《Hiroshi: Tale of a Sumotori》


 Hiroshis Win

    12th day in the Month of Minharu in the year 203 of the Age of Sasuke


    Hiroshi stood a few feet above the judges and some other important people who decided to attend the juniors tournament. He stood and dug his feet into the clay ring known as a dohyo. His toes curled and uncurled, feeling the salt on the ground left behind by the previous sumotori¡¯s salt throw. A look around at the pillows on the floor immediately around the raised ring showed only a few people there. It showed the same in the stands around the arena. Few people cared about the junior part of the local sumo tournament.


    There were five people who had to be there, which Hiroshi thought looked a little disinterested in the whole thing. They all wore formal black and fine gray robes and they were the other judges, also known as Shimpan, for the match and a timekeeper. The shimpan would call a special judges meeting known as a mono-ii to deliberate and discuss who the winner would be and if they agreed with the ring judges ruling. They could overrule and decide on a new winner, agree with the judge, or they could even declare a rematch.


    That didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t doing this for those people. He was competing in this sumo tournament in memory of his late father, Jiro. Jiro loved sumo so much and always tried to imbue the same love into his son. Hiroshi smiled a moment and looked at the clay he was standing on. He remembered when his father used to let him skip school and come watch the local tournaments that would happen here.


    ¡°Go Hiroshi!¡± a voice he knew came from one of the raised platforms that was the stands at the arena. Beyond the pillows on the floor, small platforms were raised up with small boxes where three or four people could sit. Above the small open platforms at the last level there were actual bleachers, the cheap seats. This is where the voice came from.


    Hiroshi lifted his head and scanned the small crowd, seeing his mother, Hikari, waving and clapping. His younger sister was standing next to their mother clapping hard as well, yelling gibberish as small children do. Hiroshi still smiled and as he watched his family cheer him on. He couldn¡¯t raise his hands and wave back at them. It would be improper to do so, and sumo was a sport and ritual that prided itself on tradition and propriety. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but give them both a small bow of his head.


    He gave a small smile seeing them, squinting to see the sign his sister held up after they got his attention. It said his name in the old symbols that used to be used for the island¡¯s native language. It was a dead language now, only used for sumo terms. Fans used these runes because they were the original language of the island and you never really saw them outside of a sumo tournament.


    After this, he betrayed himself a little. While he told himself the crowd and people watching the bout didn¡¯t matter, there were a few outside of his mother and sister who did matter. His eyes fluttered up to a darkened section high above all the boxes and stands. Thanks to his father, Hiroshi knew who sat up there. The stablemasters would watch their wrestlers and there might be some yokozuna up there if they had an interest in watching the juniors. The yokozuna were the highest ranked rikishi in the professional sumo world, and Hiroshi knew both of the current yokozuna were in this very town.


    Would they be there watching? It was anyone¡¯s guess. As flattering as it would be to have yokozuna up there watching him wrestle, he was hoping there would be a stablemaster or two. They would be the ones to really make his dream of becoming a rikishi a reality. In order to compete at the professional level, he had to be recruited by one of the stablemasters.


    Sumo stables were like dormitories of men who lived together. They did more than just live together, Hiroshi knew. They trained, ate, and did pretty much everything together. It was almost militaristic the way they ran the stables, from what Hiroshi¡¯s father used to tell him. The whole time the stablemaster and trainer and anyone else of any import would be there the entire time too, watching, correcting, and training.


    Now he would call to Rei for power, and lifted his right arm up his side, extending it past his shoulder with his palm open. After he brought the arm back in, he¡¯d squat as low as he could. Hiroshi could feel his muscles tense, he still wasn¡¯t as flexible as he wished he could be. Coming to a stand, he¡¯d lift his right leg and extend it up as high as he could, like he was trying to do splits while standing on one leg. The clay made a small thud when his foot came stomping back down on the clay dohyo just as they said Kentaro did.


    He now called to Kentaro, mirroring his movements with his right arm, now with his left. He called on Kentaro for strength, as it was said he was the strongest of the Kami. This whole ritual, and sumo in its entirety, was a ritual to pay respects to the war kami. He then lifted his left leg and pounded it into the dirt. The leg lifts and stomps were to mimic the movements of Kentaro when he fought Kenchi getting rid of the evil kami from the world.


    Hiroshi breathed in deep the smell of wet clay from when the attendants watered down and swept the dohyo. It invigorated him. It was his turn now. He leaned down and grabbed a handful of salt from the bucket that was on his side of the ring in the corner. The salt was used to show that he wasn¡¯t a cultivator. He didn¡¯t seek immortality or use the power of the world in his fight. He relied on pure inner strength to get him through combat. Hiroshi turned now and threw the salt in the air, letting it arc high up and fall. A quick lick to his finger on the hand that had the salt, and he slapped his hand on the belt loincloth combo he wore. The mawashi was a simple plain tan color, and Hiroshi reached in to give a scratch on his belly where the rough fabric irritated his skin a little.


    Hiroshi walked inside the large circle that was painted on the dohyo, his heels touching the bound up straw that made up the outer limit of the ring. He was now standing directly across from his opponent for this playoff match. The boy opposing him was taller than Hiroshi by maybe a full head and was slimmer as well. Hiroshi hadn¡¯t fought him during the actual matches, but he had been watching the boys¡¯ style. They couldn¡¯t look more opposite.


    His opponent, Ren, was older than he was. All of his opponents had been older than Hiroshi was. The youngest you could normally be to enter this tournament was fifteen. Hiroshi¡¯s mother, Hikari, got him into the tournament as a special favor. Or well, that¡¯s what his mother told him. Hiroshi knew it had more to do with his father, and the man who organized the tournament. The two men were old friends, and he felt bad that Jiro was dead. He pushed the thought of his father from his mind once more. The death was still fresh on his mind and it wouldn¡¯t do anything to help him in this bout.


    Hiroshi was short and plump, which was part of the reason he had to work harder on being more flexible. It was harder to come to him than someone like Ren, his opponent. Hiroshi¡¯s deep green eyes looked over Ren¡¯s form. The boy had the eyes of his mother. He then reached up to fix the chonmage he had. It was a type of topknot that only the sumotori wore. While others, even cultivators, may wear some sort of topknot, the chonmage was the hairstyle of the sumo wrestler.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Hiroshi took a deep breath in and crouched down, spreading his knees and arms opened wide. This was to show he was meeting his opponent like Kentaro had, without weapons and with honor. The claps of their hands when they brought their arms together rang through the mostly empty stadium. All Hiroshi could really hear was his mother still clapping off in the distance.


    Hiroshi desperately hoped he¡¯d win this last match. It would crown the winner here, the regional champion of the island where they lived, Kokan. It was right outside of these city gates where Kentaro stood up for the people of Ryoku and saved them and birthed sumo. From here, Hiroshi would go to the capital city of Toko and wrestle in front of the Emperor of the entire Sasake Empire. It would be the first major step in fulfilling his father¡¯s dreams for him.


    Not only that, but it would prove to his mother that all the traveling they had done. They had gone to different tournaments. She spent much of the money she scraped together for tournament fees and equipment. He had to win this to prove it was all worth it. If Hiroshi did well and rose in rank through the divisions, he¡¯d be able to take care of her and his sister. He could probably provide better than even his father had ever been able to. This was all he wanted. To make his mother and father¡¯s memory proud.


    They approached each other after they stood back on their feet. Hiroshi and Ren met in the middle behind two painted lines on the clay. Now they mirrored each other once more, calling to Rei and then Kentaro and stomping their feet into the clay. Hiroshi looked up and met Ren¡¯s brown eyes, his own face expressionless. Ren¡¯s face looked down at Hiroshi, sneering in contempt.


    ¡°Gerbil,¡± he muttered, trying to keep his voice low so only he and Hiroshi would hear.


    It was normally a term of endearment. His friends and mother would normally call the gerbil lovingly. With his short squat frame he did a kind of resemble the way a gerbil looked, and when he was eating he¡¯d always fill his mouth so his cheeks puffed out. Jiro always laughed and told him that¡¯s what he needed to do to compete in sumo.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± the judge¡¯s voice rang out in response to Ren¡¯s insult, and woke Hiroshi from his thoughts and dreams.


    Here, for the juniors, the judge was simply a judge. He wore a simple black outer robe and a white inner. Gyoji had a whole ranking system, not unlike the ranking system of the rikishi who competed at the highest levels. If Hiroshi made it to Yoshino, the gyoji, or referee, would probably be about the same age he was, as opposed to the adults who judged amateur and the juniors.


    Ren nodded his head to the judge in compliance. Hiroshi kept his head pointed up and kept looking up as he crouched down into his starting position. He stared at Ren, his eyes narrowing a little. Hiroshi¡¯s left fist was just behind the white line painted on the clay now. Ren looked down at him, still sneering. Hiroshi saw something though, something in Ren¡¯s brown eyes. Was it fear? Was that why he still hadn¡¯t crouched down to and ready himself for the taichi-ai, the first charge of the match?


    Ren stayed upright until the Judge extended a hand towards his line in the clay. Ren¡¯s sneer turned into a frown as he crouched down and looked Hiroshi in the eyes. Right here, in this position, two boys were equal. Age didn¡¯t matter, neither did their position in society. These were just two would-be sumotori, two rikishi hopefuls squaring off for honor and celebrating the Kami that came from their very own city.


    It surprised Hiroshi when Ren didn¡¯t linger and put his second fist on the clay right after his first. Despite looking afraid when he stared at the younger, larger boy, Ren wasn¡¯t too scared to show he was ready. Horishi nodded his head and closed his eyes, listening to Ren¡¯s breathing. Part of this process was supposed to be for the competitors¡¯ breath to match pace before the match actually started. This proved hard to do, as Hiroshi¡¯s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.


    The fear was gone from Ren¡¯s eyes when Hiroshi reopened his eyes and when Hiroshi was sure he lowered his second fist to dohyo. The skin on skin clap of their forms crashing into each other rang out through the arena. They were young, but their tachi-ai was fierce. They both wanted to win. It just came down to who needed it more. Who will fight harder for it?


    Hiroshi¡¯s right hand went up to Ren¡¯s left arm, grabbing a hold of the muscle. Hiroshi could feel the grip on the left side of his mawashi, however. He knew this was how Ren won his previous bouts. If your opponent could get a decent grip on the mawashi, they had the advantage and they could usually control their opponent with that grip.


    Hiroshi could feel the slimmer boy¡¯s breast under his left hand. His mind raced for a way to make sure he didn¡¯t lose this bout. There was only really one thing he could think of, using his larger form and belly to his advantage. Not that this was exactly a brilliant idea. There was a reason the best sumo wrestlers were larger men. Hiroshi¡¯s arms extended, and he put all the strength and weight that he could behind his thrust in an attempt to thrust Ren away from him.


    Hiroshi watched the boy stagger backwards, and he felt the grip loosen on his belt. In his follow up, he charged at Ren with all the force he could muster, his arms once more lashing out. Blow after blow from each of his open palms into the other boy¡¯s chest and throat made it so Ren could never regain his footing. Hiroshi watched Ren trip over the bales and fall out of the ring and off the dohyo and into one judge who sat outside of the ring.


    ¡°You¡¯re out!¡± The referee called out and held a hand to the side of the dohyo that was Hiroshi¡¯s as soon as Ren¡¯s foot landed outside of the bale''s encircled ring. Or well, whichever part of Ren¡¯s body it was that landed on the unsuspecting judge first.


    Ren let out a startled yelp. His arms flailed to catch himself, to regain some kind of balance so he didn¡¯t fall. He failed and there was a loud grunt and yell as Ren landed on one of the ringside judges. Hiroshi flinched a little as Ren fell back and landed on the hard cement. It was good that the judge was there to break his fall.


    Hiroshi did what honor dictated he must and stepped over to the edge of the clay ring. Ren was currently trying to disentangle himself from the judge¡¯s robes. He extended an arm down to Ren, not trying to hide the small smile on his lips for beating the more technical wrestler with apparent ease. It was a lot easier than Hiroshi could have expected.


