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Commission-story 1: Rikishi Footballer

It is so strange to go look back at stories you wrote years ago and haven't re-read in such a long time... Sometimes you cringe as you find typos you overlooked, or stuff clearly written by a young and naive man. Other times you are amazed at what you could pull out of your mind and feel like someone else wrote it in your place.

This story isn't a "kink" story in the usual sense of the word. It depicts fat characters, fatness is talked about a lot, and there's some weight gain - but it isn't a story about fatness or weight gain. It is all background element, side-details and little kink-sparkles. It is primarily an awkward teenage story, a start of a romance, a slice of life and growing-up story. It is a soft tale about a Japanese sumo teenager being sent to America, and trying to find a place there - and finally finding some hopes upon encountering an American football team.

Note that I actually know NOTHING about American football, and all written below comes from quick pre-writing research, indirect media exposure, personal deductions, and a whole lot of bluff. I hope it still remains convincing enough. Enjoy!

- - - - - - - -- - - - - -

Daichi looked in the mirror one last time.

His school uniform was without a speck. His hair was well-brushed. His bang perfectly split in the middle. Clean face. Nothing in his teeth. He stood upright and smiled before sighing.

“Don’t be so stressed Daichi… No reason to stress.”

Of course, he had plenty of reasons to be stressed. A new school, a new country, a new language – if he wasn’t stressed, it would have been really worrisome.

While checking his bag, his thoughts drifted towards sumo. It was probably the harshest part of his new life: no sumo. He had been practicing sumo for five years now and suddenly, in a matter of days, nothing. It was all gone. He had searched if there was any sumo club out there but, to no one’s surprise, California wasn’t big on eastern wrestling sports. His new high school had western wrestling teams – which Daichi considered joining. But a lot of them consisted of really muscular guys, young body-builders. A rikishi like him would have looked out of place among them, if not outright ridiculous.

As he got down the stairs, delicious smells tickled his nose. Steamed rice… grilled fish… soy beans… miso soup…

“Daichi! You’re up early!” his mom saluted him.

“The smell woke me up.” he joked.

“Yes. I thought I would make one last typical Japanese breakfast. Before switching to an all-American diet.”

Daichi quickly gulped it all down. The portions were smaller than usual – but for Daichi, usual portions meant the double of what people usually ate. He had always been a big boy with a big appetite, and his sumo training had only helped them both become bigger. Fortunately, the Mori family was wealthy enough to afford their son’s extra-sized meals.

“Well, here I go!”

“Take care of yourself, Daichi. And don’t forget: you don’t change shoes in American schools!”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Have fun!”

“I will, Mom!”

XXX

He did not.

XXX

“Class, we have a new student here. He comes from Japan, his name is Daichi Mori. Please, I want you all to make him feel welcomed here. Daichi, could you come here and present yourself to the rest of the class?”

Daichi got up and stood in front of the other sophomores.

“So that’s why this guy was dressed like at a funeral…” someone whispered.

“That’s a Japanese school uniform? Why doesn’t he wear normal clothes, like everyone else?”

“I hope he can speak English good enough. Japanese accent is really painful.”

Daichi felt his face become pink. It always happened to him whenever he had to express himself in front of a big crowd. His face went pink and started to feel hot. It was so weird to see all those students casually dressed, in jeans and baskets, like if they had just gotten out of the street and were ready to leave at any moment.

“Hello. I’m Mori Daichi… I mean, Daichi Mori. I’m from Japan. Namba, in the Osaka prefecture. I hope we can be good friends this year, and I give myself into your hands.”

Some kids snickered.

“He really has a strong accent…” a girl whispered.

Daichi, overhearing that, thought he had to apologize:

“I’m sorry if my English is a bit bad at the moment, but I hope you will help me speak it more fluently.”

It was just a general apology for everyone, he never intended to single out the girl. But she gave him a surprised, then offended, look, and glared at him for the rest of his presentation.

“I moved here because my father had his work changed recentry. Recently. Sorry.”

The boys at the back were sneering.

Daichi, feeling his presentation wasn’t going as well as planned, tried to impress them. If there was one thing Americans knew outside of anime and manga, it was that. Instinctively, he touched his belt and said:

“I’m… well, I used to be a sumo wrestler. I was in my school’s sumo team. I won the local…”

The boys at the back started laughing like hyenas. Other people were smiling and whispering between them.

The teacher asked for silence. One of the boys muttered, between two laughing fits “He’s such a cliché… Of course, we get a Japanese and… he’s a sumo… one big fatty baby!”

Daichi was confused. Why were they laughing? What was funny about being a sumo? He was proud of being a young rikishi – it was an honor. His family was proud of him, his friends admired him, he even had one or two fangirls back in his old school.

Why was he suddenly feeling so ashamed of it?

XXX

The school cafeteria was a wonderful experience. All those new foods, all these strange aromas, all these unusual colors… Just looking at it made saliva drip from his chin.

