I thought I hadn’t watched that much wrestling this month, but the length of this list would suggest otherwise. Maybe I was only tuning into the good stuff? It also nips to a few of my less-visited locales, as we stop off in America, Mexico and Germany alongside all the usual Japanese nonsense. Does that sound like a good time? I certainly hope so.
Miyu Yamashita vs Haru Kazashiro, Go Girl 5 (1/3/25), TJPW
Miyu Yamashita doesn’t loom over TJPW like she once did. With her attention increasingly elsewhere, it’s sometimes easy to forget that she’s still on the roster. That’s doubly impressive when you remember that she started this month as half of the tag champions, but you can’t miss opportunities to work awful American indie promotions. (I don’t know if they’re bad. Life is too short to watch them.) However, she’s still the Ace. An often absent Ace perhaps, but an Ace all the same, and years of domination don’t vanish overnight. If you want to be a name in Tokyo Joshi, you need to prove you can hang with Miyu, and that will be the case until she walks out the door for good.
Haru is not yet in a position where she is looking to beat Yamashita. Those days might come, but they’re years in the future. Right now, it’s about how she holds herself when stood across the ring from her. Does she freeze up? Or does she stand her ground? Thankfully, it was the latter. Early in this match, Miyu sent her to the floor with a stiff forearm before booting her in the back. If there was a moment when Haru would panic, losing her place from being kicked harder than she had before, that was it. Instead, she battled back to her feet, throwing forearms that weren’t perfect but at least had a bit of impact. She’d passed the test.
Perhaps even more impressive were Haru’s hope spots. She was scrappy, battling to get into that Baba-style armbar. When she scrambled out of a Yamashita AA attempt, there was a touch of awkwardness to it, as it didn’t quite come together as planned, but that almost added to the moment. Haru felt like she was wriggling free, fighting to stay alive. It all earned her the right to get her head kicked off, as Miyu pulled her back to her feet when she finally hit said AA to complete the job with the Skull Kick. That might not seem like much, but as Miu showed against Uta recently, TJPW often has the rookies fall to something other than a finish. Haru convincing Miyu to pull the big guns is a victory of sorts.
For all I took a dig at Miyu above (and will do so again below), the aftermath was an example of why she’s the Ace of this company. Waving off Aino (who was checking on Haru) and the ref, she held her hand out, demanding Kazashiro pull herself to her feet to shake it. When she did, Haru got her props from the all-women audience and proved that, no matter how hard she was kicked, she could still stand. In many ways, it might be more memorable than the match itself, and that’s what you want from your Ace. Who knows if Haru will ever get a chance to best Yamashita, but she proved she belongs in the ring with her, and for a 17-year-old lass who dreamt of all of this, that’s got to feel amazing.
Pom Harajuku vs Uta Takami, The Night Before Grand Princess (1/3/25), TJPW
If Haru surviving Miyu was a milestone in her career, then I feel equally inclined to point to Uta matching Pom Harajuku’s energy as one for her. The last time these two faced off, the young Takami was driven to distraction by Pom repeatedly talking into her hand like it was a phone. As I noted in my February Matches of the Month, it all had strong sibling vibes. Big sis Pom (despite being 3) bullied her wee sis with a slice of nonsense that was infuriating not because of what she was doing but because it was her doing it. This time, however, Uta came prepared.
It might not get the credit that taking a Miyu kick without flinching does, but it’s hard to get on Pom’s level. She’s funny, charismatic and frantic, bringing an unhinged energy that few can replicate. Uta would not have been the first to be dragged along in her wake, clinging on and letting the comedy happen around her. She didn’t, though. In fact, with her facial expressions, selling and own buzzy energy, Uta was just as important for getting laughs as Pom was. This time, the more experienced master of nonsense was the one who ended up getting irrationally angry, driven up the wall by Uta getting one over her.
Comedy wrestling is fiendishly difficult. There is a lot more shit stuff than good, and I’m sure Pom and Uta’s messing around won’t appeal to everyone, but this was proof that Takami has a knack for it. While she’s not as defined as the chaos of Pom or the awkward ineptness of Mahiro, she’s willing to lean into her caricature, playing up to being everyone’s little sister. At the moment, it’s a reactive role rather than one you can ever imagine leading a match like Pom did here, but that’s okay. If Uta decides the nonsense is where she belongs, she’ll figure out how to push it beyond what it is now. If she doesn’t, well, it’s another string to her bow, something she can fall back on whenever she drops by to hang out with the nonsense squad. Either choice is fine by me. As long as I can watch more funny Uta, I’ll be happy.
