Slacking Professionally at Tracen [144]

Some time later, Kitahara Sota’s dorm.

Because he felt this kind of thing wasn’t suitable to discuss in front of the others—

Kitahara thought it over, then used the excuse of “something Black Forest–related to handle,” and called Grass Wonder to his dorm.

Grass Wonder’s mood was visibly poor.

But when Kitahara came to find her, she still forced a strained smile.

When he told her there was work to do, she didn’t question or hesitate, just followed him away.

Seeing that, Kitahara sighed even deeper.

This foolish kid…

Inside the dorm, Grass Wonder took a few deep breaths, trying to pull herself together, then turned as if to ask what work needed doing.

But before she could speak, she felt a hand press her down onto the sofa.

“Sit here for now. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

Kitahara went to fetch some fatigue-relief drinks he’d stocked for Hayakawa Tazuna, and handed one to her.

“Here. This’ll help take the edge off.”

Obediently, she accepted, sipped lightly, then set it on the table, glancing up at him with hesitant eyes.

“Um… Trainer Kitahara, may I ask what this is about…”

“Nothing.”

Kitahara sat across from her, lifted a small mirror, checked her face, and sighed.

“I just saw you like this. Couldn’t leave it alone. Thought we should talk.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his reply. In the mirror, her own haggard reflection was plain. After a moment, she answered softly, apologetically:

“I’m very sorry to make you worry, Trainer Kitahara. But really, I’m fine. My condition just hasn’t been good lately. Some rest and I’ll…”

“You believe that yourself?”

He looked straight at her.

She fell silent.

Seconds passed. Still no answer.

Kitahara spoke again.

“It’s because of Special Week, isn’t it?”

Silence.

Still no answer.

He didn’t mind. He simply continued:

“You’ve heard about Suzuka, I’m sure. I’ve spoken with Trainer Mikuni myself.”

“If nothing goes wrong, once term begins, Silence Suzuka will join our team. She’ll be training with you all.”

“And since she’s Special Week’s roommate, once she’s officially in, they’ll be together almost constantly.”

He fixed her with a steady look.

“How do you feel about that, Grass Wonder?”

Normally, at this point, anyone else would have reacted.

Crushed a cup. Raised a fist. Shouted ‘You don’t understand!’ Something.

But not her.

She just listened quietly, then, after a pause, gave her answer.

“…I have no feelings about it.”

What feelings could she have?

She and Special Week were friends. Just friends.

Yes, she saw Spe-chan as her one true friend, her greatest rival.

But clearly, to Spe-chan, she was only one of many ordinary friends. At best, one of the closer ones.

Given that—what feelings could she claim?

If she tried to push herself forward, Spe-chan would probably talk to her, yes.

But Grass Wonder wasn’t the type to push. And besides—forcing herself between Spe-chan and Suzuka just to grab a few words would be graceless. Humiliating.

She had never seen Spe-chan as a lover, nor wished Spe-chan would see her as one.

Rather, she wanted acknowledgment. To be taken seriously.

Being together with Suzuka every day, fine. Not talking to her, fine.

But as she gave her whole heart as rival and friend, she wanted Spe-chan to return it in kind. At least a little more weight. A little more care.

Instead, the truth was obvious.

Spe-chan didn’t treat her as a rival. Didn’t give her attention.

Grass Wonder saw her as the most important person.

Spe-chan saw her like roadside grass.

That was what stung.

So yes, she could feel down. But she wouldn’t beg for attention. Wouldn’t degrade herself.

She needed equal response, not charity.

And truthfully, her exhaustion wasn’t only because of Special Week.

If it had been only that, she might’ve been a little down. But not like this.

The real reason: she hadn’t been to Kitahara’s dorm all holiday. Her tail hadn’t twined itself around that familiar warmth even once. It drooped, listless, and that had bled into her body as well.

And Eclipse, the only teammate she got along with easily, had been away with Kitahara, leaving her lonelier.

And her idiot roommate—more excitable than ever with vacation—kept “doing things” every few days, each one landing squarely on her nerves. Never learning.

Add in her Black Forest duties, stacked atop regular training—it was no wonder she’d ended up like this.

And as for Kitahara’s assumption about her feelings? She noticed.

But she didn’t intend to correct him.

Maybe because it amused her. Maybe as petty revenge for him “taking Eclipse away.” Or maybe some other reason.

Either way, she let him keep misunderstanding.

As she expected—when she answered “I have no feelings”—Kitahara fell silent for a while, then let out a long, deep sigh.

But not as she expected—

He didn’t press further. Didn’t lecture or comfort. After a moment, he simply cut it off.

“Then we’ll leave it at that.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“What, thought I’d hound you to the end?”

“I thought… at least you’d try to persuade me. Or comfort me.”

“If you want that, I can.”

“…Better not.”

A couple more exchanges, the mood eased.

And Kitahara spoke frankly:

“To be honest—if this were someone else, I’d probably try persuading, or comforting.”

“But you, Grass Wonder—I believe in your judgment. I believe you’ll do what’s right.”

