Slacking Professionally at Tracen [227]

The Classic Triple Crown that Kitahara referred to, in JP, consists of three races open only to second-year Umamusume after their debut.

The Satsuki Sho, the Japan Derby, and the Kikuka Sho.

In terms of prestige, these three stand at the very pinnacle of JP racing. Winning even one of them is enough to cement an Umamusume as a legend of her era.

Win all three, and she earns the title of Triple Crown winner—an honor universally acknowledged as the highest accolade in the Umamusume world, the ultimate achievement within JP.

A few years back, a certain “Emperor” single-handedly shattered expectations—without relying on a Trainer, and with an undefeated record prior to completing the Triple Crown—introducing the concept of the undefeated Triple Crown and raising the ceiling even higher.

But whether it’s a Triple Crown or an undefeated Triple Crown, both are legends among legends—the dream almost every Umamusume chases.

By all logic, when your own Umamusume declares she wants to challenge the Classic Triple Crown, a Trainer should be thrilled.

After all, it’s the Classic Triple Crown. Forget winning—just stepping onto that stage, racing alongside what are effectively the strongest of the generation, is already something to be proud of.

And if she wins even one of those races, not only does she ascend into legend, the Trainer who raised her stands to gain just as much.

In truth, though, what Trainers value even more than the tangible rewards is the victory itself.

It’s like nurturing a fragile sapling through storm after storm, until one day it towers into the sky.

Even if you gain nothing material, just standing beneath it and looking up fills you with a quiet, swelling happiness—arguably a greater reward than any prize.

However…

As beautiful and inspiring as that all sounds—and as true as it is—there’s a problem people often overlook.

Think of those classic hero tales. They usually end the moment the hero slays the dragon. At most, we’re told he marries the princess and lives happily ever after.

It’s not that authors don’t want to keep writing. It’s that once the ultimate evil is defeated, any future adventure feels pale in comparison.

The same goes for Triple Crown winners.

Once they’ve claimed the Triple Crown, they’ve already reached the summit of Umamusume racing.

They’ve won the highest honor. From then on, win or lose, even victory brings far less fulfillment. And if they slack off afterward, no one questions their strength.

It’s not that they lose the will to race—but compared to before the Triple Crown, they’re rarely as fixated on winning.

Add to that the fact that the third year marks the beginning of most Umamusume’s natural decline. Rather than chasing new peaks, the real priority becomes how to let a legend conclude gracefully.

Now, close your eyes for a second and think.

When her greatest dream has been fulfilled, her career is without regret, her decline has begun, her emotions grow unstable, and her future is financially secure—what, exactly, is left for an Umamusume to pursue?

The answer is obvious.

As mentioned earlier, to the outside world, Triple Crown Umamusume are like heroes in legend.

The dragon is slain. The story ends.

But for the seasoned Trainers at Tracen, once a Triple Crown—or even a single Crown—is achieved, they quietly book a hospital bed in advance for their juniors who are still basking in the glow of victory, unaware of what’s coming next… and wait for the inevitable arrival at that fated bed.

That, however, wasn’t what Kitahara was worried about.

Yes, quite a few Trainers of Triple Crown winners—or even single Crown winners—had ended up in the hospital afterward. A handful had even ended up locked in basements.

But Kitahara firmly believed his relationships with his Umamusume were entirely normal.

At least, that’s what he believed.

No—what troubled him was something else.

This year, four Umamusume under his banner had registered for the Classic Triple Crown.

Four.

That meant almost guaranteed in-team warfare—something that had never happened before.

Most Trainers only had two or three Umamusume at most. Even those who led full teams usually had members of differing ability levels or from different cohorts.

And with the high entry threshold of the Classic Triple Crown, internal clashes under a single Trainer were practically unheard of.

But Kitahara’s situation was different.

He had four Umamusume from the same generation. Last year, they’d racked up a string of impressive victories, sweeping all first-year G1 races. Every single one of them qualified for the Satsuki Sho.

And now, after tallying their intentions, just as he’d expected—

Every last one of those girls had set her sights on the Classic Triple Crown.

Which meant Kitahara was on the verge of tearing his hair out.

Setting aside the publicity storm a victory might bring him, internal conflict alone was no small matter.

Until now, thanks to the sheer number of races, Kitahara had deliberately spaced them out, avoiding direct clashes. Partly to maximize wins.

Partly to avoid team friction.

Yes, Umamusume generally had good personalities. But racing was a competitive sport. And good personality or not, they burned fiercely for victory.

Some even came with built-in obsessions.