He took a bit of everything on his tray, hoping he could get a second serving later, and tried to find a spot at a table. Nobody was really paying attention to him. Recognizing some people from his class, he took an empty chair near them. They weren’t the boys at the back of the class – he had a bad feeling about them – these were people from the front ranks.

“Hi! Daichi, is it?” one of the boys greeted him.

“Yes, it is. And you are?”

“Horace. This is Jasmine, and there it’s Peter.”

Daichi saluted all of them.

“Wow! You’re going to eat all that?” Peter asked.

“Well, yes…”

“Of course, he has to eat a lot! He told us he is a sumo wrestler! The whole point is to pig out so you can grow fat!” Horace intervened.

“Well… Not really. I mean, yes, it’s a lot of sleeping and eating but…”

Horace wasn’t really listening to Daichi.

“Gosh… a sport where you just have to stuff your face and grow fat. Sounds like a dream!”

“I don’t understand it.”

It was Jasmine.

“I mean, I don’t understand how someone could let himself grow fat like that. You’re not bothered about your health?”

“Well, I’m healthy enough.” Daichi answered. “I do frequent exercises, I was regularly checked on by a doctor…”

“But your appearance? And what about the girls? They’re okay with you being that big?”

Daichi was really embarrassed. He wasn’t used to talk about these things with his friends, and even less with perfect strangers.

“Well… there were some fangirls at the tournaments…”

“I saw a sumo tournament once! On TV!” Peter shouted. “It was so funny! And so weird! It was just two obese men punching each other. And they were wearing diapers! I was watching it with my brother and we laughed our asses off for days after! It was like looking at two giant babies fighting.”

“Or you and your brother fight for a pizza slice…” Horace muttered.

“Hey! I heard that!”

Horace turned his head towards Daichi.

“Man, I can’t imagine what it is when you throw yourself after a pizza slice. You must be like a human cannon ball!”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand. I never tasted pizza.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“You have to try a pizza! Everybody in this world eats pizzas! It’s the USA's national dish! Our own invention!”

“Wasn’t it the Italians that…”

Peter interrupted their conversation.

“Shit, look at the clock! If you want to copy Edgar’s dissertation, you better get moving!”

Horace looked at his half-eaten tray and then at Daichi.

“You can finish that for me? I don’t have time to eat, and they scold you if you leave anything. I know, it’s a pleasure, no need to thank me. See you later, big guy!”

And thus, Horace, Peter and Jasmine went away, leaving Daichi alone with his one and half tray of food.

This conversation went quite smoothly, better than what Daichi expected – but it was a weird one, and it had left the boy with a sour taste in his mouth. Not sour enough to prevent him from eating all of the food on the table – but still, sour enough to make him fear for his future in this school.

XXX

The rest of the day went without any incident. The only thing that annoyed Daichi was that everybody kept calling him “sumo-boy”. Considering that he wasn’t ready to have his first name used by all these new, not very sympathetic people, it was better than nothing.

He was still angry and ashamed at how they laughed about his sumo training.

“Don’t think about it too much… Just try to enjoy the good side. If you start seeing only the bad stuff the first day, you’re begging for bad things to happen.”

When he went home, he had the delightful surprise to see his mom had tried herself at American cuisine. Avocado romaine salad, fish tacos, grilled cauliflower wedges, Caribbean pot roast and lemon pound cake.

“I hope it will be good… It’s the first time I try these recipes.”

“It will be good. It’s always good. You can only cook good things. Else, Daichi and I wouldn’t have ended up that big!”

“How was your day, Daichi?”

He told them it was good. Nothing special happened. They nodded and started to talk about their new town.

Daichi ate in silence.

XXX

“Hey! You’re Buddhist, right?”

“Yes.” Daichi answered.

“I told you he was Buddhist!” the first boy shouted.

“No, you never told me that. You told me he looked like Buddha. With hair.” the other boy replied.

“Well, being Buddhist means looking like Buddha, right?”

“No, you dumbass.”

“But all those Buddhist monks, they are bald, smiling and fat, no?”

“Just shut up.”

XXX

“Hey, can you read that for me?”

Daichi looked at the piece of paper.

“Jelly’s… Jerry’s… jelly bellies… berries… taste leally… really… rale… rare.”

“Thanks!”

The girl took the paper and snickered at her friend:

“Told you they couldn’t distinguish between R and L.”

XXX

As Daichi was walking to his table, he overheard people talking about him.

“You noticed how heavy the new boy walks?”

“The sumo-boy?”

“Yep. He walks so heavily! You can hear his every step. Just listen.”

Embarrassment flooded Daichi, to the point where he could have drowned in it. He wanted to stop walking, but he couldn’t just stand frozen like that in the middle of the room. It took him a lot of strength to go to his seat.

