Slacking Professionally at Tracen [124]

It wasn’t the first day Kitahara Sota couldn’t figure out what Eclipse was thinking.

But this time—it was the kind of especially impossible to understand.

That night, when he woke up after being attacked by Eclipse, his brain was blank.

Not blank in the emotional sense, but blank in the physical sense.

Because he’d nearly been smothered by lack of oxygen during her “attack,” and it took him nearly a full minute afterward to catch his breath.

And once his head cleared, looking at Eclipse, his first thought was: This girl… don’t tell me she got some idea looking at my sleeping face, and wanted to just take me on the spot?

But after waiting a long while, he saw she was only sitting there quietly. No intention of any further move.

After that, still in this unclear, awkward state, the two of them returned to the dorm.

And because their breaths were so close, no one noticed the problem with his lips.

But even if no one else noticed, he couldn’t fool himself.

It wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with Eclipse. But last time had been pure accident, and nowhere near to this degree.

The details—once, years back, when he was holding her while they watched TV.

On screen, the male and female lead kissed, looking so happy. Eclipse suddenly turned her head and gave his mouth a peck.

And after pecking him, she hadn’t shown the slightest hint of shyness or excitement. Instead, she looked puzzled.

But she hadn’t puzzled for long—just a few seconds before she curled back into his arms, continuing to watch TV as though nothing had happened.

And the reason Kitahara remembered this so clearly…

That had been his first kiss in both lives combined. How could he forget?

But that had just been a clueless child kissing for fun. So he hadn’t cared too much.

But a few nights ago…

Remembering the long attack that left him short of breath—if he still said that was a clueless child playing around, then he was just lying to himself.

It wasn’t entirely Eclipse’s fault. He could feel it—she hadn’t used much strength to hold him down. If he’d really wanted, he could have pushed her away at any time.

But—though inexperienced—once she went that far, he instinctively responded.

And in fact, most of what followed was him attacking. In the end, it was even Eclipse who gave in first. So really, the greater share of responsibility lay with him.

But the problem was—she was the one who had initiated.

And unlike before, this wasn’t a child’s ignorant experiment. Though her movements were clumsy, he could feel the seriousness behind them.

What did that mean?

Honestly, Kitahara didn’t know.

Not that he was pretending to be stupid. He really couldn’t read her thoughts.

He wasn’t dense. If it had been any other Uma Musume doing this, he would’ve immediately understood her feelings.

But Eclipse was different.

Their relationship couldn’t be summed up as “friends.” Even “family” didn’t quite fit.

Because siblings, no matter how close, wouldn’t still sleep together after growing up. And they wouldn’t say, straight-faced, If I want to jump you, I’ll jump. And if I do, you don’t have to take responsibility. Everything stays the same.

But if he called it romance—he was sure Eclipse’s feelings for him were not love in the conventional sense.

So what did she mean, exactly?

Remembering the warmth and softness that had spread in his mouth that night, Kitahara’s expression grew heavier.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked her straight out. But Eclipse, just like always, had brushed his questions aside without a second thought.

If it had been years earlier, he might not have dwelled so much.

With Eclipse’s strange way of thinking, she could talk about “jumping” him without blinking, and had even given him her own underwear and stockings before, without batting an eye.

But now—it was different.

Now it was September. In just one more quarter, Eclipse would turn eighteen.

Legally, women here could marry at sixteen, men at eighteen. But Kitahara stubbornly held to his own standard: at least eighteen for both.

Which meant—in three months, Eclipse would enter the range he could accept.

He had never thought about this before, because though Eclipse always threatened to “jump” him, if he truly refused, she would never force him.

But that night’s ambush made him realize—he had to make a decision.

Kitahara had never been one to run from problems, nor one to do things half-prepared.

Rather than waiting until then to flail about, it was better to face it early. Decide now. Then act directly when the time came.

And after only a few seconds of thought, he had his answer.

He couldn’t refuse Eclipse.

Even if not lovers, their bond was already inseparable. So no matter how much he agonized, in the end, acceptance was the only path.

So—he went to her, and told her directly.

“If you want, I can promise you. After the new year, I’ll start dating you. From then on, we’ll be lovers.”

“Or if you want marriage, I can agree first. But since you’re still racing, the wedding would have to wait until you finish these three years. Before that, I can buy you a ring, as an engagement.”

But faced with his straightforward strike, Eclipse gave no answer. Just like always, ignoring him outright.

Clearly, she didn’t approve of his thinking.

And that left Kitahara utterly at a loss.

Even though, based on years of knowing her, he had half expected this.

When it really happened, he still couldn’t stop the giant question mark forming in his heart.

He wanted to grab her by the legs, hang her upside down, and shake until all her thoughts spilled out—so he could finally see what was going on in that head.

If she liked him, why reject marriage?

If she didn’t like him, then why kiss him like a wife might not dare?

Of course, Kitahara’s acceptance didn’t mean jumping right away.

After all, Eclipse was still a student, still an active racer. Neither role suited that kind of act.

And though Tracen was loose in some ways, the bottom line was—no making “lives.” In every sense. Break that, and punishment was extreme.

So trainers in improper relationships usually only crossed the line near the end of the three-year cycle. Even then, the reckless ones who did it early paid with disrupted condition.

So, despite deciding, Kitahara planned to wait properly until after Eclipse’s three years.

The problem wasn’t him.

The problem was, after he made his choice—Eclipse had clearly disagreed.

That left him brooding.

She kissed him. She could jump him anytime. She stayed glued to his side. But the moment he mentioned dating or marriage, she turned away.

He reached out, pinched her cheeks, rubbing them roughly as he muttered, half angry, half helpless:

“What the hell is going on in that head of yours…?”