Baliyan Akki vs Hiyori Yawata, ChocoPro #432 (3/3/25), ChocoPro
Hiyori Yawata ticks all the boxes for what I want from a rookie. She’s a solid wee talent already, showing some potential in that department, but that’s not what I mean. What’s important is that her confidence far outstrips that ability. Like Lulu Pencil, Yuki Mashiro or Asako Mia before her, Hiyori is incredibly secure in her ability, to the point where the fact she keeps losing appears to almost be irrelevant. Plus, in a tactic taken straight from the Asako Army playbook, she recently declared all teams she’s a part of are Team Hiyori, regardless of who else is on them. Even more impressively, she manages to do things like that while remaining incredibly likeable.
And I don’t want to do Akki a disservice, especially as I think he’s having a good year, but this match wasn’t about him. His job was to be bigger and stronger than the eccentric rookie he was across the ring from and roll his eyes at the right moment. He did great with it, though. A huge part of why Akki has been such a boon to ChocoPro is his willingness to step back and highlight the weirdos (affectionate) he’s surrounded by. It would be easy for him to walk through a Hiyori, not giving her what she needs to shine, but he’d never do that. He’s happy to play to the silliness and even have her bend his back over the window with a Camel Clutch, which can’t have been comfortable.
It was all about Yawata, though. I loved everything from her excitement in the pre-match to her escaping an attempted Boston Crab by pulling off her sweatbands and throwing them at Akki. She’s not received the full-nonsense treatment yet, as she’s still wrestling fairly straightforward matches, but she’s so good at sprinkling in the fun. Her long wind-up to hit a kick to the chest always makes me laugh, and she even tried to get Choun Shiryu (who was the ref) involved, calling him over to help her execute a drop-toe hold (he refused, the bastard). Choco is surprisingly short of pure nonsense wrestlers at the moment (although they’re all capable of it to a certain degree), but I can’t wait until they book her vs Honda.
I firmly believe that every rookie generation needs one joker in the pack. From Sakura Hirota to the aforementioned masters, it’s important to have someone who can cut through all the self-seriousness and make people laugh. Choco as a company are good at that already, but they’ve always had wrestlers (and this extends back through Emi Sakura’s career) who are there to provide something a little different. Hiyori is joining a fine tradition, and if she reaches the height of some of her predecessors, well, she could end up being one of my favourites of all time. At the moment, though, I’ll be happy with her just making me laugh.
Astronauts (Fuminori Abe & Takuya Nomura) vs 1 Called Manders & Thomas Shire, Inner Circle 17 (6/3/25), wXw
If Americans are going to insist on wrestling, and that certainly seems to be the case, they could at least have the decency to all be a bit more like 1 Called Manders and Thomas Shire. Big lads who wear cowboy hats, can throw a lariat and look like they could handle a beer or two. I once travelled around America for a couple of months, during which time I got it into my head that I should wear a cowboy hat, and I looked like a fucking idiot. Why? Because I’m a fat Scottish lad who shouldn’t be such stupid things. People like Manders and Shire, though? It just feels right.
This tag was almost the platonic ideal of the piss-about. It was the show before the show in a small venue, and no one was going to kill themselves for it, but they’re four talented wrestlers (if I’m honest, this is all I’ve seen of Shire, but he’s a big cowboy lad, so he must be good), and they know what everyone wants from them. So after some messing around to kick things off, including a fun riff around people tagging out to the wrong partner, they got down to it. Hitting each other.
It’s one of those matches that revels in its simplicity. These lads don’t do anything fancy, but they don’t need to. In the tiny wXw Wrestling Academy, those strikes and submissions are stiff and tight, ringing out across the room and making it clear that no one is pulling their punches. Everyone’s chest got lit up, and while this only went about 10 minutes, it felt like a slog in the best possible way. What started as a fun, friendly battle turned into a fight, and that’s what you want from these lads. It was great, straightforward wrestling that I can’t imagine not enjoying.
