Fuck knows how, but 2024 is drawing to an end, which means it’s time for me to wang on about my favourite things in wrestling from the last twelve months. Up first, the best of the rest. These are the matches that, on a different day, could have easily been my favourite of the year. I’ve seen a few people suggest it’s been a weaker period for wrestling, but I didn’t feel that way as I struggled to whittle this down to ten. A handful of bouts I assumed would be on here were pipped at the post and replaced by something that excited me that little bit more. So, if your favourite is missing, imagine it’s number 11.
As usual, it’s a list that reflects my tastes, which means there are some glaring holes. I intended to make this the year I dived into lucha, but I failed, so it has no representation here, not because it’s shite, but because I don’t watch enough of it. There are only so many hours in the day, and I like to spend a few of them on non-wrestling-related activities.
Anyway, on to the list!
The Great Asako vs Miku Aono, Step 28 New Year Special (5/1/24), AWG
The line between good and bad comedy wrestling is incredibly thin. It’s something I’ve spent quite a lot of time thinking about over the years, and while there are certain things that regularly position wrestlers on either side of said line, I’m not convinced there is an exact science to it. I’ve seen people argue that comedy has to exist within the laws of wrestling to work, but I’ve also celebrated Sakura Hirota breaking them to great success. Another frequent distinction is that outstanding nonsense has to have meaning behind it, and while I agree with that to an extent, I’ve also been reduced to tears of laughter by matches that had all the depth of a puddle. As far as I can tell, the only constant is the commitment of those involved. From Lulu Pencil to Sakura Hirota via Stalker Ichikawa, they all believe wholeheartedly in what they do.
Thankfully, that is also true of Asako Mia. Coming off a twelve-month period that convinced me to name her one of my wrestlers of the year, she entered 2024 with a grudge. Last December, Miku Aono finally snapped, making it very clear that she had no intention of teaming with Asako going forward and seemingly quitting the Asako Army in the process (although Mia has stated on multiple occasions that you’re a member for life, regardless of your feelings on the matter). It was the cool kid finally slapping the weird one across the face with reality, making it clear that she was not her friend and had only tolerated her company for so long out of pity. Unsurprisingly, Asako was heartbroken.
This match is a result of that heartbreak. Asako Mia can’t beat Miku Aono. She might be blinkered to many things, but that’s not one of them. However, her alter-ego, The Great Asako, might, despite all evidence to the contrary, have a chance. She funnelled all that anger and frustration into her attempts to ape her papa, The Great Muta, and, well, still lost. But it was a masterclass in losing! While there are hilariously funny moments in this match, like Asako’s attempt at the Muta Lock, every second of it feels like it comes from the heart. She’s not out there to be silly. She’s trying! She tries to brush off Aono’s strikes and use the mist (which she has to crawl backstage to put in her mouth) to level the playing field, and there are milliseconds where you think she might pull it off, but the sad reality is that even when she puts on the face paint, she’s still not good enough. Even at her best, she’s a wee nerd whose dreams dwarf her reality.
We’ve all seen films where the jock pretends to befriend the weird kid only to take a liking to them. However, this wasn’t that. This time, they rolled their eyes, dished out some hard kicks and even pulled up Asako’s shoulder to compound her misery. The Hollywood ending crumbled around Mia, and it was heartbreaking and funny in equal measure. I can’t pretend I’ve watched much of Aono’s Marigold career, but I doubt any of it has come close to matching this, and it’s infuriating that AWG’s refusal to treat their wrestlers right has robbed us of more of this wonderful nonsense. It was The Great Asako’s finest hour, and quite possibly Miku Aono’s, too.
Mio Momono vs Mayumi Ozaki, Battle Big Bonus (28/4/24), Oz Academy
Every step we take away from this match seems to draw me closer to it. When it first happened, I was angry. It was supposed to be Mio Momono’s moment, and having it ripped away in a bout that I thought was a lesser version of the one they had last year (something I still, on the whole, believe) was incredibly frustrating. Anyone paying attention to my opinions on wrestling knows how I feel about Mio, and my desire to see her revenge herself on Ozaki overcame all else. However, I’ve now watched it five or six times, and with each rewatch, I’ve got a touch more entangled in Ozaki’s web. I still want Momono to stamp on her head and take that title for herself, but now it’s part of the fun of the action rather than an opinion I’m so wedded to that it destroys my enjoyment.
