Truthfully, Kitahara Sota didn’t much care what Kudou Kazuya’s intentions were.
Whether he was fishing for criminals out of guilt, or whether he was bursting with justice and playing the anti-hero—it didn’t matter to him.
Everyone had their own way of living. He was no policeman, no judge. Just a trainer. He had neither the time nor the obligation to scrutinize how others lived.
But the problem was—why the hell did Kudou have to keep dragging him into it?!
Once or twice, he could call it coincidence. Three or four, he could call it “playing the hero.” Even five or six, he could write off as bad luck.
But sixty-four times?! And about to become sixty-five?!
Especially after hearing Kudou reveal that the so-called “Black Market” was practically full of traitors—Kitahara’s mood only grew stranger.
At this point, he seriously suspected the only “black” in the Black Market was them all banding together to screw him over.
And faced with his question, Kudou Kazuya—though awkward—still gave an answer.
[What if I said this really was just an accident? Would you believe me?]
Even as he typed, Kudou himself felt zero confidence.
But it was the truth.
Yes, the Uma Musume hunts were a collective project of the Black Market. Kudou had only been responsible for part of it, never the full picture.
But since he’d been in the Market longer, with higher status, he knew more about the plan. And he knew it hadn’t been targeted at Kitahara in the beginning.
At least, not at first.
Even if the Market was insane, they weren’t insane enough to count on a kid—back then just a scrawny little brat with barely any fuzz—to take out traffickers.
And besides, responsibility was divided among members, who rarely communicated.
Only after nearly twenty hunts did anyone notice this “unlucky brat” who kept getting caught up. Then more and more eyes turned to him.
Later, as Kitahara survived more incidents, growing stronger each time—
By the forty-fifth hunt or so, they simply “promoted” him, making him the primary executor, while downgrading the original lead into a side role.
And even that wasn’t what the Market wanted.
They all agreed—no matter how fierce Kitahara was, he was still human. His reckless, all-or-nothing way of fighting was bound to get him killed. Better to leave things to the original handler.
But no matter what they did, what measures they took—
Kitahara was always there. Always showing up right at the front, scooping up every task meant for the original lead.
The Market members were baffled. Brother, we’re working so hard to leave you out—why do you keep stealing our jobs?!
After a dozen failed attempts, they had no choice but to give up.
They “officially” recognized him as the main executor.
And as he kept appearing, his feats began to spread inside the Market. His name grew. Louder and louder.
By the end, Kitahara Sota had become the hottest topic of conversation among the members—even more than hunts or other schemes.
That was why Kudou said it was all “an accident.”
But Kitahara? He wasn’t buying it.
Once or twice could be accidents. Five or six could be bad luck.
But sixty-five out of sixty-nine?!
Who are you trying to fool with that?
After that topic, Kitahara asked about the Black Forest incident.
This time, Kudou’s answer was blunt.
He admitted it outright: yes, he had orchestrated it.
And just as Kitahara had guessed, the purpose was to found the current Black Forest, giving ordinary Uma Musume more chances to shine.
[“One horse leads, all others lose their light.” That’s been Tracen’s creed from the beginning. And it’s the truth of racing]
[Before, I never thought it wrong. Racing is competition. Winners and losers are natural]
[But then a friend came to me, told me about conditions in regional Tracen schools]
[Only then did I realize—beyond those dazzling stars, most Uma Musume are ordinary, with modest talent]
[We tried applying to Tracen and URA. But because of tangled interests, they only gave symbolic subsidies, then nothing more]
[Yes, I know Tracen and URA have their difficulties. But I also know—they had the power to fix this. They simply chose not to act]
[So I staged the Black Forest incident. To wake them up. To show the problem’s gravity]
[And at the same time, to draw attention away—so that ‘buyer’ I mentioned before could have his chance]
[But thanks to you, Trainer Kitahara—before they could make enough noise to draw eyes, they were crushed in one blow]
At this, Kitahara raised an eyebrow.
“So because I ruined your plan, you dumped the blame on me?”
[No. Not for that reason]
Kudou shook his head.
[I thought you were simply the most suitable candidate. That’s why I recommended you to the Chairwoman]
Kitahara suspected he was just shielding others. But the reasoning didn’t sound fake.
After all, though HQ had many excellent trainers, in terms of grassroots knowledge and reputation among country girls—none could compare to him.
Still, understanding didn’t erase the bitterness.
He couldn’t stop thinking about those sixty-four hunts. Couldn’t stop doubting Kudou.
Not that Kudou meant him harm—just that Kudou wanted him to work for free.
At least Tracen HQ, with all its exploitation, still paid. Even Bandai, however cruel, still handed out a base salary.
But the Market? After all those jobs, all that trouble, he hadn’t seen a single coin.
Thinking that, Kitahara’s glare only deepened.
Kudou could only smile bitterly back.
Because as one of the earliest and highest-ranking members, Kudou knew much more—much that touched Kitahara directly.
For example: originally, the hunts’ “executor” wasn’t supposed to be Kitahara, but a hollow creature, crafted by the Three Goddesses.