    When Ren was finally free of the judge and finished apologizing, which he did a lot of, he looked up at Hiroshi and glared. He didn¡¯t take Hiroshi¡¯s hand and climbed up the clay ring using a small step that was carved out about halfway up. He was standing next to Hiroshi when Hiroshi lowered his arm and Ren knocked his shoulder into the shorter boy.


    Unphased, Hiroshi just went to his side of the ring and turned to look back at Ren, who was standing at attention. The judge was standing between them, off to the side of their eyelines. It wasn¡¯t until Hiroshi bowed that the sounds around the arena came crashing in around him. It wasn¡¯t loud by any means, the arena was still mostly empty. The arena wouldn¡¯t fill until the next day when the real tournament began, and the rikishi began their tournament.


    The sound of his mother rang through the entire arena. She clapped and yelled his name out. He couldn¡¯t look at her, but he¡¯d have to be deaf to not hear her. Hiroshi knew it was improper, but a grin spread across his lips as he watched Ren stormed off in defeat. He lowered his head and tried to hide the nervous laugh he let out and did one more squat. The excitement and nerves finally went away now that the match was over.


    He felt the judge walk over and put a hand on Hiroshi¡¯s shoulder, more impropriety. It didn¡¯t matter, no one was watching. Hiroshi was sure now there was no one in the stablemaster box, no yokozuna to watch him win.


    ¡°Good job Hiroshi, your father would be proud,¡± the judge whispered. He even leaned down slightly to speak directly into Hiroshi¡¯s ear.


    Hiroshi swiped his right hand in a tegatana, which was an old way of thanking the judge. He thanked the judge for judging the match. The judge, though, this judge at least, would know this gesture was for more than just thanks for judging the bout. Hiroshi could barely contain himself as he stood and climbed down the dohyo and walked back to the locker room and prep area. As he walked, he broke down crying.

 The Oyakata

    His eyes were closed, and his head was down as he was trying to fight the tears. He saw his sister first. The compact form of Asami was standing there, still waving the sign with his name written on it. Asami had written his name in the old language with the curvy lettering they had. Hiroshi blinked his eyes furiously, trying to blink away the water, and he kneeled down and wrapped Asami in a hug, holding her close.


    ¡°You did such a good job, Hiroshi.¡± he felt his mother¡¯s hand come to his shoulder, squeezing it. ¡°Oh my, you are ready for a bath aren¡¯t you?¡± she said as her hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment before she chuckled and pulled her hand away, wiping the sweat on her robe.


    He looked up finally and laughed a little and took in his mother¡¯s form. She was shorter than most of the women in the city. Further separating herself from the rest of the local women, she had green emerald eyes, which was where Hiroshi got his from, and then also brown curly locks of hair. His father used to tell Hiroshi her hair was one reason that drove him to her. She was so different from the other women. How could one not swarm to her?


    Hiroshi reached and ruffled his little sister¡¯s hair. His little sister¡¯s hair, unlike his mother¡¯s curls, was cut straight just below her ears. Asami¡¯s cheeks blew out in frustration and she glared up at her brother. Hiroshi snickered and winked at her when his mother spoke.


    ¡°Hiroshi, you did such a good job. Your¡­¡±


    She didn¡¯t get the chance to finish her sentence. He forgot himself and rammed into her midsection, his enormous arms wrapping all the way around his petite mother.


    ¡°Umph,¡± she had the wind knocked out of her a moment. Neither that nor her son¡¯s sweaty form stopped her from wrapping her arms around her boy.


    ¡°Thank you, mama,¡± Hiroshi said and fought back the tears that had welled in his eyes once more. ¡°For everything,¡± Hiroshi said once he knew he could compose himself enough to speak without his voice wavering.


    Hikari gave a soft laugh and put a hand to her son¡¯s head. They both felt the slight form that was Asami trying to push and wedge her way in between. One last tight squeeze from Hiroshi to his mother¡¯s midsection before he loosened his grip and felt Asami¡¯s little arms try to wrap all the way around his midsection.


    ¡°Come on, you two, I have everything ready to make dumplings and noodles for dinner,¡± Hikari said, still chuckling a little.


    Asami and Hiroshi both squealed in delight. Asami even jumped up and down, raising her hands to the sky giving shouts of appreciation. She took off running down the entrance tunnel towards the exit.


    ¡°Asami, wait!¡± Hikari said and ran after the excited little girl. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you outside after you change!¡± She called back to Hiroshi, still chasing after Asami, yelling for her to stop and wait.


    Hiroshi lowered his head and laughed a little as he continued walking down the tunnel. His mother and sister would have veered to the right, which led to a grand entranceway and the exit. Hiroshi¡¯s bare feet slapped against the hard floor leading him to the left, which was the locker room.


    The locker room was empty save for an attendant who was cleaning. It had large tubs filled with hot water and had runes carved all around the bottom. The runes were special runes made by cultivators that would keep the water both hot and clean. The tubs were also off limits to the juniors.


    ¡°Hey, I saw your match. You saw the boy didn¡¯t know what to do and attacked!¡± The man looked at Hiroshi and grinned a wide toothless grin. He was an older bald man with wrinkles like one of those old dogs. ¡°Good sumo,¡± he said and nodded his head vigorously.


    Hiroshi watched the attendant sweep a little as he changed out of mawashi and into a plain dark brown wool robe. A symbol of his being in the junior rank. He had to wait to rise higher in the divisions before he could wear nicer clothing.


    The robes the sumotori and professional rikishi wore were slightly different in design than the robes people normally wore, and significantly different from cultivator robes. Where cultivator robes were long, flowy, with wide open sleeves, robes worn by civilians had some differences. The robes worn day to day by those who were not cultivators or sumotori were tighter sleeved and not as long. Those robes looked more like a long jacket and would tie in the front. Under that, they¡¯d wear pants and a tunic. Sumotori robes were also called kimonos. Kimonos were a single piece of fabric that wrapped around and held closed with a sash. They were more form fitting than either of the other styles.


    Colors of the kimono could tell you the rank of a sumo wrestler. As they went up in divisions, the robes went various colors and would get lighter. They would get nicer in fabric quality. When you reached the top division, makuuchi, you could wear whatever style kimono you wanted. They usually had designs on them and were lavish. They were also typically a much nicer fabric, or possibly even silk.


    Another kid about Hiroshi¡¯s age walked into the locker room after the door swung open. Hiroshi still had his pants half on. They were the same color and itchy cloth as the robe he wore. He looked at the pair of them curiously, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Papa! Papa! You won¡¯t believe it!¡± the boy panted. He must have run here from wherever he came from. He bent over, his hands on his knees, wheezing heavily.


    The toothless attendant laughed and walked over to his apparent son. A calming hand went to the boy¡¯s back, rubbing it softly. ¡°Relax little Ken, when you catch your breath, you can tell me.¡±


    What? What did you see?! He thought to himself. He wouldn¡¯t be rude and say anything. Likewise, he didn¡¯t want to appear but eavesdropping, but curiosity had gotten the better of this young sumotori. He slowly pretended like he was still dressing himself.


    ¡°I let a man go upstairs, to the private box. There were oyakata in there, including Kenjiro!¡± the child finally piped up.


    To hear that oyakata was upstairs and possibly watched him win, though. Hiroshi rushed to finish getting dressed. I can¡¯t believe it. It isn¡¯t said the stablemasters never watch the juniors? Especially here, so far away from the capital. Hiroshi¡¯s mind raced, and the wooden sandals he wore clapped against the hardwood floor as he made his way from the locker room and through the grand entranceway.


    Hiroshi found his mother and sister outside. His mother was sitting under a large cherry blossom tree. The blossoms were in full bloom marking the start of springtime, which is why the tournament was happening now. What better way to celebrate life than to celebrate Kentaro at the place where he first stood up to Kenchi and saved the world from the blood thirsty kami?


    Hikari was leaning back in the grass, resting her head against the tree while Asami picked some dandelions in the grass around their mother. Hiroshi was relieved he found them easily. Who knew where they could have been hiding in the vast arena area? The area took over most of the downtown area of the city, which was always bustling.


    The oranges and reds of the setting sun were a beautiful backdrop to Hikari and Asami sitting under the pink blossomed tree. Hiroshi didn¡¯t notice, however, he had much more important matters on his mind.


    ¡°Mom! Mom!¡± He squealed, even louder than when he found out she was making dumplings for dinner.


    Hikari gave a small jump when she heard Hiroshi¡¯s clapping of sandals against the rocks that made the outdoor area. She had been enjoying a small nap before they went home, and she made dinner for the three of them. Her thin lips stretched into a smile and she gave a small laugh, seeing her son rush towards her though wondering what was going on.


    ¡°There were oyakatas there. They were watching, I¡­¡± Hiroshi doubled over now, his small plump form bent over wheezing. He may have trained every day, may have just won a sports tournament, but he was still a thirteen-year-old plump boy.


    He felt Hikari¡¯s hand on his back and rubbed his back softly. ¡°Breathe Hiroshi, breathe,¡± she laughed once more.


    Asami¡¯s hand came up and patted Hiroshi, also rubbing for a minute before she held out a small wreath made from the dandelions she had been picking at. ¡°Here you go, for winning today!¡± She exclaimed proudly.


    Hiroshi took it, his fingers taking great care not to damage the intricate weaving the little girl had done. He smiled and stood upright, looking over the wreath. ¡°This is amazing, Asami, thank you so much. I will use it to decorate my shrine to Kentaro in my room,¡± he said and nodded his head to her.


    ¡°What had you in such a huff, my little gerbil?¡± Hikari narrowed her eyes on Hiroshi and put a hand on Asami¡¯s head, pulling her in close to her.


    ¡°Oh, my god! MOOOOOOOOOM!¡± The rush of excitement returned to Hiroshi and his eyes went wide. ¡°Kenjiro Oyakata from Hajima beya was there! HE WATCHED ME WIN!¡± Hiroshi was seething now in excitement.


    His mother put a hand behind his head and pulled him into the dress she wore. Hiroshi felt her nod her head and a sound he didn¡¯t quite understand at first. Hiroshi pulled back from her chest and looked up at her with soft eyes. ¡°What¡¯s wrong mama?¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    His mother¡¯s eyes swelled up once more, turned into glassy pools, and she smiled and shook her head. ¡°Nothing, my child. I¡¯m just so proud of you.¡± She purposely ignored the wet spot on her dress left from the sweat on his forehead. He really needed a bath.


    ¡°YAAAAAAAAAAY!¡± Asami¡¯s voice rang out, and she was dancing in triumph for her brother, oblivious to the fact her mother was crying.


    Hikari laughed, and they both watched Asami dance around. She then mimicked the ritual of sumo, her small feet came down to stomp on the grass as hard as she could. This sent mother and son laughing once more while Hikari pulled Hiroshi away from the tree.


    ¡°Come on Asami, let¡¯s go get dumplings!¡± Hiroshi shouted, the clopping sound once more ringing out in the tranquil area as he ran. ¡°Last one home has to help mom seal them!¡± he shouted as he ran.


    Asami stopped her ritual and her eyes went wide. That was the worst way to help their mother in the kitchen. It took so long to seal them, and she had exacting standards. The folds had to be just so and packed nice and tight with none of the filling leaking out. Once that full realization hit her, she took off as fast as her little legs could make her go. Hikari, unable to run as fast because of the tightness of the dress she wore, stumbled after them. She had to remove her own sandals so she could try to keep up.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the trio to get home. The sun still hung above the skyline, threatening to set, but wasn¡¯t quite to finish. They lived close to the downtown area since Jiro worked right downtown in a little shop he rented from a businessman. Their father worked as a painter who painted everyday life depictions on wood slates. Although his paintings weren¡¯t considered masterpieces, he sold enough to make a living.


    It was when he never came home one night that the family worried about their patriarch. Food was on the table ready, his favorite: stewed pork and white rice with this delicious oyster sauce Hikari made. Jiro knew she was making it. She figured it¡¯d be a good way to make sure he stayed out of the betting houses. As good of a father as Jiro was, he had his own vices. They went to bed without knowing what happened to him.


    There was a knock on the door by the local law enforcement that informed an in shock Hikari what had happened. Jiro lay in an alley next to his shop, dead. The police concluded he had been murdered shortly after closing his shop for the night. To this day, they had no leads on who killed the Watanabe patriarch. Hiroshi and Asami woke to their mother¡¯s screaming when the police told her what had happened. The police left with Hiroshi holding his mother¡¯s form up in her, raving.