But Eclipse still didn’t react. Still didn’t answer. Just let him knead her face, as if nothing had ever happened between them.

So Kitahara quickly gave up worrying.

His choice was made. Her response given. It differed from what he hoped, but the matter was closed.

Besides, whether yes or no, their relationship wouldn’t change.

For other couples, a piece of paper proved happiness.

For them, with or without, things stayed the same.

At most—once the three years were done, he’d have less burden in his heart.

If she rejected, then everything continued as before.

If one day she changed her mind, he wouldn’t refuse.

If she never did, keeping this bond forever was fine too.

And if, in that future, Eclipse still wanted to jump him—even without a paper—he wouldn’t quibble.

But that was far off.

For now, she’d refused. So nothing more needed thought.

What did need thought—

Was the blue-haired Uma Musume watching him from the edge of the training grounds.

Mejiro Ardan.

Back at the izakaya with Komata, Kitahara had mentioned he had noticed her long ago.

She never approached. She even deliberately concealed herself. If not for his sharp counter-surveillance, he might never have seen her.

And he saw—sometimes, she wasn’t even looking at him. Sometimes she looked at the Uma Musume running the track, eyes full of envy, of longing.

Honestly, if it were anyone else, Kitahara would’ve gone straight up to ask if she needed help.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help Ardan.

The problem was—her surname was Mejiro.

Back with Komata, he had said—he’d like to help. But if treatment failed, things could turn troublesome.

And that wasn’t all.

Unlike the Symbolis, the Mejiros were famously lenient. Gentle, even.

So if he failed, made her worse, they wouldn’t throw him in Tokyo Bay. At most, they’d cast him out.

But that assumed failure.

If, however, he succeeded—if he fixed what generations of the Mejiros could not…

Then he was finished.

If he failed, fine—they’d expected as much.

If he succeeded—they’d never let him go.

And because the Mejiros were gentle, it wouldn’t be with chains or basements.

If it were force, he wasn’t scared. He had some skill, and Eclipse was a walking apocalypse.

But if they used softness…

Kitahara knew himself.

He could barely resist his own little ancestors’ pouting. What chance against the Mejiros?

So now—he hesitated.

Want to help? Yes.

Dare to help? Not so sure.

So, for now, he pretended not to notice. Just lazed on the training ground as always—

Wait.

Pulling out his phone, Kitahara suddenly realized something.

Hold on. It was September. Holiday already.

Nice Nature’s G3 was in a couple days, but he’d finished prep. Last day was rest. He had no reason to be here.

Still, he didn’t just walk off. He lingered through the day.

And at the end, he gathered everyone, and announced: he’d be lying around the dorm for the next month.

In the past, they would never have agreed. Less training ground time meant less time near him.

But after the Tachyon drug incident, they couldn’t even look at him without their bodies reacting, messing up training.

So this time, they all agreed without objection.

Seeing their easy agreement, Kitahara only grew more certain.

Think about it. He’d basically declared: one month apart, and still not added a single line ID.

If they really liked him, they wouldn’t have let him go so easily.

But he forgot—

They all knew where his dorm was now. They even had keys…

And besides, Komata was in the team now, more responsible than him, practically the real trainer.

But trainer or not wasn’t the point.

The point was—if Komata was watching, they could just watch her instead. No fear of sneaky escapes.

So, with thoughts scattered, everyone dispersed.

Camp ended, the girls returned to their dorms. Kitahara, finally alone, went back to his.

Looking at the empty room, he dazed for a while.

After over two months of constant noise, the silence felt strange.

But he knew—that was the abnormality. This was the normal. So he shook it off and returned to routine.

Bath. Pajamas. Computer chair.

He had meant to browse forums, chat a bit, watch videos, then sleep.

But sitting there, in the hush, he hesitated. Then clicked open the game Tokai Teio had recommended.

Just a little, maybe.

He thought, and queued ranked.

One win. Two. Three…

With reflexes beyond humans, beyond even Uma Musume, plus half a month of serious study, his skill had grown a lot.

Only his low playtime kept his rank down.

Now, with nothing to do, he wanted to see how far he could go.

Three hours later.

Looking at his 97% win rate and his ID rocketing into the top 100—Kitahara fell into thought.

Maybe, compared to being a trainer, pro gaming fit him better?

But only for a moment.

He knew his luck.

If he signed with a team today, the game would be banned tomorrow.

So, after cracking the top 100, he stopped.

Not from exhaustion. He was sharp as ever.

With his streak near a hundred, he could have kept going.

The 3% losses were only from when Teio and the others beat him early on. Since then, he’d barely lost.

So why stop?

Because someone messaged him.

[GraspVictory]: Hulubei-oniisan, are you there?

Hulubei. His in-game name.

Not his idea. The three idiots schemed it, and had Eclipse deliver.

Since she often did things he couldn’t fathom, he just accepted. Saved him the trouble of naming.

Now…

[Hulubei]: Here

[Hulubei]: What is it, want a match? I’ve got time

He preferred playing with acquaintances anyway.

Especially this “GraspVictory”—a dopey, earnest kid. With him, Kitahara could mess around, throw games, just enjoy. No risk of raising flags.

But today, rare chance—faced with Kitahara’s proactive invite, “GraspVictory” didn’t accept right away.

After a long silence, the reply came.

[GraspVictory]: Um, Hulubei-oniisan

[GraspVictory]: Do you know, like… when you give a girl a gift, what’s usually best?

Kitahara raised an eyebrow. His face turned subtle.

This brat… don’t tell me he’s in love?

—

T/N: DAIWA X SCARLET RAAAAH LETS GOO

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!