We’re back for Ramblings Abouts’ first matches of the month for 2025. I apologise for missing a few of these towards the end of last year, but I had some personal shit that took up a lot of my brain space, and I’m sure the two of you who read this didn’t even notice. However, I am back for 2025 and planning to watch far too much of this dumb stuff while also complaining that I didn’t get to see everything I wanted to. Multiple big hitters are missing from this list because I haven’t had a chance to watch them yet, but that doesn’t mean what I have seen loses any value. They’re all great matches, which I recommend going out of your way to see. And if you have any recommendations, stick them in the comments below!
Fuminori Abe vs Yuma Aoyagi, New Years War (3/1/25), AJPW
In a world where certain stems of wrestling are becoming ever more homogenised, Fuminori Abe is a blessing. He stubbornly sticks to his way of doing things, refusing to bend to the whims of popular opinion. It’s why I find people who praise his work with the caveat of wanting him to ditch the silliness so absurd. What makes Abe unique is that he will punch a fucker in the head in a way that makes a room crack up with laughter.
And this match had many great examples of that. I can’t pretend to have watched Yuma Aoyagi before, but he proved a perfect foil for Abe, following him into both the nonsense and the petty head-punching. However, it’s not only through humour that Abe picks a different route. In the early grappling, there was a head-scissors escape that seemed to be heading down the usual path, only for him to hack through the bushes and find his own way. Then, when he had one of his own locked on, he started punching at Aoyagi’s hand, forcing him to bite his way free. They’re tiny touches, but you can feel the fans going with them, enjoying having their expectations subverted and paying closer attention in the hope it happens again. There was also a running gag involving an Abe counter that I don’t want to spoil, but it was enough to get the match on this list by itself.
It all made for something that was a pleasure to watch. Cagematch tells me it was over 13 minutes long, but I would have bet on it being under 10 as it breezed along without ever dragging. I’m not an AJPW watcher by any stretch of the imagination, but if you told me they had something like this on every show, I’d be convinced to give them my time. Sadly, as there’s only one Abe, I doubt that’s the case, but I’ll always find a few minutes for him.
Yuki Arai vs Suzume, Tokyo Joshi Pro ’24 (4/1/25), TJPW
It’s not often that you have a match where two people come of age at once. In many ways, it’s the ideal, as both wrestlers come out looking better than they did going in, but it’s one thing to say it and a whole other to do it. Yet, as you’ve probably guessed, Arai and Suzume pulled it off here.
Arai is perhaps the real surprise. Having announced her graduation from SKE48 to focus purely on wrestling, she’s entering a fascinating part of her career. It’s easy(ish) being the popular idol who turns out for big shows as the star attraction. Now, she has to figure out how to stay relevant week after week. Thankfully, she already seems to have grasped step one. Get mean. This was an Arai we hadn’t seen before, as her big matches have almost always been characterised by her battling from underneath against more experienced wrestlers. Against Suzume, she was the one who took control, repeatedly booting the bee in the face. She was forceful and aggressive, laying in those kicks as she displayed an edge I didn’t think she had. It was, if nothing else, a fantastic sign for her future, as she proved she has depths that we’re yet to explore.
Suzume, meanwhile, won this match by doing what she’s always done well, but that didn’t make it any less satisfying. The bee’s strengths have always shone when she’s on the back foot, fighting back against a Rika Tatsumi or Ryo Mizunami. I’ve talked about it before, but she’s a fantastic counter-wrestler, able to slip in the perfect response at the perfect moment to turn a match on its head. That was never more evident than in the finish, where she countered Arai’s counter of the Ring-a-Bell with perhaps the best springboard cutter ever. She made a move that so often feels contrived look like the best option, which is a hell of an accomplishment.
I was split between this match and the main event for this list, and either one could have made the cut, but this one won based purely on expectations. Mizuki vs Miu was brilliant, but I knew it would be brilliant. I came into Suzume vs Arai unsure of how it would work. History suggested both wrestlers benefited from wrestling from underneath, and I couldn’t imagine either naturally adapting to control the match. However, they pulled it off, surprising me in the process. If they can build on this in 2025, they might be about to have two fascinating years, and I can’t wait to watch them.
