The idea of having Kitahara Sota pretend to be her boyfriend had come to Komata Hajime as a sudden flash of inspiration, born out of the interactions they’d just had.
Before this, she’d already resigned herself to telling her parents the truth—that she didn’t have a boyfriend at all.
Because deep down, she knew her clumsy lie would never fool them.
From the start, her parents had seen through her excuse. That was exactly why they suddenly insisted on meeting her “boyfriend” in person—to tear open the lie and press her harder about marriage.
And Hajime could understand their urgency.
She was nearly thirty. Among her peers, not only were most married already, some even had kids in elementary school, children who could run around calling her “onee-chan.”
Meanwhile, her own family situation hadn’t been great—not to the point of Tamamo Cross’s poverty, but not far off either.
So she had poured her youth into studying. After graduating, she immediately earned her license and entered Tracen.
She had believed that becoming a main campus trainer would bring both money and prestige, that she would step onto the path of wealth, respect, and admiration.
The truth? Sure, her salary had raised her family from poverty to modest comfort. But as for respect…
To this day, the only person who seriously called her senpai was Kitahara Sota.
And it wasn’t that she had never considered romance or marriage.
But joking around with friends was one thing—she couldn’t stomach the thought of a lifelong partner treating her like a child. She longed for a relationship of mutual respect, of reliance on each other.
And yet, so far, every person she’d met had treated her as if she were a kid.
Especially here at Tracen, where the academy overflowed with female students, and the only men—the trainers—were already under siege by their own obsessive Uma Musume. Where was she supposed to find a boyfriend in that?
Her parents had grown so desperate that once, half in jest, half serious, they’d suggested: If you really can’t find a man, bring home an Uma Musume. Adopt a kid if you must.
Hajime knew well that plenty of female trainers brought their Uma Musume home—or were dragged home by them.
But she was straight. Her only previous tantou had been another girl she huddled together with out of shared struggles—companionship, nothing more.
Her current tantou, Tamamo Cross, was about as safe and normal as a Uma Musume could possibly be. As for Super Creek…
That was another kind of danger altogether, one that had nothing to do with romance.
So, thinking it over, Hajime decided having Kitahara pretend to be her boyfriend was the best way to appease her parents.
Otherwise, if they panicked and pushed harder, next time they might forbid her to come home without bringing someone with her—human or Uma Musume, it didn’t matter.
And another thing: Hajime knew her parents’ pressure came not only from wanting her married, but also from worry.
Because of her childlike appearance, she’d always been the one others looked after. At home, at school—she had been sheltered.
Which meant that when she first entered Tracen, she’d struggled not just with training work but even daily self-care.
But years had passed. She’d grown. She could take care of herself now. She could even look after others, stand as a senpai.
So she thought, If I bring Kitahara to meet them…
If they see how he respects me, if he says good things about me… they’ll realize I’ve grown up. That I can handle my own life. They’ll stop worrying so much.
And even if the lie was exposed later, it might still ease their hearts, maybe reduce how often they pressured her.
So Hajime explained all this to Kitahara, word for word.
Then she pressed her hands together and pleaded sincerely.
“Kitahara-kun, please. Just this once. If it works, I’ll treat you to dinner.”
Kitahara’s expression twisted into a grimace.
Honestly, this was the last thing he wanted to agree to.
Pretending to be someone’s boyfriend? It screamed trouble, and if the truth came out it would be beyond awkward.
But… he himself had just been hounded about matchmaking. He could empathize.
And Hajime was now his closest trainer friend, someone who had looked out for him repeatedly, even offering him advice on that most sensitive of problems.
Up till now, she had only ever asked him to help check Tamamo Cross’s condition. Everything else had been him volunteering.
And besides, Hajime wasn’t a Uma Musume. She was an adult woman—older than him, dependable, steady, not spoiled. Aside from looking young, there was nothing dangerous about her.
So staring at her desperate face, practically clinging to him, Kitahara struggled a long while before finally sighing.
“…Fine.”
At least, he thought, thank god his own relationships with his Uma Musume were normal. Otherwise this kind of thing would be like lighting the fuse on a bomb.
The instant he agreed, Hajime lit up, beaming. She patted his shoulder cheerfully, declaring, “I knew you were the best, Kitahara-kun! Once it’s over, dinner’s on me!”
Kitahara nodded helplessly, about to ask if there was anything he should prepare for the meeting—
When suddenly, a soft, gentle voice spoke behind him.
“Oh my, Trainer, you two seem to be having such a lively conversation. Could I join as well?”
Both Kitahara and Hajime froze.
Then—
“SorryKitaharaijustrememberedileftthegasoninmydormi’mgoingnowbye—!”
Without hesitation, Hajime bolted, running so fast she didn’t even look back, leaving the training ground in a blur.
Kitahara’s eye twitched.
And behind him, the gentle female voice sighed, then continued.
“Honestly… that Trainer, still so careless. You really can’t leave her alone. She needs someone to properly ‘take care’ of her…”
“Don’t you agree, Kitahara-san?”