“It’s true!” the other boy whispered. “He doesn’t walk, he stomps!”

“Well, it’s normal with the size of his legs. You’ve seen his thighs? They’re enormous! Bigger than hams! And I know what I’m talking about, my mother keeps cooking those damn hams for every big occasion. His calves are the size of hams. But his thighs… wow!”

“It’s true that his legs are really swollen! They’re touching each other! They must be rubbing all day…”

“I wonder if his pants will split open. Or crack on the seams. The fabric is clearly stretched to the max.”

“Me too, I wonder if he keeps wearing the sumo-diaper under his pants.”

“We’ll have to wait for his pants to explode to find out.”

XXX

“Hey! Daichi, right?”

“Yes?”

“My friends and I, we were wondering under what sign you were born?”

“Sign?”

“Astrological sign?”

Daichi thought for a bit.

“I think for you it’s… Taurus.”

“No, we meant… the Asiatic zodiac.”

“The goat.”

“Really? Not the pig?” asked another boy.

His friends looked at him weirdly.

“No, why?”

“Because you…”

His friends put their hands on his mouth.

“Nothing, we were just wondering.”

The group went away, but they spoke so loudly Daichi could distinctly hear them fighting.

“What were you thinking? You can’t just tell him that!”

“Well, it’s true he looks a bit like a pig! I mean, the pointy ears, the round face, the tiny eyes… His nose is even triangular! Just look when he raises his head. It really looks like a pig snout!”

XXX

One week had passed. Daichi’s first week in an American school.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. And Americans certainly weren’t the most pleasant people.

USA teachings and classes were easier than Japanese ones, so homework and tests were really a piece of cake. It’s the people that were hard to swallow. Between those who snickered when he made a mistake in English, the teachers who kept asking him to repeat because of his accent, and the constant jokes, not even made in front of him, but behind his back… It made him stutter, it made him unsure of words, it made him both anxious and tired.

He had bought new clothes to replace his uniform. Plain old clothes – white, black, blue. Pants, shirts, jackets. It apparently wasn’t enough.

People kept mocking him for his size and fatness. He thought America was the land of obesity and junk-food, and yet he was only surrounded by thin, good-looking kids.

And everybody spoke so loudly… he feared he would end up deaf by the end of the year.

XXX

He tasted the Californian pizza.

It was tough, over-cooked and reminded him of plastic.

XXX

It was official. He disliked American people.

Today, one of the boys at the back of the class made a joke. Directed towards him. A frontal attack. And a cruel one. The others did not laugh, and he got hours of detention for this joke. But the words were still said.

“Hey, remember when we sent Fat Man and Little Boy to Japan? Well, they sent us Fat Boy in exchange! New and improved version! Beware, he has reached critical mass! He is ready to explode! All take cover!”

Daichi missed his sumo club. He missed his school. He missed his friends. He missed his town. He missed Japan.

He hated America.

XXX

“Honey, I’m worried about Daichi…”

Daichi’s mother raised her head.

“What? Daichi? What’s wrong with him?”

“Well… he doesn’t smile anymore. He used to smile all the time.”

“He must be busy, that’s all. He is starting a new course, in a new school. He has to make new friends, learn a new language… It’s a lot of work for him. He doesn’t have time to fool around anymore.”

“Yes but… he also lost his appetite.”

“He still eats like a normal boy.”

“Yes, but before he used to eat much more than a normal boy!”

Daichi’s dad kept twisting his hands in worry.

“Should I remind you he stopped his sumo wrestling training? He doesn’t need to over-eat anymore.”

“But he liked to over-eat!”

“And he got that from you, you glutton! It’s good that he starts to eat normally. This trip to the US cost us quite a bit of money, and if he kept eating like three people at each meal, we would soon be unable to afford anything!”

“But he slimmed down! You noticed that? His face used to be so cute and round… it’s not anymore!”

Daichi’s mother sighed and sat next to her husband.

“Don’t worry, alright? Daichi is a grown-up boy. He is sixteen. If he was troubled about something, he would have told us. You know how open-hearted he is. If there’s something serious, he would tell us. And if it’s something he can deal with by himself, then it’s good. We shouldn’t be over-protecting him like that. One day he will have to confront the world and see how hard it is. And he will have to learn to survive in this harshness. It’s just how things work.”

XXX

As Daichi opened his locker, he scanned his surroundings. He was there again. The guy. The tall guy.

He had been following Daichi since this morning.

When Daichi got out of his class, he was there, looking at him with his peering eyes. Down the hallway, he was there, his thick arms crossed on his wide chest. At the cafeteria, he was there, not eating, just staring at him. Daichi thought that what he feared for some time now was going to come true: his first real bullying. The guy looked like a bully. Tall, with big muscles, furry brows and a short goatee. He certainly didn’t look like a sophomore, but rather like a tiger preparing itself to feast on a clueless prey.