Senka Akatsuki vs Ai Houzan, Marvelous (4/1/25), Marvelous
You might have already read about my dislike of the second match between these two elsewhere on the site. However, that had little to nothing to do with the wrestling and everything to do with the shoot elements. In reality, I think they have something exciting, as displayed in this first encounter. That dynamic between the new golden girl and the wrestler she’s looking to displace has enough spice to it without the introduction of shoot falls that make me sad.
A lot of that edge comes from Ai. She brought a spikiness to the ring that I don’t think we’ve seen from her before. Right from the start, when she shrugged off Senka’s cheap shot, she was brimming with snide little kicks, stomps and slaps. It felt like she was aiming to put this rookie in her place, booting her head in the corner as she tried to get across the idea that Akatsuki is below her. The problem? Senka wasn’t playing along. She was never in control, but she was more in the battle than Ai wanted her to be, even feeling confident enough to stand up after a successful takedown, challenging Houzan to get up and fight rather than pushing through on her advantage. She was cocky in a way that Ai appeared to find infuriating.
It’s that feeling which makes this exciting. The sense that Ai wants to be the veteran but can’t quite grasp hold of it. She’s lacking the power and the confidence to see it through. In contrast, Senka has bundles of both but isn’t as good a wrestler. She’s closer than you might think, but she’s not accomplished enough to make the most of what she’s got. It all levels it out into a battle where neither can quite get over the line, setting up the match that, as previously mentioned, made me sad. However, as setups go, this was a great one, and I suspect that in the long term, Ai and Senka will have more matches I love than ones I hate.
Neon vs El Barbero Cavernario, Sabados De Coliseo (4/1/25), CMLL
This was the story of two dives. They weren’t the only time someone took flight, but they summed up the flow of the action. The first occurred in the opening seconds after Cavernario jumped Neon to take control, unleashing a flurry of offence that won him the initial fall. Among that was a dive to the floor that I think can accurately be described as the caveman hoying himself over the ropes. Despite being a squat and powerful figure, Barbaro can move, but this wasn’t going for style or elegance. It was an attempt to wipe his opponent out, crashing into him and incapacitating him for long enough to take advantage. It summed up Cavernario’s approach, as he looked to prevent Neon from getting into the groove and cut off his smooth, exciting offence before it could do any damage.
The second came when Neon finally managed to escape Cavenario, slipping away in the corner and setting up for a spectacular moonsault to the floor. Where Bárbaro’s dive was like having a boulder launched at your head, Neon’s was a thing of beauty, as he bounced from rope to rope before twisting through the air. It was elegant and graceful, and much like that first attack, set him up to take the fall, evening things up in the action. It allowed him to start chaining offence together, escaping the rough beatdown he’d been on the end of and getting the crowd behind him as he came to life. It was the turning point in this whole match, and while there was a way to go until the finish, you could argue it was when he set his feet on the path to victory.
It was wrestling 101. Cavernario, working rudo, wasn’t interested in looking pretty. He was there to beat Neon down, cut off his spectacular acrobatics and get this over and done with before he could do any damage. In contrast, working from underneath, Neon fed off the Arena Mexico crowd, building to those dazzling displays and using them to push himself over the line. However, just because something is simple doesn’t mean it won’t work. In fact, you could argue the opposite. Backed up by that famous crowd, these basics dynamics came to life, and while I am far from a lucha expert, you can drop into a match like this and understand it without a crumb of context. This stuff worked 50 years ago, it works today, and I wouldn’t bet against it working 50 years from now.
Momoka Hanazono vs Tomoka Inaba, The Wizard of Oz (5/1/25), Oz Academy
The idea of someone playing mind games is often a tedious one. It’s a buzzword thrown out there with no real substance behind it. When they used to talk about the Undertaker getting into the head of his opponents, what did it mean? How did it change the way that they wrestled? I’d argue, more often than not, the answer is that it didn’t. It was just something to say, another meaningless phrase designed to help commentators avoid the terror of a second of silence in which you might be forced to think for yourself.
However, even the most cliched utterance can be brought back to life in the right hands, and it’s probably no surprise that Momoka Hanazono was the person to do it. Up against serious karate girl Tomoka Inaba, Momoka got into her head to the point where calling it mind games might be underplaying it. This was psychological warfare. She dragged Inaba down into the nonsense muck, breaking her brain in the process. The worst part? I’m not even sure she was trying to. At this point, it’s just what Hanazono does.