“…Yeah. I suppose.”
Kitahara stiffly turned—and saw the owner of the voice.
Brown hair. Blue eyes. Dressed in school uniform.
One hand lightly resting against her cheek, gazing wistfully after Hajime’s fleeing figure.
But none of that was the most striking thing about her.
What caught the eye was the chest—so large it strained even against the loose school uniform.
How large? Put her in a neighboring Azur Lane franchise and she’d fit right in without question.
Motherly. Gentle. Overflowing with warmth.
The moment you saw her, those words connected naturally. The more you spoke to her, the stronger that impression grew, until her aura of maternal kindness felt like it filled the air itself.
And surely, someone like that had to be safe… right?
Safe from a “basement” perspective, yes.
But from another? She was heavyweight—no less than Tokai Teio herself.
After all, this was the one called the “Motherly Demon.” Super Creek.
Kitahara turned fully—and instantly froze.
Wait. Hold on. Why am I nervous?
He wasn’t Creek’s trainer. He was only here to help Hajime.
She loved doting, sure, but she wasn’t indiscriminate. She wouldn’t suddenly pounce on a stranger she’d just met… right?
And indeed, his fears were unfounded.
Though she’d interrupted, Creek’s attention was clearly fixed on Hajime. In front of Kitahara, she behaved perfectly normal, keeping her distance.
But then he remembered something odd she’d said.
“You… know me?”
“Yes.”
Creek turned back toward him with a gentle smile.
“My family runs a daycare. I grew up helping there. I heard many children mention your name. I’ve always wanted to meet you, but I didn’t want to intrude.”
“I see…”
Kitahara nodded, puzzled.
“Then, Creek-san, what did you want with me?”
Creek didn’t hesitate.
“I heard you have a lot of experience with children. That you’re very popular with them. I believe I’ve cultivated some skill in that area myself. I’ve long wanted to exchange thoughts with you.”
As she spoke, her eyes glimmered with an emotion.
Not affection. Not admiration.
Battle intent.
Not jealousy—Creek wasn’t jealous of Hajime. Quite the opposite. As the “Motherly Demon,” she thought of Hajime as a daughter, and was more anxious about her than Hajime was herself. If Kitahara and Hajime truly fell in love, Creek would be the first to cheer them on.
So where did this battle intent come from?
The answer lay in her past.
Raised in a daycare, developing early, she’d grown up nurturing others, especially children. She’d made motherhood her identity.
But from the moment she became “Mama,” one name had haunted her.
Kitahara Sota.
“Creek-onee-chan is amazing! She’s the second-best person I know—right after Kitahara-san!”
“Creek-onee-chan is so kind! Even kinder than my parents—only Kitahara-san is a little kinder still…”
“I really really love Creek-onee-chan! If Kitahara-san wasn’t around, I’d like you the most!”
Creek was gentle. Her patience deep.
But no one can hear that comparison thousands of times without feeling bitter.
Once, twice, ten times, twenty—she bore it. Hundreds, thousands—she endured.
But the timing was cruel. She began helping at the daycare just as Kitahara’s name was spreading.
Which meant she grew up entirely under his shadow.
She wasn’t angry—not at him, not at the children. Just… frustrated.
Especially when she learned Kitahara was only slightly older than her, maybe even the same age, less physically developed, and male. That frustration turned to unwillingness.
She didn’t care about winning or losing in races.
But in taking care of others? She refused to lose.
Certainly not to some irresponsible man who disappeared on whims.
So she had kept tabs on him for years. When he joined Tracen, she watched closely, but had never approached.
Now that he had walked right into her path, she wasn’t about to let him slip away.
And so, Super Creek issued her challenge.
Kitahara stared at her blankly.
A contest… of childcare? What even is that? How do you compete in that?
“It’s simple. First stage: we each ask questions, testing knowledge. Second stage: we share our experiences taking care of others and score each other.”
Hearing this, Kitahara’s eyes sharpened with curiosity.
He wasn’t interested in her stories. But her techniques? Her perspective as a woman, her insights where he could not go—there was value in that.
And besides, he wasn’t her trainer. No risk. Just academic exchange.
So he agreed.
…
Twenty minutes later, the first stage ended.
On the scoreboard, Kitahara’s correct answers outnumbered hers by a third.
Though frustrated, Creek admitted defeat calmly.
But the second stage—that was her territory.
Her daycare upbringing, her countless experiences, the mischievous brats she’d tamed—this was where she would shine.
So she began, recounting her stories with vivid detail, filling the air with her aura of maternal authority.
And when she finished, she looked at Kitahara—
Only to see the smile fade from his face.
Weariness. Emptiness. Even despair.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes shadowed, and spoke in a voice that carried exhaustion enough to make one tired just to hear it.
“Creek-san.”
“Have you… ever heard of something called little ancestors?”
—
T/N: lmao reminds me of that gojo meme blank is the best sorcerer ever at this, behind satoru gojo of course
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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