Part of it is that Ozaki vs Mio makes perfect sense. Putting one of the great bastards up against the best babyface of her generation is an easy win, as Mio’s trainer knows only too well. Ozaki bloodied Momono up, dragging her around Korakuen Hall with that chain wrapped around her neck, while Mio milked it for everything it was worth. As she gasped for breath, besieged by the sound of Ozaki’s twisted fans baying for her blood, you believed in her struggle. That she was out there fighting for everything she cares about. There’s never a moment where Momono relaxes, as she entered the Oz ring well aware of what was coming and fully committed to meeting it head-on. Particularly that cunt POLICE, who received a well-deserved boot to the balls.
One advantage this match did hold over the last was that it wasn’t just Mio who came in prepared. Her Marvelous’ pals surrounded the ring, ready to even the odds when the inevitable occurred. Unlike Seiki-gun, they weren’t necessarily there to tip them in Mio’s favour (she’s a babyface to her core), but they were running interference, which made for some wonderful moments. Honestly, my favourite spot of the match might be when wee Ai Houzan climbed to that top rope, leaping off with a missile dropkick to send Ozaki bouncing backwards, cutting off her bullshit before it could get going. It was the smallest dog in the fight taking a chunk out of the biggest, and every time I watch it, I punch the air in joy as she takes flight.
Of course, it ultimately didn’t mean anything. Mio Momono learnt that fairy tales aren’t real, but Mayumi Ozaki and a chain most certainly are. However, that’s okay. Watching Momono this year, I’ve accepted she doesn’t need to win matches to show her brilliance. If anything, she’s at her best in moments like this, when her back is against the wall, and all she has to drag her forward is that unbreakable belief that if she gets up, she can do it. That heart is more important than any title, and while Ozaki might have won the battle, she could never break our Mio’s spirit.
Shino Suzuki vs Toga 6/5, Yes! Wonderland ’24 (6/5/24), TJPW
When people talk about there being more to wrestling than moves, they, more often than not, seem to be talking about WWE-style skits and promos. I have very little time for that shite. Not to sound too ‘old man shouts at cloud’, but I got into wrestling because I love, well, wrestling. It’s brilliant! You should try watching more than a GIF (that jab probably doesn’t work for anyone bothering to read this site). So, when I say that there is more to it than what happens in the ring, I’m talking about things that exist alongside the action. Take this match, for example. It became clear early in her career that Shino Suzuki was the runt of her rookie class. That sounds harsh, so I should make it clear she wasn’t awful, and with her innate likeability, she had a lot of upside, but there was a sense, both in and out of kayfabe, that wrestling was a struggle for her.
It was that struggle that hung over the opener of Yes! Wonderland. I’ve seen too many coupons crash at the first hurdle to be a betting man, but I would have felt comfortable putting most of what I own on Toga. Where Shino’s career has been about fighting for every inch, Toga has almost needed to be reined in. This stuff comes a bit too easily to her, and with TJPW’s tendency to build slowly, she’s felt on the verge of bursting ahead of their plans. If nothing else, she’s blessed with a natural cool that stands in contrast to Shino’s likeable graft. They’re opposites, two sides of the rookie coin, and a match like this felt designed to confirm that. In a company where the hierarchy is king, surely Suzuki would put up a plucky fight before being dispatched with ease.
Except, on this day, Shino found something. It’s not that she suddenly woke up and all her flaws had vanished overnight, but that she dug deep inside herself and discovered a resilience that wasn’t there before. She was extraordinary. Everything still felt like a battle as she let out screams of exertion with every move, but the difference was that she kept coming. Toga was caught off guard at the wee pup suddenly baring her teeth, refusing to stay down and clinging to that sleeper hold long after she should have been shaken off. When Toga connected with those big thumping forearms, Suzuki tumbled across the ring, crumpling to the mat, but even then, she pulled herself up. She kept the fight going and proved that while she might not be on Toga’s level, she’s got more heart than anyone.
It was rookie wrestling at its best. Simple, well-thought-out and bursting with emotion. Shino screamed her way through the roll-up that got the win, seemingly unable to believe that she was doing it, before bursting into tears before her music had even had time to hit. ‘It’s still real to me’ is a joke that has been run into the ground many times over, but, at that moment, for Suzuki (and surely for anyone watching), this shit was the realest thing in the world. That’s fucking wrestling, and having followed Shino since day one and seen her battle to get there, it was overwhelming. That’s why wrestling is about more than what happens in the ring, and TJPW does it better than nearly anyone.
