Never Set Limits

Former ozeki Chiyotaikai captivated countless fans with his powerful trademark barrage of tsuppari—rapid open-hand thrusts delivered with overwhelming force. He competed in sixty-five tournaments at the rank of ozeki, an achievement that leaves him tied with another for the most in history, a record still unbroken. Today, as the fourteenth stablemaster of the prestigious Kokonoe stable, Ryuji Kokonoe devotes himself wholeheartedly to training his disciples. In this conversation, he reflects on his profound bond with his mentor, the great yokozuna Chiyonofuji, and on the encounters that have shaped his life's path.

——Kokonoe stable has produced many notable wrestlers over the years. As its stablemaster today, what are your thoughts as you currently manage and guide the disciples?

Master Kokonoe: I am fully aware that Kokonoe stable is considered as one of the most prestigious stables in sumo. Through the generations, former yokozuna such as Chiyonoyama, Kitanofuji, and my own mentor Chiyonofuji have all served as stablemaster. When I, a former ozeki, inherited the stable in 2016, its stature inevitably fell by a step. For that very reason, I lead with the unshakable resolve that stable will once again produce a yokozuna.

Moreover, since each disciple is entrusted to me as a precious son, a life place in my care by his parents, my goal is not only to train them in sump, but to cultivate them into men of strength in both body and spirit—distinguished wrestlers and upright individuals able to adapt and thrive in today's society.

——Is there anything you particularly keep in mind when guiding your disciples?

Master Kokonoe: Rather than instructing them as a group, I make sure to engage with each disciple individually. Today's young wrestlers vary greatly in their abilities. Thus, each morning when I see their faces, I look into their eyes, speak with them, sense the changes from the previous day, and devise a training plan suited to each their condition.

Traditionally, sumo training has always been conducted uniformly, as it was under my predecessor. For example, shiko (leg stomps), everyone would aim for the same goal of a thousand repetitions per day. But with that approach, some inevitably manage five or six hundred repetitions. Instead, by setting goals that reflect the individual's current capacity, their attitude toward daily training changes. More than that, they can take joy in their efforts and steadily improve.

——I see, So, to enjoy the process while striving towards improvement.

Master Kokonoe: Exactly. That's why the motto for our stable is "Pursue rigor in training; find joy in the endeavor." When we relocated in 2021, I considered how best to foster growth in the disciples and deliberately chose a building equipped with air conditioning. At present, twenty-one promising young disciples are giving their all each day. I intend to continue valuing a "wrestlers first" approach, while raising as many fine rikishi as possible.

——What first led you to enter the world of sumo?

Master Kokonoe: I grew up in Oita Prefecture. From an early age, I was large in stature, exceptionally athletic, and endlessly mischievous. I bristled at adult rules, and throughout my school years I spent my time playing around and fighting.

The person who bore the brunt of the most trouble I caused was my mother. My father was a judo instructor at the police station, but he passed away when I was five. From then on, my mother raised me single-handedly.

——Ah, so, you were raised in a single-parent household.

Master Kokonoe: My mother never ceased to tell me, "If you're a man, take responsibility for what you do." On days when I got into trouble and was taken to the police station, my friends' parents would come to pick their children up the same day. My mother, however, wouldn't arrive for me until the next day. In the meantime, I would eat with the detectives and stay overnight at the station.

——One can see her love in the way she chose not to coddle you.

Kokonoe: In time, I began to question what would become of me if I continued as I was. As a result, I resolved to use my physical strength for justice and began training in karate in the second year of middle school. After graduation, I worked as a construction worker at my karate instructor's company. Yet I feared that if I remained in Japan, I might slip back into trouble. Thus, I decided to go to Chicago in America, where my instructor's fellow disciple lived, to become a bodyguard.

When I told my mother about my decision while sitting in the sunken kotatsu at home, she came from the kitchen with a knife, pressed it suddenly against my carotid artery, and said:

"I've endured and bore the burden of raising you until now. But if you go to Chicago, you'll surely be killed. If that's your fate, then I'll kill you myself and then die with you."

——...That is extremely intense.

Master Kokonoe: I felt the threat of death from the tip of that knife. Yet when I looked at my mother's, she was crying, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her weep, I felt a shock like my head might burst apart, and in that moment I decided to honor her wish.

