Aki 2026: Day Nine

Andy Aki 2026

Day Nine in Tokyo.

Joshoyu beat Chiyonotaka and remains the only undefeated rikishi in Jonokuchi. Eisei locked up his kachi-koshi against Kotokawabuchi. Congratulations! The Abema footage of his win is below. Makushita has narrowed to a three man race between Tenshoyama, Inami and Yumenofuji.

In Juryo, Kagayaki defeated Kayo and took a two-win lead. Kagayaki is undefeated at 9-0. Kayo falls to 7-2 with Daiseizan and Kitanowaka. The promotion picture is clearing up and there are not many candidates to go up. Daiseizan looks ready to go up but Dewanoryu, Tamawashi and Kazekeno really have work to do this week. So, I think there will be only be three seats on the barge – possibly four. Two seats will be claimed by the kyujo Wakatakakage and Wakanosho. We despair for a number of folks doing poorly on one or two wins but really only Shonannoumi is in real danger of going down, I believe. He might even jump ahead of Wakatakakage in the queue if the barge ends up being a two-man canoe.

NHK videos here.

Makuuchi Action

Tokihayate (6-3) defeated Sadanoumi (2-7). Tokihayate hooked both of his arms under Sadanoumi’s shoulders and charged ahead to the edge. Sadanoumi briefly grabbed Tokihayate’s belt with an overarm grip and tried to tip Tokihayate over. Tokihayate kept his balance and cut Sadanoumi’s grip. Without that grip, Tokihayate forced Sadanoumi back and out. Yorikiri.

Abi (6-3) defeated Shonannoumi (2-7). Abi henka! Shonannoumi reacted well, rotated and engaged Abi directly. However, Abi used his powerful thrusts to lay into Shonannoumi, shoving him back and out. Oshidashi.

Tobizaru (4-5) defeated Shodai (2-7). As Shodai moved forward, Tobizaru shifted left and pulled Shodai down. Hikiotoshi.

Wakamotoharu (5-4) defeated Toshinofuji (6-3). When Wakamotoharu locked on to Toshinofuji’s belt with both hands in a hidari-yotsu grip, he forced Toshinofuji back through the ring and out. Wakamotoharu seems to be getting his grove back. Yorikiri.

Kinbozan (7-2) defeated Chiyoshoma (4-5). Chiyoshoma could not get a solid grip on Kinbozan. He pulled as Kinbozan shoved with his powerful left arm. This sent Chiyoshoma flying backward and off the dohyo. Oshitaoshi.

Hiradoumi (5-4) defeated Asasuiryu (4-5). Asasuiryu used the edge as leverage to whale into Hiradoumi and charge forward. Hiradoumi shifted slightly left and slapped Asasuiryu down. Hatakikomi.

Takerufuji (6-3) defeated Asakoryu (5-4). Takerufuji hooked his left arm under Asakoryu’s right and wrapped his right outside. Takerufuji then pressed forward and forced Asakoryu out. Yorikiri.

Nishikifuji (4-5) defeated (3-6) Asahakuryu. Nishikifuji’s tsuppari wasn’t getting him anywhere. Asahakuryu locked on to his belt so Nishikifuji did the same. Asahakuryu pulled with his hidari-yotsu hold and that was a fatal mistake as Nishikifuji used the momentum to force his way forward and usher Asahakuryu out. Yorikiri.

Fujiseiun (6-3) defeated Oho (3-6). Oho tried to cut Fujiseiun’s left-hand belt grip but failed. Fujiseiun charged forward and forced him out. Oho did not really seem capable of digging in with his legs to stop Fujiseiun’s forward pressure. Yorikiri.

Shishi (4-5) defeated Ichiyamamoto (1-8). After a lengthy tussle, Shishi grabbed Ichiyamamoto’s right arm around the shoulder and swung him forward. Kotenage.

Halftime

Oshoma (6-3) defeated Ura (5-4). Oshoma shoved Ura back and stepped forward, hitting Ura with tsuppari. Oshoma then shifted left and slapped Ura down. Hatakikomi.

Takanosho (4-5) defeated Asanoyama (6-3). Takanosho shifted left and caught Asanoyama with his weight too far forward. Hikiotoshi.