Mei Suruga vs Uta Takami, Summer Sun Princess ’24 (20/7/24), TJPW
I will talk later about 2024 being the year Mei Suruga figured out how to be an Ace, but that’s not why I picked this match. It is closer to a classic Mei performance, where she wanders into another promotion’s midcard and threatens to steal the show out from underneath them. Tasked with putting squeaky wee Uta through her paces, Suruga found herself staring at what almost seemed to be a younger version of herself. People who hadn’t been paying attention and still thought of Mei as a sweet, babyface figure (was she ever really that?) might have been surprised at what came next, but those who have been following Suruga closely knew what she’d do. Bully her mercilessly.
What I love about this match is how petty it is. Mei draws on her years of lording it over everyone in Ichigaya and looks to put Uta in her place by undermining her at every turn. She even throws Takami’s dance into her entrance, establishing that sisterly energy before the bell has rung. By the time they were stamping on each other’s feet, you’d be forgiven for believing that TJPW had actually found Uta’s older sister. And it’s when Takami matches that pettiness that the real Mei starts to slip out, the one who will boot the ropes in frustration as she yells at the seconds at ringside. She thought she was in for a jolly afternoon of mocking a kid and slapping her about a bit, only to discover that Uta had more to her than she thought.
And for all Mei’s brilliance, this does turn into Uta’s match. It would have been so easy for her to be blown away, but she keeps pace with the Suruga charisma bomb, holding her ground and giving a little back. Takami had something from day one, but if you were to track her entire year, this match would serve as turning point. Put into the ring with a funny, petulant bully, Uta turned into a sponge, soaking it all up and retaining the bits that would work for her. Mei almost literally took on that sisterly role, helping to burnish her confidence and providing a few of the tricks she’ll need to stay ahead of the game.
Most of all, it makes me smile. I’ve had a rough last month of the year, and returning to this nonsense felt like a breath of fresh air. There are a lot of serious, worthy matches on this list that deserve their flowers, but something like this will always have a place in my heart. The light-hearted, bubbly fun that illuminates the middle of the card. It’s as important as any main event, and while it won’t get the same recognition, I like to hope I can go some way towards correcting that balance.
Bryan Danielson vs Swerve Strickland, All In (25/8/24), AEW
I guess it’s worth putting this in a bit of context. AEW isn’t for me. I don’t bother with the weekly TV and only tend to give PPV matches a watch if Eddie Kingston is involved or if something gets enough hype to tempt me out of my wrestling bubble. Truthfully, I’m not even much of a Bryan Danielson fan. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of him. He’s just never been my guy. No American indie wrestler has been. I missed that stage in my wrestling education. However, I enjoy going to shows with my friends, so I went to Wembley, got very drunk on overpriced beer, and by the time this match hit the ring, I was in a jolly state of mind. The perfect state of mind, some people might say.
To be clear, I have watched it back since and enjoyed it quite a bit, so this doesn’t wholly make this list because of beer and good company. However, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t somewhat the case. It’s one thing to cheer on a wrestler you like at home, but it’s very different in a stadium with thousands of other people. For all AEW’s faults, they (and Bryan Danielson) rode the emotion of this moment brilliantly, really selling the idea that this could be his last ride. From the second ‘The Final Countdown’ hit, there was a sense that we were witnessing history, and while that ultimately turned out to be the case for a different reason, I don’t think it was just the beer that had me convinced it could be the end.
The match itself is flawed but never fatally so. They stumbled into the melodramatic with the use of Danielson’s family at ringside, and I think a lot of people would have fucked it at that moment. However, whether he’s my guy or not, Bryan Danielson isn’t a lot of people. He’s a one-of-a-kind, and where others would have faltered, laying it on too thick or with too much cheese on the side, he nailed it – turning something that could have been off-putting into an emotional typhoon, rising up and taking everyone in that stadium with it. There were still some people chanting for Swerve, and I wish his dastardly heel act had been consistent throughout the whole match (that entrance was pure babyface), but the vast majority were on Danielson’s side, and it truly felt like we willed him to victory.
