Author: hochiyama

Aki 2026: Shin-Makushita

hochiyama Aki 2026, Aki Basho

Here is how our last tournament debutants did:

Asahifuji entered the tournament already as one of the biggest storylines. Having won back-to-back-to-back tournament victories and entering sumo as one of he strongest prospects ever, his legend preceded him. He arrived at makushita 11 East, and finished the regular tournament with six wins and one loss, the first loss of his career. His loss to former Jūryō Nabatame ended his 25-bout winning streak from his debut. Rather than fading away, he rebounded and ended up qualifying for the playoffs when Nabatame lost his last match. Participating in the seven-man playoff, Asahifuji took revenge against Nabatame and defeated Fudōhō and Wakamiyabi to clinch the division championship. This gave Asahifuji four consecutive tournament championships, one ofor each of the lower divisions. This strengthens the belief that he is on a fast track to sekitori status, likely after the Aki tournament.

Kaida acquitted himself well in his first tournament in division 3 (makushita). Wrestling from the bottom of the division (Makushita 58 East), he finished with a 4-3 record, extending the strong start to his professional career. He defeated former top division Daishōmaru on the second day. The rest of his opponents were generally career lower makushita/upper sandanme wrestlers. He will need to continue to improve as the caliber of his opponents will be stronger in Aki 2026.

Sachinofuji unfortunately did not have the opportunity to compete in Nagoya in his Makushita debut. He was absent from the entire tournament, reportedly due to back/neck problems that kept him in Tokyo. This would be a disappointment for him, particularly as this basho would have been an important test of how his technical, undersized style would translate against more polished opponents. I wish him a full and speedy recovery and hope that he will climb back to Makushita once he returns to competition.

Onto the Aki 2026 Makushita rookies:

Tenshōyama (天昇山)

Stable: Tamanoi

Age: 22

Height (cm/feet-inches): 197 / 6’5”

Weight (kg/lbs): 172 / 379

Home country: Batshireet Mongolia

High School: Meitoku Gijuku High

University: Tōyō University

Career Record and notes: 25-3-0 (.893)

Debut: Aki 2025

Notes: Sandanme Yūshō (Nagoya 2026).

Possibility of reaching sekitori: will say 100%.

Tenshōyama is another one of the most intriguing young prospects in professional sumo. Born in Batshireet, Khentii Province, in eastern Mongolia, the Tamanoi-beya wrestler has climbed rapidly through the lower divisions and reached a career-high rank of East Sandanme 3 in his fourth profession tournament in July 2026. Standing 197 cm, he is currently the tallest active rikishi in professional sumo. Out of his three career losses, two were to Asahifuji and one to former sekitori Kiryūkō.

Growing up in rural Mongolia, he played volleyball and practiced Bökh, the country’s traditional wrestling style. Already an imposing 192 cm and 100 kg as a teenager, he attracted the attention of recruiters from Japan. In 2019, at just 14 years old, he moved to Kōchi Prefecture to attend Meitoku Gijuku High School after being recruited by the school’s sumo program. The move reportedly came with the support of former sekiwake Asasekiryū, the Mongolian-born Takasago oyakata and a distinguished alumnus of the school. Although he possessed impressive natural size and athleticism, Tenshoyama did not begin formal sumo training until entering high school.

By his third year, he had advanced to the Top 32 at the National High School Championships. Following graduation, he entered Tōyō University, one of Japan’s premier collegiate sumo programs (some alumni are Mitakeumi, Wakatakakage, Tamanoshima (Hanaregoma Oyakata), and fellow Tamanoi stablemate Tōhakuryū). While he never became one of the headline stars of the university circuit, he steadily improved and broke through as a junior, capturing titles at both the Towada Tournament and the Kariya Tournament.

Rather than finish his university studies, he chose to pursue professional sumo. After competing in the All-Japan Sumo Championship in December 2024, he left the university and joined Tamanoi stable. At the September 2025 new recruit examination he measured 197 cm, immediately drawing attention as the tallest active wrestler in the sport. Upon entering professional sumo he was given the shikona Tenshōyama, meaning roughly “a mountain rising toward the heavens”.

Tenshōyama made his professional debut alongside fellow Mongolian prospect Asahifuji. Their rivalry began immediately. He lost to Asahifuji in maezumo and suffered his only defeat of the January 2026 Jonokuchi tournament against the same opponent, finishing with an impressive 6-1 record. It was the first match of the tournament, and one of the best “opening matches” I have ever seen – more fitting of a bout after the sanyaku soroi-bumi on the final day than a a jonokuchi match. A 6-1 performance in Jonidan quickly established him as one of the most promising young wrestlers in the lower divisions.

He won the Sandanme championship in Nagoya, defeating 4 former sekitori along the way (Asagyokusei, Mienofuji, Mita, and Tochimusashi). Two of his opponents were ranked in Makushita and were undefeated at the time of their match-up. These results indicate that his is still ranked below his ceiling.