Key to all of this was Momoka drawing Inaba into going for the same move again and again, setting herself up for a running kick to the chest, only to fall backwards and roll Tomoka up when she went for it. It wasn’t anything complicated (it’s probably the go-to counter for that move), but Hanazono got Inaba so muddled up that she kept doing it, falling into the trap time after time. In a match where a two-count was enough to win, it was a tactical nightmare for Inaba, but every time she attempted to break free of the loop, Hanazono tempted her back in, forcing her to return to the well. Even when she abandoned her stoic, karate-girl persona, bursting into tears in an attempt to play Momoka at her own games, the goblin was having none of it, promptly punching her in the face rather than following the audience’s chants to apologise. Tomoka was so far out of her depth that the shore was out of sight, and she was left floundering, barely keeping her head above the water before the inevitable occurred.
It’s all part of what makes Momoka special. Like a Mei Suruga or Mio Momono, she wrestles with a smile on her face and a glint of goblin in her eye. However, with Hanazono, that glint occasionally becomes an evil glean. She has no qualms about smashing a plastic wand over your head or driving you insane. It turns sub-five-minute matches like this into must-sees, and while I have sympathy for her victims, I hope she never stops.
Bobubobu Momo Banana (Mio Momono & Yurika Oka) vs Reiwa Ultima Powers (DASH Chisako & Hiroyo Matsumoto), Sendai Girls (5/1/24), Sendai Girls
There’s a moment in this match where DASH slaps a chin lock on Mio and holds her in place. For the next couple of minutes, the action boils down to Momono scrabbling around, doing everything she can to slip out of the grasp of her veteran opponent. It’s the kind of wrestling that some would dismiss as a rest hold because that phrase is horribly misused by almost everyone who says it. (It’s right up there alongside botch in the list of my least favourite words to read in a wrestling critique.) DASH isn’t holding Mio there because she’s tired. She’s holding her there because she’s a wee pest who needs to be ground into the mat. In fact, that’s the arc of this whole match. Chisako and Matsumoto aimed to control the ring, preventing Bobubobu Momo Banana from uncorking their frantic and pacey offence.
DASH, in particular, was brilliant in that role. There was a crispness and meanness to everything she did – all backed up by a veteran’s instinct of how to control the ring. Even something as simple as knocking someone off the apron (an action that is usually given no thought and looks like shit) felt like a key part of her plan. I love it when you can break apart a wrestler’s tactics, treating it like any other sport. Here, DASH approached this like someone who knows they have the power advantage but was also aware that giving Mio and Oka an inch was a recipe for disaster. You have to stay on top of them because the second they get loose and start scampering around, you’ll quickly lose sight of what’s going on.
The problem for DASH and Hiroyo is that Mio is still Mio. Yes, she’s a wee pest, but while Oka is still fully reliant on that, Momono is comfortable in the trenches, grinding her way to victory. The longer the match went, the more that side of Mio began to emerge, and she found herself trading blows and standing up to her bigger and stronger opponents. She might never be able to put them down for good, but with the help of an Oka assist, she could hold her own long enough to scamper away with the belts. However, Reiwa Ultima Powers can take solace from the fact this is the rare Bobubobu Momo Banana match where I came out the other side wanting to talk about their opponents. I’m sure that will be of great comfort to them.
Sumie Sakai, EVIL & SHO vs Hiromu Takahashi, Mayu Iwatani & Yuka Sakazaki, Battle in the Valley (11/1/25), NJPW
I can’t imagine I was the only person who was a touch disappointed when this match came together. I have no emotional connection to Sumie Sakai, as her heyday in Japan came before my time, so I was hoping to get a bit of an all-star tag match out of her retirement. When it became clear Mayu and Yuka would be involved, I was already fantasy booking them sharing the ring with Emi Sakura or even facing off against each other. Instead, we got SHO and EVIL. I’ve no idea what they’re doing in New Japan these days, but, well, it wasn’t the most exciting news.
It turns out, not for the first time, that I was wrong to feel that way. I’m sure watching that all-star tag would have been great, but like so many of them, I suspect it would have been a fleeting kind of greatness. Instead, we got a riot of a match that was not only a lot of fun but also ended with a big, touching moment, seeing Sakai out the door wrapped in a crescendo of emotion. The introduction of two dastardly heels determined to ruin the whole thing ended up being the perfect choice, as it got the crowd all riled up and gave Sumie the chance to go out on her shield, battling on alone when they’d finally been dealt with. The emotional climax of this match, where she refused to go down without a fight, was a perfect way to end a career, as she kept going long after her body had told her enough was enough.
