Slacking Professionally at Tracen [34]

Three hours later, Kitahara Sota finally finished, neatly sliding the completed set of six running styles into his notebook.

Although he’d once spent nearly two hours designing a single running style for Oguri Cap, that was years ago.

Since their separation, Kitahara hadn’t slowed down. He’d wandered continuously, interacting with numerous trainers, encountering countless Uma Musume, and resolving many complex problems. The growth from these experiences was considerable.

A few years back, developing a running style for Oguri required him to rely heavily on daily observation and meticulous data collection, followed by a lengthy design process, culminating in a plan riddled with imperfections.

Now, however, he simply needed to stand aside, casually glance up from his phone during their training, and perform a few routine tests. Within an hour, he’d have a nearly flawless design ready.

Although he’d prepared three running styles per person, they weren’t completely independent designs; rather, each shared a common core.

This wasn’t laziness. Too much variation could cause conflicts, negatively impacting the effectiveness of training.

Once he’d established the main design, adjustments were straightforward.

The training version emphasized strength, while the relaxation variant prioritized recovery, alternating them during regular sessions. The racing variant sacrificed sustainability for maximum speed and power.

Adjustments were far simpler than original designs. In fact, out of three hours, he’d spent roughly two on the primary design, with the remaining hour devoted to easy tweaks.

If those brats hadn’t caused trouble, I probably could’ve finished even faster.

Speaking of troublemakers…

Putting down his pen, Kitahara sighed deeply.

He certainly hadn’t forgotten the chaos of three hours ago. The troublemakers were still sitting obediently around the tea table, silent and docile since he’d scolded them.

He didn’t regret his earlier outburst; in fact, he wouldn’t mind doing it again.

Kitahara might have loved to slack off, but he never compromised when it came to serious business.

If they’d kept their initial promise to quietly watch—or even just mildly misbehaved—he could’ve tolerated it. The issue was they’d gone far beyond acceptable limits.

Sitting on his armrests had been distracting enough, but they’d relentlessly nudged closer, their restless limbs further intensifying his irritation.

Especially their legs—though supposedly kicking each other, the silky textures of white thigh-highs and black stockings brushing across his legs constantly disrupted his train of thought.

Those who knew better would understand they were simply trying to decipher his notebook or engaging in playful rivalry. Those who didn’t might assume this was some romantic comedy scene of two jealous rivals.

But such antics carried serious risks.

Disrupted thoughts were minor; what truly worried him was the potential for a tiny mistake during calculations—errors that could impact Special Week and Oguri Cap for the rest of their lives.

However, after three hours, and considering they’d behaved impeccably since, Kitahara’s anger had largely faded.

Gathering the six plans, he approached the group with a stern expression. But before he could speak, Tokai Teio’s voice broke the silence.

“Um… Trainer-san, we’re really sorry about earlier.”

Tokai Teio’s demeanor was earnest, and her voice sincerely apologetic.

Though sometimes quirky, at heart Teio was still an obedient, well-mannered child. After calming down, she’d quickly recognized how ridiculous their behavior had been, feeling deep embarrassment for quite some time.

Surprisingly, Agnes Tachyon also showed uncharacteristic restraint, quietly apologizing right after Teio. Though less heartfelt, coming from her, it was already a miracle.

After all, if anyone had disrupted Tachyon’s own experiments like this, she wouldn’t merely be annoyed—she’d probably devise a special potion as revenge.

Special Week and Oguri Cap required even less prompting. As soon as Kitahara approached, both immediately lowered their heads, looking so pitiful that Kitahara’s remaining anger evaporated instantly.

His temper wasn’t particularly harsh to begin with, and he was always weak against sincere apologies.

Sighing softly, Kitahara decided to explain calmly why he’d been upset.

“Designing running styles isn’t trivial; it’s something you’ll rely on every day. Even the slightest miscalculation could compound over time into a catastrophic mistake, affecting your future—your entire life. Or, rather, your entire Uma Musume life.”

Special Week’s expression grew even more sorrowful at these words, while Oguri Cap visibly flinched, eyes darting away in guilt.

