Hiroshi: Tale of a Sumotori

Hiroshi's body shivered, and he looked up at the night sky. His eye blinked furiously when a raindrop hit him and he groaned and lowered his eyes, wiping the raindrop from his eye. They had been to the beya a couple of hours now, but his master didn't let him inside. He was forced to change into his mawashi behind some bushes on the side of the building and then forced to stand on the walkway by the street in front of the Beya.
When they had arrived, it was still nice out, a slight chill in the springtime, winter still not wanting to let go of its hold on the weather. As night fell, the rain came. Hiroshi looked up at the enormous building and couldn't wait to actually see inside. It was a luxurious-looking building, four stories high, with intricate wood carvings in the carvings and trim workings worked in around the paneling around the windows and front door. The main building was a deep natural brown wood coloring, and the paneling around the windows and door was a lighter color. A sign out front standing opposite of the walk that led to the doorway held the name of the Beya. Following sumo tradition, the sign displayed the stable's name, 'Hajima,' in the curved runes of Hiroshi's home language.
The translation of the name could mean a few different things in the common language. The first part of the name translates to either "healthy" or "strong," or to "study" or "sharpen." The second part roughly translated into common as one. People often believed, since Hajima was one of the first and most famous sumo stables, that it meant "studious ones." The disciples here studied and sharpened their knowledge in the martial arts form of Sumo wrestling.
Since they arrived, Kenjiro never said a word to Hiroshi. Ezra helped get the luggage down from the roof and the other disciples carried them in. None of them said anything to Hiroshi either. The newest member of the stable watched Kenjiro's back as he left, instructing the others what to do, and while he went inside, another older man came out. This man looked older than Kenjiro, not as old as Ezra. He was probably somewhere in his forties, if Hiroshi had to guess. Around his dad's age.
He hadn't even learned the man's name when the man started demanding that Hiroshi show him his forms. How Hiroshi did his shiko's or the other exercises. The man had a well-trimmed beard and long dark hair lacking the gray that Ezra had. He styled his long, ungreased hair in a topknot, a style Hiroshi had seen only once before. It wasn't the chonmage of the rikishi, but a warrior of high ranking from the Emperor Sasuke's army. Hiroshi had only seen the hairstyle when the army had come to their village looking for recruits, and only the leader had this particular hairstyle.
The displeasure radiated from the man as he watched Hiroshi. The sumotori hopeful didn't even need to look up from his exercises to see it. Whoever this man was didn't make a tutting noise, or clicked his tongue or anything. It was just the presence from the man that Hiroshi knew he was doing something wrong.
"We will fix your forms, boy," the man scolded him after Hiroshi went through his routine. "To gain entrance to the illustrious Hajima Beya, you must declare why you want to practice sumo and become a rikishi."
Hiroshi stood there and looked up at the man and his mouth opened. He explained he was doing this for his father. His father gave him the love of the sport and he wanted to pursue it to be like his heroes. The man gave a snort and shook his head.
"If you can tell me why, I will permit you to enter and join as a prospective disciple, given your youth," the man said simply, turning and going inside.
Hiroshi was left standing there, and his jaw hung slack. How was that good enough? According to Kenjiro, anyone who had a love for the sport was good enough for him. Wasn't Kenjiro the head of the stable? Hiroshi frowned as he looked at the door and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to protect his mostly naked body from the cold.
At one point, there were some heads that popped up into a window. He could feel them stare at him, but he tried to ignore them. He just needed to get in the door. They stayed there for a while until he heard yelling and then saw them scurry away from the window. Hiroshi frowned and looked back at the doorway into the beya.
Why did he want to join the beya and try to become a rikishi?
Hiroshi let his mind run through the possibilities of what he could say that would impress the man. Not even impress, just get him through the door. At this point, he wasn't even sure how long he had been standing outside, soaked to the bone in the chilly, rainy night. He didn't even realize he was sitting on the stony path to the door.
"Who told you could go to sleep?"