    Hiroshi bathed and cleaned himself up, and Hikari and Asami worked on dinner. They were singing and making a game out of closing the dumplings when there was a knock on the door. It rang through the house, deep and loud, one of those knocks that you had to answer right away. It was full of authority and a demand that the knocker must be attended to.


    His mother cursed. ¡°Hiroshi, will you answer that? ¡°Hiroshi, will you answer that? Our hands are covered in dough and pork,¡± she shouted. Another pound on the door when Hikari addressed the knocker before Hiroshi could answer his mother. She yelled to give them a moment.


    Hiroshi stood in his room wearing short pants that went to his calves. Since he wasn¡¯t doing sumo related things, and didn¡¯t plan on leaving the house again for the evening, he didn¡¯t have to dress in the traditional dress that labeled him a sumotori. He grabbed a large loose-fitting shirt that looked like it might be a small tent and brought it over his already greased and slicked back hair. A quick sniff to his armpits to confirm he was indeed clean from all the sweatiness that was a sumo tournament.


    Footsteps raged like a rhino as he ran through the small house. Down the little hallway, and through the adjoining kitchen and family area, that was the main living part of the house. He opened the door and looked up to the man who knocked so hardly.


    Hiroshi gasped when he saw who was standing on their doorstep. The man was broad and stood taller than anyone Hiroshi had ever seen. He took up most of the doorway. The thing that stood out though to young Hiroshi, the man was wearing a kimono. It was the same clothing the sumotori wore. His kimono was dark blue with red streaks of lightning and surrounded by a lighter shade of blue than the rest of the dark blue silk kimono.


    Hiroshi didn¡¯t recognize the man, he didn¡¯t know all the different people who were in the sumo world. As big a fan as Hiroshi was, he wouldn¡¯t recognize anyone outside of the current Yokozuna and some of the other fan favorites in the makuuchi division. That feeling jabbed at Hiroshi¡¯s gut, though. The man¡¯s kimono, his topknot, was just the way the man stood there. He was someone, and he was important.


    A small smile came across the man¡¯s strong jawline. ¡°Hiroshi, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I am Kenjiro,¡± the man said in a booming voice. His voice was deep and strong and demanded people listen when he spoke. He was barrel chested and had little body fat on him besides his stomach.


    Hiroshi¡¯s jaw dropped once the man said his name, and he stared with wonder and stars in his eyes. How could Hiroshi not know the name of the stablemaster of the most prestigious beya in the entire empire?


    ¡°Hiroshi, who¡¯s at the door? Don¡¯t be rude, let them in,¡± he heard his mother coming around the corner and Hiroshi stammered a little, remembering himself.


    ¡°Master Kenjiro, come in, come in, please. Make yourself at home,¡± Hiroshi rushed to say just as his mother approached. Hiroshi moved out of the way and opened the door wide for Kenjiro to enter their home.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± Hikari muttered, seeing the large man entering.


    ¡°Mom, it¡¯s Kenjiro Oyakata from the Hajima beya in Yoshino City¡±


    The three of them stood there, now cramped in the small foyer. Kenjiro demanded most of the space, and Hiroshi was doing his best to squeeze his too large body into the corner. The man chuckled lightly and nodded his head, holding his hand out to Hikari.


    ¡°Well, I wanted to keep where I¡¯m from a secret, but it seems that Hiroshi knows quite a lot about the sumo world. I should have expected as much from someone so young who showed such good sumo,¡± Kenjiro said as Hikari took his hand and shook it.


    The man¡¯s hand was like a bear¡¯s paw surrounding Hikari¡¯s petite hand. Hiroshi¡¯s mind drifted off in this fantasy that Kenjiro really was a bear in disguise. He crashed through the front door with Hikari, leaving Hiroshi and Asami to comically chase after them.


    ¡°Mama, I finished the last dumpling. We can cook them and eat now,¡± Asami¡¯s voice preceded her small bare feet shuffling through the wood floored house.


    Hiroshi¡¯s fantasy crashed around him hearing Asami and his eyes opened wide when what Kenjiro said finally struck his brain. ¡°I, thank you Oyakata,¡± he said with a deep bow. Or well, as deep as he could while he was still cramped in the corner.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in. Have a seat, make yourself at home. Why did you want to come in secret?¡± Hikari backed out of the foyer but narrowed her eyes at the larger man. Now she was the mama bear protecting her young, not afraid of some larger animal.


    The larger man gave a small but deep chuckle, and he shook his head and raised a hand placatingly. ¡°Nothing bad, I swear.¡±


    Hikari had a hand on Asami¡¯s back and was leading everyone into the living area of their home. There was an oversized chair that used to be Jiro¡¯s seat for him to come and rest in after a hard day working. Then there was a smaller one for Hikari, and some pillows on the floor. They adorned the walls with family paintings and a set of shelves Hiroshi made for one of her birthdays. She had put some potted plants on it, and a small bonsai tree she liked to take care of.


    ¡°I just wanted to meet Hiroshi after he won the tournament today. See what he was hoping to do, if he and you were planning ongoing to Yoshinoi,¡± Kenjiro informed Hikari. ¡°You have a lovely home,¡± he told her with a smile.


    Hiroshi was near hyperventilating from excitement. The oyakata was not only watching, but now he wanted to meet him?! He cared if Hiroshi was going to the tournament? Hiroshi put his hands on his knees and tried to get a grip on himself.


    Hikari smiled and nodded her head. ¡°Yes, Hiroshi wants to go. I would love for him to live out his dream.¡±


    No. It was all going to come crashing down. Hiroshi picked himself up and looked up at his mother, and his mind raced. Wanted to see him? What did that mean? Were they not going? Doesn¡¯t she want to go as well?


    Deep down, Hiroshi knew it was a possibility they couldn¡¯t go. He didn¡¯t want to admit to himself that even after winning the tournament here on the island and securing entry into the final junior tournament that he wouldn¡¯t actually be able to go. Money was tight, though, he knew. His mother had been using their savings so far to keep them fed. Luckily, through a series of shrewd deals and handshakes, Jiro had paid off their house to keep the family debt free.


    ¡°Yoshino is far though, and traveling is ex¡­¡± Hikari didn¡¯t get the rest of the sentence out. Kenjiro raised his hand once more, stopping her.


    Hiroshi had to grip his knees again to stop himself from falling. Not from excitement this time, but from the crashing realization that he could not go. It was his father¡¯s dream for him to pursue sumo, not his mother¡¯s. His mother supported him, and did whatever she could for him, but ultimately without Jiro.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about the rest. Is there a better time for me to come back? Since you guys are getting ready for dinner.¡± Kenjiro said with a smile.


    ¡°Stay for dinner!¡± Hiroshi regained enough composure to rush out the invitation before even really thinking, or more importantly, clearing it with his mother. If he would not get to wrestle in front of the emperor in Yoshino, then he would try his hardest to spend some time with one of the most important oyakatas.


    Narrowed eyes pierced him immediately from his mother. She folded her arms across her chest and Hiroshi looked up at her pleadingly. His green eyes turned into a look from a puppy begging for scraps from the dinner table.


    ¡°No, I can¡¯t imp¡­¡± now it was Kenjiro¡¯s turn to get cut off.


    ¡°Yes, stay for dinner. Me and Asami here went wild with dumplings and there should be enough noodles for everyone,¡± Hikari relented and looked up at Kenjiro. She smiled and gave an affirming nod of her head.


    Hiroshi nearly melted. A small win in battle may lead to winning the war and then he could be a part of the opening ceremonies held by the emperor himself.


    ¡°Make yourself at home. Try not to let Hiroshi pester you too much while me and Asami go finish,¡± Hikari gave a sweeping motion across the living area.


    ¡°You have a lovely home, thank you. Of course I will stay,¡± he gave a chuckle. ¡°And I¡¯m sure Hiroshi and I will get along wonderfully. We have things in common,¡± he continued.


    He then moved over and sat in the large overstuffed chair that had belonged to Hiroshi¡¯s father. Even though the chair was large and sturdy, it looked like it might crumple under Kenjiro¡¯s much larger form. Hiroshi stared in horror as someone else was sitting in his father¡¯s chair. Hikari had led Asami to the kitchen when Kenjiro sat but she paused for a moment mid-stride. Her feet came together, and she lowered her head a moment and her hand went to her eye.


    ¡°That¡¯s papa¡¯s chair!¡± Leave it to the little one to say what everyone else was thinking but couldn¡¯t say.


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡­¡± Kenjiro had climbed to his feet, but Hikari stopped him with a meek allowance.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. My husband will not be home for dinner,¡± was all she muttered before she gathered up Asami and rushed her into the kitchen. No scolding came to the small child for impropriety.

 Pillow Fort

    Hiroshi couldn¡¯t contain himself while they ate dinner. He kept asking Kenjiro about sumo and the different wrestlers the oyakata has met and possibly trained.


    ¡°Let oyakata Kenjiro eat his dinner, Hiroshi,¡± his mother scolded him. ¡°And you need to make sure you eat yours. All these dumplings we made and the extra rice¡­¡± she continued with a sigh.


    Kenjiro gave a small chuckle but waved his hand. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s refreshing to see a member of a younger generation get so excited about the sport. So many young rikishi don¡¯t have the love your son shows. They simply do it because they feel like they must,¡± Kenjiro told her and picked around his plate a little more.


    Hikari gave the master a strained smile. ¡°Is the dinner not acceptable?¡± Her green eyes looked at the bowl of hardly touched noodles and she noticed he hardly touched any of the dumplings.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible, I helped!¡± Asami could barely get the words out. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.


    Hiroshi¡¯s head bobbed up and down in agreement, slurping the last of his ramen broth. ¡°It¡¯s delicious!¡± He smiled at Asami, his jowls blubbering a little.


    Kenjiro looked wide eyed and shook his head. ¡°No, no, sorry. It¡¯s delicious. The best cooking I¡¯ve had in a long time. Sorry. There¡¯s just been a lot on my mind recently. Anyway, Hiroshi..¡±


    Hiroshi gulped down the white rice he had stuffed in his mouth when he saw the illustrious stablemaster address him.


    Without giving the boy a chance to answer, he continued. ¡°I would like to make sure you get to Yoshino. It¡¯s a bit of a journey and I understand your family not being able to make the journey.¡±


    Hikari closed her eyes and lowered her head, giving an audible sigh. ¡°It was my husband¡¯s wish for Hiroshi to get into Sumo, without him¡­¡±


    Hikari trailed off and Kenjiro raised a hand. ¡°I mean no insult. I¡¯m here to offer to take Hiroshi to the tournament. Help make sure he¡¯s trained and ready. There has-¡±


    ¡°YES I WOULD LOVE TO JOIN YOUR BEYA!¡± Hiroshi¡¯s chair flew back when he jumped to his feet and bowed at the oyakata.


    ¡°Hiroshi!¡± His mother scolded as Asami burst out laughing, bits of rice and meat and dumpling dough spewing from her mouth down to her bowl. ¡°Asami!¡± Their mother then scolded them.


    Kenjiro¡¯s eyes opened wide, and he shook his head quickly. ¡°No, no. Hiroshi, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not allowed to offer you a spot until you¡¯ve become a full rikishi, not until after you¡¯ve won.¡±


    Hiroshi¡¯s head fell, his jaw hitting his chest. The scolds of his mother went unnoticed in his excitement and then disappointment. He felt his mother put a consoling hand on his shoulder. The warmth of her touch made him smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all bad news. If you lose but perform exquisitely, I can still offer you a place. You just won¡¯t start in as high of a division. Not ideal, but if you have the skill, it won¡¯t matter in the long run,¡± Kenjiro told him.


    Hiroshi looked up and nodded his head. So either way, if he didn¡¯t make a complete fool of himself, he¡¯ll be in? His eyes went wide with the realization.


    There was a noise coming from his mother that he wasn¡¯t sure what it was. A look over to his mother and he saw her with her leaned down and eyes closed. ¡°Mama,¡± he whispered and reached for her arm.