And so, to learn what her wish was, I asked her. Her response was that she wanted me to become a rikishi, a sumo wrestler. Apparently, when I was young, she was told that I would enter the world of sumo wrestling and have a chance to become an ozeki by a fortune teller (laughs). Since I was large then, I had participated in local sumo tournaments from childhood and won. With that in mind, my mother's secret dream had always been to see me become a rikishi.

——Hence it was through your mother's determination that you unexpectedly embarked on the path of sumo.

Master Kokonoe: That said, I didn't know much about sumo in detail. Scouts had approached me before, however, I had turned them away because I wasn't interested then. And having refused those stables once, I could hardly go back to and ask them to take me in now.

Yet I still remembered, from seeing him on television as a boy, the image of a rikishi whose physique radiate strength and masculinity, my future mentor, Chiyonofuji. My mother informed that he had recently retired as yokozuna and became a stablemaster. I thought if I trained under the strongest man, I would surely grow strong myself.

My mother immediately looked up his contact information, and, as fate would have it, the Kyushu tournament was just starting. I barely managed to submit the papers for the new disciple exam in time and set out to meet my mentor in Kyushu.

——It almost seems as if destiny was guiding you.

Master Kokonoe: True to the manners of a delinquent, I went with golden-brown hair styled in a pompadour, wearing camouflage top and bottom to greet him together with my mother. We were shown to a room where Chiyonofuji sat with his back to a sunlit glass window. It was so bright I could hardly make out his figure.

He instructed me to sit and so I did and stared at his feet. He continued by inquiring for the reason I came to sit before him. At that moment I looked up to meet his eyes, his gaze firm, piercing, and overwhelming. I felt paralyzed before such intensity.

I felt the overwhelming presence of a man who had weathered true ordeals and survived real battle. I felt the fear of death, as if a lion had been released from its chains right before me. Simultaneously, I knew he was the only one who could be my master.

——I see. You recognized him as your mentor the moment you met.

Master Kokonoe: When I declared my wish to become a rikishi in order to honor my mother, he smiled, shifted his gaze to my mother and remarked, "Ma'am, this child of yours seems like he'll work hard." From that moment, my journey as a sumo wrestler began.

——After entering the world of sumo, how did you develop your abilities?

Master Kokonoe: Kokonoe stable had roughly fifty disciples. The first lesson my stablemaster thoroughly drilled into me was categorical: in this world there is no draw—only victory or defeat. He showed me the ranking sheet, pointing to jonokuchi, the lowest rank, where my name would first appear, letters so small one had to squint. Above it rose jonidan, sandanme, and makushita. From juryo you become a professional, receiving a salary and attendants. It was clear that the only way forward was to build strength quickly and ascend by winning, step by step.

——That sounds like a very demanding world and an arduous journey.

Master Kokonoe: Arduous, yes, but in practice, training meant endless repetition of the basics: shiko, push-ups, teppo (striking practice), and suriashi (sliding footwork). Unless one forged a solid grasp of these foundations, one is not even allowed onto the dohyo, for without it injury was certain. Since I had originally trained in martial arts, I was permitted to enter the dohyo early, after only three months.

When I was first told to spar with a senior, I did not reach for his mawashi, the sumo's loincloth. Instead, I unleashed a flurry of thrusts—bam, bam, bam. The stablemaster, observing closely, declared that this was my style and forbade me from grabbing the mawashi. From that day forward, whenever I reached for my opponent's mawashi, a stick would come down sharply on my arm. Thus, my style was set: a pure reliance on pushing and thrusting.

——He instantly discerned the style best suited for you.

Master Kokonoe: Indeed, he did. This style suited me perfectly. Within one year, I won the sandanme division and reached juryo in about two. I was the first of the disciples to reach that rank. My mother was especially overjoyed, and I still remember our conversation that this was just the starting line, and that together we would see how far I could go. She never ceased to encourage me, always giving words of encouragement. The first salary I received as a juryo I sent directly to her. During this period, my days were filled with sumo, and thoughts of going to Chicago had completely vanished.

——Are there any memorable teachings from your stablemaster as you steadily advanced through the ranks?

