Slacking Professionally at Tracen [204]

After talking with Mejiro Ardan, Kitahara’s life returned to calm once again.

Even so—forget the Umamusume, even someone as dense as Kitahara could smell the storm brewing. He’d tried to struggle a little, too, like wriggling out of one or two year‑end matchmaking meetings.

But in the end, not only did he fail, he couldn’t even see the faintest glimmer of hope. All he could do was accept his fate and pray nothing went wrong when the time came.

Still, even if everything about matchmaking was going badly, in other areas—Umamusume‑related ones, for instance—Kitahara’s recent situation could only be described as freakishly smooth.

Agnes Digital’s Autumn Triple Crown wrapped up perfectly. Agnes Tachyon, Manhattan Café, Tokai Teio, and even Neicha’s attempts at dirt races all ended in crushing victories—every one of them dazzling.

Compared to the Umamusume themselves, the outside world didn’t pay that much attention to the Trainers behind them.

The problem was that, even setting Agnes Digital’s Autumn Triple Crown aside, this year’s first‑year G1 races had practically been swept clean by the Umamusume under his name. Even Silence Suzuka—who’d broken bones before—returned in December for a G2‑level race and took the win.

With the holidays coming up, most people were focused on year‑end matters, and the media had people taking time off as well. For the moment, no one was digging deep into what was going on behind the scenes.

But it was easy to foresee: once the New Year passed, the second this got exposed, it would spark a wave of attention—another headache for Kitahara.

Matchmaking meetings closing in, fame on the rise, and the “Black Market” lurking in the shadows, seemingly more active than ever…

From that angle, Kitahara’s New Year should have been spent sighing his way through it. So many problems, none of them solvable—how could anyone feel happy?

And yet, as the holidays drew nearer, the corners of Kitahara’s mouth lifted a little more each day. He looked to be in an even better mood.

Had these troubles finally reached a turning point?

Of course not. Even if he could stall some of the other problems, those two elderly Umamusume weren’t going to listen to a single word he said.

So why was Kitahara getting happier and happier?

Because comparison was a powerful thing.

It started in early December, when Kitahara was suddenly invited by other Trainers and pulled into a group chat that only included some of them.

When he was first added, hardly anyone talked, so he had no idea what the chat was for—but he didn’t leave, either. He just let it sit there.

Then, as time passed—especially with the year‑end approaching—messages gradually began to appear in what had once been a silent chat, and the pace only picked up.

It wasn’t until a few days ago, when a flood of messages pushed it back to the top, that Kitahara remembered the chat even existed. He tapped in, read for a bit, and quickly figured out what this group really was.

It was a “grab‑your‑bucket‑and‑run” group.

Not that the Trainers in it were literally trying to resign from Tracen like some construction worker slinging a red bucket and fleeing. They just wanted to get away—from under their Umamusume’s thumb—for a little while.

For people outside, New Year was something to celebrate. Holidays, reunions, a festive atmosphere—it was all pretty nice.

But for Tracen Academy, the stretch around New Year could basically be called peak season for Trainer missing‑person incidents.

Some would wrap up the year and want to get together one last time before New Year, do a little reflection on the year—then reflect a little too hard and go missing.

Some would let something slip while chatting as the holidays approached—about family pressure to marry, or upcoming matchmaking—and the next day, when they tried to go home, they’d be blocked at the door by their Umamusume standing there with luggage and a smile… and then go missing.

And then there was the third kind: an Umamusume finishing her three‑year schedule, about to leave Tracen—while on the surface, she and her Trainer looked perfectly normal, even as they might vanish together at any moment and go off the grid.

If the first two could be called “there’s still a chance you survive,” since Umamusume weren’t devils—maybe they just wanted to spend New Year together, or drag their Trainer off to meet the parents—

Then the last one—if it happened—whether the survival rate was “infinitely close to zero” or just “about zero” didn’t make much difference.

Because of that, Tracen Academy had even issued a Trainer confinement order starting in mid‑December, clearly stating that without special approval, Trainers weren’t allowed to leave on their own—especially not to go out with their Umamusume—in an attempt to reduce the odds of incidents.

But there was an old saying: policies exist above, countermeasures exist below.

Even with the confinement order, faced with the terrifying mobility of Umamusume, Trainer disappearance cases still cropped up one after another during the year‑end period. And that was exactly how the grab‑your‑bucket‑and‑run group came into being—becoming Kitahara’s biggest source of joy these past few days.

To be honest, Kitahara wasn’t the kind of person who liked building his happiness on other people’s misery. The problem was, this group had far too much entertainment.

A lot of it came from Umamusume going straight for the kill with blunt confessions and obliterating their blockheaded Trainers. But just as much came from Trainers pulling all kinds of suicidal nonsense to avoid their Umamusume.

The “normal” ones would pull strings with the Chairwoman, arranging business trips or legitimate vacation time to try to get out of the academy—only to get tailed and tracked down anyway.

The ones who really went for it did things like this: after the last race, they’d celebrate with their Umamusume, then quietly slip away without a word. And after finally getting into a taxi, they’d lift their head—only to find their Tantou sitting right beside them with a pleasant smile.