Daichi looked back at the guy and froze upon seeing he was walking towards him.

Daichi had to get out of there, and fast.

He closed the door of his locker, took his bag, started to walk, preparing his body for an eventual run… Too late.

The guy’s big hand was around Daichi’s wrist. Daichi turned back, ready to face the beating, or whatever this guy had prepared for him, with dignity. But he apparently wasn’t interested in him rather than in… his arm. He was touching it, and kneading its flesh like if it was dough.

“Huh… What are you doing?”

No answer. The guy was now patting Daichi’s belly. It reminded him of someone checking if a fruit was ripe. The young man tried to take a step back, but the weird goatee-man maintained him by the shoulder, so he wouldn’t get away.

Was it some sort of joke? No, apparently not. The guy looked deadly serious.

He crouched down and started to squeeze Daichi’s thighs. The boy was mortified, filled with so much fear and shame he couldn’t move even a muscle.

Finally, the weird, invasive, fetishistic bully said something. One word.

“Wow.”

He quickly got up and looked Daichi in the eyes. He had dark (beautiful), coal-like eyes.

The guy took Daichi by the arm once more and dragged him down the hallway.

“Hey! Let me go!”

But his grip was too strong, and Daichi was too terrified to fight back. This guy looked like a mountain of muscle! His shoulders bulged so much it looked like he had no neck!

Daichi got dragged out of the school building, and down onto the football field. His mysterious attacker finally stopped in front of a bunch of equally tall and muscular guys.

“Team! I have our missing lineman!” he shouted.

XXX

“Is this a joke?”

The goatee-guy turned towards Daichi.

“What?”

“Listen… I don’t know you, guys. I don’t want any trouble. I’ll leave.”

Mickey blocked him.

“No, wait, don’t go! I need you – our team needs you! You’re our savior! You’ll be our new lineman! I can assure you, this is a serious offer!”

“I don’t know what a lineman is, and I don’t know who your team is, and I don’t know who you are!”

“I’m Mickey! Mickey Andrews! And this is my team! Football team! My football team! Well, the school’s football team! I would like to be the head of the team but…”

“But you’re not!” shouted another boy.

“Yeah! Don’t offer him the post yet!”

“Don’t just pick any random overweight boy just because we lack one team member!”

“Who named you the chief here?”

“Guys, guys, calm down! I know what I’m doing” Mickey appeased them. “This is Daichi. Daichi Mori. Daichi, this is the team.”

“Sup?” one of them said, waving his hand.

“And Daichi here is… a sumo wrestler! And isn’t a lineman just a sumo wrestler with a helmet?”

Daichi got ready for laughs and mockeries. Instead, to his great surprise, he received exclamations of admiration.

“A sumo wrestler?”

“Really? I thought you had to be an adult to be a sumo wrestler! There are actually juniors?”

“He’s a real one? He’s not just making this up?”

“He doesn’t really look like a sumo fighter… he’s not fat enough. Aren’t they supposed to be really big?”

“I heard about him! Hadn’t he stopped training before coming to the US? Who says he isn’t rusty?”

“Or maybe he stopped because he was bad at it. We don’t need a bad sumo wrestler.”

“I think he can be good. He looks like a good wrestler.”

Daichi was surprised. These guys weren’t actually laughing at him because he was a sumo wrestler. They rather doubted how good he was as a sumo wrestler.

And apparently, it irritated Mickey.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t look like a good sumo wrestler?”

“I said he did look like one!”

“I’m not talking about you, Terry! I’m talking about all these other treacherous, arrogant, snobbish skeptics! Tell me if these aren’t the legs of a powerful wrestler?”

As he was speaking, Mickey raised (not without a bit of difficulty) one of the legs of Daichi’s pants, and slapped his thigh. All the other boys crouched to look at Daichi’s leg with admiration.

“Wow!”

“I’ve never seen one so big before…”

“It’s all muscle and fat!”

“Gosh, he must be able to block anything with that!”

“I wouldn’t like to get kicked by him!”

Mickey beamed with pride while Daichi died with shame.

“Well, if he’s so good, let’s put him to the test, shall we?” said a deep voice.

It was the tallest boy of the team. Even taller than Mickey. He must have been three heads taller than Daichi, a true giant!

“He will try to block me.”

“Good idea! Let’s see if he can block Jack!” the others approved.

“He accepts the challenge!” said Mickey.

“What? I haven’t accepted anything! I wasn’t even asked to be here in the first place!” Daichi complained.

Mickey pulled Daichi towards him as Jack was warming up.

“Don’t worry,” Mickey said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You can do this. He is frightening, but good-hearted. He will probably be soft on you. Or crush you without mercy, it depends on if he likes your face or not.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry! Trust me, it will be easy. You just need to prove to them that you are a good sumo wrestler. That’s all ! You are a good sumo wrestler, right?”

“Yes!”

“I knew it. I felt it in your guts.”

