Sumo calls it hinkaku—dignity through silence. But Asashoryu Akinori proved that passion is a technique, not a character flaw. Without his “bad boy” energy, I never would have sat through a single match.
It may seem odd for an American to develop an interest in sumo, but that is where I found myself back in 2018. Already an avid sports anime fan, I came across an announcement for a new sumo-themed anime.
Now I’ve known of sumo, of course, just from the media growing up, so I was semi-familiar with what sumo entails. However, to me it was just a pushing match between two big guys in funny underwear, out of a circle on a center stage.
The anime illustrates Japan’s national sport of sumo—full-contact wrestling, where a rikishi (wrestler) tries to force his opponent out of a circular ring (dohyo) or into touching the ground with any body part other than the soles of his feet through throwing, shoving, or pushing down, in a way that really drew me in that I even started reading the manga which was ongoing at the time since 2014.
The underdog reaching the championship is a common story across sports and other genres; going with sumo is indeed different from the usual soccer, basketball, or baseball concepts seen in other series. So it caught my attention with its sumo-themed premise, and I had to look more into the sport itself.
Even though I’m not an avid sports fan in general, I enjoy the history, facts, and information that sports anime/manga present to the audience, which makes individual sports more engaging.
This was where I came across a real-life underdog. A Mongolian-born former professional rikishi, Asashoryu Akinori, was dubbed sumo’s ‘Bad Boy’.
When watching both the real and fictional matches side by side, you can really see, if not feel, the fiery energy that creator Kawada captured perfectly within the pages of Hinomaru Zumo, especially with the main character, Ushio Hinomaru.
What stood out to me a lot was Hinomaru’s techniques in the dohyo. Like Asashoryu, Ushio had quick reflexes and went for lifting-based moves; a particular move he performed throughout the series reminded me of a tsuriotoshi, in which the attacker grips his opponent’s mawashi, lifts him, swings him to the side, and down.
Seeing a move like that animated, with the added imaginative intensity that the naked eye wouldn’t catch in a real match’s split-second speed, made the feeling of those opponents getting taken out by a smaller guy feel visceral.
According to Sumostew, the tsuriotoshi, in particular, is primarily used against weaker or smaller opponents, a main tactic that Asashoryu almost always used in matches against anyone, regardless of size.
Seeing a 5-foot-3 Ushio express the intensity and momentum of what goes into lifting and throwing another, especially a much taller or even bigger opponent, out of the ring, had really brought a rush of acceleration that elder fans of sumo must have felt when watching the real thing.
The backlash reached its peak in January 2009. After defeating rival yokozuna Hakuho Sho in a championship-deciding match, Asashoryu clenched both his fists and thrust them towards his supporters. The very next day, the Japan Sumo Association condemned the gesture as inappropriate and fined him. He was forced to apologize for showing “excessive” emotion after a victory.
The energy that Asashoryu brought to sumo during his reign as yokozuna was found within the excitement that Hinomaru zumo brought, even if it was short-lived—much like Asashoryu’s run. Asashoryu cannot be forgotten, which Hinomaru Zumo makes sure of.
Ushio isn’t the same bad boy that was given to Asashoryu. Still, he channeled the fierce bad-boy energy in his techniques despite his stature, just as Asashoryu did not deter or change what or how he conducted himself despite the disapproval of Japanese societal norms. The irony stings: in the manga, Ushio’s identical “grit pose” celebrations make him a hero. Asashoryu got punished for his.
Ushio Hinomaru channeled Asashoryu’s fire, not his scandal. Sumo needs more athletes who lift the wrong opponents and celebrate the wrong wins. The sport’s future isn’t in preserving silence— it’s in finding more “bad boys” brave enough to be loud.