The shout woke Hiroshi with a start. His eyes flying open just in time to see the man standing over him, a bundle of soft wispy hay bound into a sort of stick. The man swung it at Hiroshi's midsection, whacking the side of his stomach. Three lashes he got before Hiroshi was back on his feet and looked up at the man. The lashes didn't really hurt, per se, but they had a stinging bite on his skin.
"I'm sorry, sir, I couldn't help it. I'm cold and tired," Hiroshi tried to explain.
"We have a bed waiting for you. Have you figured out the answer to our question?" The man questioned him, his grip tightening on the bound sticks.
"To honor my father, sir," Hiroshi said with a bow. This was why he wanted to do sumo. His father taught him all about the sport, and how it honored the kami. He transferred the love of it to his son, and his son only wanted to honor that.
"Your father was nothing more than a man who lost bets on sumo, and died because of it," the man scolded Hiroshi. "That is shameful."
Hiroshi's eyes opened wide, and his mouth once more hung slack. "No, sir, my father was an honorable man. He was an artist and painter. He loved sumo wrestling, and he took me to watch whenever they had tournaments in my home."
"You doubt the words I say?!"
Hiroshi barely saw the strike, but he felt a sting from the bundle on the opposite side from where he'd been hit earlier. His hand came up after the first strike, his stomach was red and stung. "No, no, sir. How did you know my father?"
The man just snorted again and shook his head before going back inside. As he stood there, he ignored the cold wetness. He shook from rage and utter confusion.
How would this man know my father? We're so far from Ryoku.
Hiroshi tried to make it make sense in my mind. Thoughts about trying to get inside vanished from his mind and he thought. He thought about the nights when his mother would yell at his father. Money was always an issue in their house, but Hiroshi would have never guessed it was because his father lost his money gambling.
A loud sigh woke Hiroshi from his thoughts once more and he looked and now found Ezra standing on the covered porch in front of the beya. "You don't want to stand out here anymore, do you, boy?"
Hiroshi shook his head. "That man, he said…"
"Aye, I know what he said. Botan isn't a nice man, he should have kept that information to himself. You didn't need to hear it," Ezra interrupted Hiroshi. "Just tell them you're doing sumo because you're a devout follower of Kentaro. That's all Botan cares about. Kenjiro may care about why you're here and your love for the sport, but he doesn't actually decide who goes inside. He will show you the best sumo you can do, though, and show you how to hone and improve your craft."
"But who…" Hiroshi started before Ezra interrupted him.
"You just need to know his name is Botan. He's ex-military, and he will keep you in line. Beyond that, it doesn't matter," Ezra explained.
Hiroshi nodded his head. He still wanted more information on how this man knew anything about his father, and how he got the idea he was a gambler.
Ezra sighed. "Get your mind back here, boy. You don't need to be worrying' about anything else besides what's in store for you once you pass through these doors. It will not be easy."
Hiroshi looked at him and nodded his head once more. "I know, thank you," and he bowed to the old man.
"Yeah, we'll see. Want me to get Botan?"
"Yes, please."
Ezra nodded his head and went inside. It only took a few minutes before Botan came out. "You know why you want to do sumo?"
"I do, sir," Hiroshi bowed to the man. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I wish to follow Kentaro, the kami. Keep the tradition and what he brought and gave to humanity by fighting for it."
When Hiroshi looked up, the porch was empty, but the door was open. He didn't even hear Botan leave. He looked around slowly and wasn't sure if he could actually go inside, but with the door left open like that? Hiroshi shrugged, he was still freezing, he'd risk it. A few brief steps and up a few stairs and he was inside.
Inside was a nice, albeit plain, room. Polished wood walls and flooring, and a table near the door. The room went to a hallway that led deeper into the house in front of Hiroshi and on the right was a closed door. Hiroshi didn't want to open and find out it was someone's room, but he figured it might have just been a closet.