    Asami got up from her seat at the table as well and went over and wrapped her arms around their mother¡¯s midsection. Did she know why Hikari was upset? Could her young mind understand exactly what Kenjiro was offering? Was she even paying attention while she was shoving dumplings and rice into her mouth?


    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡±


    Kenjiro cleared his throat and stood, clearly uncomfortable. ¡°Well, it seems you all need to have a discussion. Know this though, Hikari, ma¡¯am, I wouldn¡¯t have come here if I didn¡¯t think your son could do well. Him doing well could mean doing well for you, doing well for Jiro¡¯s memory.¡± He set the napkin he was still holding down next to his plate.


    There was an uneasy silence for several moments while the kids and their mother hugged. Hiroshi wrapped himself around Hikari, his cheek pushed into her shoulder. They didn¡¯t notice when Kenjiro backed away and went to the foyer. They heard him say he¡¯d be back in the morning and that after he came to see them, he¡¯d be heading to Yoshino.


    ¡°Mama, I don¡¯t have to go,¡± Hiroshi whispered.


    ¡°GO WHERE?!¡± Asami now pulled away from her mother¡¯s breast and looked up at her older brother in horror.


    Hikari had resolved herself in the moments, steeled her emotions before she said anything else. Hiroshi had pulled away from her now as well and looked down at his sister with a small smile. ¡°You think you¡¯re going to get off that easy? I demand more dumplings!¡±


    ¡°Your brother has worked hard.¡±


    The two went silent when Hikari spoke. Probably the only time she could ever remember when they¡¯d settled down, when she was trying to speak to them. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to go with Oyakata Kenjiro in the morning and go to the capital. He will win the tournament and become a full rikishi as his father wanted him to be, as he wants to be,¡± her voice was soft, but didn¡¯t quaver.


    Hiroshi felt the glare before he saw it. His little sister looked up at him in his seated position, her eyes full of hurt and betrayal at him leaving them. He reached out for her to pull her around their mother and to him so he could give her a hug, but she dodged his bear cub of a hand. He had said her name, but she turned her back and left. Short, hard footfalls clomped through the house as she ran to her room. Hiroshi looked down and sighed and closed his eyes. There were several moments of silence once more.


    ¡°She will miss you, you know? More than I will. You¡¯re a good big brother to little Asami,¡± Hikari put a hand on her son¡¯s shoulder and he nodded his head. ¡°This will be good, though. It will be good for you, and could be good for the whole family. Good for the town, and the island,¡± she continued with a nod of her head. She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince her son.


    ¡°Should I stay?¡± Hiroshi looked up now and met his mother¡¯s eyes. She was looking at him and smiled. Her eyes were misty, glass pools with green emeralds on the bottom of them, but she shook her head.


    ¡°No. It is your duty to go. Your duty to the memory of your father, the duty to your family to become the best you can be. That¡¯s why you¡¯re going to win this tournament in the capital.¡± Hikari¡¯s seat slid out from under the table and she stood. ¡°Clean the table, will you? I¡¯ll get your sister.¡± She looked down at Hiroshi and gave him a soft smile.


    Hiroshi nodded his head and finally picked up the chair he knocked over in his excitement earlier. Hikari disappeared from the room and back into the bedrooms of the house. By the time the girls of the family were back, Hiroshi had the table cleaned and was saving what food he could. Hiroshi scraped the food that was left on the plates into a compost bucket.


    When his mother and sister came back out to the main room where they ate, Hiroshi had most of the table cleaned. Hiroshi had scraped the plates clean and put them in the small wash basin where they washed dishes. He had filled the basin with some soap and water just as they entered.


    ¡°You¡¯re just in time to dry,¡± Hiroshi said and grinned at Asami.


    Asami glared at him. Her little eyes still looked like reflecting pools of water. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to leave,¡± she said and even kicked her big brother¡¯s shin softly.


    ¡°Ow!¡± he called out and dropped the plate back into the basin. He was kidding, of course, Asami didn¡¯t set out to hurt him. It was a small kick from a small girl. Earlier that day, someone had hit him harder, square in the face with an open palm.


    ¡°Alright, enough. Come, let us get this mess cleaned up, and then you both shall get all the blankets and pillows we have in the house. We¡¯re going to make¡­¡± but Hikari couldn¡¯t even finish her statement.


    ¡°BLANKET FOOOOOOORT!¡± both of the children yelled out. Their excitement almost matched when they received news that they were having dumplings and noodles for dinner.


    Hikari laughed and nodded her head. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re going to make a blanket fort and camp out in the living room. Hiroshi still needs his sleep, though. Oyakata will be here in the morning to collect him.¡± She pointed at them both with a stern finger. ¡°No point in making a bad first impression.¡±


    The children weren¡¯t listening. They were busy trying to get the dishes cleaned as quickly as they could. The soy stains were clear on the wooden plates when Hikari looked over them. They weren¡¯t doing their best work. She sighed and smiled and shook her head. Kids will be kids, and if this was going to be their last night as a family in this house, then she would make it memorable for them both.


    It only took them a few minutes and then they ran off and left Hikari looking over the dish drainer full of dirty dishes. Ah well. She would have time to wash them in the morning. She would have much more time than she normally did with Hiroshi gone. The boy took up a lot of her time with his woodworking and sumo activities. She left the kitchen and went off to the living room, where Asami and Hiroshi were both already piling pillows. They also hung blankets off of pieces of furniture in the living room.


    Their excited chattering seemed like it was any other night. That they would not send Hiroshi off in the morning with some strange man so he could pursue her husband¡¯s dreams for him. They were Hiroshi¡¯s dreams for himself as well, Hikari scolded herself. Hikari¡¯s head shook as she stabbed herself in the finger with one of the bamboo skewers she was working with.


    Besides getting dumplings and noodles ready for dinner for Hiroshi¡¯s big day, she had also gotten together a special treat for dessert. She had taken some rice and ground it into flour and rolled and worked the flour into a sweet dough. She looked over the twelve balls of dough in front of her: three reds, three greens, and three whites. It was a dessert for the children to signify the coming of spring, and mostly because she knew the children would like it. She assembled the skewers with a ball of each color on them.


    ¡°MOOOOOOOOM, ARE YOU COMING?!¡± Asami¡¯s voice rang out, only slightly muffled by the blankets she was hiding out in.


    Hikari peeked her head in and gave a small laugh when she saw the bunny shadow on one side of the blanket. Hiroshi had gotten a lamp and was showing Asami different animals he could do.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m coming. I just had to make these,¡± she said and brought the tray of the sweet rice dumplings into view.


    Asami squealed and Hiroshi was too busy growling, imitating a bear with his latest shadow puppet. Asami and Hiroshi were so caught up that they didn¡¯t notice the plate of two skewers next to Hiroshi. He was sitting with his legs folded in front of him, hunched over the lamp so he could get the best angle to do his shadow puppets.


    It was a few more minutes of shadow puppets and animal noises before Asami piped up. ¡°Does this mean you don¡¯t want your dessert?¡± She asked him with her mouth full of her last treat, her skewer empty.


    ¡°My wha¡­?¡± He turned and saw the plate. ¡°YES!¡±


    Hikari sat watching her children and laughed as Hiroshi took one skewer and gobbled it down greedily. She was only on her second treat, the white one. Hikari picked at it slowly, letting the treat last. She¡¯d have to make more treats like this for Asami in the future. Without her brother, she would get lonely and possibly sad. Treats might help. Hikari scolded herself once more and shook her head. She pushed the thought of saying goodbye to her son in the morning from her head and put her own skewer down on the plate and moved over the lamp to try her hand at making the puppets.


    She approved when Hiroshi gave his younger sister the white dumpling from his second skewer. The dumpling that Hiroshi didn¡¯t really like was the one with just some simple white sugar for flavor. They used cherry to color and sweeten the red dumpling, and mint to flavor the green one for a sweet and refreshing end to the skewer.


    The trio had stayed up well into the night, too late, probably with Hiroshi¡¯s big morning and day coming up. Snuggling together under the last blanket in the house, the one not used for the fort, they all finally fell asleep. It was too big and unruly and heavy. Hikari had her arms wrapped around Hiroshi, and Asami¡¯s head was in her armpit and the last thing she said before she finally fell asleep was, ¡°goodnight my little gerbil.¡±

 A New Beginning

    Bang, bang, bang.


    Hikari¡¯s eyes shot open to the banging on the front door and it took a minute of her looking around to realize what was happening. The night that was full of bittersweet fun coming back to her. While snoring loudly, Hiroshi remained snuggled next to her, and Asami slept quietly with her full face buried in Hikari¡¯s armpit.


    BANG, BANG, BANG


    The knocking got more serious, more demanding, and Hikari tried to wrangle herself free of her children so she could answer it. Looking around, she noticed one of Hiroshi¡¯s arms tightly wrapped around her midsection in this cozy family cuddle puddle.


    ¡°Hang on! I¡¯m coming!¡± She finally yelled when she lifted Hiroshi¡¯s arm off of her.


    This also finally roused the boy, who gave a loud snort before blinking his eyes. He saw his mother exiting their blanket fort and smiled. The blankets were so warm he grabbed a handful of them and wrapped them around himself when he saw his mother go to the door through the little slit of a doorway in the blanket fort. His eyes shot open once he realized who that probably was and ruined the tent when he jumped to his feet. The blankets covering his head. He reached and pulled them all down in a fury of cloth.


    ¡°Hello, yes, sorry it took me a moment, Kenjiro Oyakata,¡± Hikari said after she opened the door. She was hiding behind the doorway, trying to hide herself from view while she spoke. She had changed out of her regular clothes into night clothing before the three had settled in to go to bed.


    Hiroshi left all the blankets and pillows he ruined piled on top of Asami, who was now awake and yelling and fighting her way out of the bundles of blankets. He heard the Oyakata say something to his mother, but he couldn¡¯t make it out through the walls and his sister¡¯s yelling. He gave a tug to the cloth to help her out of it, but he had other things to worry about. Feet thudded on the hardwood flooring when he dashed through the house to his room.


    ¡°Sorry sir, just give Hiroshi a few moments? If you will. I will have him out here very soon,¡± Hikari said and smiled nervously.


    Hiroshi cringed as he dug around his room. He flung the couple of plain kimonos he had in a pile on his bed and relished the day he¡¯d be able to wear something that wasn¡¯t so scratchy. It was only a few moments later when he looked up and saw his mother rush towards him with one of Hiroshi¡¯s prized possessions, his father¡¯s old military backpack.


    Before Jiro had first met Hikari, he had conscripted into the Emperor¡¯s Army to make money to help support his new pregnant wife. He still hadn¡¯t been able to buy the shop, so he wasn¡¯t making any money from his artwork. The military issued all members these large backpacks with many pockets and compartments to fit all of their gear in. It was a simple reinforced canvas bag made of this sturdy green, tan fabric, and Hiroshi used it for everything.


    ¡°I¡¯ve put some food and a canteen with water in here for you, Hiroshi. Pack some clothing. The Oyakata is not thrilled that you aren¡¯t ready for him, but he said he would wait a few moments,¡± she told him and rolled his clothing before setting it in the bag.


    Hiroshi huffed and sighed. The realization he was leaving home really started to hit home and his gut was in a knot. He stood straight and looked up to his mother with his brown eyes turning into pools once more.


    Hikari wasn¡¯t paying attention, trying to rush to get him packed and ready to go. That was until she was forced to pay attention when he crashed into her from the side. He knocked her down into his bed, his arms around his petite mother, and squeezed her tightly. He buried his head in her arm and sobbed.


    ¡°Oof, ugh, Hiroshi. It¡¯s fine,¡± she said as she struggled to reach and grab hold of her son and get him moving. They had landed in such a way that it trapped her loose bits of clothing under her, pinned between her form and the bed. She let out a slight choking noise when she tried to lift her head and another, much smaller form, landed on the dog pile. ¡°Umph!¡±


    ¡°CUDDLE PUDDLE!¡± Asami landed on Hiroshi and struggled to wrap her arms all the way around everyone. She didn¡¯t get close, of course, barely able to reach around Hiroshi¡¯s bulbous gerbil form by himself, let alone with their mother in the mix.


