting or doing rehabilitation exercises, but I’d say overall it took three days at most.”

“Then, how long was just the pure design work?” Teio pressed further.

Kitahara tilted his head slightly, recalling carefully before answering calmly.

“I don’t remember precisely. All I know is, I started designing it right when she began her afternoon nap after lunch, and finished just before she woke up—so…probably no more than two hours.”

—

This is a fan translation of 人在特雷森，专职摆烂 by 多功能复读机 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!