For a wrestler of his size, Tenshōyama is versatile. He is comfortable fighting both yotsu-zumo and oshi-zumo. Coaches and observers have noted that he was able to compete effectively against Tamanoi stable’s sekitori from the outset, suggesting that his ceiling is much higher than his current rank. Away from the dohyo, Tenshōyama reportedly enjoys sleeping and watching anime, while his favorite foods are meat and fruit. He jokingly credits his extraordinary height to getting twelve hours of sleep a day as a child. Whether or not that is the secret, the giant Mongolian has all the ingredients of a future sekitori: elite size, proven amateur credentials, growing technical skills, and a willingness to challenge himself by leaving university early for the professional ranks.

Imamura (𫝆村)

Stable: Nishonoseki

Age: 20

Height (cm/feet-inches): 181 / 5’11”

Weight (kg/lbs): 131 /  288

Home prefecture: Hyōgo

High School: Hōtoku Gakuen High

University: —

Career Record and notes: 56-42-0 (.571)

Debut: 2024 Haru

Notes:  None

Possibility of reaching sekitori: Unlikely

The Hyōgo native arrived at Nishonoseki-beya in 2024 carrying not only a respectable amateur résumé, but also a longstanding admiration for his oyakata. As a boy, Imamura (currently using his family name as his shikona) watched former Yokozuna Kisenosato’s championship-winning performance at the 2017 Haru Basho from outside Osaka’s prefectural gymnasium after being unable to secure a ticket. Only a few year later, he would meet Kisenosato and shake hands as a new recruit to Nishonoseki stable.

Born in Itami City, he began sumo in the sixth grade after joining a local sumo club under the influence of his sumo-loving father. He later attended Hōtoku Gakuen High School, a school with one of western Japan’s most respected athletic programs. There, he developed an aggressive forward-moving style based on driving through opponents from a low position and achieved steadily improving results culminating in a quarterfinal appearance at the 2023 National High School Selection Tournament and a place in the last sixteen at the National Sports Festival later that year.

Those accomplishments attracted Nishonoseki Oyakata’s attention. The Oyakata reported noted that Imamura possessed exactly the qualities he values most: pressure, determination, and commitment to moving forward. Upon recruiting Imamura, the former Yokozuna remarked that he could feel the youngster’s desire to attack and believed his style was well suited to professional sumo.

Imamura entered ozumo in March 2024 with a straightforward goal: reach the salaried ranks within five years. His early results suggest that ambition was not misplaced. After a brief stay in Jonokuchi and Jonidan, he quickly climbed into Sandanme and established himself there. By July 2026 he had already reached a career-high rank of Sandanme. His July 2026 tournament produced an impressive 6-1 record and renewed momentum after a pair of losing records earlier in the year. Imamura will get a large jump from the Nagoya rank of Sandanme 48 West, and will clearly encounter stiffer competition in Makushita. He had, until the Nagoya tournament, been holding his own in mid-Sandanme against similar competition. We will have to see if the 6-1 record was a real breakthrough or a blip in his career. His sumo is built around pressure and forward movement. Oshidashi is by far his most common winning technique. While he lacks the eye-catching size of stablemate Ōnosato or the amateur pedigree of some university recruits, his attacking mindset should continue to serve him well as he pursues his goal of becoming a sekitori within five years and bringing honor back to his hometown.

Kazemitsuki (風光希)

Stable: Oshiogawa

Age: 19

Height (cm/feet-inches): 176 / 5’9”

Weight (kg/lbs): 134 / 295

Home prefecture: Iwate

High School: Tairadate High School

University:  —

Career Record and notes: 26-9-0 (.743)

Debut: 2025 Aki

Notes: None Possibility of reaching sekitori: 50-50

Kazemitsuki (with a shikona combining the Oshiogawa-beya prefix of Kaze with his first name, Mitsuki) may not have arrived in professional sumo with the fanfare of a collegiate champion or high school yokozuna, but few newcomers have climbed the banzuke as quickly. Born in Iwate Prefecture, Kazemitsuki has put together an impressive start to his professional career, rising from Jonokuchi to Makushita in just over a year.

Kazemitsuki developed his sumo in one of Iwate’s traditional strongholds for the sport. He attended Tairadate High School, which has produced some division 3 wrestlers (Tokinohira, Akiyoshi). After graduating from high school, he spent roughly six months working for a local company while continuing his training and pursuing his goal of entering ozumo. Oshiogawa stable eventually scouted him in 2025 after monitoring his progress. Upon joining, his stated ambition was straightforward: become a sekitori.

The transition to professional sumo could hardly have gone better. He posted a 6-1 record in Jonokuchi, followed by another 6-1 in Jonidan. He continued his momentum with a 5-2 record in Sandanme in March 2026 and another winning record in May and July, establishing himself as one of the more successful recent Japanese recruits in the lower divisions. The last two tournaments, he has put together those winning records against the typical upper Sandanme/lower Makushita level wrestlers, indicating he has not yet hit his ceiling. He was chosen as the last opponent for Tochimusashi in Nagoya, so the match makers felt he could impact the division’s championship race (a win would have eliminated Tochimusashi from a possible playoff against Tenshōyama).

Physically, Kazemitsuki is almost the opposite of the towering prospect, Tenshōyama. Standing 176 cm and weighing approximately 134 kg, he relies more on balance, power, and technique than overwhelming size. His sumo is well-rounded, with regular wins on the belt and by pushing.  His most frequently used kimarite is yorikiri, reflecting a willingness to engage directly and finish opponents at close quarters.