He looked around a little in slight wonder as he realized he was actually standing in not only a proper beya, but most considered what to be the greatest. He steeled his resolve and walked by the heavier robes and cloaks used for the colder weather that were hung in the hallway. Under the clothing were sandals. Hiroshi took off his sandals, putting them at the line's end, and was amazed by their small size compared to others. Some of these rikishi were almost giants.
At the end of the hallway, it opened up into a large room. It again was simple, going for a minimalist aesthetic. Plain polished wooden walls, cushions all over the floor in what seemed random spots and then there were some long tables leaned against the far wall from where he stood. Just the communal area for everyone who lived here, and with the tables, Hiroshi figured this was where they ate. To the left of him was a staircase that led upstairs, and to the right was an opening to a kitchen. He stepped down into the lowered living room and eyed the kitchen just as his stomach growled.
He looked back towards the kitchen and narrowed his eyes while he rubbed his stomach. He had a mental debate with himself on if he should go try to find something to eat. Then his mind wandered to where everyone was. He literally just saw Ezra and then Botan, but now the house is as quiet as a graveyard. Hiroshi frowned. He supposed it was the middle of the night and everyone was sleeping, but he literally just saw the two older men.
The boy shook his head. He didn't know the etiquette of living in a beya. Master Kenjiro didn't give him any guidance for when they showed up, and when they showed up, he didn't say a word to him besides to change and wait. Ezra had even brought his things inside for him. He moved towards the stairs so he could try to find his things. He figured Ezra would have brought his belongings to a room, and that room would have his bed in it. Sleep first, eat in the morning with everyone else. Then Hiroshi could figure out how living in the stable would go. He had only taken his first step before he heard a soft thud noise come from the kitchen, followed by a sigh.
"Come in here," a voice came. It sounded like it was from someone younger. A softer voice, not the hard edged voice that came from someone like Botan, or bitter like Ezra always sounded.
Hiroshi furrowed his brow and headed towards the kitchen. He had barely made it inside the room when he had a bowl thrust towards him.
"Come on, you've been out there forever. These guys are always like this when someone first comes here. Heaven forbid the new disciple gets some dinner," the person explained.
The man was a little older than Hiroshi, his hair long enough to put up in the traditional chonmage of the rikishi. Green eyes looked over Hiroshi in his mawashi belt and he gave the boy a nod. Hiroshi put him somewhere around eighteen and he was wearing a loose fitting pair of black shorts that seemed to be made from some sort of light material and were black. His shirt was a light green and also fit loose. He wasn't as large as a sumotori normally was. He barely even had a gut on him.
"Eat the rice and then I'll show you to your room. You're staying in the room next to mine with a couple of other junior disciples. I get up in the middle of the night for a snack. I'm trying to put on more weight. Master Botan always yells that I'm too easy to pick up," the boy explained why he was up, and that his smaller figure wasn't exactly welcomed.
Hiroshi nodded his head and grabbed the chopsticks that were buried in the white rice. He lifted the bowl so he could easily shove the rice in his mouth. It was seasoned plainly, just some salt and pepper, and the faintest hint of rice wine vinegar. Still, Hiroshi was so hungry he shoveled it in greedily, watching the other person clean the mess he made from when he cooked his own midnight snack.
"There's always rice in the pot next to the doorway, ready to eat. It's not great, but it's good enough tasting," he explained.
Hiroshi just nodded his head, his bowl already half empty.
"The masters don't mind if we eat it. They want us to put more weight on. I don't think anyone else wakes in the middle of the night though. We'll end up using it tomorrow for a family meal and then the cooks will make more," he continued.
When Hiroshi had finished, he helped his new stablemate finish cleaning, and he cleaned his own bowl and chopsticks. He set them off to the side on a rack next to the other person's bowl for drying. Hiroshi rubbed his stomach thankfully. He hadn't eaten in what seemed like forever, so finally having something in his stomach was a good feeling.