“But he is a giant!”

“And you will do just like in sumo! I thought a champion like you wouldn’t be terrified by a small weight like Jack!”

“Small weight? He’s all muscle and nasty-looking and…”

“Just do like in sumo, okay? Go!”

And Mickey pushed Daichi in front of Jack. The tall, menacing, creepy Jack. The giant handed Daichi a helmet.

“Put that on. I don’t want to bump your pretty little head too hard.”

Daichi gulped down and put the helmet on.

“Don’t worry… Do just like in sumo. It will be okay. At best, you’ll have a broken bone. It will heal. Just do like in sumo.” Daichi thought to himself.

Daichi prepared his body, crouched, got ready. Jack charged. He looked like a mad rhino. Daichi raised himself up a bit, and…

XXX

… it was easier than what he expected.

Right now, Daichi was blocking Jack. For more than a whole minute now. The giant tried to push, move, get out of Daichi’s grip in any way he could. But the little sumo was not ready to let go.

“Is that enough?” Mickey asked, with a cocky smile on his face.

Jack pushed a bit more, and then gave up.

“Alright… I guess it’s enough. Could you tell him to let me go?”

Daichi opened his arms and stepped out of the way. Jack, who was still trying to push, ended up falling on the ground. The boys around applauded.

“Wow! So you are a real sumo wrestler!”

“And a good one!”

“They really are like linemen, aren’t they?”

“The team is saved!”

“He could block Jack! He is so strong!”

“And look, he barely sweats!”

“Good job, Mickey! Great finding!”

Mickey waved his hand towards the team, with a false look of modesty on his face.

“Well, you know, I just did what I had to do. I’m a treasure hunter, after all.”

XXX

With the team, Daichi managed to feel proud of his sumo – and of himself – once more.

They were all pressing him with questions about his training, about what it took to be a sumo, what he ate, what routine he did, about the tournaments he lost and won. Some asked him to block them, just to test his strength – and Daichi actually managed to send some of them flying. It did not upset them, it just made them laugh. They weren’t laughing at him – they were laughing with him.

It felt really nice.

XXX

The first week was hell. The second was a blessing.

Daichi joined the football team. Mickey had explained to him in lengths the job of a lineman, and it sounded so similar to sumo, he just couldn’t resist. The other team members were treating him with a comradeship, a friendship and a respect he thought he wouldn’t be able to experience again. They were all so kind, explaining to him the rules of the game, helping with the training and exercises. In return, Daichi taught them one or two things he learned while doing sumo training.

Mickey was the kindest of them all. He was actually a sumo fan, with more knowledge about the sport than normal people had. He frequently watched big tournaments on TV, and it was a real pleasure for Daichi to talk with someone with whom he shared such a passion. Both boys also talked a lot about their own cultures – about the differences between a Japanese high school and an American one, about the different flavors of ice cream, about the weird habits of their parents, or the kind of shitty neighbors they could get. Daichi learned a lot from talking with him – especially given that Mickey kept correcting the little mistakes he kept making. Not in an annoying, preachy or irritated way. It was just friendly remarks, with well-meaning intentions. And Daichi accepted them with gratitude.

He was sure only good things could come up from his relationship with Mickey.

XXX

And only good things came out of it.

XXX

“First, you must put the padding. I know a sumo wrestler is used to being slapped directly in the flesh, on the skin, but trust me, on a football field, you’ll need something to protect yourself, some pads to absorb the blow. Because even your fat-armor won’t protect you from some nasty injuries.”

“I noticed football is much more violent than sumo… I mean, you wear helmets.”

“Alright. So, these ones go around your thighs… Shit, they’re too small. Josh, do we have some bigger thigh pads?”

“What bigger thigh pads?” Josh asked.

“They can’t fit around Daichi’s legs!”

“Truly? Well, I’ll see if I have some extra-large somewhere.”

Daichi was really embarrassed by all the fuss the team (well, mostly Mickey) made about his legs.

“Well, since it’s just to show you, we can go without the thigh pads for now. Now, put these pads on your knees… That’s it. Now, put the pants.”

Daichi snuck in the clothes.

“They are… kind of tight…”

“They’re not supposed to be baggy. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. They’ll stretch a bit. Now, the shoulder pads.”

“These things?” Daichi shrieked with bulging eyes.

“Yes, these things.”

“But they’re so big! How can you play with that? They must be… I mean… they’re not good for your balance, no?”

“I heard once that the whole point of sumo was to learn how to push and move heavy things, aka other wrestlers, while being able to support and carry as much weight as possible, aka your own body. Is it true?”

“Yes, kind of…”

“It’s the same for football and the uniform. Learn how to move with all the stuff on you. No pain, no gain. Now put these on.”

“Alright, alright…”

“Okay… Now, the jersey… And finally, the helmet. Don’t forget the chin strap. And that’s it! You’re all dressed in a good-looking, shiny, beautiful football uniform!”