Seeing their genuine remorse, Kitahara didn’t push further. Continuing now would’ve felt like bullying.

Besides, though he’d gained the upper hand momentarily, he knew all too well the fundamental difference between humans and Uma Musume. Peaceful dialogue was fine, but if it ever escalated physically, any one of these delicate-looking girls could effortlessly overpower him.

Peace, kindness, and harmony—that was the best policy for a young man like him.

Definitely not because he’d lose any physical confrontation.

Nope, definitely not.

After clearing the air, the mood quickly improved.

Kitahara asked them why they’d visited today, shared the snacks Special Week’s mother had sent, and politely sent her mother a message of thanks.

Tokai Teio seized the chance to inquire again about Kitahara’s mysterious notebook, but quickly regretted it. After his brief explanation, she’d nearly forgotten the original meaning of the words altogether.

“Well, it’s simple. You see how these two muscle groups interact here? It indicates a slight imbalance in nerve conduction speed on both sides of the torso. You can easily correct it by controlling tail movement, reducing energy expenditure in your arms. Though this might slightly increase oxygen use, it’s balanced out by shifting your center of gravity…”

…What did he just say?

Forget Tokai Teio—even Agnes Tachyon stared blankly, utterly lost. Everyone wore similarly dumbfounded expressions.

Only Eclipse remained unbothered.

But not because she understood—she didn’t.

Just as Kitahara couldn’t comprehend how Eclipse won every race effortlessly without regular training, Eclipse couldn’t begin to understand how Kitahara had developed such absurd analytical abilities.

However, having spent years together, she’d long grown accustomed to his inexplicable talents, while these newcomers clearly needed more time.

Kitahara himself had also accepted this disconnect years ago. He’d stopped caring whether others understood him or not. If nobody asked, he wouldn’t bother explaining. But if someone did ask, he didn’t mind sharing his thoughts.

Eventually, though, after countless failed attempts to communicate his deeper insights—sometimes leaving trainers overwhelmed or even mentally shaken—he’d learned to selectively share knowledge.

Instead of overwhelming others, he stuck to concepts simpler trainers could grasp, still providing enough value for them to benefit.

Yet despite his extraordinary ability, Kitahara never looked down on fellow trainers.

After all, much of his knowledge was built from what he’d learned from others. His genius lay mainly in synthesizing and deepening their insights.

Even now, he constantly learned new concepts from other trainers, their discussions sparking fresh inspiration and research ideas.

His talent wasn’t simply innate—it relied heavily on the wisdom generously shared by others. Kitahara had merely collected, integrated, and advanced it further.

Reflecting quietly, Kitahara sighed, seeing the group’s confusion. Instead of continuing with impossible explanations, he switched gears, sharing simpler insights usually reserved for other trainers.

Thanks to his extensive experience teaching, Kitahara explained clearly and succinctly.

Even Oguri Cap and Grass Wonder couldn’t resist listening intently.

Except Eclipse and Special Week.

Eclipse had heard his explanations countless times and felt no interest in repeating the experience.

Special Week tried earnestly, but her innate drowsiness quickly overcame her, nodding off within minutes.

As Kitahara concluded a section, pausing for a break, a small, delicate hand passed him a cup of water.

Distracted by new ideas that had sprung to mind mid-explanation, Kitahara accepted it automatically, thanked the giver, and drank it in one gulp—

Wait, isn’t this water a strange color?

By the time he noticed, only a faintly glowing, pale blue liquid remained.

Beside him, Agnes Tachyon smiled innocently, still holding out the now-empty cup.

And then, the next moment…

A dazzling burst of multicolored light erupted from Kitahara’s body.

“AGNES TACHYON, YOU—!!”

…

Later on.

Despite Tachyon’s repeated claims that the potion was merely a newly-developed “mental fatigue recovery supplement” and harmless, the other Uma Musume forcibly pinned her to the sofa and gave her a thorough beating, forcing her to apologize.

Yet everyone knew she’d definitely do it again.

—

T/N: AGNES TACHYON!!!!!!!!!!!!

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!