The one who fed Hiroshi now leaned against the sink and looked him over. "You're built well for sumo. Short, round. You have that low center of gravity, but you're still young, only around thirteen? Hopefully, you don't grow much as you get older. The masters here teach us lower is better. If you get your leg strength up, you'll be like an out-of-control boulder in the tachiai."
Hiroshi nodded his head and smiled before giving him a slight bow of the head and told him thanks for the compliment. "I'm hoping," he said simply.
"Oh, my name is Itaro. I'm currently in the fifth division," he said with a bit of pride leaking through on his face.
Hiroshi's eyes went wide, and he grinned for his new friend. "That's amazing! Good for you. My name is Hiroshi. I'm hoping to win the junior tournament next month so I can start competing in the grand tournaments."
Itaro's eyes went wide. "You'll start in a higher division than me if you become the Junior Yokozuna," he said and nodded his head with a grin. "You're too young though, I thought?"
Hiroshi shrugged his shoulders and said, "I know, but Master Kenjiro said there's precedent for something."
Itaro nodded his head and then shrugged. "Well, if anyone knows, it's him. I'm sure he won't lead you astray. Come on, you're going to need to sleep for training in the morning," he said as he exited the kitchen.
They walked through the common room in silence and then up the stairs. Itaro whispered while they walked. "The beya is pretty simple in terms of layouts. You saw the main floor, the top two floors are rooms for the wrestlers. Second floor is the rooms for people below the second division, we share rooms. Top floor is everyone in the second and first divisions. They get their own floor and have people to clean their rooms and everything."
Hiroshi nodded his head as they walked to the end of the hall on the second floor. The hallway curved around, following the same box pattern as the lower floor. The building was a simple, tall square. There weren't many rooms on this floor, maybe half a dozen. As they walked, Itaro pointed at one door and told Hiroshi it was the bathroom for this floor. The last door he pointed to and explained that this was the room that was for him.
"Try to stay quiet. Your other junior disciples are probably sleeping. I saw Ezra take your stuff in there, so you should be all good to change into something comfortable so you can get a little sleep before morning." Itaro nodded his head and smiled at Hiroshi. He had walked away but turned back towards Hiroshi at the last moment. "One more thing, do not go upstairs unless you express permission from someone that lives up there, the Master or one of the trainers. It would mean expulsion from the beya."
Hiroshi's eyes went wide, and he gave a nod to Itaro. "Thank you," he said before he slid the door open to his new room, trying to stay as quiet as he could.
Itaro nodded his head simply in return and walked off. Hiroshi heard another door slide open and closed as he stepped inside the dark room. He left the door open to let some light in from the lanterns on the wall in the hallway. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the lower bit of light and he squinted to look around the room.
Two bodies were laying down in the corners opposite the door. Laying on the floor with a small bedroll under them. They rolled and groaned softly.
"Shut the door," one of them groaned.
Hiroshi mostly obliged. He still had to find his things and bedroll, so he closed the door further, only letting a sliver of light in the room now. The one who spoke rolled over away from the door and grunted before Hiroshi heard him snore again. Until he heard the snoring, Hiroshi didn't even dare to move in fear of waking them up further. He didn't want to get off on bad terms with his new roommates and fellow junior disciples.
Eventually, he found his things in the last corner of the room. He walked over and looked at his backpack, and frowned. Someone had rifled through it, the bit of clothes he had packed in it strewn about in a small pile. His woodworking toolkit opened with a file on the floor next to it. He grimaced and looked at the other two sleeping forms, wondering if it was one or both of them.
He sighed and shook his head and went through his things, finding some clothes to sleep in that were much like what Itaro was wearing. He changed out of his mawashi finally and into the much more comfortable bed of clothing, then looked around a little.
Wait, where's my bedroll? Hiroshi frowned at the thought. They didn't even leave him a pillow, and he couldn't tell if either of the other juniors were sleeping a little higher than the other in the dark. He sighed and sat in the corner, leaning up against the wall, and closed his eyes. His things were still strewn about beside him. His mawashi rolled up and sat next to him. It didn't take him long until he fell into a fitful sleep.