Churanoumi (7-2) defeated Roga (5-4). Churanoumi overpowered Roga, forcing him back and out, quickly. Oshidashi.

Kotoshoho (4-5) defeated Gonoyama (2-7). Kotoshoho shifted to his right after the tachiai, shoving Gonoyama to the edge and then blasting him off. Oshidashi.

Sanyaku

Hakunofuji (3-6) defeated Kotoeiho (2-7). Kotoeiho let Hakunofuji charge into him, sliding back to brace against the straw bales. He tried to shift at the edge but Hakunofuji really wasn’t having it. With solid footwork and an all business manner, Hakunofuji forced Kotoeiho out. Yorikiri.

Atamifuji (7-2) defeated Takayasu (3-6). Atamifuji looked every bit the Ozeki candidate as Takayasu struggled to budge the big man. It took all of Takayasu’s strength to pivot and try to throw Atamifuji with his migi-yotsu hold. Atamifuji shuffled to keep his balance and shoved Takayasu back with strong tsuppari. Oshidashi.

Fujinokawa (7-2) defeated Kotozakura (6-3). Fujinokawa used his right-hand overarm grip to pull Kotozakura forward to the clay. Uwatenage.

Daieisho (3-6) defeated Kirishima (5-4). Daieisho grabbed Kirishima’s extended left hand and pulled him forward, nearly catching him with a tottari. Kirishima pulled away just in time. Freaked out, Kirishima retreated carelessly. Daieisho was in hot pursuit, shoving the Ozeki. As Kirishima braced at the far edge, Daieisho pulled him forward to the ground. Hikiotoshi.

Aonishiki (6-3) defeated Yoshinofuji (3-6). Yoshinofuji targeted Aonishiki’s injured left foot for a leg sweep as he tried to lever the Ozeki over the bales. Aonishiki resisted and executed his own beautiful throw in response. But the damage may be significant. Aonishiki could barely stand by the power water and walked gingerly down the hanamichi. Sukuinage.

Onosato (8-1) defeated Fujiryoga (3-6). Onosato shifted left and pulled Fujiryoga down. Hikiotoshi.

Wrap-up

Did Onosato finally figure out that moving laterally works better than backwards? It’s essentially the same, “inashi” strategy, relying on misdirection and the opponent’s poor balance and footwork. But the pivot or shuffle to the side reduces the risk of losing by carelessly stepping out or leaping dangerously into the crowd. It also keeps him in the game to continue the attack from the side, or even from behind. It also means he is well positioned to address any counter attacks, if the opponent is able to adjust and reengage.

Hakunofuji will be a good test tomorrow. The Yokozuna picked up his kachi-koshi. He is in the lead by himself and the field behind him has halved.

Title Race

  • 1-Loss: Onosato
  • 2-Losses: Atamifuji, Fujinokawa, Churanoumi, Kinbozan

My hope for Aonishiki is that he picks up two wins and sits out the rest of the tournament on the couch at Ajigawa-beya. He will face Churanoumi tomorrow. At this point, it looks like Kotonanahachi might be the softest opponent on his card but they will not face each other until the weekend. Speaking of the Stay-Puft Ozeki, he will need all of his wits about him against Atamifuji tomorrow. Kirishima will fight Fujiryoga, who seemed a bit miffed that the Yokozuna didn’t fight him head-on and chose to slap him down.

Fujinokawa will fight Takanosho and Daieisho will fight Kotoshoho. Kinbozan is the lone low-ranker still in this for the moment. He will fight Toshinofuji.

Dai-Yokozuna by Decade

Thomas Griffin Yokozuna (横綱)

Could this be the first decade without a dai-yokozuna?

The 2020s have so far been an era of unprecedented parity in sumo, and I’m of two minds about it. In many ways this unpredictability has made the sport a lot of fun—would anyone tune in on Day 1 if we already knew who would be hoisting the Emperor’s Cup on Day 15? Maybe not, but then again, I’m not one of those who reads the end of the book first to find out what happens. I want to be swept along by the ride, and the last several years have been a crazy ride indeed, with surprise champions coming out of the woodwork and yusho races full of twists.