Would it be on the list if I’d watched it from home? I have no idea. Another big emotional AEW match just missed out, so possibly not. However, I didn’t watch it from home. I was in that stadium and was swept along in the waves, screaming for Danielson to get up and fight for just that little bit longer. It was a moment, alongside a few others on this list, that will stick with me for a long time, and regardless of the context, it’s hard to argue with that.
Emi Sakura vs Kaho Hiromi, (1/9, 8/9 & 15/9/24), ChocoPro #392, #394 & #395), ChocoPro
Any of Emi Sakura and Kaho Hiromi’s interactions are worthy of a spot on this list. They have beautiful chemistry, and in a first-year where Kaho has been ridiculously impressive (friend-of-the-site Seb captured why brilliantly in one of their end-of-year pieces), Sakura is the one that has consistently got the best out of the kid. However, I went for these three (and yes, I am aware it’s three matches) because they formed something of a mini-trilogy. Coming just after Emi Sakura lost her title to Mei Suruga, there was a sense that she was trying to get back into the groove by booking herself to bully a child. Thankfully, that’s not how things went down.
The story of this match is that no matter what Sakura tries, Kaho is unbullyable. You can give it a go, and she’ll put her hands on her hips and make a face as you do, but she is blessed with the unwavering confidence of a ten-year-old who is having the time of their life. It’s part of what makes her such a joy to watch. Here’s this tiny wee lass being thrown into a world that could overwhelm her, but she’s made it her home. That speaks a lot to her confidence and, presumably, her parents, but it’s also a sign of how right Darejyo gets this stuff. I will never run out of praise for Emi Sakura’s approach to training, and Kaho is the perfect example of why. We don’t know what’s happening behind the scenes, but she appears to be flourishing in this environment as she’s let loose to be as creative as possible while having fun with her newfound gang of big sisters. It’s heartwarming.
Plus, the wrestling is great. Sure, Kaho is still rightly limited in what she can do, but between her childish creativity and Sakura’s incredible brain, there is still a lot of gold to be unearthed. As I said, these matches are the story of Emi trying to bully the youngster, but the final cheery on top is that the tables almost flip. By the time Hiromi is tipping Sakura out of windows and enthusiastically introducing her dishevelled form to the audience as she pulls herself back to her feet, it’s not the wee one who is being picked on. The boss may have won all three of these, but the moral victory always goes to the ten-year-old, which is a testament to the kind of wrestler Emi Sakura is. In a world where too many people are scared of being made to look silly, she is more than happy to be embarrassed by a child a quarter of her size.
It’s impossible to predict what the future holds for Kaho. She might still be doing this in twenty years, or it might turn out to be a thing she did for a while as a kid. Whatever way she goes, you watch matches like these and hope they’re becoming special memories for her. A moment in time when she was taken under the wing of a legend and had a blast. They certainly made me smile, and wherever she ends up, that’s an achievement in its own right.
Kazunari Murakami & Takuya Nomura vs Fuminori Abe & Yuki Ishikawa, Fighting Detectives 2 ~ From Shinjuku with Love ~ (23/10/24), Fighting Detectives
Do you know what my actual biggest issue with a lot of modern wrestling is? It’s too neat. I don’t need this stuff to feel real – if I did, I’d watch MMA – but I like it to feel alive. My gripe with someone like Will Ospreay is that everything he does is perfect. It’s for people who have grown up watching Pep Guardiola rather than Aberdeen.
Thankfully, this match was chaos. The kind of chaos that sees two old men stumble to the outside and into the crowd as they wildly swing at each other. I must admit to having seen little to no Murakami beforehand, but when he swaggered to the ring looking like a mid-game Yakuza boss, I was already sold. That he followed it up by winding Ishikawa up at every opportunity only added to his sneering charm. He’s a prick of the highest order, goading you into punching him and then using it as an excuse to pummel you into the ground. It’s brilliant!
I suppose it’s important to mention that this was another match I saw live. In fact, as Murakami and Ishikawa brawl into the crowd, you can see me in my pink Mio Momono t-shirt, making myself scarce. I should also mention that I arrived in Japan at 7 am that morning, and by the time I got to this show, I hadn’t slept for over 40 hours and had wisely decided to have a few drinks. To say I was a bit out of it would be an understatement, but I still stand by the brilliance of this match. I get people who were disappointed it wasn’t a straight sequel to the Abe vs Nomura showdown from 2023, but we already had that, and they weren’t going to top it. Instead, they brought along their violent das, let them loose on each other, and clung on, trying to keep some degree of control.