Take the Mejiro family’s fixation on the Tenno Sho—generation after generation chasing consecutive wins, pinning the family’s pride on each successor.

Or Teio, chasing the undefeated Triple Crown in admiration of Rudolf.

Or others driven by external pressure or personal fixation, obsessively targeting specific races.

In some cases, losing those key races would hurt them more than death.

And if the one who beat them happened to be a teammate—someone you then had to throw a victory party for, someone you’d see every day afterward, grinning in your face…

Honestly, even Kitahara couldn’t stomach imagining it.

But you think that’s the worst-case scenario?

No.

For most Trainers, maybe.

But Kitahara’s team was different.

Because on his roster—

He had Neicha.

By default, Neicha’s racing style was already a friendship-killer.

If she pulled one of her trademark race-blocking maneuvers in a major Classic event, the Umamusume she blocked might not be the only one seeing red. The viewers at home could spike their blood pressure too—maybe even send a few unlucky hypertensive fans straight to the hospital.

“Shouldn’t have raised a gate-blocker…” Kitahara muttered with a sigh.

But regret was useless.

He knew that if he sat Neicha down and talked it through, he could probably persuade her to give up the Classic Triple Crown.

There was also the Filly Triple Crown during the same period. Slightly less prestigious, yes—but without those outrageously strong teammates in the mix, Kitahara was confident he could guide her to victory there.

But the question was—

Why?

Because she was a gate-blocker? Because she was Neicha? Because she might disrupt team harmony?

None of that was her burden to carry.

She was an Umamusume. Her job was to run with everything she had.

The rest was the responsibility of the adult.

I’ll arrange some psychological counseling ahead of time… at least give them a warning shot before the races. Better to prevent problems than deal with them after…

I should also investigate the competition from other teams. They’re strong enough that surprises are unlikely—but a Trainer still has his duties…

And Special Week and the others are accelerating toward their True Awakening. I’ll need to adjust training plans and prepare for the foundational races after…

After roughly mapping out the coming schedule in his head, Kitahara left his dorm, intent on having heart-to-hearts with the four girls.

However, despite deciding to talk, the first person he went to wasn’t Neicha—the one who seemed most volatile on paper.

He placed her third on the list.

Instead, he headed straight for Agnes Tachyon’s laboratory.

It wasn’t that he meant to persecute Neicha. He simply wanted to start with the easiest cases, resolve them quickly, then focus his energy on the more complicated ones.

As for Tachyon, she’d entered the Classic Triple Crown purely out of confidence in her own ability. She wasn’t particularly obsessed with winning or losing.

So Kitahara approached her first and explained his concerns.

Just as expected, Tachyon didn’t seem especially invested.

“I can promise you this,” she said, sleeves swaying dramatically as she blinked, red eyes gleaming with a curious light. “I’ll give it my all in the race. And afterward, no matter the result, I won’t complain.”

Then she lifted both feet and placed them lightly on Kitahara’s lap, rubbing them gently.

Having long grown used to her antics, Kitahara barely reacted. He brushed her feet off with mild exasperation.

“And what exactly do you want?” he asked. “Just so you know, I’ve got a lot on my plate lately. No time to test your potions.”

“And after that?”

“Still no time.”

“Tch.”

After clicking her tongue disdainfully, Agnes Tachyon tilted her head in thought.

“Well, let’s do it like this. Lately, I’ve tested plenty of potions on you, and the human data has been sufficient—but the Umamusume side is still lacking…”

Kitahara frowned slightly. “You want the others to test your potions?”

Tachyon nodded, then shook her head.

“Yes and no. It’s not exactly potion-testing, but rather gathering more experimental data. Ideally, it should be from top-tier Umamusume… for example, a Triple Crown winner.”

“Of course,” Tachyon quickly added, “I swear by the Three Goddesses that I’ll guarantee her safety.”

Hearing this, Kitahara raised an eyebrow.

Wow. So losing is fine, but winning means becoming her guinea pig… What is this, psychological warfare?

Perhaps Kitahara’s skepticism was too obvious because Tachyon paused briefly before explaining further.

“Relax, I won’t bring it up before the race, and I won’t ask for your help either. All I need is for you not to interfere. I’ll provide ample compensation for the winner to willingly cooperate with my research afterward… fair enough?”

It did sound reasonable enough.

Kitahara considered it carefully. If things were handled in this way, ensuring the safety of the Umamusume involved, it might actually be acceptable.

Yet, even though Tachyon’s words seemed sincere, Kitahara was all too familiar with her usual unreliability, so he didn’t agree outright.