Yet, it is also thrilling to witness greatness, to see athletes strive for perfection and achieve dominance over their competitive peers. Throughout its modern history sumo has been a great sport in this regard. In its modern era (since the institution of the 6-basho calendar in 1958), sumo has produced at least one grand champion every decade who was head and shoulders above the rest, a “dai-yokozuna” who is forever after held up as the face of the sport in his time.

(Side note 1: there were of course dominant champions prior to 1958, but since they wrestled fewer times per year, it’s unfair to compare their records to later greats.)

(Side note 2: the term “dai-yokozuna” is itself highly subjective. There is no statistical benchmark—it’s about vibes, and is typically bestowed upon a dominant yokozuna who embodies a given era in the public perception. For our purposes today, I’m looking to make distinctions by decade, with a threshold of at least 10 yusho (1 per year) within a discrete timeframe.)

Taiho leads the way. The first truly transcendent dai-yokozuna won 30 of his 32 total yusho in the 1960s. His record would stand for 50 years, and his legacy, forever.

Next came Kitanoumi, Mr. “Hatefully Strong.” He would claim 17 of his 24 yusho in the 1970s, besting rival Wajima, who totaled 13 yusho in the same timeframe. Theirs was a fantastic rivalry, perhaps the most evenly matched of any single decade.

The 1980s were owned by “the Wolf,” Chiyonofuji. He claimed 29 of his 31 total yusho in the 80s. His next closest rival was the aforementioned Kitanoumi, who even at the tail end of his career captured 7 more yusho.

The 1990s might be dubbed the “Waka-Taka” era, but it’s the latter man who stands out. Takanohana won 20 of his 22 yusho in this decade, while his chief rival, Akebono, claimed 9.

The 2000s belonged to Mongolia. Asashoryu was nearly invincible at his peak, winning 24 of his 25 yusho in this decade, and who knows what his yusho tally might have been if a certain someone hadn’t come along in the back half to give him some real competition…

Hakuho won 12 yusho in the 2000s, but after Asashoryu’s dismissal in early 2010, sumo became a one-horse race. “The Boss” won 31 of his total 45 yusho in the 2010s, breaking Taiho’s record to cement himself as sumo’s GOAT.

This, at last, brings us to the present. The 2020s started off with promise, as Terunofuji rocketed up the banzuke and laid claim to Hakuho’s vacant throne. And yet, Teru’s injuries held him back from hitting that crucial mark set by his predecessors—10 yusho in a decade (he won 10 total, but only 9 in the 2020s). Coupling that with his frequent absences and relatively short yokozuna tenure means Teru doesn’t quite cut it as this era’s superstar.

Now the question becomes, will anyone? Time is running out. The 2020s are 2/3rds finished, and the candidate closest to the mark, Onosato, will need to first overcome his injuries and then double his yusho count. If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have called it an inevitability, but his 2026 campaign has been woeful and I now have doubts.

Ozekis Kirishima and Aonishiki, both with 3 yusho, are next in line, but they should focus on simple promotion to the top rank first before thinking about transcending it. Behind them in line are a slew of men with 2 or 1 yusho, but none feel particularly likely. It’s nice to see the wealth (literal and figurative) get spread across the top division, but I would also regard it as a shame if this decade failed to produce a great to add to “the list.”

Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, Serena Williams, Ronda Rousey—greatness inspires, it breathes life into old fans and draws new ones in. It’s just plain cool to watch, and it captures cultural relevance in a way parity will never be able to. For this reason, for the health of the sport, sumo needs its next generational talent to step up.

They better hurry though—there are only 20 basho left in this decade, and it’s not getting any easier to win an Emperor’s Cup.

Aki 2026: Nakabi

Andy Aki 2026

Day 8 in Tokyo

In the lower divisions, Hikarumusashi lost to Amane, picking up his first loss of the tournament and falling out of the Jonidan yusho race. He will be joined in Kyushu by Sunamusashi who debuted in this maezumo cohort. He’s second from the right, next to the 57kg Shinmichi.

In Jonokuchi, Kotofuno and Joshoyu are the lone undefeated. Joshoyu is definitely the favorite for the title. I’ll dig a bit more into the Jonidan and Sandanme races as the field narrows and we get closer to the yusho.

