The first person to teleport or warp to our elementary school was a sumo wrestler.
It was the day of the sports festival, and Mikami-kun was at the starting line for the 100-meter dash. Mikami-kun was the ace of the track and field club and had never lost even in the district competition.
“Take your positions… Ready!”
Everyone held their breath, and the schoolyard fell silent.
Bang! The starter’s signal resounded, and under the clear autumn sky, everyone’s voices roared. Mikami-kun made a beautiful start and began running with a graceful form. The cheers grew even louder.
However, something unbelievable happened. Right in front of everyone, Mikami-kun was sent flying headfirst.
“Oh!”
Both we and the teachers, along with the parents, all shouted in unison. Looking behind Mikami-kun, we saw a sumo wrestler wearing a loincloth. It seemed that the sumo wrestler’s large hands had pushed Mikami-kun from behind. Why was a sumo wrestler here?
“Dosukoi! Dosukoi!”
The sumo wrestler shouted while thrusting his hands forward. However, upon realizing that he had pushed Mikami-kun, he seemed surprised. He looked around nervously, then suddenly sprinted forward.
“Dosukoi! Dosukoi!”
Mikami-kun, who had fallen to the ground, groaned as he was kicked by the sumo wrestler’s suri-ashi (sliding foot move). The sumo wrestler ran at an incredible speed, still sliding his feet, and crossed the finish line in first place. The other runners had all noticed the unusual occurrence and stopped running.
“Wow!”
First-year and second-year students, who didn’t fully understand what was happening, cheered excitedly, applauding as they stood up. Perhaps they thought it was some kind of attraction. The teachers were in an uproar, while the parents stared blankly, watching the turn of events.
“Dosukoi! Dosukoi!”
The sumo wrestler kept running even after crossing the finish line. Everyone quickly made way for him. The sumo wrestler, with his disheveled hair and trampled-upon white mawashi, reached the pool’s wall.
“Dosukoi! Dosukoi!”
The sumo wrestler extended both of his hands toward the wall and seemed to be starting sumo training. It looked like teppou-geiko (hand-slapping practice).
The fragrance of the osmanthus flowers wafted from somewhere. In the midst of that strong scent, we watched the sumo wrestler’s back. His dirt- and sand-covered back was bathed in the sunlight and glistened with sweat. The male teachers slowly approached him and spoke to him.
“Sumo wrestler, sir, just a moment.”
The sumo wrestler paused and turned around timidly. He had a somewhat childlike face and seemed relieved by the teacher’s words. He probably didn’t know what had happened or what to do. He seemed a bit lost, scratching his head.
Translated by Jay of Jaybrooke Translations.
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