The American Sumo

Our $5 offering this month is Jake Long, learning about a new culture and really growing as a person~

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Kyoto, Japan was an ancient and tranquil city. Home to hallowed temples and palaces, the city balanced sleek skyscrapers and modern hi-tech firms with Shinto ceremonies and myths of demons and gods in relative harmony; that is, until the American Dragon showed up.

“Ha! You messed with the wrong Amdrag, pal!” An oni, a brutish, red creature with gnarly tusks, was slammed into a brick wall.

Jake Long, now with a decade of training under his belt, had come to Kyoto for a summit of all the world’s dragons; his grandfather had even relented to let him come alone. Or at least, alone with his loyal companion, Fu Dog. As soon as he touched ground in Japan, however, the whole country was overrun by magical threats, and he wasn’t going to stand by and let them fester when there were good fights to be had. Tall, strong, and fiery, the red dragon shot out a gust of flame to drive another oni back. Jake smirked as they tripped over each other, making for a hasty retreat. “If I see any of you running around this part of town again, you’re going to wish you never even heard of a dragon!”

Crossing his arms, Jake puffed up his chest. “That felt good. Man, where’s all the other dragons? This place is crawling with onis, kappas, and demons, but I’ve not seen a single other defender around. Doesn’t the summit care that there’s a magical invasion going on right under their noses?” 

Fu popped his head from around the corner, once he was certain the coast was clear. “Eh, it’s considered bad form to do the whole fighting evil thing in another dragon’s territory. I wouldn’t go boasting about it, kid.”

“Well, if the Japanese Dragon was doing his job, I wouldn’t have to clean up after him,” Jake frowned. “Gramps would kill me if I let this many magical creatures run around New York unchecked.”

“Well, maybe the Japanese Dragon’s grandfather’s a lot more laid back,” Fu Dog replied. “Anyways, we goin’ or what, kid? We’ll miss the big welcome buffet!”

“Yeah, yeah, one sec.” Jake muttered, picking up the dog in one arm and taking to the skies. He flew to the north of the city, where the Kinkaku-Ji Golden Pavilion, a huge, ornate temple with gilded walls, sat on the edge of a lake. Looking over his shoulder for onlookers, he slipped through a certain portal of the temple, and suddenly found himself in a huge banqueting hall; all around him were other dragons, the guardians and defenders of magical communities all across the world. Some were in human form, others showing off their dragon forms; Jake, for his part, stayed a dragon. He had seen one too many dragon summits crashed by evildoers for him to be comfortable showing off his human face.

“Hey, Fu, which one is the Japanese Dragon?”

“Uh-uh, kid, I’m not going to tell you just so you can start trouble,” the canine replied.

“Aww, c’mon. I just want to thank our host.” Jake offered a winning smile.

“Yeah, Jake, that might work on Gramps, but not on me. I don’t care about proper manners and traditions, but I don’t want you to start a brawl in the middle of a meeting of literally every dragon on earth.” Fu Dog started to drift towards the huge buffet table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna eat enough sushi to be considered part fish.”

“Pft, whatever.” Jake waved Fu Dog off, stalking around the banqueting hall. He mingled with a few dragons he already knew, but his mind was elsewhere. Whoever the Japanese Dragon was, he had a lot to answer for.

“...What chaos! Some fool’s been going around and making trouble, roughing up the Onis and Kengus all week. Someone here doesn’t know their place, and I’m telling you, I’ve got a short list of who. This sort of thing reeks of American arrogance.”

Jake’s sharp ears caught that, and he spun around sharply, his wings flaring out. The speaker was easily the fattest dragon he had ever seen; lounging in front of a private table and surrounded by other, much smaller dragons seated attentively. The main one was a mass of blue and red striped scales, a huge boulder of a gut with short legs idly scratching at the lovehandles. He had a face framed by a red mane and long whiskers; almost like Jake’s Grandpa, if inflated beyond recognition. 

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help overhearing,” Jake said, his arms crossed. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough week, big guy.”

“Tch! A rough week.” The fat dragon thumped his fist against the crest of his belly, making it jiggle. “Some fool has been going around riling up my city, disturbing the peace of Rei-Sai, one of our most grand festivals.”

Jake’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry, man, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Zennyo, stranger; I am the Japanese Dragon. And you?” 

“Jake Long. The American Dragon.” Jake tilted his head up, puffing out his chest.

“Ah.” Zennyo’s brow furrowed out of annoyance. “Then I take it you are, indeed, the one who’s been roughing up onis and kappas when you should leave well enough alone?”