    ¡°No! Asami! Get off!¡± Hikari gagged while she yelled. ¡°The Oyakata is going to leave Hiroshi if we don¡¯t hurry.¡±


    Even Hiroshi wasn¡¯t climbing off, not yet. He only wrapped himself tighter around her form. ¡°Good!¡± was the response of Asami in a defiant yell.


    BANG.


    Hiroshi groaned at the sharp knock at the door. Asami struggled to tighten her grip on her big brother.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Hiroshi groaned, feeling his sister¡¯s tightened grip. He pushed off the bed, relieving the weight of his mother. Hiroshi swiftly lifted Asami into the air and she landed on the bed next to Hikari. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He stood slowly as Hikari fought to untangle herself and sit up. Hiroshi looked about his room, his father¡¯s pack on the floor by his bed full of clothing and supplies he would need. ¡°I¡¯m coming, Oyakata! Forgiveness, please!¡± He yelled, hoping his new master would hear him. He grabbed one spare kimono he had and covered his bare chested form. As he dressed, his mother slipped on a more appropriate robe to answer the door and opened it once more. It only took a moment for Hikari to say sorry when Hiroshi stepped up behind her, backpack on his back, dressed and sandals on.


    ¡°I am sorry, Kenjiro Oyakata. Please forgive my tardiness,¡± Hiroshi said, not daring to look the master in the eye. He stood with his back straight and arms at his sides and then bowed low before the Oyakata.


    Kenjiro looked at the boy with a frown and then smiled at Hikari before giving a small bow. ¡°Come,¡± he simply said to the boy after saying goodbye to Hikari. He then turned and walked down the walkway from the house to the street.


    Hiroshi felt his mother¡¯s hands move to his shoulders and give him a squeeze. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright Hiroshi. You won¡¯t always be gone, you¡¯ll come home, and you¡¯ll make your father proud.¡± She said to him confidently.


    He couldn¡¯t look up at her, however. Couldn¡¯t take that sight again, otherwise he may just give up the dream and stay home with his mother and sister. He was decent enough at woodworking. His father had traded paintings to some local woodworkers to help teach Hiroshi. He could just progress in that, and make money for the family.


    No.


    This was his future, his passion. Honoring his family and his father¡¯s memory would be the result. This would take him down his path and he would become a yokozuna for his father.


    He took a step out from his house and looked up to the morning sun burning down brightly. The smell of his mother¡¯s flower garden was strong in the morning air. The lilacs were strong this morning, and he breathed in the smell, wondering if he would be back. If he would be back to see his mother¡¯s garden once, taste his mother¡¯s dumplings and treats she made for them. When and if he came home, he would have to bring more blankets and make an even more epic blanket fort than the one they had last night.


    He looked out and saw Kenjiro had arrived in a closed carriage. It was humble for a man with the status. No engravings or intricate trim, no anything besides a simple run of the mill polished wood carriage. An older man sat at the driver¡¯s bench. He leaned back with his legs stretched out as far as they could and arms crossed against his chest and his eyes closed. Hiroshi thought he heard a snore from the older man.


    Kenjiro headed down the pathway, and Hiroshi followed quietly. The fenced in garden on either side of them. He didn¡¯t dare say a word to his new master. He figured the man was already upset with him for not being ready. Being cautious not to make any noise, he simply followed Kenjiro like a shadow on the way to the carriage.


    ¡°Hiroshi, wait!¡± Asami¡¯s small voice pierced the air when she yelled.


    Hiroshi heard the door open once more and her slight form came charging from the house. Hiroshi cringed inwardly and stopped himself from groaning, hearing the high-pitched wail. He turned and tried to ignore the Oyakata, turning at the voice before he did and looked annoyed. His sister greeted him running up the pavement with two things. A hat that also once belonged to his father and his mother now liked to wear when she worked in the garden, and his mawashi.


    ¡°You forgot these. Mama doesn¡¯t want you to get the sun in your eyes in your travels, and you obviously need your belt,¡± she told him and handed over the items.


    He smiled as he took them and bowed his head softly. ¡°Thank you, little sister,¡± he said just as they both heard Kenjiro¡¯s feet turn on the ground and walk towards the carriage. Asami¡¯s eyes watched him leave and then wrapped her arms around Hiroshi once more for a long embrace. Her small warm form wrapped around his stomach, he wrapped his arms tightly around her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little sister, I¡¯ll be back after the tournament, I¡¯m sure of it. I¡¯ll be back as a champion,¡± he said to her.


    ¡°You better,¡± she answered with a soft kick to his shin. There was no power behind it, though, no malice. Just a little sister sad and angry to see her big brother leave her.


    ¡°Come Hiroshi, it is time,¡± Kenjiro called to him before looking up at his driver. ¡°Ezra, wake up,¡± he grumped before he opened the door and climbed into the carriage. He left the door open for Hiroshi and sat quietly waiting for the boy. He knew it would be hard for the boy to leave his family, so while he didn¡¯t like it, he would give the boy a few extra minutes to say his goodbyes.


    Hiroshi gave one last tight squeeze to his little sister and looked up and opened his eyes. He saw his mother standing in the doorway, a smile on her face. She waved a hand at him and then made a shooing motion with it to usher him along. Hiroshi responded with one nod and a smile full of confidence he wasn¡¯t sure if he actually felt.


    He took the mawashi, which was currently just a long piece of rough fabric rolled into a pinwheel. The hat was made of straw and was flat on top but came down circular over Hiroshi¡¯s head after he put it on. It was wide to cover his eyes from the sun, and the downward slope would keep his face and head dry in the rain. For now, since he was going into the carriage, he hung it on his back, over his pack, by the rope around his neck.


    He put his hand on his little sister¡¯s head and looked at her with the same smile he gave his mother. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± he said and turned.


    He didn¡¯t dare back and look at his family as he walked towards the carriage. He focused on the driver, who was scratching himself and holding the reins to the horses at the ready. The driver looked at Hiroshi with an annoyed glare, waiting for the boy to climb on. Hiroshi ignored him as well. Focused on Oyakata Kenjiro. His gigantic form took up most of the interior of the carriage, so it was something easy to focus on. With each step, his feet felt like rocks weighed them down. In what seemed like forever, he climbed into the carriage and set his bag on the seat across from the Oyakata and sat down. He clutched it and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.


    ¡°Alright, Ezra, let¡¯s go,¡± Kenjiro called and closed the carriage down once Hiroshi was in his seat. The door wasn¡¯t even fully closed before Hiroshi heard the clip clopping of the horses¡¯ hooves carrying them down the street and away from home.

 New Roads

    They rode in silence for hours. Oyakata Kenjiro stared out the window, watching the scenery roll by. The lush landscapes of the countryside and farms. The only exciting bit was when Ezra led the carriage onto a ferry and Kenjiro paid the raft owner some silver to take them to the mainland of the Sasake Empire.


    Hiroshi sat with his fingers on the windowsill of the door, trying to lean out as much as he could while they were traveling the distance to the mainland. Up to this point in his life, he had never been on the water. It was thrilling, the waves, that sweet, salty air flowing into his lungs. He couldn¡¯t help but be a little excited. The nerves of leaving home behind him now.


    ¡°Have you ever been to the mainland, Hiroshi?¡±


    Oyakata Kenjiro¡¯s voice snapped him from his wonder and brought him back to reality and he slid slowly back in his seat. He looked down at the space between the two bench seats. While the outside looked very plain and simple, the inside was lavish and comfortable. Leather seats with lots of cushions for long rides for important people. Golden trim throughout the seats and behind where the Oyakata sat was a painted scene depicting the original battle between Kentaro and Kenichi, the War Kami.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t, master,¡± Hiroshi said lowly, unsure exactly how he should address or speak to the Oyakata. ¡°My father took me fishing a couple of times, but he was always working or we would be training or going to watch sumo.¡±


    Kenjiro nodded his head and looked back out of the window with a faraway look in his eye. Hiroshi was still back in his seat, still looking at the floor between the bench seats, unable to look up or out of the window once more. After a seemingly endless period, Hiroshi realized Kenjiro would not say anything else to him for now and began to slowly look back up.


    ¡°Your father taught you love for sumo, hm?¡± Kenjiro said, which made Hiroshi bow his head once more.


    ¡°Yes, master. He would take me to the arena often and we would watch. Many of the people that worked there knew my father. He¡¯d take the day off work, and let me skip my studies and we¡¯d go when the big tournaments happened,¡± Hiroshi explained, and finally looked up. He found Kenjiro no longer looking out of the window, but now staring at Hiroshi. His eyes were dark and intense. He was no longer the man who came to dinner with the family as he was last night. Hiroshi gulped. His stare seemed to pierce right through Hiroshi. Kenjiro nodded his head and once more looked out the window and Hiroshi looked back to the ground.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost to the dock on the mainland, sir,¡± Ezra said, appearing from nowhere in the carriage¡¯s window. ¡°Just a few more minutes and we¡¯ll be pulling up to the dock.¡±


    Kenjiro looked out of the window, past Ezra. He nodded his head once and then leaned back, seeing that Ezra was right. The landmass of the Sasuke Empire was getting larger and larger.


    Ezra gave a wide grin, showing his missing teeth, when Hiroshi looked up at him. The man was older and grizzled, but behind the rough, patchy sun tanned and dry skin Hiroshi saw a kindness. The old man winked at him and looked back at Kenjiro. ¡°So, where are we staying for the night?¡±


    Kenjiro was still looking out the window, now up at the sky. He made a soft noise, almost like he was groaning in thought. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh and shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll head to the next town and find an inn,¡± he said and closed his eyes.


    Ezra nodded his head and walked away to make sure everything with the horses and carriages was ready to go when Kenjiro opened his eyes again and said, ¡°We¡¯ll need somewhere with a big back area, or a large room. Hiroshi¡¯s training is beginning.¡±


    Ezra leaned his head back once the Oyakata started speaking once more. Hearing the instruction, he looked towards Hiroshi with another one of those large, mostly toothless grins before he started laughing. ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    When Hiroshi looked up at Ezra, his eyebrows raised, he wondered exactly what all of that meant. What exactly had he signed up for? He could still hear Ezra laughing as the chains and metal workings began rattling as he got the horses ready. ¡°Poor boy doesn¡¯t know, does he, Chet?¡± A horse responded with a noise and Hiroshi gulped before he looked back up at Kenjiro with wide eyes.


    Wait, what kind of name is Chet? Hiroshi looked out the window with a cocked brow, trying to get a peek at the man with his horses.


    Hiroshi never got that peek. It was only a few moments later until the carriage rolled once more. He bumped and bounced as the carriage got off the ferry and onto the dock, and then onto the dirt road. His eyes shifted from the Oyakata then out of the window. He furrowed his brow and steeled his resolve, then poked his face to the open air window so he could watch the roving landscape.


    ¡°Are you scared of me?¡± Only a few moments had passed of mostly the same scenery as he had seen on the island before Kenjiro had spoken.


    Hiroshi closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He took a moment to think about his answer before he opened his eyes and looked up at his Oyakata. ¡°No, master. I just don¡¯t want to do the wrong thing. I¡¯m already further than I ever have been from home.¡± Hiroshi looked down once more. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to screw up. This all means a lot to me and my family.¡±


    Kenjiro nodded his head in understanding. ¡°Don¡¯t let those nerves paralyze you,¡± he instructed.


    Hiroshi nodded his head. ¡°Yes sir, thank you sir,¡± he said before turning to look out of the window once more. He was a little more dismayed, though. Now, with those feelings put into words, the knot in his stomach returned and he leaned back in his seat, no longer caring to look out of the window.


    Hiroshi woke to Ezra yelling outside of the carriage. He blinked his eyes and looked up at Oyakata Kenjiro, who looked annoyed at the entire ordeal.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I fell,¡± Hiroshi had said.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Kenjiro commanded. The command came quickly, sharply. The Oyakata wasn¡¯t looking at Hiroshi. He stepped from the carriage and climbed down a couple of steps onto the ground.


    Hiroshi didn¡¯t dare to follow, but he tilted his head and reached his neck as far as he could out of the window so he could see what was happening. The carriage had pulled up to an enormous stone wall with a guard tower on either side of a large wooden door that opened wide. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You fool! I am Oyakata Kenjiro from the Hajima Stable in Yoshino! I am on my way back to the capital from the tournament on the island of Kokokan. Open these doors,¡± Kenjiro yelled up to the guards.