“And here, I’m not speaking as your trainer. I’m speaking as a friend. If you’ve decided, then I’ll respect that choice.”

“But if you ever change your mind, if you need help—you can always come to me.”

Yes, he wanted to pull her up. But he also trusted her ability to choose.

Love was unpredictable. He couldn’t guarantee what she needed.

So he asked, he spoke, she answered. He chose respect.

Simple.

After silence, she murmured back:

“…Thank you.”

It wasn’t just thanks for his words.

It was thanks for his trust. His respect. His attention.

All the things she could never wring out of Special Week—here, Kitahara gave freely.

And not just that. His care, his company, his little “assists,” all of it. She had seen.

To him, maybe ordinary. To her, priceless.

So that “thank you” she gave seriously.

But still, one problem remained.

“You know your state. At this rate, work and training both will be affected.”

“And in a month is your debut race. Yes, with your ability, you’ll win even if off-form.”

“But wouldn’t you rather win beautifully, fully prepared, than scrape by in a weakened state?”

Her eyes wavered.

She knew he was right. And with her pride, of course she wanted her one debut to be perfect.

But emotions weren’t so simple. Knowing didn’t erase the ache.

Kitahara knew that too. He couldn’t fix her heart. He wasn’t Special Week.

But physically? He could help.

So—

“Let me give you a treatment. Adjust your condition.”

Memories of past ordeals surged up.

Her body stiffened, ears twitching.

He paused, then added:

“Don’t worry. It’s not serious. I’ll keep it light. If it’s too much, stop me anytime.”

After a silence, her tail swayed faintly.

“…Then, please, Trainer Kitahara.”

Taking a deep breath, eyes resolute, she lay down on the massage bed.

This time, when his hands touched her, the shock was still there—but much weaker. Stimulating, but bearable.

Kitahara wasn’t surprised.

Back then, he hadn’t had enough data, his technique rough, his pressure high.

And even then, she had endured without gag cloth. So now, this was nothing.

She relaxed.

But as she relaxed, another small problem stirred.

Her tail crept up his arm.

Kitahara noticed, and sighed inwardly.

Yes, he was used to her tail twining. But mid-treatment, it was inconvenient.

So he tried shaking it off.

But after so long apart, finally clinging again—how could her tail let go?

So despite his repeated attempts to dislodge it, her tail clung all the more fiercely.

Their “struggle” grew more intense until—

Smack.

A sharp sound. Both froze.

Because he had been so focused on the treatment, half-heartedly swatting at her tail, his movements had grown bigger.

And with that last swat—

His hand had landed squarely on something soft and yielding. With force.

…Supple.

That was Kitahara’s first thought.

His hand even squeezed before he realized, trying to identify what it was.

And when he realized—Grass Wonder’s whole body was trembling.

Silence.

Kitahara coughed, drew his hand back, and muttered awkwardly:

“Sorry, Grass Wonder. That was… an accident.”

Kitahara Sota gave Grass Wonder a brief explanation of what had just happened, and after listening, she only let out a faint “Mm.”

Then no other reaction.

Seeing that, Kitahara let out a small sigh of relief, and continued her treatment.

With his focus gradually narrowing in, he slowly pushed the earlier accident out of his mind.

What he didn’t know—was that while Grass Wonder showed no reaction outwardly, where he couldn’t see, her eyes had grown deep and clouded.

When that sharp smack had rung out, she had frozen.

Then, realizing what had happened—realizing especially that Kitahara’s hand had even given a slight squeeze afterward—

Alongside the shame and humiliation, there had been… a flicker of strange pleasure.

From childhood she had longed to be the image of the Yamato Nadeshiko, demanding strict self-control of herself.

Forget punishment—even reproach, she had rarely received.

She wasn’t a masochist. If anyone else—anyone, even another horse girl she knew—had done such a thing, she would have kicked them straight off. Might already be reaching for her katana.

But Kitahara Sota…

Flashes of memory rippled through her mind, all their encounters up until now.
And she couldn’t muster resistance.

Shame, yes. Humiliation, yes. But no rejection.

She knew it was wrong. She knew. But she could not say it.

And it wasn’t only this accident.

The way he walked in and out of her dorm without hesitation.
The intimacy of his treatments.
Her tail wrapping around him.

Along with the flood of shame, so many details she’d ignored or buried began surfacing—one by one, stinging her nerves.

By Yamato Nadeshiko standards—no, even by ordinary womanly standards—this was already far across the line.

And yet—the more she thought it, the stronger that strange pleasure grew alongside the shame.

Immorality? Taboo? Something else entirely?

Grass Wonder didn’t know.

Only that she didn’t reject it. Didn’t reject Kitahara.

And as the feeling grew, old dark ripples she thought buried forever stirred back to the surface.

She remembered a month of Special Week’s neglect.
And a month of Kitahara’s care.

As emotions fermented in her chest, her eyes grew darker.

When the treatment had gone on for some time, her tail lifted again—slowly twining around his arm.

Kitahara, recalling the earlier accident, didn’t dare swat it this time.
He let her tail hold him, quietly continuing, muttering inward complaints about her habit.