And the Abe vs Nomura bits were still great. I don’t think there is a move I love in wrestling as much as Fuminori Abe dismissively punching someone in the head, and when those two lay into each other, you feel it. However, the stuff that excited me was every time those two old bastards started swinging at each other. It was the antithesis of wrestling perfection, as there was never any sense that they were working together or had any of it figured out. They were in a fight, battling to stay on top, and were willing to take a chunk out of the other in the process. That’s thrilling, no matter how much sleep you’ve had. However, if you want to try the Iversen method, I believe my drinks of choice were a Yuzu high ball and four beers, so feel free to avoid bed for a bit and give it a go.
BoboBobu Momo Banana (Mio Momono & Yurika Oka) vs Team 200kg (Chihiro Hashimoto & Yuu), Big Match in Nagoya (27/10/24), Marvelous
Having already reserved my ticket to this show, I was disappointed when this match was announced. Initially, Marvelous had booked Takumi Iroha vs Mio Momono for their biggest event of the year, but as the months passed, they quietly forgot about that announcement. I suspect that Meiko Satomura’s retirement pushed them in a different direction, but we’ll never really know. Whatever the case, Iroha was slotted into a match with the soon-to-be-gone legend, and they fell back on a tag showdown that had already borne fruit on multiple occasions across 2024. Don’t get me wrong, the chance to see BobuBobu Momo Banana vs Team 200kg live was never going to be a bad thing, but it felt less special than the first proper Momono vs Iroha match in years.
Thankfully, that feeling didn’t linger. When you strip everything else away, is this the best meeting between these teams? Perhaps not. If watched in a bubble, their first outing is probably my favourite, although they all have something to offer. However, this is the one I think about the most. I love to wang on about how I’m not bothered about big title matches and that I don’t need to see my favourites win, but when you put me in that room, watching Mio and Oka battle for the AAAW Tag belts, all that bullshit went out the window. I was clinging to every fall, desperately willing them on. There was a moment in this match where Yuu and Hash connected with simultaneous powerbombs, and my stomach dropped into my shoes. I was so sure we were done. More importantly, though, I remember the relief when the match continued, Mio desperately kicking out to keep the dream alive.
And in their final match, for now, they didn’t mess with the formula. Why would they? These two teams are made to wrestle each other, and there’s no need to break what is already perfect as the two speedy menaces try to find their way past the power-based technique of Yuu and Big Hash. However, there was one difference. Yurika Oka. When you break BobuBobu Momo Banana apart, searching for what that team is at its core, it’s about Mio unleashing the potential that has been in Oka for years. She’s encouraged her to tap into her weird side and, at the same time, nudged her forward in the ring. Yet, when push comes to shove, Oka has always been the one who falters. In the previous showdown between these teams, Mio even hesitated before tagging her in, a moment that was later justified when Yurika failed to leave the ring again, her swell of momentum eventually being snuffed out by 200kg.
That didn’t happen in Nagoya. Oka might not have got the final fall (she is a Sendai wrestler – those pushes are slow), but for the first time, she was not the weak link. In fact, in that final flurry, she was coming to Momono’s aid, breaking a pin to keep the fight going. Mio is the one who gets them over the line, bundling Yuu up after she took a second too long to pose before delivering a Last Ride Powerbomb, but Oka played a huge part in getting her to that moment and ensuring that, for the first time, they overcome the mountainous Team 200kg. It might not be her conclusion, but it was a huge moment in her journey.
The aftermath is almost as important to me as the match itself. The last time Marvelous were in this venue, Mio sat on the sidelines, injured, and you can tell that’s been eating away at her ever since. To return, earn a spot in the main event and win the titles with her weird wee pal clearly meant the world to her, and she spent most of it tightly grabbing the skin of her face, trying to stop the tears from coming. She wasn’t successful, and sitting in the third row, neither was I.
ChocoPro Halloween Mystery Rumble, ChocoPro #404 (30/10/24), ChocoPro
Of all the matches on this list, I perhaps have the least to say about this one, but that’s not because I don’t adore it. I have long loved a seasonal ChocoPro Rumble. Ever since the first Halloween one, in which Chie spent most of the match committing to being a shrimp, they have been something I look forward to with glee. So, when I realised I was going to get to see one in person, I was giddy with excitement. If you want proof, it’s there on the screen, as I’m sitting in the corner in my Marvelous hoodie looking as happy as I’ve ever seen myself.