Daichi looked at himself in the mirror.

“It’s quite… not uncomfortable but… weird. I mean… I’m used to wearing only a mawashi… nothing more. Not all this stuff.”

“Well, I’m sure a lot of people would like to see you run on the field nearly completely naked – I would, personally – but rules are rules.”

Daichi, still looking at his reflection, turned around.

“But… I kind of like it. I feel like I’m wearing some samurai armor. A very American samurai armor.”

Mickey smiled.

“And now, the most difficult part of all… Learning how to take off all this stuff!”

XXX

Daichi noticed that his entrance in the football team changed the way his classmates perceived him.

Most of the mean comments and bad jokes stopped altogether. People talked to him more casually. He guessed it’s because now he fitted – he was part of something “American”, showing his contribution to the school. Or maybe it was just because he had a bunch of tall, muscular, mean-looking guys as friends, and people weren’t willing to get on their bad side.

XXX

Mickey insisted on treating Daichi a pizza.

That’s a simple sentence for a longer story.

It all started when Daichi asked Mickey for some fashion advice. He just wanted to know what was trendy in the US. Mickey, in his usual style, immediately dragged him to a shopping mall to buy new clothes for him. After speaking of some heroic-fantasy anime, Mickey mentioned pizzas. Daichi mentioned he didn’t like pizzas. Mickey asked him how much pizzas he ate. Daichi answered only one. And Mickey started a rant about how you couldn’t hate something just based on one bad try, before pushing Daichi into a nearby pizzeria.

“You must like some pizzas! There are a ton of them out there! I will force you to eat each and every one of them until you find one you like!”

“Hey! You can’t do that!”

“Try to stop me!”

“But I just ate!”

“Sumo wrestlers have big stomachs!”

There was no sense in reasoning Mickey. Daichi just sighed and took off his belt.

“If you’re such a picky eater, no wonder you lost so much weight.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You lost weight since your arrival in the US. I remember clearly your face, before, upon the day of your arrival. Your face was rounder. You even had a little double-chin.”

“Well, isn’t that… good? That I lost weight?”

“You must be bigger to be strong! A good lineman is a big lineman!”

“Yes, but… I mean, the sumo physique isn’t… really attractive here. Isn’t it?”

“Here’s your pizza!” the waiter interrupted them.

Mickey looked thoughtful.

“Well… it’s true you’re not the perfect guy from some underwear advertisement. But a lot of girls like buff and bulky men. Football players usually have up to three girlfriends during their high school years. Quarterbacks are hugely popular, of course, but look at our linemen – half of them are in couple. Well, some won’t last long, but that’s not due to their physique… Plus, I know a lot of people who like chubby people. Boys with a bit of meat on them.”

“Yeah, but they’re rare… and even them wouldn’t find a sumo wrestler cute.”

“Well, I found you cute, with your tiny double chin.”

Daichi, feeling his face get hot again, dug into the pizza, hoping to hide his embarrassment by pretending it was the dish that was heating his face.

“Hey! It’s delicious!”

“I told you it was!” Mickey gleefully answered. “Pizzas are the best!”

Daichi took a second slice. Then a third.

“I’m glad you like it… Hey, you have a bit of cheese here.”

“Where?”

Mickey leaned over the table, and passed his thumb on the corner of Daichi’s mouth.

“Right here.”

Daichi must have been as red as the tomato sauce. He quickly gulped down what was left of the pizza, muttering a small “thank you…”

“Oh, don’t thank me now! Thank me once you tasted the other pizzas!”

“The other pizzas?”

“I told you, no? I will make you try each pizza on the menu! I just wasn’t expecting you to like it so quickly…”

Daichi moaned upon seeing the waiter come back with three… four… five… seven more pizzas.

“Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll help you finish. After all, I’m the one paying, I should get a bite or two.”

XXX

“Mickey is sixteen?”

“What? You’re surprised?”

“But… but… I… I thought he was much older!”

“Nope. He is a sophomore, just like you.”

Daichi looked at Mickey, on the other side of the field. A tall, big, beefy body. A lot of muscles, a bit of flab. Biceps so big his sleeves threatened to rip. A wide and thick torso like the trunk of a tree. A square, strong face, softened and rounded on the edges.

“But… I mean, he has a beard!”

“No. He tries to have a beard. He can’t get to grow hair on his cheeks, only on the chin and near the ears. But don’t mention it to him, he’s a bit sensitive.”

Daichi looked longer at who he dared to consider his best friend.

People kept mentioning Mickey and him looked a lot alike. They both had dark hair and dark eyes. One had a bit of muscle, with a lot of fat; the other a lot of muscle, with just a bit of lard. While Daichi’s neck softened in the front, under the chin, Mickey had a fold of doughy flesh at the back of his nearly non-existent neck, over his shoulders. Yes, it was true. Mickey kind of looked like an older, taller, more muscular version of Daichi.

