Thus, due to Eclipse’s sudden request, what should have been a duo’s outing turned into a group of three.
Agnes Tachyon seemed to be in high spirits, chatting cheerfully with Eclipse along the way.
Eclipse, too, appeared more at ease than usual. Although she didn’t speak much, she consistently replied to Tachyon’s conversation, occasionally even answering some questions.
The only unhappy one was Kitahara Sota, who walked silently at the front, heaving a deep sigh while listening to their cheerful voices behind him. As he contemplated his increasingly gloomy future, he couldn’t help but think bitterly:
What sins did I commit in a past life to deserve this?
As he sighed inwardly, the trio smoothly arrived at their planned destination.
And then, the shopping began.
To avoid attracting unnecessary attention and causing panic, Agnes Tachyon had changed out of her signature lab coat.
Instead, she wore a soft, off-the-shoulder purple sweater paired with sleek black pants, a faint smile curving her lips. Without her usual mad-scientist attire, she practically transformed into a different person, even radiating a subtle charm.
Eclipse, meanwhile, remained dressed as always in black from head to toe—black earmuffs, black stockings, varying shades of black fabric throughout. Despite its simplicity, combined with her delicate face and unique aura, it created a strikingly elegant impression.
Accompanied by Kitahara, who wore a sour expression up front, the group naturally drew the attention of passersby.
Several people even mistook them for famous racing Uma Musume, approaching eagerly for autographs and photos—though, of course, they were politely turned down.
Amidst the commotion, the trio completed their tour through the shopping district, visited a few supermarkets, and ended up with bags filled with their respective items.
Agnes Tachyon carried the least, yet the most expensive. Her black sealed bag emitted a faintly ominous aura, obviously containing items best not examined too closely.
Then again, most of her experiment materials were supplied by Tracen Academy or purchased via intermediaries, so anything she needed to buy personally naturally couldn’t be openly reported to the academy.
Eclipse had gathered a medium-sized bag filled with incense, bathing supplies, tail-care products, and other small items missing from the dorm—combining into quite a hefty pack.
As for Kitahara…
Folders, notebooks, clipboards, pen refills, and a variety of miscellaneous items—mostly supplies needed for his work as a trainer, along with essentials missing from his dorm room, and various men’s clothes. Altogether, he carried two large bags, plus a sizable clipboard tucked under his arm.
Eclipse initially tried to help him, but Kitahara refused—he knew the next stop would be the real challenge.
The clothing store.
Specifically, one catering exclusively to Uma Musume.
Because of their unique physical requirements, Uma Musume clothing couldn’t simply be sold alongside regular women’s apparel. Instead, a specialized industry had developed, complete with exclusive brands and stores.
But the store Kitahara led them to wasn’t a trendy brand outlet—in fact, it looked quite shabby compared to the shiny shops lining the main street.
“Um… Guinea pi—I mean, Trainer-san,” Agnes Tachyon began hesitantly, eyeing the rundown storefront skeptically.
“If you’re short on money, I have some extra funds I can lend you. Surely, you’re aware of how important proper clothing is to a racing Uma Musume’s health and performance—”
“Just go in and see,” Kitahara said impatiently, pushing open the door without bothering to explain further.
Contrary to its unimpressive exterior, the inside was astonishingly pleasant, even making Tachyon momentarily stunned.
Warm lighting illuminated neatly arranged displays containing various Uma Musume apparel, each piece clearly crafted with superior quality materials far beyond what standard retail offered.
“You again, brat?” came the gruff voice of an elderly Uma Musume from behind the counter. She lifted her wrinkled face, glaring halfheartedly at Kitahara. “You’ve probably made good money at Tracen by now, haven’t you? Don’t expect any discounts from this old lady today.”
“That’s fine,” Kitahara replied lightly. “Tracen’s cafeteria is free anyway—I can afford to spend every bit of what I earn now.”
He shrugged, adding sincerely, “Besides, you’ve helped me so much over these years, granny. It’s about time I paid it forward.”
“Oh, you flatter me once and suddenly your tail’s all perked up,” she chuckled lightly before continuing seriously, “Whatever. Just remember to save a little—knowing your personality, you probably won’t last long at Tracen before getting kicked out. Don’t come crying poverty to me again when that happens. Now go pick what you want yourself.”
Having said her piece, the elderly Uma Musume returned her attention to the garment in her hands, no longer acknowledging Kitahara.
Once their conversation finished, Tachyon curiously nudged Eclipse, whispering softly:
“Who’s that?”
“A granny who helped us in the past. She originally lived in the countryside, making custom clothing for Uma Musume. Her craftsmanship is exceptional, but since everything is handmade, she can’t produce much. Plus, she dislikes fame, so very few people know about her,” Eclipse explained succinctly before joining Kitahara to select outfits.