And it’s funny how that can make you care. How the introduction of two bastards, an engaged crowd, and the respect of her opponents had me crying over someone that I have little to no bond with. In recent years, Sakai’s work seems to have mainly happened behind the scenes. She’s the friendly face waiting for Japanese wrestlers travelling to America, and while that’s not important to us, it’s important to them. The range of people who love and respect her is vast, as you can tell by the participants in this match, and that’s something to be proud of. She’s achieved a hell of a lot, and on her final night, she said goodbye in style.
Emi Sakura vs Kaho Hiromi, Nagisa, Kaori & Sara, Darejyo Extra 15! (11/1/25), Darejyo
The first Darejyo Extra of the year produced what might be the ultimate Darjeyo match. Emi Sakura vs Kaho, Nagisa, Kaori and Sara, a team that, if I’m estimating their ages correctly, probably have a combined age younger than their legendary opponent. Yes, this was Sakura vs Kaho and her chibi army, and it was glorious.
When you consider Emi Sakura’s history as a trainer, it’s easy to fall into the trap of focusing on her success rate. We point at Riho, Tsukasa Fujimoto, Mei Suruga and more to prove that what she does works (I’m guilty of this myself). However, that approach seems to misunderstand why Sakura does this. It’s called Darejyo for a reason. Her philosophy is that anyone can turn up, do a bit of wrestling and get to see what it’s like to be on that mat. I’m sure she never stops looking for people with the potential to be great wrestlers, but that’s almost a lucky side effect. Darejyo is as much about people getting a chance to keep fit and have fun as it is about finding the next Hikaru Shida.
And when you consider that, I think this match represents it better than nearly anything. The four wee ones run rings around Sakura, hanging off her leg, coming together to help Kaho execute a Propeller Clutch and somehow turning a game of ring-around-the-roses into an offensive move. Emi, meanwhile, leans into being the perfect pantomime villain, stooging it up as she revels in her role of trying to ruin these kids’ day. In a world where so many wrestlers are obsessed with being cool, she’s not only happy to be the worst but to have it end in her being embarrassed for her actions, as they all bundle her up for the three.
Most of all, this is great because those kids are having fun. It doesn’t matter if they ever become wrestlers because this is about so much more than that. They’re getting to mess around with friends while hanging out with their cool older sisters, who are the perfect gang to bolster their confidence and teach them to be themselves. Even when they’re a bit shy and unsure in front of a crowd, you can already see them growing up in front of you, the building blocks of their personalities being put into place.
So yes, Darejyo is a success because it produces some of the best wrestlers in the world. You will never hear me disagree with that. However, it’s also a success because it does stuff like this. It gives these young lasses the chance to do something that not many people can claim to have done and have a blast while they do so. It continues to be a very special place, and we’re lucky to have it.
YuuRI vs Miku Kanae, New Ice Ribbon #1393 (11/1/25), Ice Ribbon
The belief that opportunity can be mined from a disaster is usually one held by cunts justifying their bastardy while others suffer. However, there are situations where it can be a good thing. Take YuuRI, for example. Four years into her career, there are many timelines where she’d still be toiling away in the midcard of a company like Ice Ribbon, grasping at opportunities to show what she can do. Luckily for her, Ice, in recent times, has been somewhat, well, let’s go for chaotic. Amongst that chaos, they’ve turned to her as a reliable face. A regular freelancer who they’ve pushed up the card and given a chance to show what she can do on top. Would she have gotten there anyway? We’ll never know, but she’s undeniably benefitted from the steady stream of people heading for the door.
It’s a situation that has led to her picking up a host of kayfabe accolades. YuuRI is now a two-time ICExInfinity champion alongside a one-time International Ribbon Tag champ. Those are all very nice, but more importantly, it’s allowed her to adapt to a different way of wrestling. You can go back and find reviews on this site where I praise a younger YuuRI’s talent as an underdog, as she had a knack for drawing sympathy in defeat. While you can draw on elements of that when you’re on top (being sympathetic will never be a bad thing), it’s often underplayed how much you’re required to change the way you wrestle. Yet, when you watch YuuRI against Miku Kanae, you can see how far she’s come. She’s now expected to control this match, limiting the rookie to impassioned bursts of offence before picking the right moment to cut her off. It’s her responsibility to do the things that people used to do to her, and she’s good at it!