“I’ve been cleaning up your city! I saw two of those oni dudes robbing a store on my way here!” Jake shouted. “Or were you too busy stuffing your face to notice?” He snarled, jabbing Zennyo’s gut. The other dragons seated around Zennyo were starting to mutter feverishly to one another, quickly giving Jake and his Asian counterpart some space. 

Zennyo huffed angrily, steam billowing out of his nostrils. “I will have you know that in Japan, there are millennia of traditions and rites to be considered. You stole from the Oni their sacred right on Rei-Sai.”

“Sacred rights?” Jake scoffed. “Buddy, they were robbing people!”

Zennyo rolled his eyes. “Dragon Long, on Rei-Sai, the mortals leave out offerings to the Oni. It’s an agreement that goes back to Emperor Jimmu, nearly three thousand years ago! Do you have any idea how much time will be wasted placating the oni tribes, now?”

“I— I mean, that is— look! I thought they were hurting people!”

Zennyo growled. “Please! You are ignorant, callow, and lack any form of respect! How very American you are.”

“Say one more thing about my home, buddy, and I’ll roll you in seaweed and see if you’ll eat yourself, lardass!” Jake snarled; the two were gathering a crowd.

“A comment about my weight! Fine. We’ll deal with this like real dragons. I challenge you, Dragon Long, to a traditional Japanese fight.”

“Oh, what, samurai swords, karate? I’ve been trained in martial arts for years, tubbo, I’ll roll you off Mt. Fuji when I’m done with you! You name it, and I’ll be there!”

Zennyo smirked, then stood to his full height. His great gut wobbled pendulously, legs thick as tree trunks supporting him. He towered over Jake, shoving him back with a gut-check. “You want a fight, Dragon Long? Then by all means, Sumo wrestling. Doesn’t get more traditional than that.”

“Wh— what?” Jake sputtered. “Sumo wrestling? But I—“

“What’s this? The American Dragon backing down from a challenge?” Zennyo chuckled. “Oh, what is it, you no longer have every advantage and victory won’t be handed to you on a silver platter, so you’re not interested? You amaze me, Dragon Long. I didn’t realize you’d be so typical of your countrymen.”

“Argh— fine! We’ll wrestle, and when we’re done, you’ll see why the only thing Japan’s better at than the US is cartoons!” Jake shouted, storming out of the summit.

An hour later, Jake was cooling off, wandering around Kyoto’s more magically intensive neighborhoods. Seeing as most of the magical creatures around had been at the business end of Jake’s fists the past couple of days, he was getting a wide berth.

Fu Dog sighed, looking up at Jake. “Kid, if Gramps saw that—”

“I know.” Jake grumbled.

“And even when I told you not to—”

“I know, Fu.”

“What were you thinking? You don’t even know the first thing about Sumo—“

“I know!” Jake roared. “Jeez, if I wanted a lecture, I’d call gramps.” He sighed, slipping down to sit on the pavement. “I need a way out of this, man. A way that doesn’t involve me looking like a wimp, or getting sat on by Godzilla back there.”

Fu Dog thought for a moment. “You know what? I actually think I know a guy.”

“Really?”

”Yeah, he’s a local, too. Just, uh. Watch what you say around him… he likes to change words around to get what he wants out of you,” Fu Dog warned.

“Right, I’ve been doing such a good job of that so far…” Jake muttered.

His canine friend led him to a dingy looking alley, lit only by paper lanterns. There was a small stall set up, out of the back of a house.

“Uh…” Jake stooped own to poke his head into the stall. “Anyone home?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a minute, jeez!”

A portly tanuki forced his way to the front, a broad straw hat covering his glowing eyes. “Ah, a dragon. Ain’t you all supposed to be at that fancy summit to schmooze with all the regal magical beings?” The tanuki’s gaze shifted from Jake to Fu Dog. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah.” Fu said flatly. “Look, we need your help, so I’m calling in that favor you owe me. Will you do it?”

“Well, I don’t even know what the favor is, do I? You want a sandwich, yeah, sure, you want me to assassinate the Prime Minister of Japan, I’ll pass.”

Jake sighed. “Look, I got into a stupid situation where I gotta fight this big sack of lard in a sumo match. Fu says you can help.”

“Oh yeah?” The tanuki tugged on his vest, the only article of clothing he wore, as he considered it. “Alright, kid. On one condition— you let me film it all. I got a friend who does stories like this.”

“Oh, what, like… inspirational stories, sport stories?” Jake asked.

The tanuki gave an unsettling grin as he pulled out a camera. “Yeah, yeah, something like that… So! You want to win the sumo match, huh? Want to be a match for the big guy?” He held out his hand.

Jake nodded. “Yeah! That’s exactly what I want!” He quickly grabbed the tanuki’s hand.