“And handsomer…” Daichi thought.

Mickey was beautiful, indeed. Not in the typical, effeminate, bishounen way. In a rough, powerful, masculine way.

The young rikishi remembered a representation of Susanoo he saw some years ago. Mickey looked just like this painting of the god – only a bit buffer.

XXX

“You wanted to see me, coach?”

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Daichi.”

“He is a good find, isn’t he?” Mickey answered with a smile.

“Yes. His background as a sumo wrestler certainly was a good preparation for his lineman post. But it’s also a big flaw in his play.”

Mickey lost his smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean: he can become a good lineman, but he needs a more… specific training.”

“What kind of specific training are you talking about? This guy already got everything he needs! He is big, he is strong, he has the size, he has the power. Have you seen him slap someone in the chest? It’s impressive! Nobody can manage to move him, and he can block anyone! He is like a rock! And you’ve seen him crash into other guys! He sends them flying as if they were dead leaves! And you’ve seen his legs? That’s some fine lineman legs!”

“Yes, we’ve all seen Daichi’s legs, thanks to you, Mickey.” the coach answered. “And yes, on paper, our little sumo wrestler works. A big guy, with the perfect balance of fat and muscle. And a literally perfect balance. He can carry weight around and push anyone out of his way… But he is too used to sumo fighting. Football is brand-new to him. And it shows.”

“In what ways?”

“You said he is immovable. Like a rock. Which is a quality, but also a flaw. He lacks mobility. Sumo relies on blocking your opponent and throwing him out a small circle. In football, you have to run through an entire field. Have you seen Daichi run?”

“I did.”

“Then you know he is not used to run, at all. He is quick in attack, but he is not a fast player. He has strong legs, and a strong upper body, but he doesn’t know how to use them to move swiftly. He only knows how to use them to stay where he is.”

“If it’s just that…”

“It’s not just that, Mickey.”

The coach sighed and sat.

“You remember what I said about grace and finesse in football?”

“Yes, I remember the dance lessons you forced us to take.”

“Well, Daichi lacks this finesse. He still thinks he is in a sumo fight. His strength is brutal, he throws everything at the beginning, he focuses on short term goals. As a result, he ends up exhausted at the end of a match. He must understand we’re not doing a one-minute sumo match. We are talking about a sixty-minutes minimum effort here. He must learn temperance, finesse and endurance.”

Mickey shivered at the idea of Daichi taking dance lessons.

“And finally, outside of the troubles of speed and endurance, I noticed he has a hard time moving sideways. Laterally. He is all in frontal attacks and straight lines. An inheritance from his sumo training I presume.”

“Alright, but he can still learn! He is still young! He just started! Please, don’t kick him out of the team!”

The coach looked offended.

“I never said I would kick him out of the team! You said it yourself, he has a lot of talents our own players lack. He is a precious element for the team – but his potential needs to be cultivated. For now, his capacities are good, but limited. He would make a perfect nose tackle, for example. But we can’t allow our players to be so over-specialized, can we? If Daichi really wants to be a lineman, he will need to be both offensive and defensive.”

“I understand, coach. And I accept your quest!”

“What quest?”

“The quest to make Daichi a perfect lineman! I’m the one who dug up this treasure, he is now under my responsibility! I promise I will train him every day and every night, well maybe except on holidays, in order to make his flaws disappear!”

“If you want, Mickey… Don’t forget, lots of running and aerobics.”

“Yes, sir!”

As Mickey was about to leave, the coach called him:

“Mickey!”

“Yes, sir?”

“I understood that Daichi taught the team members some… tricks from when he was training as a sumo?”

“Yes.”

“Things like how to gain weight more easily, right?”

“I guess so… why?”

“It’s just I’ve noticed the waistline of many of the boys started to balloon recently… Could you please remind them that they are not sumo wrestlers, but football players? Thanks.”

XXX

Mickey and Daichi were on the old playground near Mickey’s house. That’s where they met each Saturday and Sunday, to train for the football game. Mickey insisted on giving Daichi a personal training – to help him work on some stuff he lacked. Daichi was extremely thankful – Mickey was taking much of his personal time, just to help him master the subtleties of the game and become a better player.

Mickey could have easily just told Daichi what to do and let him work out on his own – but he actually took time to accompany him and practice with him, when he could have been working on his own. After all, he was the running back of the team, and from what Daichi understood, it was the most difficult post of any football team. When a running back was on the field, he had no time for himself, he had to check and monitor everything – his teammates, the rival team, the clock, the size of the field, the opposition’s attacks, defenses and plays… He had to constantly adapt himself, and always throw himself in battle, to know every hole number, every pass route, every trick in the book. It was an enormous amount of personal work, both in and outside of the field. Daichi admired Mickey for being able to do all of that. He couldn’t have done such a tough job.