    ¡°I can¡¯t sir. Apologies!¡± One guard yelled down in response before it sounded like he was getting shouted at from the other side.


    Ezra looked down at his charge and said. ¡°I tried tellin¡¯ ¡®em, sir. Told ¡®em who you are, they didn¡¯t seem to care.¡± Ezra shrugged. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll be sleeping in the woods tonight under the stars.¡±


    Kenjiro huffed and folded his arms across his chest just as the doors opened, with a lone figure running out as soon as he could fit through the doors.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± He had a loud, high pitched, almost whiny voice and sounded like he was out of breath. He approached the Oyakata and bowed furiously. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was you, sir. There have been many attacks from spirit beasts in these woods lately. The guard captain suggested I keep the doors locked to help save the city. I gave the command. If I had known I¡¯d be visited by¡­ Well, anyway, come in, come in. I will get a room in the inn for you, my treat.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re offering, how about some baths as well?¡± Ezra grumped from his driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°Quiet, Ezra, you will get your bath. Who are you?¡± Kenjiro didn¡¯t bother looking up at his driver but kept his eyes on the man who rushed from the town.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, I¡¯m Mayor Ichiro sir. Come, come, before anything strikes out from the woods,¡± he ushered Kenjiro and Ezra to take the carriage inside the town walls.


    Kenjiro stood on a step and held the door closed. Ezra gave a command to his team of horses and moments later, Hiroshi was bouncing along once more in the carriage. He was still trying to get a peek out of the window, but now Kenjiro was blocking everything from view. While in the process of moving the backpack and hat that was sitting next to him on the bench seat, the carriage stopped moving.


    ¡°Come Hiroshi,¡± he heard his master call him. The whole carriage shifted when Kenjiro climbed off the step.


    Well, that was fast.


    Hiroshi looked up from his bag and out of the window he saw his master¡¯s back walking towards a plain wooden building. Hiroshi felt the carriage wibble and wobble under him as he scooted out and climbed down to the cobblestone street. He had his pack on and his hat around his neck hanging on top of the pack.


    The inn loomed over Hiroshi, and he looked up at the three story building. It was plain looking, but it looked well maintained. There was a lot of intricate detail work in the wood trim around the building, which gave it an understated luxurious feeling. Hiroshi tried to move ahead of Kenjiro so he could look at the carvings in the wood, but he was stopped.


    ¡°Help Ezra with the luggage. I will secure us a room and make sure it¡¯s alright if we use the back area to train,¡± the Oyakata commanded Hiroshi.


    Hiroshi closed his eyes and held back the grunt he felt coming. He had just reached the doorway, which had lines carved with gold inlay. On the top of the rounded door before Hiroshi turned to face Kenjiro, he noticed a carving of a small pond with pebbles around it.


    ¡°Yes, master,¡± he said finally, and bowed before walking back to the carriage.


    Ezra was already on the roof of the carriage, untying the luggage. ¡°No worries lad, just a couple of bags to take down and then you can get to exploring,¡± Ezra called down.


    Hiroshi stood there and watched the older man untie the couple of trunks. ¡°Your new master doesn¡¯t pack light, oi,¡± he griped.


    Unsure of what to say, Hiroshi just stood there and smiled awkwardly. Eventually, he gave a nervous laugh.


    ¡°No worries. So, are you excited about the big tournament? About being under the illustrious Oyakata Kenjiro? The man was a fierce rikishi in his day, from what I hear. Alright, brace yourself now. Get ready to grab this trunk,¡± Ezra never really gave Hiroshi a chance to answer, just kind of kept talking in his gruff, raspy voice while he worked.


    Once Hiroshi saw Ezra drag an end of the trunk to the edge of the roof, he positioned himself under it and raised his hands as high as he could.


    This isn¡¯t going to go well¡­ Hiroshi thought as the trunk edged inch by inch over the edge of the roof of the carriage. The very tips of his fingers reached maybe the middle of the door to get into the carriage. Ezra said Kenjiro didn¡¯t pack light.


    Hiroshi gritted his teeth and spread his legs apart a little, like he was getting ready to shiko. He didn¡¯t go quite that low, but he wanted to have a good base, so he didn¡¯t drop his master¡¯s luggage. The trunk looked like it was covered in fine leather, and he didn¡¯t want to be the one to damage it.


    ¡°I have it!¡± Hiroshi shouted out as soon as he felt the trunk land in his hands. Luckily, Ezra didn¡¯t just let it fall on the boy like he had originally thought.


    ¡°Let me know when you really have it, boy. Don¡¯t need to be dropping his trunk,¡± Ezra called down. ¡°I have the other end.¡±


    Oh.


    Hiroshi blinked and straightened himself, his chubby arms flexing under the weight of the trunk. ¡°I think I have it, but go slow,¡± he told Ezra.


    Slowly but surely, the trunk was taken and put easily on the ground. Along with the first trunk, there was a smaller second and a luggage bag. They were all coated with fine black leather, but were rather plain looking.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going to take the carriage around back to the barn. You head inside and see if there¡¯s some kind of cart or something. Those damn trunks are too heavy to carry together, and I don¡¯t want to make a bunch of trips.


    Hiroshi found Kenjiro standing in the lobby waiting for him. His arms were crossed, and he looked out a window at the back area. Hiroshi could make out part of the carriage as they came on, and he heard Ezra yelling at the horses.


    The lobby, like the outside, was plain, but the intricate designs in the well-polished wood told Hiroshi it must have been a nice place. There was a gigantic fireplace that took up one side of the room. It wasn¡¯t lit since the weather had warmed up since the winter. Around the fireplace were some large, plush brown leather sofas and chairs.


    The ponds and pebbles seemed to be a common motif for the hotel, and Hiroshi wondered what the name of the place was. He didn¡¯t really see a sign. How are people supposed to know the name of the place?


    He wondered as he got a closer look at the design work in the wood. On closer inspection, it looked like vines and leaves with an occasional thorn. The lobby desk had a full-blown beautiful painting of the pond and pebbles around it where the artist faded the artwork into the wood and then finished the painting with carving.


    ¡°Take the cart out to Ezra. He can finish up. Here are the keys to our rooms. You and Ezra are sharing. They¡¯re both the same, so it won¡¯t matter which you end up in,¡± Kenjiro said, holding out his hand.


    Jarred, out of his appreciation for the woodworking and artwork, hearing his master¡¯s voice, Hiroshi stands and looks wide eyed at the Oyakata. After walking over and grabbing the keys, he bowed softly to him.


    ¡°Master, what is the name of this inn? I didn¡¯t see a sign, and was curious. It¡¯s a very nice inn.¡±


    Kenjiro smirked and nodded his head. ¡°Yes, they don¡¯t really advertise here. Hoping it allures some of the more private businessmen and affluent people. The name is The Little Pebble Inn and Spa, which is why there¡¯s so many little ponds and pebbles in the art.¡±


    The Oyakata brought a hand to his chin and looked over Hiroshi for a moment with his pack and hat on. ¡°Do you have your mawashi in your pack?¡±


    Hiroshi nodded his head quickly. ¡°Yes, master.¡±


    ¡°Good. Bring it with you out back when you come. Give your pack and hat to Ezra to take care of though,¡± Kenjiro instructed, and then turned and walked off through an opening leading outside. He didn¡¯t wait for Hiroshi to answer.

 First Training

    A grunt before his foot stomped back down to the earth. The stomping was growing soft. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he¡¯d been doing shikos, but when he started, the sun was out, and now the orange hues of the sunset were getting ready to disappear into the darkness.


    After he left Ezra to deal with luggage, he came outside with Kenjiro and went into a small booth to change into his mawashi. The booth was normal for people to change into something to swim in the large pool next to where the trio currently was. The back section of the inn was massive, with a luxurious pool that was dug into the ground and then a smaller area with runes around it. When Hiroshi asked about it, Ezra told him the runes made the water hot. Apparently, it was quite refreshing.


    Besides the pool area, there was a large manicured garden with a stone path through and around it, with some stone benches set up around a large fountain in the middle. It really was quite zen and backed up what Kenjiro told Hiroshi about it being for more affluent people. They probably came here to just get away from non-stop business. Hiroshi tried not to think about living such a life while he was doing shikos. His family always struggled, even when his father was alive, even during the good months.


    ¡°You need to get lower. You started lower, now you are getting sloppy,¡± Kenjiro scolded. He stood from a bench he was sitting on and approached his student.


    Ezra sat next to him. He was wearing a simple light under shirt and his pants. His robe around him on the bench. He had taken it off when the sun¡¯s warmth was still covering the area. Now, with night falling, he slid his arms back into the robe sleeves and put it on to shield himself from the night¡¯s chilly air. ¡°This is probably the most he¡¯s ever done at one time. He¡¯s what¡­¡± Ezra inspected Hiroshi and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. ¡°Thirteen? The boy isn¡¯t even of the proper age to be in the tournament you¡¯re training him for.¡±


    Hiroshi doubled over and panted when Kenjiro turned away from him to look at Ezra with a frown. He held himself up by holding onto his knees and watched Kenjiro.


    ¡°That is a nonissue. There is precedent for younger people in the tournament. If they were admitted at the local level, for any reason, then they can take part in the finals. No problem,¡± Kenjiro held a hand up to Ezra placatingly.


    Hiroshi straightened once Kenjiro stood over him. He was still panting, and he was sweating profusely, and his legs were about to give out and he was ready to fall to the ground. In front of his master, though, he would do his best to show no weakness. Chances are this legend knew his weaknesses from watching the single match of his he saw back in Ryoku.


    ¡°A non issue¡­.¡± Ezra trailed off, but eventually shrugged. ¡°Well, you¡¯re the legendary stable master and rikishi.¡±


    Kenjiro nodded his head and didn¡¯t seem to notice when Hiroshi finally fell into the dirt. ¡°We¡¯re done for the night. Normally there¡¯s a lot more to training, but we need to get you on a regular schedule and we don¡¯t normally train this late in the stable,¡± Kenjiro instructed and informed Hiroshi. The man didn¡¯t even look down at Hiroshi before he walked off through the garden and went inside.


    When Hiroshi could finally climb back to his feet and the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he heard the old man laughing at him.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to get your endurance up if you want to compete with these big boys,¡± the carriage driver said. There was no mocking or malice in his tone. He said it flatly, matter-of-factly.


    Hiroshi nodded his head to the old man and looked at him, wondering what it was they should do now.


    ¡°Come lad, should be about dinner time inside. I¡¯ve never been here, but judging from the snootiness of the place and the reputation, we¡¯re in for some good eating.¡±


    Hiroshi nodded his head and went to the little changing room to change out of his mawashi and back into his robes. It didn¡¯t take him long to wipe the sweat down with a towel he found and then to change. He stepped out of the area with his mawashi rolled up. Ezra waited for him the entire time, stayed sitting there looking up at the sky watching the sunset.


    Next to him was standing a short young woman wearing plain black dress robes. The thin sleeves and tight fitting robe she wore hugged her slight form. She held a clipboard close to her chest, and a pencil rested behind her ear. She had a firm, serious face with an upturned nose that reminded Hiroshi of a small but cute, petite pig. Her hair only accented that the way it was tied tightly back in a bun.


    ¡°Not a moment too soon. Apparently we¡¯re late. What kind of sumotori are you? Late for dinner?¡± Ezra asked with a click of his tongue. He smirked though and even give Hiroshi a bit of a wink.


    ¡°The Oyakata is already seated, and the first course is ready.¡± He said he would not eat without his party though,¡± the woman spoke up. While she was small, only a little taller than Hiroshi himself, she spoke with authority and still appeared to look down her nose at the much older man Ezra.


    Ezra nodded his head and climbed to his feet. The woman, who never said her name, had already turned and walked off. It took the two a few moments to gather themselves, and eventually Hiroshi and Ezra followed the serious-looking woman into the inn.


    A guide led the pair through the grand lobby featuring a gigantic fireplace, now burning a small fire. It provided a warm, cozy feel against the chill from outside. Off of the lobby was a room that Hiroshi noticed but didn¡¯t really look in was the dining room. It was small, intimate, and nicer than anywhere Hiroshi had ever been. White table cloths and fine glasses, and silverware were on the tables. Most of the tables were smaller, designed for smaller groups.


