The swish of feet on clay and sand has a soothing, rhythmic feel, as wrestlers at a sumo stable in Tokyo propel themselves across the ring, their bodies low, eyes fixed on an imaginary foe. By the time their morning training ends an hour later, all but one of the rikishi are bathed in sweat, gulping lungfuls of air, their strength waning with every shove.
One wrestler has spent most of the session at the side of the dohyo ring, guiding his stablemates with words delivered with economy and purpose. After the group bow to a miniature Shinto shrine on the back wall, they gather around their mentor in a communal expression of gratitude.