Master Kokonoe: What he always impressed upon me was to never set my own limits. In training, we would do a thousand shiko and teppo, but completing the shiko only took two and a half hours, leaving the legs like sticks, so stiff one could hardly step onto the dohyo. At such times he would ask, with perfect composure, whether a thousand was truly the limit. He would remind me that if I could complete another two hundred with perfect concentration on top of the thousand I finished half-heartedly, then I would become stronger. When I thought on it, I realized he was right. Even when the body was all but spent, I could still hold chopsticks and eat, and I could still crawl to the toilet if need be. In other words, I still had the strength left. I, without realizing, had set a limit on myself.

——In the end, the boundary is the limit set by oneself.

Master Kokonoe: The stablemaster often told me to believe in myself, for no one trained harder than I in his eyes. The training regimen at Kokonoe stable is truly overwhelming, punishing beyond compare. Yet he taught that it was precisely because of its intensity that Kokonoe remained what it was. That conviction became the source of my own confidence.

——After that, were there any matches that became turning points in your career?

Master Kokonoe: If I had to name one, it would be the March 1998 tournament when I defeated the yokozuna Takanohana in our second encounter, earning my first kinboshi, a gold star bestowed when a lower-ranked (maegashira) wrestler overcomes a yokozuna. He had been the one to drive my mentor into retirement, so I approached that match with the feeling of exacting revenge on his behalf.

When I returned to the stable to give my report, my mentor, eyes glistening, wordlessly gripped my hand and pressed a congratulatory gift into it. His face and words were stern, but his heart was warm and easily moved to tears. That is why so many admired him and why his disciples followed him.

Another unforgettable match was the January 1999 tournament, when I defeated yokozuna Wakanohana in the championship playoff and secured promotion to ozeki. It came six years after I had entered the stable, at the age of twenty-two. Of course, besides those milestones, every match remains an irreplaceable treasure, and I remember almost all of them.

——During your long career as ozeki, what led to your decision to retire from actively competing?

Master Kokonoe: I fought as ozeki for about ten years but also sustained many injuries. By November 2009, when my demotion was decided, I was so battered I could barely get on the dohyo. However, when I asked my mentor if I could retire, he refused, insisting I had more to give.

Obeying his word, I returned to the ring as a sekiwake, but I continued to lose. Then came the match against ozeki Kaio. This match would determine whether Kaio would surpass my mentor's record of 807 wins in the top division. I could not help but wonder why this fateful match had to fall to me, the disciple of the man whose record was at stake. When I lost to Kaio, he overtook my mentor's record and I found my own resolve to bring an end to my active career.

This time, my mentor's words were filled with warmth. He thanked me for the long years I had given to sumo and told me I had done well. With that, my retirement became final.

By continuing to compete on the dohyo until I reached my absolute limit, I could step away with nothing but the sense that I had given it all I had.

——I understand. You were able to leave the dohyo without regrets.

Master Kokonoe: After retiring, I served in the stable as an assistant under the name Sanoyama, learning what it means to be a stablemaster and a guide.

The greatest lesson among all was to guide every disciple with love. As an ozeki, I had young attendants for many years, but I must admit with some shame that while I made them work hard, I never treated them with genuine affection.

But when I observed my mentor, his attention and care for each individual was extraordinary. Because he looked upon them daily with love and care, he could speak words that would stir his disciples' souls and inspire them to rise up to any challenge. His method had taken root deeply within me and influence how I guide the disciples.

——Thus, your mentor's teachings continue to live within you as a stablemaster.

Master Kokonoe: Even when my mentor passed away from illness in 2016, I felt his love. I was beyond tears, stunned and adrift, unsure how to lead the stable when he passed.

Yet long before, he supported me, encouraging me to stand strong for I was next to lead. He had introduced me to supporters of the stable as his successor, entrusting me to their care. Because of his actions, I could not linger in grief. I had to rise from mourning and meet my mentor's expectation and of all who believed in me.

——Truly, your encounter with your mentor changed and guided your life.

Master Kokonoe: The moment I first met him proved pivotal, for I knew at once he was the mentor I would follow. I cannot stress enough how life changing that moment was. Any meeting can shape one's path, but unless you carry the conviction that this meeting can truly change you within yourself, it cannot become a true encounter.

And from that first encounter with my mentor until now, I haven't wavered by so much as a hair's breadth. There is no one else I respect or admire other than him. I am truly grateful from the bottom of my heart for the fateful meeting with my mentor, who breathed new life into me. It is my vow to continue carrying his spirit and teachings, and to fulfill my mission as the stablemaster of Kokonoe stable.