Kazemitsuki’s rapid progress suggests he may have been somewhat overlooked as a recruit, after all, he had to try his hand in the “real world” before joining a stable. Reaching makushita, he now finds himself moving one step closer to the salaried ranks he set as his goal upon joining.

The Peek Behind the Curtain (幕の内): The Conclusion

hochiyama Japanese Culture, Kyokutaisei, Sumo Tourism, Travel ,

This is the second part of Justin’s article about his experience at Kyokutaisei’s sumo training venue. For the earlier post, click here.

Suriashi and Psychological Warfare:

Next came suriashi or “sliding feet”.  The goal is to combine that low posture from the squats with forward movement, keeping feet close to the ground. You should almost slide forward on the rough sand rather than step. The goal is to improve balance, strength, stability, and (or course) proper footwork. Each of us had to take our turns moving from the tachi-ai stance across the dohyo where we met up with Kyokutaisei standing at the other side.

This is where he introduced a bit of mischief. He was directing us which way to go along the perimeter of the circle. However, he was pointing in one direction while turning his body and head in the other, almost daring us to follow the wrong signal.

Already suffering from some leg exhaustion, it was not easy to maintain concentration and some slight missteps ensued – producing some laughter in the heavy air of the sumo ring. Still, it brought home an important lesson: sumo requires attention and discipline even during the most basic movements.

Not moving very far, but legs already filing an official complaint. A few days later, we walked up to the top of Fushimi Inari Shrine in Kyōtō and still did not hurt as much as a few steps across the ring.

My son vs. Physics

My son is working on his undergraduate degree in Astrophysics. He knows the theory and loves math and explaining the fundamental rules that govern nature. He arrived with the equations. Kyokutaisei came with empirical evidence.

We had reached the part of the morning training called butsukari-geiko. This is where we had to charge forward from one end of the ring right into the chest of our opponent. They would receive the impact, and we would attempt to push them back to the other end of the ring and out. Of course, they did not make it easy. Our goal was to show our “explosive power” from the tachiai, our endurance and fighting spirit, and proper technique and footwork. 

My son considered this an exercise in “a supposedly unstoppable force against an immovable object”.  Of course, our force was not really that “unstoppable”. But his description was not far from the truth. First off, there is a bit of hesitation to collide with somebody and bury your face right into their chest. Be it sweat or timidity, you must quickly overcome it. Otherwise, you will not generate any forward power or momentum. And really, there is no substitute for this experience. We got to throw ourselves up against someone who had spent years training to resist this kind of forward onslaught. These retired rikishi still had the innate ability to lower their center of gravity and become that immovable object.

Yes, this picture was used earlier as a spoiler. I just love showing my bald head. But look at those slide marks across the dohyo. We were pushing them back!

The exercise provided a tiny glimpse into what lower-ranked wrestlers experience daily: absorbing charge after charge while developing technique, toughness, and endurance. I now was feeling a lot more respect for the daily routines of my heroes in the ring. My feet were scratched, my knuckles bleeding from scraping the ground. Sweat pouring from my brow. My respect for those who have chosen this lifestyle was growing by the second.

Congratulations were given when we finally drove them out

I will take a brief timeout to mention that their staff took all these pictures and videos while we were training and enjoying the experience. Thus, we were not tethered to our cameras the entire time. Furthermore, they provided an interpreter. To be fair, I handled almost all the conversations in my rusty Japanese. However, if you did not learn Japanese from drunken old men in an izakaya 30-years ago, you can still fully enjoy the experience and get everything explained in English. Do not let any language barrier stop you from enjoying. Really, how many people around the world get to say they wore a mawashi, did morning training exercises and took sumo against real former top division rikishi?

They took each of us aside and gave us some instructions on technique. My son was given lessons in tsuki-oshi (aiming high chest and neck until you have the opponent at the edge of the ring and bending backwards, then go low towards the belly to finish them off). My wife was given hatakikomi (looking for the opponent to be low or off balance and slapping them down). To me, they gave uwatenage. I was told to keep my head in their chest, lower my center of gravity, and pivot using my hips to generate power while turning my entire body into the throw). Now, I do have some ancient jūdō background (I got a black belt from the Kōdōkan jūdō association in 1995). I was hoping to have some sort of muscle memory.

Speaking of that… Are We Actually Fighting?

Then we moved on to matches.

Let me preface all this by saying that my family and I are not fighters. While my son is captain of his university’s foil fencing team, we are not really into contact sports. I only got the black belt 30 years ago because the Master of the izakaya was 6th degree and an elite teacher. There is no way I would have passed the exam, except for a secret technique he taught me the night before the test. That is a story for another time.

For a sumo fan, there are some moments that can bring an oversized amount of joy – such as performing the rituals you only ever watched from the stands. I was there, in the ring, and completed the chiri-chōzu – without a mistake. This earned the respect of the coaches. The movements are simple enough, but surprisingly more difficult to remember when you are confronting a rikishi. Doing the chiri-chōzu made me feel, just for a moment, a part of the long history and tradition of sumo. I consider my flawless performance a personal “kinboshi” of a sort. And now, here we were. Suddenly crouching at the shikiri-sen, preparing for tachiai against former professional wrestlers.