Every wrestler will have those transitions throughout their career, and often, where they sink or swim is when they move from one to the other. Not everyone is suited to being a champion, and some people are destined to never leave the open match, battling for scraps for the rest of their careers. There is nothing wrong with that, some of my favourite wrestlers can be described as such, but where you end up will depend on how you cope with that change. At this point, YuuRI has shown the ability to adapt and evolve, slotting into the position she’s found herself in. If she can keep that up, there is every chance she’ll go even further, chaos or not.
Ayame Sora vs Riko Kawahata, Marvelous (12/1/25), Marvelous
Have Marvelous been letting Pom Harajuku moonlight at the dojo? Ayame Sora entered this match with a new tactic. She locked up with Kawahata, kicked her in the shin, backed her up into the ropes and then kicked her in the shin again. It was, and I’m being very serious here, basically perfect wrestling.
It’s early days in the careers of Marvelous’s new rookies, but it’s not a hot take to say that Senka is the golden girl. She’s confident and brash, and she’s been hogging the limelight out of the gate. In contrast, Sora is quieter, still seems a touch anxious in the ring and is slowly easing herself into life as a wrestler. She’s good (she’s made it through the Marvelous Dojo, so that’s a given), but if this was a coming-of-age film, she’d be the quiet friend who follows behind in Senka’s footsteps, oft-overlooked in favour of her more outgoing companion.
And yet, as this match showed, there’s something there. Sora still doesn’t look like she’s entirely comfortable, but her instincts hint at someone with a brain for this. After those initial shin kicks, she grabbed Kawahata in a headlock and clung to it, making the more experienced wrestler work for her escape. Most rookies go through the motions while grappling, professionally performing the drills they did in training, but Sora was working to make it mean something. She wanted Kawahata to have to struggle to get out of there. On top of that, the shin booting became a funny recurring bit, Riko getting drawn into exchanging them the way people would typically would leg kicks, the fans booing her whenever she gave the rookie a taste of her own medicine. I wouldn’t go as far as to claim Sora was milking it Mio Momono style, but she was getting those laughs, leaning into the fun and playing off the crowd.
Towards the end, we even got a touch of that rookie fire – as she swapped from the shin to the face, repeatedly slapping Kawahata. It perhaps didn’t sit as naturally on her as the earlier stuff, but it’s proof that it’s there, ready to be honed. There’s no denying that Senka is the one who feels set to make an impact, and there’s a reason they’ve thrown her and Ai together, but Sora has the feel of a project. A project that, if everything is done right and she gets a touch of luck, could pay off in something compelling. She’s likeable and easy to root for, already displaying a touch of that Shino Suzuki-style babyface energy, but there’s also something else there, a spark that hints at more. Fingers crossed, it’s one we’ll all see catch fire and come to life.
Ibuki Hoshi vs Kirari Wakana, New Ice Ribbon #1395 (18/1/25), Ice Ribbon
They’re different matches, but I got a lot of the same pleasure out of this as I did from watching Max the Impaler yeet Uta Takami across a ring. I fell off on Ice Ribbon last year, which meant I missed Kirari Wakana’s debut, but I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen since tuning back in at the start of the year. Like Uta, she’s a wee thing, but she’s bursting with enthusiasm, and watching her throw herself at a bigger and tougher wrestler is a joy. This match was all about her pinballing around Ibuki, at times managing to fire off a few dropkicks or grab a roll-up, but mainly eating shit when the former champ corralled her into position.
And credit to Ibuki, who, let’s not forget, gave birth not too long ago but looked great out there. If nothing else, I assume she’s exhausted, what with someone even smaller than Wakana to look after at home, but that didn’t stop her from laying in those chops. The poor rookie tried to match her, throwing desperate forearms in response, but she isn’t Tsukushi yet. They mainly bounced off ineffectually, giving Ibuki time to wind up and send her crumpling to the mat. Much like YuuRI (see above), Hoshi controlled this match, giving Kirari the perfect amount of rope (and even teasing that she might survive until the time limit) before definitively putting her away.