The most vicious case was two straight male Trainers who, after secretly discussing how to avoid their own Tantou, announced—right in front of both of them—that they were coming out, and then…

There was no “then.”

At least, up to now, Kitahara hadn’t received another message from either of them.

It was just… hilarious.

And amid that hilarity, Kitahara also had a small question.

Because according to the person who’d started the chat, everyone invited was someone generally agreed to “need to run”—including Kitahara’s old acquaintance, Higashimori Yosuke.

So why had Kitahara been invited?

He admitted he’d had plenty of headaches this year, sure, but he didn’t feel like he had any need to run at all.

Staring at the idle chatter on his phone, Kitahara turned it over in his mind again and again, until the only thing he could link it back to was Agnes Tachyon.

Not because he thought Tachyon had any feelings for him—rather, Hayakawa‑san had told him recently that a major reason Trainer disappearance cases kept happening despite repeated crackdowns was Agnes Tachyon, Tracen’s reigning chaos gremlin.

Especially when he remembered that the last time he’d gone to Tachyon’s lab, the medicine case that used to be stuffed full was now nearly empty… even without this group chat, Kitahara could have guessed something was up.

“Trainer Kitahara, do you really not think you have—no, it’s nothing.”

Hayakawa‑san trailed off.

She’d just gone with Kitahara to Agnes Tachyon’s lab. It wasn’t entirely because she wanted to be with him—more because she wanted to thoroughly “correct” that mad scientist who kept dumping extra work on her out of nowhere. The screams had even followed them out, lingering in the air.

Kitahara didn’t pay much attention to her half‑finished question. He kept walking, chatting with her about work, and as they talked, the topic gradually drifted toward New Year.

“It’ll be New Year soon. Hayakawa‑san, when are you planning to go home?”

“I… usually don’t go back.”

“You don’t?”

“…Mm.”

She nodded, but didn’t explain why.

After all, it wasn’t like she could say, Because I’m almost thirty and still not married, and the second I go home my parents, relatives, and friends will take turns carpet‑bombing me, so I hide at Tracen under the excuse of being busy.

To keep Kitahara from pressing further, she didn’t give him the chance—she immediately threw the question back.

“Then what about you, Trainer Kitahara? Any plans for New Year?”

“I don’t really have any.”

Kitahara shook his head.

“You know my background, Hayakawa‑san. There isn’t really anywhere for me to go back to. In past years, New Year’s is actually my busiest time—there aren’t many people working, everyone’s stocked up at home and spending more freely. This year… I’ll probably just stay in the dorm.”

“Then what does Eclipse think?”

“About that…”

Kitahara’s expression turned awkward.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask Eclipse what she wanted. In previous years, even when he was busy, he’d still ask if she wanted anything and try to get it as a New Year’s gift.

But this year was different. On one hand, Tracen’s generous pay meant the two of them weren’t as pressed as before.

And on the other hand—the most important thing—after this year, Eclipse would be eighteen. And Eclipse knew perfectly well that his bottom line was eighteen, so if he asked that question…

After personally experiencing Eclipse’s terrifying strength when she tore a car door off, in his estimation, forget resisting—if he managed to struggle for even a few seconds in her hands, that would be her taking it easy on him.

“…I’ll buy her a New Year’s gift.”

Seeing that Kitahara didn’t want to go deeper, Hayakawa‑san didn’t push. She used a few sentences to skip past it and steered the conversation back to safer topics.

They walked and talked, and before long reached the place where they needed to split up.

A few last words. A goodbye. Then they turned to leave.

Just as Kitahara turned back toward the dorm, Hayakawa‑san’s voice sounded behind him.

“Trainer Kitahara—if you don’t mind, during New Year, would you like to come by my place?”

“There’s no need for th—”

He started to refuse out of habit, but she spoke again.

“It’s like this. Back in my hometown, there are quite a few retired Trainers. Some of them have rather unique skills and techniques. I’ve noticed you seem very interested in research in that direction, and since you’ve helped me a lot this year, I wanted to use this as a way to repay you…”

Hearing that, Kitahara hesitated.

If it were an Umamusume saying this to him, he wouldn’t hesitate—he’d already be pulling out his phone to ask the veterans in the grab‑your‑bucket chat how to run.

But the issue was that the one inviting him was Hayakawa‑san. In terms of both status and safety, she wasn’t comparable to those younger Umamusume at all. If it was her—

“Hm? Hey, Kitahara—you’re here.”

Right as he hesitated, a familiar voice rang out. A petite figure stepped out of the shadows with a sunny smile, slipping neatly between Kitahara and Hayakawa‑san.

“…Komata‑san. Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Komata‑san glanced at Hayakawa‑san. After their eyes met, she turned back to Kitahara.

“You know, right? I’ve still been telling my parents you’re my boyfriend, and they’ve been pushing me to go back for New Year, so…”

As she spoke, something seemed to occur to her, and she turned again to meet Hayakawa‑san’s gaze.

“Ah, sorry—I didn’t notice you two were talking. I didn’t interrupt, did I?”

“…No.”

Hayakawa‑san answered slowly, smiling as she looked Komata‑san straight in the eye.

“If anything, you arrived at the perfect timing.”

“Ko. Ma. Ta. San.”

—

T/N: GULP ENTITY TAZUNA??

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!