I have done horrible things in my life. Things more horrible than I care to mention, haunt my dreams. Delusions of grandeur and love have blinded me into becoming disgrace. I have shamed my stable, my stablemaster, my fans, my people and the way of Ozuma. I have no right to call myself a rikishi, let alone a Yokozuna. I have nothing, but dishonor mounted upon dishonor. I longed for love from a woman that I had harmed, then I longed for it from a child like a blind fool.

I have fallen from the highest of peaks to the pit of humiliation, truly I have disgraced the art and tradition of sumotori. It is a great humiliation, which I have bought upon myself, a shame that none of you can understand. None of you can imagine the strain and pain one must go through to attain the rank of Yokozuna. It is grandest of all prizes and only few have touched it.

There is a joy in watching people smile as you throw your opponent out of the ring. Only a fool believes that sumotori is not a fight. I have seen some sumotori throw 2.7 palm strikes in a second. I have seen awesome moves such as the bell hammer back body drop, the lateral drop, fisherman's throw, reverse fisherman's throw, armbar throw, reverse arm bar throw, inner thigh scoop slam, outer thigh scoop slam, koshi-nage and ketaguri. Indeed most people do not know that there are two forms of sumotori, Okinawan and Edo. In Edo, the objective is to push your opponent out of the ring or make any part of their body aside from their feet touch the ground while Okinawan, one can only win by making their opponents hit the ground. I first took up Okinawan style to help me with my throws, then I switched over to Edo for the money.

When I first entered the world of Edo, it was sort of difficult, due to my lack in size. It was easier for my larger opponents to push me out. Larger meant harder to move, but I never gave up. I battled great giants, palm for palm to work into the clinch and once I got their, I would bell hammer back body drop them over my head. Of all the throws, sweeps, slams, drops, hand strikes, there is nothing more gratifying then to bell hammer back body drop someone. It is a magnificent move that demands perfection, but if done incorrectly, your opponent would throw his weight backwards and slam your face into the floor in a brutal ketaguri. Imagine lifting your opponent onto your shoulder, then spinning and slamming them upon their backs. With great and loud boom, my opponent would be finished. I became famous for my bell hammer back body drops. It sort of became my signature. Boom, boom, boom, I would break my opponents.

The whole was riding upon my shoulders and I was happy. The people loved me for being their favorite in the tournament. They would shout my name down the streets of Japan. I kept going further and further, but I couldn't. As the years passed my strength waned and I did not have the power to battle anymore. I did the ultimate disgrace in that moment. I took a needle filled with steroids and dishonored my very body. It is now a problem amongst the ranks of Ozuma. A struggling rikishi would take a shot or two to get some wins.

I had forgotten what Ozuma was all about. Ozuma is not just a sport it is a way of life. It is how a professional sumotori must conduct himself in a manner of honor. The art was created thousands of years ago by the samurai warriors. The samurai would often train in sumo to learn how to maintain their balance, so that they could always stay on their feet. Even today a sumotori will tie his hair back as the tradition samurai had once done. In fact sumo at one time was a much more savage creation. It was bloodier than any other form of combat, except maybe for the gladiator battles in Greece. A sumo match would be made to solve political disputes. Matches had no rules except two, make your opponent submit or kill him. It was not until the Heian period of Japanese history that rules were adopted and techniques were refined, thus it slowly became a battle of giants. How sad those ancient samurai must be today to see what I have become. I have disgraced an entire heritage.

I gambled and cheated behind the backs of my friends. I became everything that I a sumotori should never become. I was a liar and an infidel. Then my stablemaster found out the truth. He came into my room and found the needle. He knew what I had done and how I had disgraced myself. He knew how I had cheated and betrayed all of the things he had tried to teach me. He looked upon me with such pain and sadness, that I simply could not bare his eyes upon me.

"Master you do not understand, I need to win. I must do this to bring money into our stable. It is only a few victories, just enough to keep the stable going." I pleaded, but my stablemaster only looked upon with a sadden gaze as though he were in a trance.

"Ozuma is not just a sport, it is a way of life." He turned away from and left me there in a pool of my own shame. I couldn't take it anymore, so I left to enter the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. I hoped that by winning that I could earn back what I had lost. If I could win then I would have enough money to keep the stable going. I was confronted and defeated by ninja, Yoshimitsu.

I then lowered myself once more and committed a heinous crime against the Chang family. It was not until I had another battle with my opponent, Yoshimitsu, that I was finally shown the error of my ways. Yoshimitsu fought with honor, something I had not used in so many years. He helped me gain back some dignity that day and helped remake me as a man. Later on, I followed several stupid and ridiculous infatuations, but failed.

So I stand here today, upon the ashes of my former shame. A great demon has come with eyes filled with fire. In his path is my friend, the manji ninja. The demon's horns spark as they glow with power. Electricity crackles within his body as he is about to release his power upon us. I knew that Yoshimitsu would be killed if the blast were to hit him. I knew that if he should die, then it would be a most painful death. The words of my master floated back to me in this terrible moment.

The demon unleashed his wrath, and a golden bolt of raw power came streaking across the sky. I pushed Yoshimitsu aside and the blast caught me full upon the chest. Blood spewed forth in crimson and horrific agony. I felt my very soul being sliced open as the blast struck me. It was like being shredded physically, emotionally and psychologically at the same time. I wished I could have screamed, but the pain was just too great. Gobs of blood and fluid oozed from the gaping hole within my body as I collapsed into Yoshimitsu's arms.

"Why?" Yoshitmitsu asked as he held me in my point of death. My blood completely covered the once shiny armor of the silver warrior. It was at that moment, for some reason I felt no pain. I knew I was going to die. I could taste the blood going into my mouth as I stood upon the door of death.

"Ozuma is not just a sport…it is a way of li…" I could not finish my words, for I had been embraced by darkness. I awoke to see hundreds of sumotori champions from modern days, I saw the ancient rikishis of the death matches from so long ago, I saw my own samurai ancestors, and my old stablemaster was there as well. They were all standing before me and shouting my name. Honor may have a heavy price, but it is well worth the reward.