Like Uta vs Max, it makes for one of those simple but effective matches that I find impossible not to enjoy. A buzzy wee rookie going up against a challenge she has no chance of overcoming but is going to have a damn good go at anyway. It does what you’d expect it to do, but in a way that is satisfying and fun, as it lets you trick yourself into the idea that maybe Wakana could pull it off. Of course, the second you pull away, you realise it won’t happen, but who cares? The fun is in going with it, and if two wrestlers can make that easy to do, then it counts as a win for me.
Honori Hana vs Misa Kagura, Shinkiba Series 2025 Vol. 1 (17/1/25), SEAdLINNNG
Not to retread ground I’ve covered multiple times before, but the easiest way to convince me to care about a match is to have the wrestlers act like they do. Sure, there are exceptions (I was a big Naito fan back in the day), but on the whole, my favourites are those who are bursting with heart while remaining cynicism-free. It’s why, so often, my favourite matches are between rookies desperate to prove to the world that they have what it takes. Being shoved in the opener isn’t an insult to them or a chance to take it easy. It’s the most exciting moment of their career, and they’ll do everything they can to stand out.
Neither Honori nor Misa are rookies any more (although Hana has only recently returned from a three-year ‘retirement’), but they wrestled this match like it was the most important one on the card. On a show headlined by Sareee and Veny doing Sareee and Veny things, the grit and determination in this showdown still drew my eye. For sixteen minutes, they threw everything at each other, devolving into a slugfest where neither seemed willing to budge. By the end, they were exhausted, their limbs growing heavy and their wrestling increasingly sloppy as the tiredness took over, but that only added to the feeling. As their strikes grew weaker and their ability to think outside the box vanished, they were forced to go route one and duke it out until one stayed down for the three.
Don’t get me wrong, Sareee vs Veny was great, but it was great in the way I expected it to be. Even when I’m delightedly flinching at headbutts and viciously angled suplexes, I’m not surprised by it. That’s what I’ve come to expect from them both. What made this match stand out was that it wasn’t what I expected. Handed the opening spot and fifteen minutes to play with, Hana and Kagura went to war, grinding each other down until a winner could be found. It was gruelling and hard-hitting, with the undeniable taste of two people desperate to win. Perhaps it’s unfair to expect brilliant wrestlers to rewrite the rulebook, but I can still delight in unexpected ones stealing the show.
HIMAWARI & Shino Suzuki vs Toga & Haru Kazashiro, Max Heart Tournament (19/1/25), TJPW
On its own merits, this was a great match. It was a mid-tournament showdown between two good teams where the result was in question. Together, they delivered the kind of easy, enjoyable wrestling that I can watch all day. However, I’m about to go one of those wrestling not happening in a bubble tangents. What makes this even better is watching these four youngsters, who debuted around the same time, going out there and feeling like they belonged in the upper echelons of the TJPW hierarchy. Tokyo Joshi doesn’t speedrun pushes. They will put those bricks into place slowly and carefully, giving people years to develop, but around two years in, these four already feel like they can’t be held back.
And I’m going over old ground here, but so much of what I love about wrestling comes from watching that journey. It’s about appreciating someone putting all the pieces together while they figure out who they are in the ring. That can be a rookie making their first tentative steps or a veteran gearing up for one last run, but the important thing is seeing someone change and grow – watching them go from point A to point B and adapting to the changes that come through that. These four, right now, are perhaps my favourite examples of that in the world. We saw Haru come in as a quiet, shy teenager who looked unsure in the ring and yet has blossomed into the wee arse kicker she is today. It’s amazing!
Of course, watching that journey also means there is no such thing as subjectivity when it comes to me and these wrestlers. I’m attached to them. I cried when Shino got her first win, and there is a good chance that (hopefully in the far, distant future) I’ll cry when she gets her last. That’s the point, though. We’re living in cynical times when you’re yelled at for caring about anything, and the world often punishes you for doing so, but what’s the point otherwise? I can’t imagine a worse fate than one that sees me having to stop giving a damn about all this shit. Shino, Haru, Toga and HIMAWARI have got me hooked, and I’m committed to their careers no matter what happens next (assuming it doesn’t turn out one of them has been murdering folk in their spare time). I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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