While Tokai Teio was sulking in her room, the number of Umamusume in the dance hall staring at Kitahara Sota with baffled expressions had gone from one to five.
“Uh, Trainer Kitahara… are you sure you’ve never learned to dance before…?”
“Of course. Why would I lie about something like that?”
“But right now you’re…”
Watching Kitahara on the dance floor—his steps unhurried, his performance better than most of the dancers around them—the other Umamusume hesitated, at a loss for words.
Faced with their doubt, Kitahara didn’t know how to explain himself either. After a brief silence, he added in a low voice:
“I just pick things up fast.”
That was putting it mildly.
The four who’d joined later didn’t feel it as sharply, but Sirius—his teacher—had witnessed that almost-creepy learning speed firsthand.
They hadn’t arrived much earlier than the other pairs, and when Sirius began teaching, she’d casually tested what he knew.
She could tell right away: at that point, Kitahara truly—completely—had no experience. He didn’t just lack training; even the basics were a blank to him.
Once she confirmed that, Sirius was a little thrown off. And really, anyone would be.
Even a professional instructor couldn’t possibly turn a complete novice into a competent dancer within the span of a single ball.
Especially not in this hall—where most guests came from prominent families and had undergone serious etiquette and dance training. The bar here was high; what would be “excellent” elsewhere barely counted as passable.
Still, she’d already agreed. Sirius had no intention of backing out halfway.
So after confirming Kitahara’s level, she started teaching with a simple mindset: teach what you can. If he doesn’t trip, that’s a win. Even if he steps on my feet a couple times, it’s fine.
But only minutes into the lesson, Sirius realized all that mental preparation had been… unnecessary.
The expected foot-stomping never happened. On the contrary—his attitude, his grasp of her instructions, and his execution were all surprisingly solid.
Yes, he was clumsy at first. But it didn’t take long for his steps to steady, and his improvement was obvious.
If that were all, Sirius would’ve just thought he had good aptitude for dance—surprising, sure, but not shocking. There were plenty of dance prodigies at Tracen Academy.
The problem was what happened next.
Once he’d more or less grasped the fundamentals, Sirius didn’t plan to get ambitious. Her idea was to stick to basic, stable steps and simply make it through the rest of the ball.
But as she thought that, she noticed Kitahara’s gaze drifting off her—slowly shifting toward the nearby pairs.
And under Sirius’s watch, Kitahara’s timing began to sync up, visibly, with the leads in those groups.
In just a few minutes, he copied their movements and rhythm from start to finish. When he was done, a thoughtful look flickered in his eyes.
“So that’s how it works. I think I get it now…”
When Kitahara said that, Sirius still didn’t realize how serious it was.
She found out soon enough.
Unlike solo dancing, partner dancing doesn’t rely solely on basic technique. Coordination—how the two adjust and respond to each other—is a crucial piece.
When both dancers are at a similar level, things naturally balance.
But if there’s a gap, the larger it is, the more the stronger dancer ends up guiding the weaker one—taking control of the tempo.
Since Kitahara was a complete newbie, from the moment teaching began up until now, Sirius had been the one fully controlling their rhythm. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she’d been leading him through the dance.
But after that one line of his, Sirius started to feel the rhythm she’d held so firmly begin to wobble… and slip.
From clumsy, to steady, to fluid.
From stiff, to focused, to effortless.
In barely over ten minutes, Sirius watched a dancer transform—starting as someone who understood nothing, becoming a partner who could match her beat for beat, and then…
Surpass her.
It was absurd.
When Sirius realized the initiative had shifted into Kitahara’s hands—that it had become him leading her—her mind went blank.
And with the unfamiliar high heels she was wearing, she nearly lost her balance. She would’ve fallen if Kitahara hadn’t noticed in time, wrapped an arm around her waist, and steadied her before anything embarrassing could happen.
“What’s wrong?”
Kitahara looked at her, puzzled.
“Are you feeling unwell? You looked like you spaced out just now.”
If it were another Umamusume, she’d probably wave it off with some “I’m fine” and move on.
But Sirius was blunt by nature. So when he asked, she stared him straight in the face and voiced the question in her head.
“Kitahara. Tell me honestly—are you really human, or are you some kind of monster in human skin?”
Kitahara only looked more confused.
What kind of question was that?
To be fair, he knew he learned things quickly—especially physical skills. Between Umamusume research and years of training, it was one of his strengths.
But he didn’t see what was so worth making a fuss over. If some no-name Umamusume who never trained could casually steamroll professional runners, then surely it was normal for him to learn a little fast, wasn’t it?
Besides, even if he learned quickly, that same no-name Umamusume still steamrolled him in every way. Ever since they met, he couldn’t last even a single exchange against her. In other words: even if he trained, it was basically pointless.
Kitahara genuinely didn’t get what was so strange about it—or why Sirius was so shaken.
If learning a bit fast was enough to get you suspected of being a monster in human skin, then Eclipse would practically get mistaken for one of the Three Goddesses’ secret alts.
Which was obviously impossible.
As Kitahara was thinking that, two other pairs moved closer as well. After Sirius repeated what had happened, the way the others looked at Kitahara shifted—just a little.
They were surprised by his rapid growth, sure, but they didn’t seem particularly bothered by it.
And that was because—compared to that—something else had grabbed their attention even more.
For example: the hand currently resting at Sirius’s waist.
Yes. The same hand he’d reached out with when she almost fell… and still hadn’t withdrawn.
It wasn’t that Kitahara was trying to take advantage of her. He’d simply been thrown off by her sudden question. Then everyone came over, his attention was pulled away, and he forgot to move his hand.
As for Sirius, she hadn’t noticed at first either. By the time she did, the others had already arrived.
Normally, once she realized Kitahara had forgotten to pull back, she would’ve prompted him.
But then Rudolf approached. When Sirius saw her eyes flick to that arm around her waist, she blinked… and changed her mind.
She even tossed Rudolf a provocative look.
What surprised Sirius was that Rudolf didn’t react the way she expected.
Not only did Rudolf not get angry, she didn’t even look annoyed. After her eyes swept over the hand at Sirius’s waist, Rudolf lifted her gaze and smiled at Sirius—looking as though she were in an even better mood than before.
Weird. What’s with her all of a sudden…?
Sirius frowned. The Rudolf before her was composed again—calm, even smiling—and Sirius couldn’t tell what she was plotting.
And it wasn’t just this once. For the remainder of the ball, no matter how Sirius provoked her, Rudolf barely reacted.
Instead, it was Satono Diamond and Mejiro Ardan whose emotions began to visibly waver. They started trying every way they could to interfere with Sirius—blocking her, cutting her off, trying to outmaneuver her at every turn.
The problem was… neither of them was Sirius’s target.
The reason she’d deliberately acted so intimate with Kitahara wasn’t because she had feelings for him—at least, that’s what she told herself.
It was purely to needle Rudolf.
But once Rudolf stopped taking the bait, it didn’t matter how hard Sirius fought the other two. It all felt pointless—like punching a pillow, leaving her with nothing but a hollow frustration.
What on earth is she thinking? Earlier, she cared so much about something as small as holding hands… but now I’m provoking her this openly, and she doesn’t care at all…
Sirius looked over at Rudolf in the distance, still smiling, her brow knitting tighter and tighter.
As if sensing her gaze, Rudolf turned to meet it. She gave Sirius a gentle smile, her lips moving softly.
No sound came out, but the words were clear enough from the shape of her mouth.
If that’s what you want.
Then I can support you.
No need to thank me.
—
T/N: those words… “I get it now”…
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!
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.