That is a lot of questions, but since I never get to talk about sumo in my real life, I'll gladly answer at length here!
I currently live in the United States east coast, although I come from Turkey, which is something of a wrestling country (I am an oil wrestling fan besides sumo). My road to sumo was rather strange - I happened to see some people discussing a basho on another website once, and I didn't understand any of the esoteric terminology at the time; a few years later, after slowly becoming curious about the subject, I searched sumo in Youtube and found Kintamayama's channel during Aki 2018...the rest is history.
As for Ichinojo, I have a few reasons as to why I like him. One of the first things I did when I found sumoforum was search for informational videos, and I was rewarded with a whole thread of them. One of the posts in this thread featured a documentary about Ichinojo from his early days, back when there were great things expected of him. He seemed (as I'm sure all rikishi do in documentaries about themselves) to be very humble and just generally nice, despite his big success. However, this impression really hit me when I watched an early match of his - I think versus Kisenosato - which featured numerous false starts; each time, to my pleasant surprise, Ichinojo gave a very deep bow, which struck me considering how most rikishi just give a little nod. Add to all this the fact that he was (at the time) so spry and strong at 180 kg and I instantly became a fan. Plus, he was originally a nomad! How cool is that.
This kind of brings me to what interests me and saddens me about sumo - the fact that there are so many people who come up the ranks with great hopes and expectations upon them and end up being mid-maegashira, or worse yet, they get injured and their career takes a dive. I know that among the current Makuuchi rikishi, there are several besides my big man who fall into this category of "next ozeki/yokozuna turned disappointment," and while I'm sure this is just the nature of the game, I can't help but see it as a tragedy. Why must this happen? And even more than that, what do the rikishi themselves feel? Behind the stoic manly face presented to the public, what is their human heart like? Are they sad, or disappointed, or just resigned? Does Ichinojo wonder about what might have been if he could have maintained his form and weight and curse whatever events led to him ballooning in size? Does he still have hope that he might achieve the goals that once seemed inevitable? What does that lovely family of his shown in the documentary think nowadays? This sort of thing, the search for inherent humanity, is not what initially attracted me to sumo - but it is why I remained, even though I have no way of knowing any of this short of becoming a wrestler myself. And so I am stuck here, wondering, as I watch from a detached distance the flesh-and-blood men who are mandated to be like stone in all things. They come close, I think, but surely something of the host must survive, right? This is why this website is so valuable - through it, I might be able to get close to the answers for these questions. Or maybe not, but who knows? I have some hope.
As for my shikona, if you can call it that, it's an acronym of personal meaning for myself. I don't know any Japanese, so I couldn't pick a real one.
That ended up being a long, rambling response. If anyone read this whole thing, thanks! As I said, it's rare that I get to talk about sumo, so I took this chance and flew away with it.