The moment of truth. And yes, you get to throw the salt!

There is no going back now! Unlike the Sumo and Sushi experience, I am wearing a mawashi. I am going to have a proper tachiai. A real collision.

Man-to-man showdown. 男と男の真剣勝負 (Otoko to otoko no shinken shōbu)

This was it!  This is a real sumo challenge. It was not easy for 50-something, non-athletic, scrawny guy to go up against even former Hakuyō (the referee in the pic). Let alone a former top division wrestler! So, they let us have some fun against them. The funniest moment came during my wife’s very first match. She is a fast learner. Drawing on my “technique” from the Sumo and Sushi match, she opened with a spectacular nekodamashi.

Are you awake?

Kyokutaisei froze for a split second, and before anyone could process what had happened, she had pushed him back and secured a quick victory.

To the victor go the spoils

The room erupted in laughter. Everyone recognized that she was also, apparently, a long-time fan to be able pull off such a move. I was told “your wife must definitely be watching some sumo with you, after all!” Among all the things I expected to witness that afternoon, my wife winning a bout with a trick was not one of them.

Even with a thin grip on reality, I had a good grip on Hakuyō.

We had matchups against Kyokutaisei and Hakuyō. Photos would not do justice for my son’s match against Kyokutaisei. My son charged forward and collided with him with such speed that Kyokutaisei sidestepped, expecting my son to defeat himself and go out of the ring with his own forward momentum. As Kyokutaisei deftly moved out of the way, my son headed straight to the tawara with enough speed to carry him right out. But somehow, he slammed on the breaks at exactly the right moment, stopping himself at the very last opportunity.

Older folks like me would have easily stepped out. My son, however, immediately regained his balance, turned and re-engaged. That tenacity, him not giving up on the bout after nearly losing it, must serve him well in fencing, too! It is something I had not witnessed in him before. This real fighting spirit and tenacity to win. This match was far from over. My son re-engaged a second time and the same thing happened again.  His attack was wild and frenzied and almost carried him out of the ring, such that Kyoktaisei stopped fighting and just stood there. 

Big mistake. He was caught off guard by my son’s third engagement and was now on the edge himself. My son, with his feet still moving and his momentum now aimed correctly at a target on the edge of the ring completed a textbook oshidashi!  Photos could not capture these recoveries, the persistence, and my son’s determination that the bout would not be over until he won!  Congrats were seriously in order.

Although he could work on his Ottsuke

My wife was back, literally. Jumping on the back of Hakuyō attempting to pull off a hataki-komi.

Eventually, she was successful

I will never forget her jumping on the back of a sumo wrestler.  One of the funniest things I have witnessed.

Wearing a Keishō Mawashi

After our good workout, they were kind enough to take their photos with the family. First, all in our regular mawashi:

Sandwiched between former Ōshima-beya rikishi!

Then we had a chance to wear a keishō mawashi. A keishō is much more than decorative, it is a rikishi’s expression of identity, gratitude, sponsorship, education, tradition, and status. Only sekitori are allowed to wear them during the ring-entering ceremony, and it can signify reaching professional status and financial independence in sumo. In the Middle Ages, only the knights could have a coat of arms or heraldic banner. This is the sumo equivalent. For any sumo fan, it is a memorable and humbling moment to be given permission to don this attire.

at this point, the photos are really secondary to the experience

The apron is surprisingly heavy. The connection to the wrestlers is the real treasure and turned out to be our best souvenir. In this case, we were literally wearing culture, not just observing it.

AK-69 may say: 道開けろ！Bring it on!

Conclusion: Sumo is more than a sport

This experience was a rare chance to interact directly with people who devoted their lives to this singular pursuit. I came expecting to sample sumo and share it with my family. We left with a better understanding of the daily lives and dedication of the wrestlers. We left with a better understanding of the spiritual side of the sport and felt a connection to the centuries of tradition and Shinto practice.

When we were reflecting on the experience later that evening, my wife and I came to a realization. We are not fighters. We are not violent people. Yet, in the ring, we were colliding full force with people we just met, holding them by the throat (nodowa), and pushing/slapping at them. We are just in a fight. Not an angry or violent fight intended to hurt someone, but a real physical contest that pushed us out of our comfort zones and to our physical limits.

Many visitors will come thinking they will observe a cultural activity, but the experience with Kyokutaisei is much more than that. You learn through experience. You push yourself more than you know, and your legs will hate you very much walking up and down all those Tokyo steps in the metro for the next few days.

Throughout the session you will also notice subtle reminders that these men had paid a high price for their careers. You notice the old injuries, the surgical scars, the lingering evidence of pushing their bodies to the limits. Their sacrifices for the sport are visible in ways not easily caught on camera.

We came to the understanding that these exercises are merely the beginning. First, a new entrant has to survive the training routine, then climb into the ring against someone twice your size, and then do it again tomorrow and the day after, and the day after that. This experience reminded me that underneath all of the glory of rankings, championships, and intrigue each bashō, there lies something much deeper: discipline, dedication, sacrifice, and a sense of community. If only an hour and a half of training left my legs shaking for the rest of the day, I can scarcely imagine the commitment required to make that life your own.