Seizing this opportunity, Tachyon wandered the store, examining clothing curiously.
Her fingertips gently brushed across various garments, feeling a craftsmanship utterly distinct from mass-produced brand-name clothing, her eyes widening with genuine astonishment.
She admitted inwardly—she’d underestimated this store.
Who could have imagined that such an outstanding Uma Musume tailor was hidden away in this unassuming place?
Unlike other Uma Musume who focused solely on training, as a scientist, Agnes Tachyon had systematically studied trainer-related topics—including an interesting elective course:
The science of Uma Musume clothing design.
Unlike ordinary women’s clothing, apparel for Uma Musume—especially racers—had stringent practical requirements. Quality and durability were basics, but weight, elasticity, friction performance, and even decorative elements like ribbons had to be carefully considered, sometimes directly influencing race outcomes.
It sounded absurd, especially considering some Uma Musume raced in elaborate gowns, cloaks, or even high heels—utterly unscientific at first glance.
And indeed, it was unscientific.
Tachyon herself had struggled with this paradox, until her research brought her into contact with certain truths:
The Three Goddesses truly existed—or at least their influence was tangible—and the world contained aspects hidden from ordinary understanding.
The existence of Uma Musume, therefore, couldn’t yet be fully explained by current science alone, subtly bordering on mysticism.
Part of Uma Musume clothing theory drew from this very “mystical” foundation, explaining its superficially nonsensical nature. Tachyon’s own bizarre pharmaceutical abilities similarly derived from this obscure base.
Yet, at this moment, that wasn’t her main concern.
Touching the clothes before her, Tachyon’s curiosity burned brighter.
To ordinary Uma Musume, these clothes might merely seem of decent quality. Yet, to an expert like her, each garment was practically a masterpiece.
Science and mysticism weren’t opposites—merely two sides of the same coin. Science was mysticism with explained principles; mysticism was science not yet fully understood, yet directly applicable.
Typically, Uma Musume racing clothing fell into two categories:
One, science-based with slight mystical assistance, resulting in simple and efficient designs.
The other, primarily mystical, slightly adjusted to scientific logic—yielding flamboyant gowns, wedding dresses, even heels.
Yet, these clothes before her achieved an astonishing balance between both extremes, each enhancing the other without conflict.
Truthfully, a designer of this caliber could easily become an esteemed guest at major Uma Musume families, like the Symboli or Mejiro households, serving as a personal tailor to their prized daughters.
Why would someone this skilled remain hidden in such obscurity?
“Because I think clothes are meant for wearing, but certain fools always want to add unnecessary nonsense,” a weathered voice interrupted suddenly, full of disdain.
“I despise outsiders trying to instruct me, especially clueless idiots. Sick of their stupidity, I retreated to the countryside—and eventually met that brat over there.”
Startled, Tachyon raised her head, discovering the elderly Uma Musume had quietly moved to stand beside her.
“Hello, Granny,” Tachyon greeted politely.
“No need,” the old woman waved dismissively. “When you’re old, you babble too much. You have good eyes. Pick something if you like. Also…”
She glanced over Tachyon thoughtfully.
“You’re from Tracen HQ, right? Are you that brat’s current Uma Musume?”
“…Yes.”
“Then let him pick for you. He might be worthless elsewhere, but he’s surprisingly sharp at this—even better than me, the designer herself,” she said bluntly. “No need for embarrassment. Use your resources shamelessly—thin skin is a woman’s worst enemy.”
“Understood,” Tachyon answered easily.
As the infamous mad scientist of Tracen, Agnes Tachyon wasn’t easily embarrassed—after all, modesty wouldn’t have allowed her to create those terrifying potions.
If this clearly extraordinary elder praised Kitahara so highly, Tachyon naturally wanted to test the trainer’s skills for herself.
At this moment, Kitahara and Eclipse returned, greeting the elderly Uma Musume briefly.
“Granny, I’d like to ask you something,” Kitahara began carefully.
She gave him an impatient look. “Spit it out already.”
“Could you design custom race outfits for my team’s Uma Musume?”
The elderly Uma Musume immediately asked, “How many sets?”
Kitahara paused to consider:
Eclipse and Tokai Teio were essential; Tachyon was nearing competition; Special Week and Oguri Cap were debuting soon; and even Grass Wonder…
It’s better to be prepared.
Decision made, Kitahara answered:
“Six sets.”
Silence.
“Too many? I can reduce—”
“No, it’s fine,” the elderly Uma Musume interrupted gently, pity clearly in her eyes.
“It’s fine for me, but…for you, it might be too many.”
Kitahara: “…?”
They’re not for me, why should that matter?!
—
T/N: LMAOOOO
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!
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