    Around the room there were various men and women, all well groomed, standing off to the sides waiting for tables to fill up. They didn¡¯t wear the robes like the woman who got Ezra and Hiroshi wore. They wore simple white shirts and black pants. All perfectly tailored and cleaned and pressed. The woman was waiting by a table in the corner where Oyakata was sitting. She made a hand motion to a pair standing in a corner near the table. Man and woman. They both looked as serious as the woman in the robes.


    Hiroshi¡¯s legs instantly felt a little better once he sat in a seat at the table. He even let out a small, audible groan. It didn¡¯t go unnoticed by Kenjiro and Ezra, who both smirked at him.


    ¡°Tonight we celebrate. Celebrate your win in the dohyo, celebrate you getting into the final tournament that will decide if you¡¯re able to join a celebrated sumo stable,¡± Kenjiro spoke and smiled while he looked down at Hiroshi. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Once you get to the stable, though, your real work is going to start,¡± Ezra said with a grin. ¡°You¡¯ll need to be ready for the big leagues, boy.¡±


    Kenjiro looked at Ezra for a moment and nodded his head at Hiroshi. ¡°He¡¯s right, you know, it will be hard work.¡±


    Before Hiroshi could answer the couple, the woman waved at brought out a platter. When the woman laid the platter in front of them, the man set three white plain plates. The platter was full of sushi and sashimi in an intricate pattern that sprawled out from the middle in a circular design. Hiroshi¡¯s mouth dropped slightly when he saw all the raw fish. He couldn¡¯t be sure of what everything was because sushi was a delicacy his parents couldn¡¯t often afford, but he recognized tuna and maybe salmon.


    The green from cucumbers sliced and placed around the platter with the sashimi pieces and then the sushi rolls. Swipes of pink sauce and dollops of green wasabi decorated the platter. The display was nothing short of stunning. Finally, he noticed the servers put some polished wood chop sticks near their plates.


    ¡°Now, enough of the future. For now, eat, and eat plenty,¡± Kenjiro said this as he looked at Hiroshi with a wink and a knowing smile.


    Hiroshi didn¡¯t wait for another invitation. He took a piece of everything that was everything on the platter. He even took some wasabi and scooped extra sauce and some of the little crunchy bits that were around some pieces. There were little bowls of soy sauce on the table now as well, and the servers were pouring tea for the three of them.


    Once the three of them had emptied the platter of sushi and emptied a few pots of tea, Ezra¡¯s eyes looked like they were about to bulge. He put the napkin over his mouth and let out a soft burp as they placed dishes of fried rice and barbeque pork that were covered in a sticky, sweet, spicy sauce. The spice hit the back of your mouth and lingered after a few bites, but the rice and tea kept the spiciness at bay for Hiroshi.


    Ezra pushed the plate away from him and shook his head with a chuckle while watching the other two pack away the food. ¡°You guys. I don¡¯t know how you guys do it,¡± he finally said while he rubbed his stomach. Hiroshi looked up at him with his cheeks packed full and shrugged.


    The trio ate a few more platters that were brought out for them, including meats and vegetables, and some long noodles. For dessert, they even had this frozen cream that Kenjiro applauded them for that was simply called ice cream. Ezra marveled that the place must have had a cultivator on staff as one of their chefs. ¡°Usually they¡¯re out fighting or sitting up in their mountains meditating all the damn time!¡± he marveled.


    After dinner, Hiroshi and Ezra sat in their beds facing each other. Kenjiro had retired to his own room before the pair who stayed to drink some extra tea. Hiroshi needed an extra cup of mint tea to help settle his stomach from all the food he ate. They sat there now, Hiroshi rubbing his grumbling stomach and looking up at Ezra, who sat there and smirked at him.


    Ezra was wearing a light pair of short pants and a loose shirt with a floral design on white, while Hiroshi was just wearing a pair of loose fitting shorts. He sat there and rubbed his belly. The air in the room while the two faced each other was thick. He could tell Ezra wanted to talk, but he got the air the older man didn¡¯t quite know what to say or how to say it.


    ¡°You know, after tonight it won¡¯t be like this anymore, boy,¡± he finally said.


    Hiroshi looked up from his stomach and gave a soft wet burp. His eyes opened wide, and he instantly covered his mouth in shame. He was looking right at Ezra when the burp escaped his lips and he could taste the soy and teriyaki. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Ezra lowered his head and closed his eyes. He gave a soft, silent chuckle before he shook his head and looked back at the young sumotori. ¡°You hear me, lad?¡±


    Hiroshi grew serious, and he looked into Ezra¡¯s gray eyes for several moments before giving a firm nod. ¡°Yes. It¡¯ll be more like before dinner,¡± he answered the old man.


    ¡°Aye, but even that was light work for what these sumo wrestlers do. Kenjiro isn¡¯t a pleasant taskmaster either. There¡¯s a reason he¡¯s a legendary oyakata for the legendary stable,¡± Ezra continued, his serious heart to heart with the boy.


    Hiroshi nodded his head and went back to rubbing at his groaning stomach. It was bubbling and burbling. He lowered his head and felt more gas come up. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold the burp in.


    ¡°Jesus boy, are you alright?¡± Ezra asked and cocked his brow.


    Hiroshi nodded his head and released the gas in his mouth. He almost gagged. ¡°I think there was something in that chicken dish that didn¡¯t quite agree with me, but I will be fine. It¡¯s good the chamberpot is close.¡±


    Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head once more. Hiroshi could visibly see the old man trying not to think of it and wondering if he could get his own room. It took him a moment, but he shook that off and looked at Hiroshi seriously once more.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else. Kenjiro has been¡­¡± He paused and looked at the ceiling. ¡°Off.¡± He said a minute later, not sure what else to say.


    Hiroshi¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he frowned at Ezra before he asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Ezra looked back to the ceiling, and he struggled again with what to say. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t be saying anything since he¡¯s your master now, but it¡¯s better you know this now. He¡¯s been¡­¡± once more Ezra paused. ¡°Off. I don¡¯t know how else to put it. There¡¯s been some allegations coming out from the Hajima stable. He¡¯s been violent lately. Well, not violent, just not quite¡­¡± Ezra trailed off and lifted a finger to his ear and swirled it around it while he crossed his eyes.


    Hiroshi opened his eyes wide and his mouth gasped until Ezra lifted his hands and shook them. ¡°Not towards his student¡¯s mind you, you¡¯re not in physical danger that I know of. They¡¯ve just had to rebuild things in the house. People claim he¡¯s been seeing things. I don¡¯t know the details, but you should know what you¡¯re getting wrapped up in. His assistant Botan has been taking over more of the training duties and Nishikigi. So at least you have a new yokozuna helping with your training, which is certainly something.¡±


    Hiroshi gasped again, but for different reasons. He didn¡¯t know Nishikigi actually helped with training the disciples. Hiroshi had looked up to Nishikigi for as long as he could remember and celebrated when the rikishi had become yokozuna, the top rank in sumo, after the last tournament. He had been following Nishikigi when he was still in the lower rank of the highest division. When Jiro took Hiroshi to his first sumo tournament, Nishikigi dominated the dohyo, and ever since, he had been his favorite rikishi.


    Ezra smirked and said, ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be fine, lad. I just wanted you to know the things I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    Hiroshi bowed his head to the normally slightly grumpy old man. ¡°Thank you, Ezra,¡± he told the man sincerely.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Now lay down, let¡¯s go to sleep. We have a bit of a ride tomorrow and Kenjiro will probably have you workout in the morning before we leave. It¡¯ll be a long day,¡± Ezra finally said and leaned over to a small table that sat between the two beds against the wall and blew out the small lamp.


    The lamp had intricate runes carved along the bottom of the lamp all around the base. While Hiroshi wasn¡¯t a cultivator, and his family didn¡¯t have the money for enchanted items, he knew what the runes meant. The runes collected an aura from the aether. It would specifically collect the fire aura and light the lamp. Hiroshi wasn¡¯t a cultivator, and he had no interest in being a cultivator.


    Sumotori didn¡¯t rely on strength from the universe, or the aether. Sumotori and rikishi relied on pure inner strength and skill. A sumo match is a tribute to Kentaro, the only kami that began as a mortal man that fought a kami to protect his village. When he won the match against Kenichi Rei, the Father graced him with power.


    After Ezra blew out the light, he immediately laid down and only moments later Hiroshi heard the old man snoring. Hiroshi frowned and grumbled. He didn¡¯t want to listen to that all night. He didn¡¯t know he sounded like a grizzly bear deep in hibernation when he slept. In the dark, he touched his stomach a few more times, pressing on the upper part. Maybe tonight he had finally eaten too much. When he laid down, after the workout and the filling dinner, even through the pain, he was asleep, snoring loudly with the cantankerous old man.

 The Beggar

    In the morning, Hiroshi tried to ignore the sun burning down into his eyes from the sun in the window. He had been trying to ignore Ezra wandering around and going to the bathroom repeatedly. Tossing and turning and trying to go back to sleep. It was the knocking that finally woke him up.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Ezra called after the second round of knocking.


    ¡°The Oyakata has instructed me that it is time to wake you. He is waiting for you in the lobby. May I come in?A meek voice spoke, seeming to belong to someone forced to do this by someone powerful.


    Hiroshi was looking at Ezra, still under his covers, and gave the older man a shrug. Ezra just sighed and sat up on the bed after throwing the covers off. ¡°Yes, I suppose you can.¡±


    Hiroshi groaned and sat up as well, grateful his stomach was no longer bothering him. He heard the jingling of metallic keys, and then the lock clicked open and the sliding door slid into the wall. The man came in and he looked about like Hiroshi expected. A small man, young. His hair was black and short cropped, and he was clean shaven. He wore what appeared to the lower members of the staff uniform. Simple but nice black pants and a tight fitting white button-up shirt.


    ¡°He instructs master Hiroshi to get ready for practice. You and the oyakata will have a simple breakfast in the courtyard of fruit and cheese with baked bread while Hiroshi trains.¡± The man paused for a moment. ¡°If that¡¯s acceptable?¡± He almost didn¡¯t seem to want to add that last part. He sounded like he was almost begging Ezra and Hiroshi to agree.


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s what the Oyakata wants, that¡¯s what the Oyakata gets. He pays me too,¡± Ezra said with a shrug.


    The man visibly brightened at Ezra¡¯s willingness to go with the flow. ¡°I will tell him you both will be down in a few minutes,¡± he said and gave the pair of them a bow before turning and leaving, and sliding the door behind him.


    It only took the pair a few minutes to wash their face in a basin in the room¡¯s corner and get dressed. They packed their clothes away in their respective bags and got dressed for the day. Ezra wore plain, threadbare black and gray robes once more and Hiroshi put on his mawashi with his simple brown robe over it. He didn¡¯t want to walk through the respectable inn in just the mawashi.


    Hiroshi had to shield his eyes with his hand when first walking outside. There wasn¡¯t a cloud in the sky to block the bright morning sun. It took him several moments and blinks to find the Oyakata sitting right where he sat the night before picking from a platter of berries and fruit. While Hiroshi tried to hide his eyes from the sun, Ezra just glared at it and grumbled about why it had to be so damn bright while they were outside.


    Ezra moved and sat in his spot next to Kenjiro and picked up a strawberry from the tray, taking a bite, and then moaned in pleasure.


    ¡°Where did they get these from? This might be the best strawberry I¡¯ve ever eaten,¡± Ezra said, and shoved the rest of the berry in his mouth.


    Hiroshi¡¯s eyes went wide and went towards the platter with a hand extended so he could get one.


    ¡°No, not for you. Not yet. You must work out, and then we¡¯ll pack you a container to eat in the carriage on the road,¡± Kenjiro scolded Hiroshi and pointed at the spot Hiroshi was working out the previous night.


    Hiroshi nodded his head and walked over after he took off his kimono and set it on the bench next to where Kenjiro was seated. He set about doing shikos just as he had the night before while he tried not to watch the other two not eat fruit and pastries.


    ¡°It will only be a short workout this morning since we need to get back to Yoshino today. I have business I need to attend to at the beya and it¡¯ll be better if you¡¯re there early. You can see how life goes when it comes to dinner and such in stable life,¡± Kenjiro explained after he drank some tea.