I would like to take the last words to express how grateful my family is to Kyokutaisei, Hakuyō, and Kyokuhikari. The other side of the violent, combat sport world coin is a calm kindness. Each of them was entirely patient with us, curious to know why and how foreigners came to know so much about sumo, and happy to note (with some pride) how we were all enjoying the experience. They helped us with the mawashi, gave us clear instructions, answered all our questions, and were glad to share their stories and their connections to the sumo world with us. We could not have chosen better guides to help us take those important steps into the culture and world of a sumo wrestler.

Thank you for reading. I plan on some article about viewing Tatsunami-beya’s morning practice a few days later.  And with a much greater appreciation for what we were to see there.  Look for it in the next few days.  If there is interest, I am considering an article about the Japan trip and our itinerary – for those who may be curious about what someone with some Japan experience 30 years ago recommended for his own family.

The Peek Behind the Curtain (幕の内) Part I:

hochiyama Japanese Culture, Sumo Entertainment, Sumo Tourism, Travel

Background

I have been a sumo fan for more than 30 years. I attended the Las Vegas Koen in 2005 (where I met a young Hakuhō and Ama/Harumafuji wrestling in the lazy river of the Mandalay bay).

Justin in Vegas, wearing a specially designed shirt that said 資本主義の野郎 on the back

I have participated in Konishiki’s Sumo and Sushi’s “Get in the Ring” event and pulled off a victory.

Justin had to “build his body” for this bout
My retirement from sumo came with Takakeishō style weight loss. I made the rally towels

After more than three decades of following sumo, I thought I had a reasonable understanding of what rikishi do and a good understanding of how to make a sumo-themed izakaya.

Senshūraku party at my place?

The bottom line is that I thought I “knew” sumo. I know the terminology, the kanji, the banzuke, the statistics. I can call (poorly) the kimarite in a bout. After Sumo and Sushi, I even thought I knew what “taking sumo” felt like. There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom, and part of that is derived from experience.

During my family’s recent trip to Japan (May/June), we had a chance to take a mini-morning training exercise under the guidance of former top division’s Kyokutaisei (旭大星). For those who do not recall, he was subject of a French Documentary in 2009.

Free polar bear hugs!

This experience is what gave me and my family the chance to learn more about sumo. Since the experience, I see the sport differently, and in a much more appreciative way. Please allow me to explain.

We booked the opportunity to participate in former maegashira Kyokutaisei’s sumo training experience. Kyokutaisei was supported by former rikishi Kyokuhikari and Hakuyō. After only a few minutes, the contrast was stark: watching sumo and living even a tiny fragment of it are entirely different things. The training regime is brutal and one does leave their blood, sweat, and tears in the ring. By the end of the session, my family had gained an entirely new level of respect for the men who dedicate their lives to this sport.

A Peek Behind the Curtain

When I lose something, I now always look behind the curtains and expect to see rikishi there

Sumo remains one of the most unique corners of Japanese culture. The more you study it, the more you realize you have left to learn. Almost every one of us has encountered sumo via streaming, online videos, live TV or (if you are lucky to get tickets) from the seats of the Kokugikan. Unlike many other sports, for non-Japanese, it is almost exclusively observed from a distance.

Let’s be clear, my wife and son were good sports for joining me on this adventure. As the family’s resident sumo obsessive, I was the obvious enthusiast. They were willing participants. Let’s also say that they have had 30 years of second-hand exposure to sumo, so they did not walk in completely unawares.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, my wife summed up the experience better than I could. She called it a “peek behind the curtain.” Ironically, she had no idea that the English translation of makunouchi (sumo’s top division) is often given as “behind the curtain.”

Peeking behind the curtain is exactly what this experience offered.

The experience began with our arrival and introductions. Right away, everyone was approachable and quite appreciative of meeting foreign fans that were not typical tourists. I knew the wrestlers and their histories. Kyokuhikari was impressed that I recalled his debut was in 1992 and Hakuyō was shocked to hear that I knew his stable (Isenoumi) and that he had only retired within the last year. I explained that I would do a write-up for the blog, and everyone was amenable. Of course, these are now businessmen, selling a product and it must have been very different for them, men who had spent years inside the closed and demanding world of the heya system, to welcoming complete amateurs into their world. We could tell that we were in for something special. This experience is different.

The Mawashi Moment

Perhaps the first surprise was having a mawashi put on.

They spun me right round, baby!
My wife got pumped up. Yes, women can participate in this event

I had imagined it would feel impossibly tight everywhere. Yes, I mean everywhere. Men know what I am talking about. Instead, the tightness was concentrated around the waist and it remained quite comfortable. Yes, we had to wear shorts and t-shirts, nobody wants to use second-hand mawashi. So, they keep it clean.

The mawashi fabric was remarkably sturdy and heavy. It was more substantial than I had expected. The moment you grab one, you can quickly understand its purpose. A mawashi isn’t simply clothing, it is sumo’s main tool. A grip on the mawashi is all it took to realize how easily it would assist in moving, lifting, or controlling your opponent. Feeling and using that leverage in your hands is entirely different than watching a yorikiri battle on TV.

It seemed they were more prepared to host larger tourist or corporate events, not a small family of three. But they were all happy to spend the time with us to get us prepared.