Up in Makushita, Tenshoyama (Tamanoi) defeated Osanai, picking up his kachi-koshi and remaining in the yusho race. Ryusho (Oitekaze), Inami (Onoe), Haruyama (Onoe), Aratakayama (Minatogawa) and Yumenofuji (Isegahama).

Kagayaki thrust Tokifudo from the dohyo to stay undefeated. He’s now the sole leader in Juryo since Kayo lost to Ryuden and Kitanowaka lost to Tomokaze. Video of this bout is on the NHK video page, underneath all of the top division action.

NHK videos are here.

Makuuchi Action

Toshinofuji (6-2) defeated Mitakeumi (3-5). Hidari-yotsu. Mitakeumi gave everything he had. It wasn’t enough as Toshinofuji crushed him out. Yoritaoshi.

Tokihayate (5-3) defeated Tobizaru (3-5). Tobizaru tried to pull but Tokihayate kept Tobizaru in front of him and rode him down to the clay. Yoritaoshi.

Asakoryu (5-3) defeated Chiyoshoma (4-4). Chiyoshoma also tried to pull but Asakoryu shoved him out. Yorikiri.

Shonannoumi (2-6) defeated Asahakuryu (4-4). Migi-yotsu. Shonannoumi pulled up on Asahakuryu’s belt and forced him back and over the bales. Yorikiri.

Abi (5-3) defeated Wakamotoharu (4-4). Abi-zumo got the better of Wakamotoharu today. Abi battered Wakamotoharu with tsuppari and shoved him out. Oshidashi.

Shodai (2-6) defeated Asasuiryu (4-3). Shodai cut Asasuiryu’s left hand grip with a forceful shove down, and then slapped him down. Hatakikomi.

Kinbozan (6-2) defeated Fujiseiun (5-3). Kinbozan overpowered Fujiseiun, blasting him with tsuppari and then bear-hugging him to force him over the bales. Yorikiri.

Oho (3-5) defeated NIshikifuji (2-6). Oho 2.0 charged ahead and quickly shoved Nishikifuji out. Oshidashi.

Asanoyama (6-2) defeated Shishi (3-5). Migi-yotsu. Asanoyama showed off his Ozeki strength and forced Shishi back and out. Yorikiri.

Ura (6-2) defeated Ichiyamamoto (1-7). Ichiyamamoto adapted his usual attack. Instead of whaling on Ura with tsuppari, he shoved Ura and held him at arm’s length. It was Ura’s pull, rather than Ichiyamamoto’s shove, that drew Ura to the edge. At the bales, Ura shuffled right and pulled on Ichiyamamoto’s outstretched left arm, forcing him to fall forward over the bales. Tottari.

Halftime

Hiradoumi (4-4) defeated Roga (5-3). Hiradoumi wrapped up Roga with a bear-hug and drove him over the bales. Yorikiri.

Takerufuji (5-3) defeated Oshoma (4-4). Oshoma pulled and Takerufuji kept him centered plowing through him and shoving him to the ground at the edge. Oshitaoshi.

Fujiryoga (3-5) defeated Gonoyama (2-6). Fujiryoga shifted left and shoved Gonoyama hard in the right shoulder while Gonoyama’s weight was already driving forward. This caused Gonoyama to stumble ahead. Fujiryoga followed and shoved him over the edge from behind. Okuridashi.

Yoshinofuji defeated Kotoshoho. Yoshinofuji used his left hand over arm grip to topple Kotoshoho over the edge. Kotoshoho tried to use his right leg to force Yoshinofuji over first. Both men fell over the side. Gunbai Yoshinofuji. No mono-ii. Kotoshoho landed just before Yoshi. Uwatenage.

Sanyaku

Atamifuji (6-2) defeated Kotoeiho (2-6). Kotoeiho had a strong migi-yotsu hold and forced Atamifuji back to the edge. However, Atamifuji rotated and shoved Kotoeiho down over the tawara. Tsukiotoshi.