    Hiroshi was in the middle of a crouch and he grunted out a simple ¡°yes master¡± before he picked himself back up and hoisted his leg into the air.


    The pair sat and watched, Kenjiro stood and went to Hiroshi every so often to correct his form. The Oyakata was never too stern with the young sumotori, which Hiroshi appreciated. He came off like a firm but fair master, and just wanted the best for the young hopeful. Kenjiro knew his students reflected him, so he wanted his mentee¡¯s to have a stable foundation and knowledge of the correct way to do things.


    He cycled through some other exercises, only doing about an hour each. He did his shikos and then went through some movement techniques. Rotating through a set of each suri-ashi, which meant he had to squat down and keep his elbows tucked into his body then slide his feet across the dirt, it was important to keep his feet connected to the ground. There was koshi-wari. It was basically a slow squat, keeping his knees as far apart as possible. This helped Hiroshi to get and stay low for the tachiai. Then finally there was mata-wari. It helped improve flexibility. He sat in the dirt with his legs wide and the goal was to bend all the way forward so his head touched the ground. The boy wasn¡¯t quite flexible enough to get that low, but he worked on it.


    Hiroshi had grunted and groaned and stretched and did exactly as his new master told him. He did it obediently, and without question. The boy was grateful for the lessons. He didn¡¯t know about some of these exercises or how they would improve his sumo, but the Oyakata took his time and was patient, explaining proper forms and why each exercise would help the young sumotori.


    Kenjiro instructed Hiroshi for his first set, and then watched and made corrections when the boy did his second. Finally, for the third set, he left him alone and just watched. Hiroshi noticed the unapproving looks Kenjiro was giving him. He needed more practice, and hopefully when he got to the beya, seeing others, he¡¯d be able to get the hang of it. He couldn¡¯t have been doing too bad though, because the Oyakata didn¡¯t correct him.


    ¡°Alright. I think it¡¯s time to leave,¡± Kenjiro said after Hiroshi had cycled through and done three sets of each exercise. He looked over to Ezra, who was leaning up against the trunk of a tree that was planted conveniently behind where the old man sat. His eyes were closed, and he was snoring lightly.


    Kenjiro frowned and reached over from his seat and prodded the old man to wake. ¡°Are you ready to leave, or do you need more beauty rest?¡±


    Ezra snorted loudly and looked at Kenjiro incredulously. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m beautiful the way I am?¡±


    Kenjiro just rolled his eyes and ignored the comment. ¡°Go and tell the front desk we¡¯re leaving, will you? They¡¯ll get the carriage ready for us. They should have brought our luggage down already,¡± he instructed the carriage driver. Ezra simply nodded his head and stood with a grunt before wandering off inside to do as he was bid.


    While Kenjiro dolled out orders to Ezra, Hiroshi stood patiently, waiting at attention. He was probably supposed to have gone to clean himself and get dressed again, but he waited. Once Kenjiro looked back at the boy before he could say anything, Hiroshi bowed to his master.


    ¡°Thank you for the instruction today, Master,¡± he said solemnly and lifted his back and head and looked up at the Oyakata.


    Kenjiro smiled and nodded his head. ¡°It was and always will be my pleasure to teach. Now wash up and get your robes on. It¡¯s time to go. We should make the city of Yoshino before night falls,¡± he told his pupil before heading inside, telling Hiroshi to meet them when he was finished. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the crew to be back in the carriage and rolling away from the inn with the luggage on top. Hiroshi sat on the bench next to Kenjiro eating from a small to-go container of all the food he had packed in it. Some fruit, and probably too many of the sweetbreads and treats.


    He was licking some frosting off of one of his fingers, savoring the sweet stickiness when they passed through the gate to leave the town. Hiroshi noticed a beggar in black threadbare robes standing on just the other side of the gate guards. The man had long black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a scraggly black beard. The beggar didn¡¯t move until the carriage was fully out of the gate and the gate was closed behind them, then he moved towards the carriage. That was when Hiroshi also noted the man wore dark glasses and was using a cane.


    Hiroshi watched the blind man move towards the carriage while Ezra was speaking to the guard gates. The carriage was not moving while they settled the business of leaving the city. While the man appeared to be blind, sweeping the cane back and forth in front of him. Hiroshi noticed the beggar moved right towards them. Hiroshi furrowed his brow and looked past Kenjiro¡¯s leaned back, apparently sleeping form.


    ¡°Master, there¡¯s a beggar coming over here,¡± Hiroshi told him. He felt the need to warn his master that a stranger was coming over. Something about the man, the way he moved right towards them, made Hiroshi uneasy.


    ¡°Alms, my lord. Alms for a poor beggar?¡± the voice came, scratchy and haggard from outside the Oyakata¡¯s window, jarring Hiroshi.


    How did the man make it over so quickly? And so well timed? Ezra had just finished speaking with the guards and had heard him start and then stop the horses once the beggar was at the door. He cursed and fought with the reins, as the horses were no longer sure what they should be doing.


    Kenjiro now opened his eyes and looked at the haggard man. His hair and beard were greasy and badly needing a trim. He couldn¡¯t see anything behind the dark shades the man wore, and he reeked of stale sake and smoke and who knew what else. Hiroshi had to lean back to the other side of the carriage while the beggar leaned in close to Kenjiro. The beggar leaned in even closer, his entire upper half now practically inside the window on the carriage door.


    Hiroshi was practically gagging from the smell while Kenjiro just sighed and reached into his pocket. He pulled some coins from the beggar and when he went to hand them. The beggar used this to his advantage. The dirty man grabbed Kenjiro¡¯s hand and used the leverage to pull himself close to the powerful Oyakata. Hiroshi could see the man¡¯s lips move, but he couldn¡¯t hear anything other than something about a father. Hiroshi also noticed that even though this man was the epitome of disgusting, his teeth¡­ his teeth looked perfect.


    Kenjiro¡¯s demeanor changed instantly once the beggar finished speaking. His eyes went dark, and his face, previously placid and simply annoyed, turned dark and full of anger.


    ¡°What?!¡± He shouted at the dirty man. ¡°You dare?!¡± Kenjiro¡¯s hand flew towards the man¡¯s face, and while the man was practically inside the carriage, the former sumotori powerhouse rocked him out and down towards the ground.


    The beggar stumbled and fell down into the dirt in a clump.


    ¡°Wait, Kenjiro, no!¡± Ezra shouted from the seat on top of the carriage.


    The Oyakata wasn¡¯t listening. He was already out of the carriage advancing on the beggar. ¡°You should have just taken the coin and left. Not try to be some messenger,¡± he scolded.


    ¡°Wait, Rei won¡¯t¡­.¡± The beggar had started, but before he finished the statement, Kenjiro reached down and throttled the man in the gut with his massive fist.


    Hiroshi furrowed his brow. Who is Rei? Rei the father of the Kami? He wondered silently, but shook his head. That couldn¡¯t be it. What would the father of the kami care about what the mortals were doing when he had the entire Heavens to worry about?


    There was a flash of light in the clear sky. It was almost out of Hiroshi¡¯s field of view, but it practically blinded the boy. A bright streak coming from the Heavens of electric red and blue and Hiroshi fell back off the seat and onto the ground of the carriage. He blinked his eyes, trying to get rid of the light that seared itself into his sight for a moment.


    Hiroshi fumbled in the carriage, trying to climb back to his seat. When he finally got up, Kenjiro had the beggar slung over his shoulder like the dirty man was only a sack of potatoes. Ezra put a hand on the larger man¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Master, you¡¯ll regret this,¡± he said.


    Kenjiro ignored him and carried the man off. The guards did nothing to stop any of the commotion. The carriage and beggar were outside of town limits, and they didn¡¯t care what happened outside that gate. They were already dealing with the next group in line to enter or leave the town.


    Ezra looked back at Hiroshi, who was still unsure exactly what was happening. ¡°This is what I was talking about,¡± he grumped to the boy.


    ¡°Oyakata is quick to anger. There haven¡¯t been reports of him doing anything to his disciples, so you don¡¯t need to worry, but¡­¡± Ezra trailed off and shrugged. ¡°Who knows, boy? Watch yourself when you¡¯re there. If you get a bad feeling, then get the hell out.¡±


    Hiroshi looked at Ezra. The streak no longer burned his retinas, and he nodded his head. ¡°Yes,¡± was all he said simply.


    Kenjiro carried the blind man somewhere off in the distance. Bending over, Ezra retrieved the cane left forgotten in the dirt. Hiroshi saw the old man give it a funny look, but only for a moment. The old man just looked off in the distance where Kenjiro carried him. The wall sectioned off into a little area they couldn¡¯t quite see. Eventually, he shook his head and spit in the dirt before he tossed the cane back down.


    He was only gone a few moments, and the pair heard nothing coming from where Kenjiro returned from. He came alone, though. The blind man was probably on the ground in a pile.


    ¡°Did you¡­¡± Ezra had started. ¡°Is he alive?¡±


    Kenjiro looked at Ezra and rolled his eyes. ¡°Of course he¡¯s alive Ezra, get up in your seat, let¡¯s go. We¡¯re burning daylight.¡±


    Ezra stood there and narrowed his eyes at Kenjiro for a moment before shaking his head and shrugged before he climbed up and onto his bench. Hiroshi watched his master climb back into the carriage and reach for a bag next to him on the bench and pull out a towel. He wiped away blood from his knuckles and he grumbled softly. Hiroshi wasn¡¯t sure what to do, so he just sat there diagonally from his master and stared out of the window.


    They rode what seemed an eternity in silence. Hiroshi was once more getting that uneasy feeling in his stomach, nervous around his master. He had relaxed after dinner and the little training they had done together, but after the last commotion, Hiroshi was no longer sure. Should he have stayed home with his mother and sister? Stayed and tried to help take care of the family? He had his woodworking. He could keep progressing and learning and then maybe open a shop like his father had.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Master. Sorry I couldn¡¯t help with the stranger,¡± Hiroshi broke the silence. ¡°It was all too surprising. I couldn¡¯t help fight him off.¡± Hiroshi bowed his head towards Kenjiro, who was sitting and stared out of the window. He seemed content with the silence.


    Kenjiro looked over at his disciple and sighed softly. ¡°Hiroshi, do you know what a cultivator is?¡±


    ¡°Just the same as everyone else knows, I¡¯d imagine, Master. They¡¯re spiritual fighters, warriors. They believe there¡¯s an aura in the world and they cultivate it to become immortal,¡± Hiroshi explained. He was drawing back on knowledge his father once told him. Back when Jiro was still explaining the pre-bout rituals of the sumorti.


    ¡°Yes, those are the basics. There was nothing you could have done against that man. He may not have looked at it, but he was a middling cultivator,¡± Kenjiro now opened his eyes and looked at Hiroshi.


    ¡°That¡¯s why his teeth were so nice!¡± Hiroshi exclaimed at the realization. Kenjiro smirked, but nodded his head. ¡°Yes, he looks like a rough beggar, and he probably is, but¡­¡± he explained and shrugged before he leaned back in his seat once more. ¡°Not everything is as it seems. You could have done nothing against that man, no matter how feeble he may have seemed. There is no need to be sorry.¡±


    Hiroshi¡¯s mind now raced. His master wasn¡¯t a cultivator, he was a retired rikishi and stablemaster. How did he fight against a cultivator? The beggar seemed powerless against Kenjiro. Although the Oyakata said the beggar was a middling cultivator, Kenjiro is a retired Yokozuna. That must be why, Hiroshi told himself with a soft nod.


    ¡°Speak your mind,¡± Kenjiro interrupted the boy¡¯s thoughts. ¡°I see your mind racing.¡±


    Hiroshi looked up to his Master and bowed his head and tried to lie out his thoughts, explaining his thoughts on the strength difference between the two men.


    ¡°You have it. A lower level cultivator is still nothing compared to a man who has trained his whole life in sumo. We have an inner strength that the lower level of body cultivators can¡¯t compare to, especially if you¡¯ve reached the height of Yokozuna,¡± Kenjiro explained.


    Hiroshi nodded his head and leaned back in his seat, content with the explanation.