“Wait, Jake—!” Fu Dog shouted, but the tanuki pushed him back.

“Ah, ah, ah, you heard the kid! He wants to match this big lug? I can do that, easy. But, just to be clear, that’s what you want, right? You want to be a match for your opponent?”

“Well… yeah, that’s it exactly. No! More than a match! I want to wipe that big smug grin off his face.” Jake declared, palming his fist.

“Ah-haha, ambitious! I like it!” The tanuki poured out a cup of sake. “Let’s drink to it!”

Before Fu Dog could protest, Jake took the shot of sake and gulped it down. “Great! So… what’s next?”

The tanuki smiled, eyes flashing. “Well, now I get my payment.” He held up his video camera. 

“Wh-what’re you… ughh,” Jake groaned, clutching his middle. “What was in that sake?”

“Oh, just a li’l somethin’ I’ve been meaning to try out, got it from a feline acquaintance of mine,” the tanuki sniggered. “You wanted to more than match your opponent? How about I make you the fattest dragon in Sumo!”

“Aww, man…” Jake grunted. The dragon’s sleek, barrel-chested torso bulged, his stomach growling as it began to inflate, then sag as it reached the size of a beach ball. Clutching his middle, Jake could feel the heavy weight of it, forcing his claws apart as it continued to surge forward. He huffed, his body feeling hot and heavy as his limbs thickened and softened, losing all of the toned definition he had worked so hard to get over the years. His hips thickened as well, then his thighs, bulging and forcing his gait apart. His belly spilled over, drooping down past his hips, throwing him off balance as he staggered to keep standing. Any mote of strength that he had left him as his belly reached down to his knees, swollen to the size of a motorcycle as he fell forward, the sheer size of his gut propping him up, his tail dwarfed by the pair of globes passing for his rear.

“F-Fu…” he wheezed. “A little help!”

“Ahhh, nice!” the tanuki patted his camera as he turned off recording. “Lotsa material out of that. Catch ya later, Am-Drag.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke, before Fu Dog or Jake could react.

Jake huffed, his cheeks billowing out as he scratched at the multiple chins ringing his neck. “Ugh… I feel really…” his stomach gurgled audibly as Fu Dog tried to dig under the reams of fat to help stand him up. “Hungry.”

“Ah, kid, c’mon, a snack is the last thing you need!” Fu Dog grunted under the weight. “We gotta call your grandpa.”

“No!” Jake said resolutely. “Absolutely not. If he sees me like this, I’ll be treated like a kid again until I’m his age.”

“Jake, unless we can find a bad guy downhill, you can’t fight anything, you can probably barely manage a walk, we gotta do something.”

The dragon puffed as he pulled himself to his feet, legs wobbling as his gut hovered mere inches from the ground. “I… I can handle this, I…” Jake sniffed the air. “Hey… are those dumplings?” He took a few staggering steps, gut wobbling against his thunder thighs.

“Aw, kid,” Fu Dog smacked his forehead. Jake had already rounded the corner, and he could hear the sounds of the dragon stuffing himself. “This is gonna be… challenging.”

The following day, Fu Dog dragged handfuls of scrolls and books into the hotel suite where he and Jake were staying. 

“Oh! Fu,” Jake gulped, slurping at the last of a ramen bowl. The dragon had plopped himself down in the middle of the bedroom, one arm resting on the crest of his belly as it more than filled his lap, spilling over his thick haunches, while his other hand idly searched around the empty wrappers for another morsel. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Looking up ways for you to win that sumo match. We don’t have a lot of time, so come on, we’ll use one of the local sumo stables at night.”

Jake frowned, his muzzle dipping into his multiple chins as he looked down, his field of view filled with flabby yellow and red scales. “Man... I— I don’t know. Look at me, Fu, I’m a fat slob. I… I can’t do this anymore. When we get back, I’ll just tell Hayley she can take over, and I guess… retire.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jake!” Fu scrambled on top of that boulder-sized belly. “You want to give that fat snob Zennyo the satisfaction? You’re the American Dragon. How many bad guys have you beaten, how many people have you saved? And you’re gonna throw in the towel now because you put on a little weight?”

“A little weight?” Jake echoed, taking two fistfuls of belly fat and shaking it, making his whole body wobble like jell-o. “This isn’t a little weight, Fu! I can just about make it to the door without gasping.”

“Well, there’s one group of people that can handle this kinda weight and still kick butt.” Fu tossed a sumo training manual at Jake, the book landing in the folds of his belly. “Either order room service for more self-pity, or meet me at the stables.” The dog stomped towards the exit, then stopped, a small smirk tugging at his jowls. “But, y’know, you’ll be missing out on some great dumplings.”

Jake’s ears perked up. “Did you say dumplings?”

