Eren Duyar blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard.
“I’m sorry…I mean…what?” He asked plaintively, voice small. Coach Cipher sighed and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his ample stomach. The coach was a big man–well over 400 pounds: A classic, overfed American ex-jock. The bulging muscles of his youth had long since run to fat, the and the trim midsection displayed in the wedding photo on the man’s desk was well and truly buried beneath a belly swollen from over 20 years of fast food and beer, atop which a generous set of moobs sagged.
“I’m sorry, Duyar,” the fat man said, giving him an apologetic look. Leaned back as he was, the man’s thick neck merged into a pronounced double chin, making him appear to have no neck at all. “You’re talented, but I’m just not sure you’re what I’m looking for on the team.”
“But…look at my stats!” Eren pointed out, gesturing towards the papers on the desk between the pair. Cipher nodded in acceptance.
“It’s true; you’ve got a lot of wins under your belt,” the man acknowledged. “But that ain’t the problem. The problem is what’s over your belt. Or rather, what ain’t over it.” When Eren blinked in confusion the man heaved another sigh.
“You’re too scrawny, Duyar,” he said bluntly. “I see you’ve packed on 30 pounds since you started the sport. I can see that 20 pounds of that was muscle, and that’s damn impressive. But it ain’t impressive enough for this team. Any one of the team stars would just pick you up and carry you out of the ring and set you down, no more than you weigh right now. You’re strong, but all Thiccton athletes are strong. We only take the best, no matter what sport it is, and strength on its own ain’t enough in sumo. You gotta have heft.” He smacked his own gut for emphasis, and Eren couldn’t help but watch as the mound of flesh rippled slightly before settling.
“But I saw some of the other new team members,” he pointed out. “Some of them are slimmer than me.”
“That’s true enough,” Cipher conceded, “but that’s also part of the problem. We’re not the football team, Duyar; we only have so many members. Every one of the skinny’s has a mentor I’m gonna pair ‘em with to help ‘em bulk up. But not all the big boys have time to mentor, and you were the last to join the team this year. I don’t have any more mentors available. You’d be completely on your–” Coach Cipher abruptly stopped talking, tilting his head consideringly.
“How badly do you want this, Duyar?” He asked, giving Eren an intent gaze.
“More than anything,” he said honestly. “My best friend, Hassan, and I wanted to finish our studies abroad, and we chose Thiccton because its one of the few school’s with a dedicated sumo program. I love the sport. I know very little about its traditional roots,” he admitted, “but I love the actual competition.”
Cipher heaved a sigh that was heavy enough to set his belly wobbling.
“Alright, Eren, here’s the deal: It’s against my rules to let my team beef up without a mentor, and I have no mentors to spare. But,” He said, holding up one meaty hand to stop Eren from interrupting, “if you can find a mentor on your own, I’ll keep you on the team. But you’re gonna have goals, just like the rest of the boys. If you miss one, you’re off the squad until one of the big boys has time to mentor you. Capiche?”
Eren nododed frantically.
“Good,” Cipher said. With a grunt, he braced himself and then hauled his bulk up out of his desk chair. His enormous belly wobbled with the exertion; shaking like a spherical jello mold.
“Alright, Eren, first team meeting is in one week. I…”
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