My son is so darned lucky. I had to wait over 30 years to get this experience. His hair was long enough for a proper mage, no?
Finally kitted out

Fate Decides Your Shiko

Then came our first “asa-geiko” training. As expected, the first exercise was shiko. However, they did not present us with any ordinary shiko. They came around with a box and we had to draw lots to determine how many repetitions we would do. Every draw felt like a lottery in reverse as nobody wanted to get the high number.

There were ping-pong balls numbered 5-50 in increments of 5. I got 30, my son 15. My wife, who usually has good luck, got the 50. Of course, they did have some mercy on her. One of the instructors mentioned that wrestlers may perform hundreds of shiko—sometimes around 500 in a training day. An order of magnitude less should have been easy for an amateur, no? No!

No matter how many stomps were assigned, every one of us had legs that were starting to turn to liquid.

Yoishou!!!!!

As an amateur, surviving a small sample felt like an accomplishment. For a rikishi, it’s simply a small portion of their regular morning routine.

That was just the start. We then had to go through our second round of “test your luck”. We had to draw the ball that determined how many seconds we would have to hold a squat position.

What you do not see here is the quivering

If the shiko hurt, the squats were another level entirely. Once again, due to their mercy on my wife’s high draw, it was down to me to handle 20 seconds of the squat (15 for my son). I noticed that within moments, my thighs began quaking. The wrestlers noted, too, that my legs were trembling. A burning sensation spread higher and higher until maintaining the position became an exercise in willpower more than strength.

And then came the moment of enlightenment: professional rikishi do this every day and they do not get the luck of a small ping pong number. They must do this for minutes, tens of minutes at a time. Everyday.

Part II coming soon – with Surashi, Butsukari-geiko, and learning some kimarite.

Kyokutaisei says “see you soon”

Nagoya 2026: Shin-Makushita (新幕下)

hochiyama Makushita (幕下), Nagoya 2026, Natsu 2026, Natsu Basho

A Look Back at Natsu 2026

Here is how our last tournament debutants did:

Kōseiryū handled his makushita debut quite well, securing a winning record and showing that he can compete credibly at this level. He opened strongly with a 4‑1 start, highlighted by notable victories over former top-division rikishi Kitaharima and makushita tsukedashi Gyōtoku. He even managed a sotogake win, highlighting his jūdō skills. At his best, he showed good composure – which is a reasonable expectation given his age. However, he dropped his final two bouts, which may highlight some lingering limitations in consistency and adaptability. Even so, he will approach mid-makushita ranks in Nagoya.

Kasshō’s first appearance in makushita was a respectable one given his relatively high debut rank. He finished 3‑4, only slipping to a losing record in his final bout, and generally held his own against a deeper field of opponents. There were encouraging victories along the way, including wins over former Jūryō man Mienofuji and Mongolian prospect Tenrōsei. With some added polish and consistency, he could remain competitive in makushita going forward. He will likely rank in the bottom of the division in Nagoya, and I actually suspect we will see him back in Sandanme before the year is out.

Honoikazuchi showed that he likely belongs in makushita, even if his tournament began on uneven footing. He dropped his first two bouts, the first one via a defensive utchari reversal that got away from him possibly due to nerves, but quickly settled and found his rhythm. From there, he reeled off five consecutive wins, including a solid victory over former Nihon University’s Haruyama. The shift was notable not just in results but in style, as he increasingly leaned into belt work, taking four of those five wins by yorikiri. What began as a shaky debut ultimately turned into one of the more convincing finishes among this group, and he should be around mid-Makushita in Nagoya.

Ōmori delivered one of the standout debuts among the shin‑makushita, pushing all the way into the playoff after compiling a strong record in regulation. His only loss came in a highly anticipated bout against Asahifuji (see below), in a match that felt like an early glimpse of two potential future sanyaku contenders, and he otherwise demonstrated a well-rounded and adaptable skill set. In the playoff, he ultimately fell to the eventual winner Ikarigata, but the overall performance was highly encouraging. He showed a clear proficiency for throws, using a variety of techniques to decisively end bouts, while also proving capable against his direct peers with wins over fellow debutants Tatsubayama and Gōnoshō. Taken together, this was a debut that not only confirmed his readiness for makushita, but also hinted at considerable upside. One thing is clear, he will be a popular rikishi among the fans.

Gōnoshō put together a successful makushita debut, ultimately finishing with a winning record. He came out quickly with three straight victories, including a win over Haruyama, before hitting a mid‑basho slump with three consecutive losses as the competition stiffened. Needing a win in his final bout, he responded well and defeated former top-division veteran rikishi Fujiazuma to secure kachi‑koshi. His sumo leaned heavily on belt work, with three yorikiri wins, complemented by a kimedashi, highlighting his preference for grappling. With this performance, he should find himself in the Makushita 40–45 range.

Tatsubayama also turned in a strong makushita debut, finishing 5‑2 after a 4-0 start and positioning himself firmly in the top half of the division heading into Nagoya. He picked up a notable win over Koseiryū, though he came up short against Ōmori and ultimately missed out on the playoff, falling in his final bout to former Jūryō wrestler Tsushimanada. The results were encouraging, but his sumo still appears to be in the process of refinement. Several of his wins came via reactive techniques (two tsukiotoshi, a hatakikomi, and a hikiotoshi).  This left me with some question as to how his style will translate against stronger, more stable opponents higher up the banzuke.