“Oh, yeah, the sumos eat like kings. Sushi, steak, rice bowls, but, eh, its Japan, you can find that stuff any— hrk!”

Fu was slammed up against the side of the elevator, pinned by Jake’s belly as he filled in every inch with his flab. “Hey, can you hit the lobby button? I, uh, can’t really reach,” the dragon blushed.

Deep into the night, Jake knelt before a small altar with incense burning, his swollen belly spilling over his knees. He closed his eyes and he breathed out. “I get it. It’s just like the meditations Gramps taught me… I’ve got to root myself deep and focus on my core, like when I was learning how to breath fire. I draw strength from within.”

“Yeah, yeah, great you’re getting something out of it, kid…” Fu Dog muttered, feverishly flipping through half a dozen books fanned out in front of him. “Now let’s get you standing up. Your dragon body’s the only thing keeping you upright, and we’re gonna have to bet on your metabolism building up some muscle before the match with Zennyo; I want to see your footwork.”

Jake opened up one eye, frowning. “Man, you’re getting as bad as gramps, you know.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t start your footwork, I’m taking away the dumplings.”

The dragon jumped to his feet, belly bouncing. “I’m up, I’m up!” He got into position, straining to hold up his overblown weight as he squatted. “How long am I supposed to go through these drills?”

“Eh…” Fu Dog looked back at the books. “Twenty rounds ought to do it.”

“Aww, man…”

The next few days were brutal on Jake. The intensive workouts made every bone in his body ache, even when he thought they’d at least be insulated by the reams of blubber caked on to his frame. The only solace, really, was the food. It was good and there was lots of it; lots of meat, rice, fish, and dumplings. Especially the dumplings. He never lost a pound, and in fact, he was only getting bigger. Thankfully, he was carrying it far better than after his encounter with the tanuki. As his belly billowed out like a full sail, his arms and legs grew tougher and larger each day. His chest filled out with firm muscle, and even though he wasn’t getting back any definition or tone, he started to feel like his old self again; ready for a fight.

The night of the match came quickly, and the stadium they had chosen was hardly packed; only a few dragons on Zennyo’s side and Fu Dog on Jake’s side would be witness to their duel. Zennyo took a deep breath, seeing to the salt purification ritual of the ring himself, before he turned to face his opponent; and the Japanese Dragon’s face fell in shock.

Jake had already taken his position, ready to charge. The vastly rotund dragon grunted, his diminutive wings flapping out of anticipation. His rolling sea of a gut shifted slightly as he stomped forward on powerful, earth-shaking legs and he readied his thickly roped arms, tensed biceps digging into his broad chest. A green mawashi had somehow managed to circumnavigate his immense torso, and the ring reverberated with each step; Zennyo had to tilt his head up to meet Jake’s gaze, and the American Dragon winked.

“How is this possible? You look bigger than any sumo I’ve ever seen!” Zennyo gaped, eyes wide.

“Guess I’m just another fat, lazy American,” Jake fired back, smacking his gut. “C’mon, Godzilla. I don’t have all night.”

Zennyo snarled, and signaled the referee. With a quick nod to Shinto ritual, the signal was given as they both began circling each other.

After sizing each other up, each shifting out of anticipation, he two colossal dragons slammed into each other like particularly slow charging bulls. The sheer weight was like two flabby glaciers grinding against one another, but with immense effort, Jake took a step forward, and pushed Zennyo back. He took another staggering step, and Zennyo shifted back a few inches further. Bit by bit, the red dragon pushed his opponent further to the edge of the ring, their claws clamped around one another, straining from the effort, until finally Zennyo’s footing failed, and he stumbled out of the circle.

Gasping for breath, the Japanese Dragon looked up at Jake. “But… how? Nevermind your size, how did you know how to fight like a real sumo?”

Jake grinned softly, and offered his hand to pull Zennyo back up. “I took some time to actually learn about the rituals and everything,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Look, I barreled in without thinking when I first got here, and I’m sorry.” He clasped his hands together and bowed, his belly scraping against the floor. “Otsukaresama deshita.”

Zennyo blinked in surprise, and returned the bow. “Thank you for the match as well, Dragon Long. I’m grateful you’ve come to appreciate our customs.”

“Heh, yeah,” the red dragon chuckled, patting his mammoth gut for emphasis, scales rippling throughout. “My time here’s rubbed off. Would you let me treat you to dinner or something, smooth things over?”

Zennyo nodded. “I… think I would like that.”

Jake grinned, throwing his huge arm over Zennyo’s shoulders. “Great! I’m starving. Listen man, dragon to dragon, you ever had a really juicy, bacon burger before? I think you’ll love it.”