Fujinokawa (6-2) defeated Takayasu (3-5). What a brawl. The two men battered each other with tsuppari with each man trying to use mis-direction, slapdowns, and raw power to gain advantage. Fujinokawa leapt forward to put Takayasu in a bear-hug. This triggered Takayasu’s flight response. Takayasu pulled and tried a last second throw or slapdown but Fujinokawa thrust him out. Oshidashi.

Churanoumi (6-2) defeated Kirishima (5-3). Oshi battle here as neither man wanted the other on his belt. One would reach in and come close to a grip but get slapped away. Kirishima pulled and tried to escape to Churanoumi’s left. However, Kirishima lost his balance and stumbled backward, falling on his butt. The lesson from this bout was more along the lines of “if you have good footwork, good things happen.” Oshitaoshi.

Aonishiki (5-3) defeated Daieisho (2-6). Aonishiki weathered Daieisho’s torrent of tsuppari. When Daieisho tried his slapdown, Aonishiki moved in for the kill. He wrapped up Daieisho with a firm left-hand grip and he got that right arm inside as well. Since Daieisho was already moving backward, Aonishiki applied pressure to keep him going back to the edge and over. Yorikiri.

Hakunofuji (2-6) defeated Kotozakura (6-2). Kotohachinana is back. “Pull at your peril.” I should print up some more T-Shirts but this advice doesn’t have many practical applications outside the sumo world. People like having Japanese or Arabic tattoos, so maybe that’s a better route? Get this phrase tattooed: “引き技で墓穴を掘る” It roughly translates to, “Pulling methods dig your own grave.” The context of the article is critique of Onosato’s tendancy to pull. Another phrase is a bit more straight-forward. 引いたら負け, meaning “You pull, you lose.” It’s an axiom that Hiradoumi apparently lives by. Kotozakura needs to learn this lesson. Today, he pulled and Hakunofuji charged forward, shoving him out of the ring. Oshidashi.

Onosato (7-1) defeated Takanosho (3-5). Another day at the office for the Yokozuna. Maybe he actually, finally learned the lesson about pulling? He got his left hand inside and drove Takanosho to the edge. Takanosho flailed around at the tawara, allowing Onosato to grab hold with his right, as well. Once Onosato got the morozashi, he was able to power his way through Takanosho. Yorikiri.

Wrap-up

Onosato is in control. He has sole possession of the lead. However, there’s a crap-ton of guys waiting to pounce, one loss back. BTW, a “crap-ton” is officially bigger than a US short ton (2,000 lbs) and a metric tonne (1000 kg). The combined weight of the 8 guys behind Onosato is 1300+ kg, even with Fujinokawa and Ura weighing on the average. Jesus, I crack myself up at this ridiculous hour.

  • 1-Loss: Onosato
  • 2-Losses: Kotozakura, Atamifuji, Fujinokawa, Churanoumi, Asanoyama, Ura, Kinbozan, Yoshinofuji

I have too much fun with these narratives sometimes. Before your collective eye-rolling begins to lead to serious vision loss, I will turn to the Day 9 match-ups.

Onosato will fight Fujiryoga to maintain his lead. Aonishiki will fight Yoshinofuji, Kirishima will take on Daieisho, and Kotohachinana will hopefully not run away from Fujinokawa. Atamifuji gets Takayasu and Hakunofuji will fight Kotoeiho.

In the rank-and-file, Churanoumi fights Roga, Asanoyama fights Takanosho, Ura versus Oshoma, Kinbozan against Chiyoshoma and Toshinofuji vs Wakamotoharu.

A Morning at Tatsunami-beya: Watching the Professionals

hochiyama Heya, Japanese Culture, Keiko, Ryogoku, Stables (Heya), Sumo Topics, Sumo Tourism, Travel , , ,

One of the lesser-known benefits of joining the Tatsunami International Fan Club is that it includes access to observe asa-geiko, the stable’s morning practice. I had joined the Fan Club mainly to get a regular banzuke and because I thought it would be interesting. Once I started planning a trip to Japan, I came to the realization that membership also came with this perk! Hence, I reached out early in March to schedule a trip to view the practice. They told me to get back to them in May, which I dutifully did.

