Slacking Professionally at Tracen [5]

“Kitahara Sota” was an urban legend circulating among local Tracen academies and Uma Musume trainers for several years.

According to rumors, if you encountered any difficulties related to Uma Musume, you only needed to hang three carrots—each no shorter than five centimeters—outside your door. Doing so might attract a mysterious humanoid named Kitahara Sota to knock at your door.

He appeared very young—almost childlike—but possessed knowledge and skills far surpassing veteran trainers. Any question regarding Uma Musume, no matter how obscure or complicated, he could easily grasp and provide a swift, effective solution.

He was also highly accomplished in training methods and never withheld information. Whether you were a rookie or seasoned veteran, if you sought his guidance, you’d always gain something—earning him the reputation as the Uma Musume equivalent of a “wish-granting fairy.”

But his help wasn’t without cost: if you wanted his aid, you had to be prepared for your pantry to be emptied.

The entity named Kitahara Sota never asked for money, only food. Usually, a black-haired Uma Musume who constantly accompanied him handled the collection—but occasionally, he would take the supplies himself.

Some insisted he was nothing more than an imaginary creation of local trainers, while others swore he was real. Yet whenever anyone asked for proof, no one could provide any, as Kitahara Sota appeared briefly in one place and then mysteriously vanished without returning—almost as if he’d never existed at all.

No one knew his true identity, where he lived, or even if he was human.

Thus, the urban legend known as Kitahara Sota gradually spread.

“I’m obviously human.”

“You couldn’t find me back then because I had no fixed home. Eclipse and I wandered everywhere, and since we often couldn’t afford food, we had no choice but to get supplies this way.”

“As for why you couldn’t find me again—I never stayed long in any one place. Helping people was fine, but after completely emptying their pantries, I wasn’t shameless enough to return and do it a second time.”

“The three-carrot thing was originally just a secret signal I gave my earliest customers. Somehow, it spread widely, and since more business didn’t hurt, I never bothered to correct it.”

After explaining himself, Kitahara glanced at the rookie trainers, whose expressions were strange, and asked in confusion:

“Anyway… was I really that famous?”

“It’s not about whether you’re famous or not, it’s—do you remember all the places you’ve visited Kitahara-san?”

Despite being peers, one rookie had already begun using honorific speech.

“Not clearly,” Kitahara replied after thinking for a moment. “But I’ve probably been to most parts of JP by now.”

After all, he wasn’t heartless enough to constantly drain resources from one place; instead, he simply moved to new areas after emptying a pantry.

As a result, every location with an Uma Musume in JP had probably been cleaned out by him at least once.

Wait a minute—thinking about it this way, he really had traveled quite extensively over the years.

Taking a closer look at the trainers present, he found a few faces somewhat familiar. He probably had met some of them at local Tracen branches, and judging by their slowly shifting expressions, they seemed to recall the encounters too.

Once the trainers realized Kitahara Sota really was that urban legend—and more importantly, very much alive—the atmosphere became lively once again.

This time, not only the rookies but even veteran trainers flocked over. Some had directly received Kitahara’s help, while others had heard about him through word of mouth.

Yet as the trainers eagerly discussed the legend surrounding him, Kitahara—at the center of the storm—not only felt no pride, but also a rising sense of anxiety.

This is bad. I never thought I’d become this famous.

If this continued, it was entirely possible that Uma Musume would seek him out as a trainer based on reputation alone. Ordinary Uma Musume could be easily rejected, but if certain wealthy and influential young ladies approached him with lucrative offers, he wasn’t confident he could hold out again.

He was all too aware of his weak willpower in that regard.

“Um…”

Seeing the trainers animatedly talking, Kitahara spoke earnestly:

“Could I ask everyone to keep quiet about my name?”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Kitahara hesitated for a moment, then smiled awkwardly. “Well, you know—every family has its own struggles.”

Hearing this, the other trainers knowingly smiled.

Oh, we get it.

They’d heard Kitahara always had a black-haired Uma Musume by his side, probably a childhood sweetheart. She probably didn’t want him attracting attention outside and had likely issued some strict orders.

“Sure thing. If your fame spread any wider, we’d worry you’d steal away all the best prospects.”

Eventually, the commotion settled down, and the welcome event concluded with discussions still centered around Kitahara Sota.

Even after dispersing, groups of trainers continued chatting quietly among themselves about him.

Seriously, how exactly do you guys see me? Some kind of mysterious sage?

Wasn’t he just someone who traveled around, scraping together odd jobs to feed his family? Did they really have to gossip this much?

Kitahara sighed helplessly, worried these trainers might accidentally leak his identity to the Uma Musume themselves. If that happened, it would become much harder for him to slack off.

Please, please let them keep their mouths shut. I really don’t want any more interactions with Uma Musume than necessary.

With that thought, he exited the meeting area—and abruptly froze in place.

Wait… where do I go next?

Eclipse was probably attending regular classes right now, and Tokai Teio had explicitly forbidden him from interfering.

If he found a random spot to laze around campus, getting caught might mean docked wages. Wandering aimlessly carried the risk of bumping into troublesome Uma Musume, potentially causing more complications.

Gazing across the vast campus, Kitahara sank into deep thought.

…

A short while later.

Having just completed her warm-up exercises, Tokai Teio glanced irritably at Kitahara Sota, who had suddenly appeared in the stands.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t get involved?”

Resting his chin in his palm, Kitahara wore a hopeless, defeated expression.

You think I wanted to be here?

He sighed, then began explaining his current predicament to Teio.

As she listened, her expression gradually softened—until finally, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

This was the first time she’d seen a trainer in such a pitiful state.

“Fine then! The Invincible Teio-sama graciously permits you to observe my training!” She puffed out her rather modest chest, looking proudly satisfied.

“No, no. Don’t worry. I won’t watch. I’ll just be here playing on my phone.”

Even showing up here required a huge amount of courage; Kitahara absolutely refused to risk looking at her more than necessary.

If, by some horrible chance, Teio turned around and uttered something like, “Trainer, please keep your eyes only on me,” then he might as well immediately reserve a spot in her basement.

At his response, Teio seemed quite satisfied—after all, this was exactly what she’d wanted.

But despite Kitahara following her wishes precisely, for some reason, hearing his blunt response still caused a faint, displeased feeling to surface in her heart—as if she’d been subtly belittled.

Teio brushed aside these petty emotions, suppressing the irritation as she resumed her training.

And true to his word, Kitahara sat off to the side, opening his phone and idly watching pre-downloaded videos. Until Teio’s training concluded at noon, he never once glanced up at her self-directed drills.

—

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!