And that both the Market and that creature were pawns, pieces in a struggle between the Market’s master and the Goddesses themselves.
That this game had never been meant to look like this—until some strange, meddling existence barged in, snatched up both sides’ pieces, nearly overturned the entire board.
And that meddler still had no idea.
But Kudou couldn’t say any of that.
Not only because of warnings from the one behind the Market. Not only because that “creature” now sat daily at Kitahara’s side.
Most of all—because even if Kitahara knew, it would help nothing. It might only make things worse.
So, facing Kitahara’s suspicion, Kudou only gave a weary smile, and stuck to what he could say.
After answering a few more questions, seeing Kitahara had no further for now, Kudou checked the time. Training was about to begin. He rose and left.
Kitahara stayed behind, thinking a while.
Then he pulled out his phone, tapped that old Uma Musume’s avatar, and sent everything he had just learned.
Her reply came quick, asking what he planned to do.
Having thought it over that morning, Kitahara answered firmly: he wouldn’t judge Kudou’s morality. His only duty was to investigate and gather proof.
As for judgment—that was for Tracen and URA. Not for a trainer like him.
She didn’t object. After a pause, she only asked—when would he have time for another arranged meeting?
Kitahara, mind still full of the intel—froze at the word “meeting.” Cold sweat broke instantly across his forehead.
Now? A matchmaking meeting now?!
Even aside from his girls’ reactions, he hadn’t forgotten—he was still standing in as Symboli Rudolf’s “boyfriend.”
If the Symboli family heard he was out dating, he’d be choosing between their basement and a cement pillar in Tokyo Bay.
So he scrambled for excuses, refusing outright.
Strangely—his senior was in good spirits lately.
She had reached out more, gentler in tone. This time, she readily accepted his delay.
Only—she added, she’d be busy. Couldn’t come help. He’d have to bring his teammates instead.
Kitahara wasn’t surprised.
She was always busy. And now he had capable allies in HQ.
For instance, Symboli Rudolf herself—who had slid into the seat across from him.
Yes, dangerous she might be. But in skill, reliability, clout—she was unmatched.
And as Student Council President, with real authority, she had to be involved.
So, after messaging his senior, Kitahara immediately pulled Rudolf in.
When she sat down, he shared parts of what he’d learned, then asked if she’d work with him to handle the possible attack on Tracen students.
“Of course.”
Student safety was paramount. Rudolf agreed at once.
They discussed briefly, then decided—the next step was the Chairwoman’s office.
Something this serious couldn’t be hidden. And Tazuna’s security force was the largest in Tracen. They would be essential.
So better to speak with Chairwoman Akikawa and Tazuna directly.
On the way, Rudolf happened to recall how Kitahara had been glued to Line earlier. She asked lightly about it.
That alone was enough to make his expression collapse, memories of matchmaking and false-boyfriendhood flooding back.
Rudolf noticed, curious.
“What is it, Trainer Kitahara?”
“Remember I mentioned a senior, pushing me into matchmaking…?”
“That one? She pushed you again?”
“Yeah.”
Kitahara nodded, and, gloom dragging at him, began quietly complaining about his overly violent, domineering senior Uma Musume.
As he spoke, Rudolf’s face grew strange.
An old woman. A violent temper. Self-willed. Fond of hitting. Now forcing him into matchmaking…
Sounded awfully familiar.
Her first thought was Symboli Speed. But no—that couldn’t be.
If it was that old hag, Kitahara wouldn’t be chatting here. He’d already be locked in the Symboli basement.
And by Kitahara’s account, he’d known this “senior” for years. If it really were Speed, even Kitahara’s obliviousness wouldn’t last that long.
Still, she was convinced Kitahara carried Symboli blood. Which meant—his senior might be family too. A relative with a short fuse.
So, after a moment’s thought, Rudolf dropped her suspicion.
Instead, she checked no one was nearby—and began venting about her own grandmother.
Normally she’d never dare. It would tarnish the family name, damage her own image.
But Kitahara—who she was almost sure was kin—was safe. He already knew she was a slacker anyway.
And she’d never dared confide in Air Groove or Brian.
Now, finding someone who might share her blood, someone with almost the same scars—it all came spilling out.
Kitahara, hearing that Rudolf had suffered too, felt like he’d found a soulmate.
They talked hotly, shoulder to shoulder, until they reached the Chairwoman’s door.
Kitahara knocked.
“Come in!”
With the familiar phrase, he pushed open the door, ready to explain.
But before he could speak, he froze at the sight inside.
“Tazuna-san, what happened to you?!”
The Green Devil lifted her head from a mountain of documents. Her face was numb, eyes bloodshot.
The exhaustion rolling off her was frightening even to look at.
“Ah… Trainer Kitahara. What brings you here…?”
Kitahara was silent a moment. Then sighed.
“I do have business.”
“But before that—I think we need to address your situation first, Tazuna-san.”
—
T/N: TAZUNA SAN GANBARE!
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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