However, they indicated my preferred dates were likely in the “rest period” after the May tournament. My disappointment faded when they got back to me a few weeks later saying that we could attend the first practice! My family and I were excited for the opportunity, especially after our own sumo training experience with former top division wrestler Kyokutaisei. Having spent time doing even a small fraction of the exercises ourselves, we arrived with a new appreciation for what happens inside a professional sumo stable.

Gifts, Gratitude, and a Disappointing Start

As is customary when visiting someone’s home in Japan, we wanted to arrive bearing gifts. We brought large chocolate bars for all of the rikishi and stable staff, a bottle of whiskey for the oyakata, and a supply of Maryland’s finest culinary export, Old Bay seasoning, for the chanko-ban.

When we arrived, however, it quickly became apparent that the stable was having an exceptionally busy morning. Tokokei was juggling multiple responsibilities and, in addition to his normal duties, was tasked with receiving visitors and finding seats for everyone. The gifts clearly caught him by surprise. Before we had much chance to explain what they were or who they were intended for, he hurried them off to a back room and returned to managing the growing crowd.

Within a few minutes, the keiko-ba filled with roughly fifty additional visitors who had come as part of a commercial tour group. The room became packed, and we found ourselves seated toward the back. While that limited our ability to take photographs, a more professional photographer who had arrived earlier and captured plenty of excellent images of the session.

For us, the biggest disappointment was not where we sat, but rather that we never really had an opportunity to properly thank the stable for allowing us to attend or personally present the gifts. Near the end of practice, I briefly managed to catch Tokokei’s attention long enough to explain that the whiskey was intended for the oyakata and that the Old Bay was a kind of Maryland equivalent to shichimi togarashi. Given everything he was dealing with that morning, the conversation lasted only a few moments.

Afterward, we were uncertain whether the gifts had actually reached their intended recipients. Despite a couple of inquiries, we received no acknowledgment and eventually had to follow up several times before receiving confirmation that everything had indeed been delivered.

What made this stand out was that it was so different from my experiences with Japanese friends, colleagues, and personal events. Even our later experience in Kyoto, for example, where we participated in a tea ceremony held in a private home as part of a paid cultural tour. The Kyoto hosts had similarly  never before received gifts from foreign visitors, yet their reaction was remarkably warm and appreciative. We left feeling as though a genuine personal connection had been made.

For that reason, the experience at Tatsunami-beya felt unusual rather than disappointing. My impression was not that anyone intended to be dismissive. Rather, the stable appeared entirely focused on running a busy practice session and accommodating a large influx of visitors. The fan club program itself also seemed relatively new, and perhaps international members bearing gifts were simply outside the normal routine.

In the end, we were pleased to learn that the gifts had been received. Still, because gift-giving and expressions of gratitude are such visible parts of Japanese hospitality, we had hoped for the opportunity to personally hand them over, explain their significance, and know they had arrived without having to seek confirmation afterward. That small missed connection was perhaps the only misstep in what was otherwise a fascinating morning at the stable.

An Immediate Reminder of Our Own Training

We entered during the middle of practice and instantly recognized many of the warm-up exercises we had learned from Kyokutaisei. The familiar shiko, suriashi, teppo, and stretching routines gave us a tiny glimpse into the structure behind professional sumo training.

This was the first practice following the May tournament. Two weeks had passed, but some wrestlers were still visibly dealing with the accumulated wear and tear of fifteen days of competition. Others looked to be in phenomenal condition.

The contrast between how my family and I felt after a single hour of amateur training and what these wrestlers did every day was staggering.

Watching them train was less like observing athletes and more like watching Olympians prepare for competition.

As someone who used to carry significant extra weight, I found myself especially impressed. Exercise is difficult enough when carrying substantial mass. Watching these rikishi repeatedly hurl hundreds of pounds across the dohyo made me wonder just how powerful their cardiovascular systems must be. Their hearts and lungs are extraordinary.

Rhythm Everywhere

One theme became apparent throughout the morning: rhythm.

Some rikishi moved with astonishing speed and grace. What surprised me most was that size was not the determining factor. Injury status seemed to matter far more than body weight. Several wrestlers were absolutely dancing across the dohyo.

The movements were fluid and efficient. There was flow. There was timing.