Instead, he agreed conditionally, making clear he reserved the right to stop her at any time based on her behavior. Tachyon reluctantly accepted, leaving him somewhat reassured.

Just as they finished their talk, Cafe happened to drop by the lab.

Since Manhattan Cafe had no particular obsession with winning the Classic Triple Crown either, Kitahara’s discussion with her went very smoothly, quickly soothing any concerns she might’ve had.

Unlike the mad scientist Agnes Tachyon, Cafe was an obedient, gentle girl who didn’t make additional demands afterward.

All she did was quietly rub against Kitahara while Tachyon’s back was turned to her experiments. Then she effortlessly agreed to his request, leaving Kitahara feeling deeply grateful.

In return, he showed her some appreciation—before leaving, he thoroughly ruffled her hair, not stopping until she blushed furiously.

Incidentally, though Cafe’s ears weren’t as sensitive as Tachyon’s, they were still notably sensitive among Umamusume. Especially the spot where her ears met her hair—that was uniquely sensitive compared to ordinary Umamusume.

After bidding goodbye to Cafe and Tachyon, Kitahara glanced at the time and headed out to find Neicha, who’d just finished class.

But to his surprise, unlike the others, Neicha had anticipated his visit and had already made her decision long before he arrived.

“I know running against them could cause problems, and I really don’t want to trouble you, but… the Classic Triple Crown is something I truly want to challenge.”

“You know how it is—I’ve always been a third-place girl. Even though I’ve won plenty of races by now…”

“I just want to prove I can achieve first place too. That I can be the very best. And…that I can be worthy of you.”

Neicha gazed straight at him. Her face grew steadily redder, but her determination never wavered.

Yet, faced with Neicha’s earnest confession, Kitahara only looked utterly confused.

Wait, what? What does the Triple Crown have to do with me?

Although he felt baffled, Kitahara decided to voice his honest feelings.

“To be frank, Neicha, I don’t really understand your reasoning. If you’re aiming for the Satsuki Sho purely out of a desire as an Umamusume, then I’m behind you all the way. But if your goal is just to prove yourself worthy—especially if it’s to prove something to me—”

“Then I think there’s really no need.”

Kitahara paused briefly, then added softly:

“Because in my eyes, you’re already more than good enough. Whether it’s your personality, your talent, or even your looks—I don’t think you’re inferior to anyone. In fact, you’re exceptional in several ways—truly outstanding. … Hey, what’s wrong?”

For some reason, Neicha’s face turned increasingly red, and she gradually lowered her head until she was almost staring at her feet. Kitahara’s confusion grew even more pronounced.

After a long silence, Neicha finally calmed herself, raised her head, firmly grabbed Kitahara’s shoulders, and forcibly pushed him a short distance away. Then she turned around and quickly walked off, tail swishing behind her without another glance back.

Kitahara, left standing there alone, was utterly perplexed.

What did I do this time?

Seeing the blockhead next to her once again failing spectacularly, Eclipse suddenly spoke up.

“Kitahara.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“You know acting like this is practically inviting someone to Uma Pyoi you, right?”

“But I didn’t even do anything… I was just telling the truth…”

“You…” Eclipse sighed. “Forget it.”

She had no intention of continuing this conversation. Even a heartless monster incapable of affection would feel negative emotions dealing with this blockheaded idiot.

After a brief silence, Eclipse stared at Neicha’s receding figure in the distance, and spoke again:

“Also… Are you hiding something from me?”

Kitahara froze for a moment, quickly averting his gaze with a guilty expression.

“If I say no, would you believe me…?”

Of course Eclipse didn’t believe him.

Under normal circumstances, whenever she wanted to know something—even if it concerned his own privacy—Kitahara would always proactively share it with her at the slightest indication.

But just now, when she’d tried to see what Hayakawa had shown him, he had immediately turned off the screen and handed the phone back without hesitation.

It wasn’t that she doubted his trust—but Eclipse worried this fool might be doing something stupid behind her back. Like secretly hiding things that might upset her, then trying to handle it all alone.

Still, although she’d already asked, and judging from his guilty expression, Kitahara definitely wouldn’t conceal anything further if she pressed him…

Eclipse ultimately chose not to. She silently diminished her presence, falling behind Kitahara like a shadow.

“All right, get on with your work,” she said lightly.

Seeing Eclipse willingly change the subject, Kitahara breathed a quiet sigh of relief. They chatted a bit more casually, and once he was sure she wouldn’t pursue the topic any further, he headed off without hesitation toward the last—and most troublesome—of the four girls.

“Tokai Teio, huh…”

—

T/N: neicha is nice nature btw, just saying

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!