But what he didn’t know—
This time, unlike before, her tail’s movements weren’t unconscious habit. They were deliberate.

And as she succeeded in twining him, the dark ripples surged stronger.

After a while, the treatment ended.

Because Kitahara had kept his strength light, Grass Wonder recovered quickly.

Her fatigue eased, her face less haggard than before, her condition visibly better.

Seeing her restored, with her decision from earlier already made, Kitahara thought there was nothing more.
He was about to chat briefly and return to the training ground.

But then—

Grass Wonder stepped close.

And sat down in his lap.

“Grass Wonder, you—”

Before he could finish, her arms wrapped his neck, her face pressed against his chest.

“Trainer Kitahara, I like Spe-chan.”

Kitahara froze. His eye twitched. He looked down at her.

“Uh… Grass Wonder, this is…”

“Trainer Kitahara, you already guessed, didn’t you?”

Her head buried in his chest, she pinched her own arm hard, squeezing out a few tears to dampen his shirt. Her voice trembled.

“I know. Spe-chan likes Suzuka. I know I’m not her type. To her I’m only an ordinary friend. I shouldn’t hope for more. But…”

She clutched him tighter, burying herself deeper.

“Just let me rest here a little, please? Trainer Kitahara… I’m so tired.”

Silence.

Then a sigh.

Faced with this straight confession, Kitahara didn’t know what to say.

But for the sake of brotherhood, he couldn’t refuse.

And since Grass Wonder herself had declared she liked girls, his last bit of doubt about her vanished.

So, after a pause, feeling her trembling frame, Kitahara hesitated—then wrapped his arms around her, patting her gently in comfort.

Bit by bit, the tremors in his arms subsided.

Finally, she lifted her face, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, Trainer Kitahara. I lost control…”

Kitahara smiled faintly, hand reaching up to ruffle her head with gentle indulgence.

“It’s fine. Actually—I’m glad you told me.”

When it was over, unlike others, Grass Wonder didn’t cling on. She pulled away neatly.

But before leaving, she hesitated, then spoke softly, apologetically:

“Trainer Kitahara… you’ve taken care of me so much lately. If possible, please allow me to repay you somehow?”

Come on, we’re brothers. Why the hell so formal.

Kitahara wanted to say that. But seeing her—vulnerable, never before so weak—he hesitated, then agreed.

“You can. But I don’t lack anything now. If I ever need something, I’ll ask you for hel—”

His words stopped.

A soft pull.

His head sank back against something warm, yielding.

Her lap.

Looking up at her faintly smiling face above, he froze.

“Grass Wonder, this—”

Before he could finish, a slender finger pressed to his lips.

She leaned down, voice soft.

“You treated me so long just now. Trainer Kitahara must be tired too, right? Then it’s my turn, to let you relax.”

Kitahara faltered.

“But, Grass Wonder… this isn’t really…”

“What’s wrong about it?”

She smiled. Her tail shifted, draping lightly across his neck like a scarf. Silken, faintly fragrant.

“Trainer Kitahara knows, doesn’t he? That I like Spe-chan. And this secret—I’ve only ever told you.”

“Just like you trust me—I trust you.”

Though Kitahara still felt something off, her words left no room. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

Her smile widened.

Then, under the excuse of “I’ve learned a little massage,” she pressed her fingers to his temples.

Her touch was proper, no suspicious moves.

Yet as her hands worked, she lowered her head, hair brushing his chest, while her tail rubbed against him restlessly.

When she was done, she made no delays, no further advances. She even suggested they head back to the training ground.

Kitahara’s faint suspicions evaporated.

She’d plainly admitted she liked girls. She’d been proper. Even asked him to look after Spe-chan.

If that’s not treating me like a brother, then what is?

Back at the training ground, Grass Wonder parted from him without hesitation, hurrying straight to Special Week.

Safe. Solid.

But what Kitahara didn’t see was…

As Grass Wonder drew near, Special Week’s expression changed.

At first, she smiled brightly, greeting her.

But as she got closer, Spe-chan sniffed. A familiar, dense scent.

Her smile slowly disappeared.

“Grass-chan…”

Once she reached her, Special Week’s face darkened, shadowed as the smell engulfed her.

“…What’s the meaning of this?”

Before, sometimes, she’d caught Kitahara’s scent faintly on Grass Wonder’s tail.

But it was light. And Grass Wonder had always been in her faction, helping her, assisting. She never suspected.

But now—

Whatever happened when they’d left together, it was obvious.

Grass Wonder had touched Kitahara deeply.

And now, she hadn’t hidden it at all. She had kept that scent deliberately, and stood before her.

The meaning was plain.

Spe-chan’s voice was sharp.

Grass Wonder only smiled brighter.

She leaned in, lips brushing her ear, voice low.

“Trainer Kitahara’s scent… isn’t it wonderful?”

“…Special Week-san.”

—

T/N: OHHHH SHES GONNA USE HIM TO BE SPECIAL WEEKS RIVALLLLL

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!