Even outside of training bouts, rhythm appeared everywhere. The rikishi sweeping the dohyo worked in coordinated patterns that were almost hypnotic to watch. During suriashi drills, many placed their feet in nearly identical spots, moving forward into what seemed like the same footprints over and over again.

The repetition created its own kind of beauty.

The Collective and the Individual

Another thing that stood out was the constant low-level care the wrestlers showed one another.

On the edges of the room, several appeared to be doing what looked remarkably like physical therapy. Some rolled balls under their feet. Others stretched shoulders and backs. Many taped injuries.

Rikishi routinely helped each other apply tape, adjust supporters, or check painful areas.

There was an unmistakable sense of collective effort.

If you’re expecting the hyper-dramatic atmosphere of Netflix’s Sanctuary, you may be surprised. The stable felt much more cooperative than confrontational.

Yet the paradox was obvious.

The training environment is communal, but the sport itself is ultimately individual. Every wrestler must step onto the dohyo alone.

When the Real Work Begins

Although training had been underway when we arrived, actual sparring didn’t begin until roughly an hour after many wrestlers had entered the keiko-ba.

The moment it started, the energy changed completely.

Every tachiai produced a thunderous crack. Not a slap. Not a bump.

A crack.

The type of collision that feels capable of knocking the wind out of you even as a spectator.

Sometimes wrestlers slammed into the walls with such force that the building itself seemed to shake. More than once I found myself wondering how the structure survives daily exposure to this punishment.

The format resembled a king-of-the-hill rotation. Winners remained on the dohyo until they could no longer continue. The privilege of choosing the next opponent belonged to them. Often several hopeful challengers would step forward requesting a match.

There was absolutely no idling.

Everyone not currently fighting remained active. Some stretched. Others lifted weights. Some drank water. Everyone watched closely, preparing for their turn.

The sekitori were present, including Ōkaryū and Meisei, though Hōshōryū was absent that morning (still nursing the injury that took him out of the May tournament) and the top men were not immediately participating in the same manner as the younger rikishi.

Perhaps the most surprising observation came once fatigue set in.

By around 9:10 a.m., nearly everyone was breathing heavily. Sweat dripped from faces. Eyes were visibly stinging. The room felt increasingly hot.

And yet the pace increased. The deeper they went into practice, the faster many of them became.

Logic suggests exhaustion should produce slower movements. Instead, something else happened. Technique emerged. Efficiency emerged. Timing sharpened.

At times the bouts looked close to hon-basho quality. More than once it became difficult not to cheer.

One tachiai was so violent that Ōkaryū emerged with a bloody nose. He plugged it with tissues and continued training without drama. Just back to work.

The speed, balance, foot placement, and weight transfer are remarkable. A tiny mistake can mean the difference between victory and defeat.

This probably explains why so many rikishi seemed obsessed with footwork and why they repeatedly practiced moving through exactly the same positions.

The Only Rest Is More Work

The only meaningful breaks occurred when the dohyo was swept.

Occasionally younger wrestlers passed along some “chikara mizu” or “power water” to those who continued to bout. Otherwise, activity never stopped.

The atmosphere around the stable remained remarkably quiet throughout much of this. The foreigners were listening in on their translation headphones. A few of their kids were bored.

The dominant sounds were heavy breathing, feet scraping clay, bodies colliding, and occasional instructions.

By 9:40 a.m., the heat inside the room had become intense even for spectators. For the rikishi, it was simply another training day.

Final Thoughts

The greatest value of visiting a stable after you’ve tried even a little sumo yourself is perspective. Before training with Kyokutaisei, I admired professional rikishi.

After training, and after watching Tatsunami-beya’s wrestlers prepare for another tournament, I respect them on an entirely different level.

What looks slow on television is much faster in person – even training bouts that are for practice and experience, not for the win-loss record in hon-basho. What looks exhausting on television does not even begin to capture reality.

A few days of amateur sumo gave us the reference point. A morning at Tatsunami-beya showed us the summit. And from the back of a crowded room, watching men get faster as exhaustion overtook them, it was impossible not to appreciate just how extraordinary these elite athletes really are.  This appreciation was the gift we received from Tatsunami.