Takahara put together a respectable 4‑3 performance in his makushita debut, including a win over former makushita tsukedashi Fudōhō. He should be ranked in the upper 30s of the division heading into Nagoya. To me, his tournament felt somewhat uneven, with wins and losses coming against what appeared to be similarly matched competition. At his best, he showed the tools to compete effectively, but he was not always able to assert a clear advantage or sustain momentum across bouts. Going forward, the hope is that he can take a step forward in consistency to begin to separate himself from this middle tier as he gains more experience in makushita.

Looking Ahead

Onto the Nagoya 2026 Makushita rookies:

Asahifuji (旭富士)

Stable: Isegahama

Age: 24

Height (cm/feet-inches): 187 / 6’1”

Weight (kg/lbs): 148 / 326

Home country: Ulaanbaatar Mongolia

High School: Asahigaoka High School

University: —

Career Record and notes: 21-0 (1.000)!!

Debut: Aki 2025

Notes: Jonokuchi Yūshō (January), Jonidan Yūshō (March 2026), and Sandanme Yūshō (May 2026). Possibility of reaching sekitori: will say 100%.

Asahifuji arrives in makushita with a level of anticipation rarely attached to a wrestler this early in his career. A native of Mongolia, he followed a now familiar path by attending a Japanese high school (Niigata Asahigaoka, which has some Mongolian success, see below) before joining Isegahama stable in 2021(!). However, his trajectory diverges sharply from the typical prospect. Rather than debuting immediately upon joining the stable, he spent four years in a sort of “enforced limbo” due to the one‑foreigner‑per‑stable rule. This appears to be a delay that, in his case, may have been transformative rather than limiting.

During his high school years, competitive opportunities were somewhat constrained. With Mongolian upperclassmen such as Ōnokatsu and Kyokukaiyū ahead of him, he was not always a central figure in the team’s lineups. The pandemic further reduced his ability to perform in school tournaments at a national level. This left him with only a handful of national appearances. as the leadoff man for Kanagawa. His results at the National High School Championships were more modest, but he did contribute to the team’s top eight finish at the National Sports Festival as a sophomore and finished in the top 32 of the National High School Sumo Championships (losing to current makushita, Nobehara).

What sets Asahifuji apart is what came next. While waiting for his chance to compete professionally, he effectively underwent a prolonged incubation period inside Isegahama stable, training daily alongside high‑level sekitori without the wear and tear of official bouts. Reports from this period include training victories over sekitori (including Kiribayama/Kirishima) added to the growing sense that he was something special. This kind of extended preparation is rare in modern sumo. However, it has clearly produced a rikishi who debuted not as a raw prospect, but as an already polished competitor.

That sense of expectation was formalized when he was granted the shikona Asahifuji, inheriting the name of the 63rd Yokozuna and former Oyakata (currently Miyagino). It is not a name bestowed lightly, and it immediately marked him as a flagship prospect. External hype followed swiftly, with some outlets going so far as to label him the strongest new recruit in recent memory.

Once he finally stepped into the ring, the early results did little to temper that excitement. Back‑to‑back 7‑0 yūshō in Jonokuchi and Jonidan confirmed both his dominance over lower‑division opposition and his readiness for more serious tests. He was able to defeat fellow Mongolian prospect Tenshōyama in each of those first two tournaments and defeated former sekitori Kiryūkō (only low on the banzuke because he is rehabbing from injury) in back-to-back playoffs in for his jonidan and sandanme championships. In his last tournament, he also came up with victories against Fudōhō, Ōmori, and former sekitori Mita. This indicates his skill level is already sekitori caliber. His sumo is built around a fundamentally sound yotsu approach, relying heavily on yorikiri and nage finishes rather than trickery or evasion. He combines size and strength with a composure that is unusual for someone with so little official experience, and he rarely looks rushed or out of position.

Now entering upper makushita (he will be ranked in the promotion zone, where another 7-0 will result in promotion to jūryō), the picture can become more nuanced. In many ways, he is both ahead of and behind a typical prospect as he is technically advanced and physically prepared, yet still relatively untested in terms of adapting across a full range of opponents and match situations. The key question is not whether he has the tools, but how quickly he can translate them against deeper, more tactically varied competition. His high‑profile meeting with fellow standout Ōmori suggests that he is capable of competing immediately, but also that there will be adjustments required as the margin for error narrows. There is little doubt about the upside. Asahifuji looks like a fast‑track sekitori candidate, and perhaps more. The next phase will determine whether he is simply very good or truly something special.