Why do these occupy such a prominent space in my heart? I suppose it’s similar to what I was saying about The Great Asako. These might not have the emotional depth of the match that started this list, but everyone on the roster commits, and not always in the way you’d expect. I saw multiple Halloween shows on my trip and I don’t think anyone else followed Hiyori’s lead in dressing up like a school lunch lady. ChocoPro delivered Pokemon, magic spells and at least one murder, alongside all the usual nonsense you’d expect in that old dentist’s office in Ichigaya. It was silliness for the sake of silliness, and I firmly believe such things should be celebrated as much as the most serious blood feud. Especially when, as already noted, most people who do this stuff are fucking awful at it.
Thankfully, ChocoPro doesn’t have that issue. They’ve got a roster of funny, charming and inventive wrestlers who make these fresh, joyous matches look like the easiest thing in the world. In a year that saw them return to Korakuen, and do a great job with it, I’m so glad that they haven’t turned away from stuff like this to chase that bigger stage. For me, ChocoPro will always be at its best when it’s chaotic, intimate and joyous, which is this match at its very core.
Mei Suruga vs Tokiko Kirihara, ChocoPro #406 (4/11/26), ChocoPro
How many wrestling companies have 50-year-old women performing for them? That’s already a pretty small demographic that you can cut even further if you remove legendary figures who have been doing this for longer than some of their opponents have been alive. Once you’ve narrowed it down to companies that will train women in their forties, you’ll have to search pretty far to find the ones that will then have those wrestlers challenge for their highest title. Thankfully, ChocoPro exists, and for her 50th birthday, Tokiko Kirhara earned the opportunity to battle for the Super Asia belt.
And I think it’s important to say that this match would rule without that stuff. It’s window dressing, a touch of flare that makes it more remarkable, but it’s not needed to appreciate what you’re watching. The battle here is between Otoki’s more grounded kick and submission-based style and Mei’s streak of wrestling genius. While I’ll rave about Kirihara in a second, I think this match is equally important in showing Suruga’s route to acehood. The best Aces are not only the face of the promotion but also understand how to elevate those around them even as they stand tall. Between this match and her defence against Sayaka (which just missed out on making this list), Mei is figuring that second part out. She structured both matches to have her opponents shine, setting up a weapon she was forced to adapt to and overcome. Here, her cockiness tempted her into Otoki’s world as the pesky apple goblin dared to try and exchange kicks with someone much more adept at them than her.
Mei could only open that door, though, leaving it up to Otoki to walk through. Thankfully, she was brilliant. Not only did those leg kicks land crisp, but Kirihara came into this match with a focus that we’ve only seen from her on a handful of occasions. In recent times, she’s, very successfully, been embracing the nonsense, but this was the Kirihara who trained in MMA before coming into wrestling, and she was determined to make Mei pay for underestimating her. I’m hardly the best person to get into the grappling-based elements, but there was a real sense that she had the champ’s number on the mat and that if Mei wriggled in the wrong direction, she’d find herself trapped. There’s more than one kind of experience, and while Mei is a better wrestler than Kirihara, Otoki has twenty-five more years on this planet to pull from.
Ichigaya certainly believed in her. I was, once again, lucky enough to be in attendance for this match, and it was one of those beautiful moments where a whole room forgets the reality they know to be true. Walking to Chocolate Square that night, nearly everyone would have been confident that Kirihara wouldn’t win that belt. Mei’s the young Ace, chiselling out her throne, but with Otoki wrestling like a badass and Suruga on the back foot, that certainty started to waver. There was a palpable air of excitement as she pushed forward, catching Mei off guard and inching closer to the win. When the champ finally regained control and put things to bed, the air went out of the room, a sadness overcoming everyone as the dream popped.
However, much like the BobuBobu Momo Banana vs Team 200kg match, I think the aftermath is almost as important as the match here, and the warmth flooded back in as Otoki and Mei expressed their love for each other. Sure, the chances of Kirihara answering Mei’s challenge to wrestle her on her 50th birthday are kinda slim, as Otoki will be 75 by then, but having seen how far she’s come in the last few years, I wouldn’t dare to bet against her. And if any company is going to let her do it, it will be the one that lives up the alley in Ichigaya.
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