XXX

As Mickey helped Daichi put on his uniform, he noticed:

“You’re back to your old size, I see!”

“Yes. I even got back the double chin.”

“I noticed. The cute little double chin. I also noticed you eat a lot of pizzas lately. Your breath smells like pizza.”

“They’re really good!”

“I know. But, a little piece of advice, try to limit it a bit. They’re good, but they have a toll on the waist. And it’s getting a bit harder to get you in these pants lately. We don’t want you to burst out of the uniform, do we?”

Daichi, feeling a bit bold, answered:

“You were the one who said you wouldn’t mind me running half naked on the field, right?”

“Yep, that’s right. But if the coach ever finds out you’re too big for your uniform, he’ll tie you up and lock you in a locker without any food until you slim down.”

XXX

Daichi’s team quickly found out a nickname for him. The Taurus. Given that he acted like one on the field, and that it was his astrological sign.

The rival teams rather used the nickname The Boar. Partly because of his nose. Partly because they feared he would just split them open or trample them to death.

XXX

“Mickey, I’m really not sure about this…”

“Well, I’m sure of it. Should be enough for both of us. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but… No, really, Mickey, I’m not… no…”

“Come on, get your big legs moving!”

Mickey had to push Daichi in the hairdresser’s shop. It was Mickey’s idea: according to him, Daichi had to get a new haircut.

“You’ve been stuck with the same old boring one since your arrival. You should change it! Let your hair express your true personality! You need to live up to your fearsome Taurus reputation!”

“How can hair express one’s self? That’s just hair!”

“With this mentality, you will never go far… Hairdresser? He needs something shorter, wilder, freer!”

“No, really, I’m fine with this cut. I’ve had it for years and…”

“More reason to change it! Trust me, you’ll feel lighter, both physically and mentally.”

Daichi gulped down as a young lady started to wash his hair.

XXX

“So? What do you think?”

Daichi looked at his reflection.

It was short. Spiky. Unruly.

It wasn’t bad. It was different. It was weird. It was kind of good.

“I guess… I like it?”

XXX

The other boys of the team loved it.

XXX

And, after numerous matches and numerous adventures…

XXX

It was already the last game of the season.

Daichi couldn’t believe how quick the last months went by. It was like a blurry, weird and exciting dream.

“Ready?”

It was Mickey, all-dressed up, a shoulder against a locker.

“Yeah… I’m ready.”

“You know… if you want to slow down a bit for this match, don’t hesitate. I mean, we won all the previous ones, and you put so much of yourself in them… I just don’t want to see you strain yourself. I wouldn’t like it if you were hurt.”

“Me neither. I mean, I wouldn’t like to see you hurt. Not me. Well, I wouldn’t like to be hurt either but… you get what I mean.”

Mickey smiled.

“Well, it will be harder for me to avoid getting hurt. After all, if we go all the way up, it will only get harder and harder, and more intensive, more exhausting, and…”

“I’ll be here to protect you! To clear the way for you!”

Daichi had blurted that out, quickly, without thinking. Realizing how weird it sounded, he corrected:

“I mean… Don’t worry, you can count on me to have your back!”

“Yeah, but you have to protect everybody on the team, right?”

“I’ll protect you more! I mean… I’m really grateful for all you’ve done for me. You helped me fit in this new school, you introduced me to a wonderful sport, you…”

“I haven’t done much, you know. I just introduced you to the team and gave you some fashion advice. And a haircut. And made you love pizza.”

“You did much more than that! You… you know, you really changed my world!”

“I don’t think so. I just allowed you to do the things you would naturally do. I’m not the one who is blocking people for you, I’m not the one who taught the team how to train with tires – hell, I’m not even the one who gave you your nickname! All of that comes from you. You impressed the team, you frightened our rivals, you helped us won the games – all of that, on your own. Plus, don’t think I’m a saint. Half of the things I did for you was in fact for the sake of the team. I’m a treasure hunter – so when I see one, I have to take it back to my crew. That’s all.”

“And the other half?”

“It was just so you would correspond to my personal tastes.”

“What?”

Mickey had a smug smile on his face.

“Well, I told you already, no? I know a lot of people who are into cute chubby guys.”

He winked. Daichi felt his face burning.

“Now, let’s go out there and kick some asses, shall we?”

Daichi got up. He was confused by exactly what Mickey’s last words meant, unsure of whether he should take it lightly or seriously, if he should be disappointed or happy… But the cries of the spectators, out there, and the voices of the rest of the team, quickly snapped him out of it. He had one last match to fight, he couldn’t allow himself to weaken now. His body was ready to fight. One last effort – and he could take care of the rest later.

“Alright. Let’s kick those asses! And after, we’ll get a pizza!”

The two boys slipped their helmets on their heads and got out on the field.

XXX

And they kicked a lot of asses.

FIN