Sachinofuji (幸乃富士)

Stable: Isegahama

Age: 20

Height (cm/feet-inches): 172 / 5’7”

Weight (kg/lbs): 98 / 215

Home prefecture: Saitama

High School: NHK Gakuen High

University: —

Career Record and notes: 82-60-19 (.577)

Debut: 2022 Nagoya

Notes:  Mongolian national

Possibility of reaching sekitori: Unlikely

While he is also from Isegahama stable, Sachinofuji represents a very different kind of prospect from Asahifuji, one whose development runs counter to the typical narratives attached to both foreign imports and elite amateur standouts. Born in Mongolia as Ganzorig Origil, he moved to Japan at the age of five and grew up in Saitama. This meant that, from the perspective of the NSK, he qualified not as a foreigner but as a domestic recruit. Unlike many other Mongolian wrestlers, he was not recruited with a wrestling pedigree or prior exposure to sumo. In fact, he entered the sport with no competitive background at all, beginning his career from a true blank slate.

This helped me, a 30-plus year sumo fan learn the concept of “tatakiage / 叩き上げ”.  A tatakiage is actually my favorite type of recruit, one who comes straight from middle school without any prior experience and is “built from scratch” in the stable. You will note above that Sachinofuji attended NHK Gakuen High School, but this is a correspondence-based institution that allowed him to train while forgoing the typical amateur circuit.

The beginning of his sumo career reflected both the challenges and opportunities of that path. Injuries disrupted his initial progress, forcing withdrawals in his first year and slowing what might otherwise have been a smoother ascent. Yet once he found his footing, his advancement has been steady rather than spectacular, marked by incremental improvement rather than sudden breakthroughs. His promotion to Sandanme in 2024 was less a moment of arrival than a confirmation that the underlying development process was working.

Physically, Sachinofuji faces immediate constraints. At around 172 cm and 98kg, he is undersized by modern standards, particularly as he moves into the upper reaches of the lower divisions. Heck, he even weighs less than I did in my famous “Sumo and Sushi” bout (well, at least it is famous in my mind…). His sumo has begun to reflect an adaptation to those limitations. He tends to work from a lower position, relying on balance, leverage, and patience rather than attempting to overpower opponents.

His stylistic influences are also telling. As a tsukebito to Midorifuji, someone who has openly identified as his role model, Sachinofuji has front row seats to see what characteristics are needed for a smaller rikishi to succeed. That is, he needs to work on his precision, persistence, and the ability to exploit positioning rather than to sheer force.

Off the dohyo, his profile reinforces the impression of a grounded, well-integrated heya product. His preferences, karaage, mobile gaming, and a generally understated demeanor, are beginning to give him a small fandom, with some media attention even focusing on his composed and “handsome” presence after bouts. As he makes his makushita debut, the challenge will be significant: opponents will be larger, faster, and less forgiving of technical imprecision.

His ceiling may ultimately be determined by how far his technique can compensate for his size. If he can continue to refine his belt work and sharpen his finishing ability, he has a viable path forward as a technical grinder capable of carving out a role in the division and earning many fans along the way as a “giant killer”. While he did not inherit a shikona, like Asahifuji, his shikona is a combination of the Isegahama ~fuji suffix and the kanji for good fortune/happiness, which we can infer that is something that is hoped for in his professional career.

Kaida (甲斐田)

Stable: Kasugano

Age: 18

Height (cm/feet-inches): 191 / 6’3”

Weight (kg/lbs): 150 / 330

Home prefecture: Tōkyō

High School: Adachi Shinden High School

University:  —

Career Record and notes: 11-3 (.786)

Debut: 2026 Haru, Sandanme Tsukedashi

Notes: None

Possibility of reaching sekitori: Likely

Kaida follows the more traditional path into professional sumo, one rooted in early exposure, structured development, and steady accumulation of amateur results. Born in Ōita Prefecture in 2007, he is a second‑generation rikishi, with his father having competed briefly out of Kasugano stable and serving as a tsukebito to current Kasugano Oyakata . While his father’s career topped out in jonidan, it provided Kaida with something arguably more valuable than rank – that is an early familiarity with stable life, its training routines, and the expectations of professional rikishi. That foundation is often difficult to quantify, but it tends to show in the small details. Aside from the family ties to Kasugano, he was scouted by Kiyomigata Oyakata (former Sekiwake Tochiōzan).

Unlike late converts or crossover athletes, Kaida began sumo early in elementary school and progressed in a textbook fashion. By the time he reached Adachi Shinden High School, he was already smoothly operating within a competitive environment. His high school development was steady rather than meteoric, but his final year results marked a clear breakthrough. He finished in third-place at the Inter‑High School Championships and secured a runner‑up performance at the National Sports Festival. This earned him a sandanme tsukedashi status (only the third as I count for high schoolers, following Anhibiki (who rejected it) and Ikarigata). This allowed Kaida to bypass the lowest professional divisions and enter sumo with immediate expectations.

That starting point is significant. Tsukedashi entrants are not just fast-tracked, they are implicitly expected to justify their ranking from the outset. In Kaida’s case, early results suggest that his amateur success was no fluke. He secured winning records right away, indicating that his fundamentals translate effectively against professional opposition. His sumo reflects that background: straightforward and balanced. He is comfortable both pushing and grappling.

Looking ahead, Kaida projects as a steady riser. The combination amateur success and technically complete sumo suggests a wrestler with a higher ceiling, even if it remains to be defined. Makushita will present a more demanding test, but the early indications are that he will not be easily taken out of the ring. Still, he may not overwhelm the division in the way some elite prospects do, and could settle into this division for a few years before breaking out.