Rina Yamashita & Kaho Hiromi vs Sayaka & Choun Shiryu, ChocoPro #433 (8/3/25), ChocoPro
Rina Yamashita has many talents. Whether you’re asking her to bleed buckets in deathmatches, be the anchor of an undercard tag or challenge for your big belt, the odds are Rina can do it. However, perhaps her most impressive skill is her ability to play the ‘big pal’. I define the ‘big pal’ as a wrestler, preferably of some experience/strength, who takes a smaller, weirder talent under their wing and indulges them in their eccentricities while providing a bit of muscle. It’s distinct from the more traditional bodyguard role as it requires less mean mugging but a stronger tolerance for nonsense. Yamashita previously found herself occupying it, with great success, alongside Yuki Mashiro in Ice Ribbon. Now, she’s doing something similar with Kaho Hiromi in ChocoPro.
Of course, if nothing else, this works purely from an aesthetic point of view. The sight of a scarred badass standing behind wee Kaho is already a winner. That’s not all Rina brings, though. What I love about Yamashita in this role is that you get the impression that she can’t help herself. Yes, she’s technically the adult in the room, but Kaho rubs off on her. Even before the match had started, Rina was childishly booing Choun and Sayaka’s promos, and when it did get going, it wasn’t long before she and Kaho were capering about the place, poking Choun’s cheeks after dancing around him. She’s enjoying herself too much to stop.
More importantly, Kaho was enjoying herself, too. I’ve written a lot about her since her debut, and I already think she’s an incredibly talented wrestler, but you can boil so much of what makes her exciting down to that. Watching this kid have the time of their life is fun. She’s hanging out with her heroes, teaming with badasses and doing stuff that people three times her age are too scared to try. It’s amazing. Rina is a great big pal for a whole bunch of reasons, but the main one is that she’s out there to facilitate that. Just as she once encouraged Yuki Mashiro’s weirdness, now she’s ensuring that Kaho is having the best time. That’s an important role to hold, and I think it says a lot about her as a wrestler and a person that she’s so damn good at it.
Demus vs El Hijo de Fishman, Royal Club (9/3/25), Zona 23
I don’t think I’ve ever touched on Zona 23 before. So, before we get into it, it’s worth mentioning that I put the Zona 23 Scrapyard right up there with Ichigaya Chocolate Square as one of the great alternative wrestling venues. They couldn’t be further apart in approach, but both work perfectly for the promotion that calls them home. In the scrapyard’s case, it brings a whole new element to one of my favourite genres of wrestling, the grimy lucha bloodbath.
Another master of that particular art is Demus, who is a violent wee bugger. I don’t watch as much of his wrestling as I might like, but whenever one of his matches stumbles bloodily into my path, it feels like a proper treat. Like Mad Dog Connelly (who I talk about a bit further down), there is an uncontrolled element to him that always leaves the action on the verge of bubbling over. If you need proof, watch their match together, in which they wiped out rows of fans in their quest to rip each other apart. Add that to the already wild environment of the scrapyard and throw in an imposing monster like Hijo de Fishman, and it’s hard to imagine this missing.
It did, however, make it a different style of match to those I’ve seen from Demus before. Usually, he’s the aggressor or at least on an equal footing with his opponent. Here, he slipped into a more traditional babyface role, shrinking under the strength of Fishman before firing up as he ripped open the bastard’s mask and stabbed at him with a bottle. With the fans on top of them, it was an act he flourished within, swigging from their bottles of beer as they reached out to him to provide support. I adored the cut-off hope spot that saw him don a motorcycle helmet and try to hit a flying headbutt, an attempt that was as crowd-pleasing as it was ridiculous. (It also paid off brilliantly later in the match.) If I’d been asked before this, I think I would have placed Demus above such things as babyfaces and heels, as he’s too wild a force to be wedded to either, but it turns out he can do the old-fashioned stuff almost as well as the bloodletting.
It all goes back to a point I’ve made a few times this year. I’ve increasingly been craving traditional, straightforward wrestling, and a plucky babyface going up against a monster fits that brief better than nearly anything. I’ve focused on Demus here, but Fishman was also great, ruthlessly dominating our hero until it was time for the tables to turn. Sure, a scrapyard where you can piledrive someone on a car bonnet isn’t a classic wrestling venue, but if you can get past the trimmings, this was old-school as hell, and all the better for it.
Toni Storm vs Mariah May, Revolution (9/3/25), AEW
Despite all the Twitter hype, this match was starting at a deficit for me. An American promotion means American commentary and fans, both of which tend to irritate me (the ‘this is awesome’ chant at an emotional high point proved my point). Then there is the fact that this is one of those feuds where people spend a lot of time talking about the ‘lore’, and their enjoyment seems to rely heavily on unpicking unsubtle references. I’m all for layering up a story, but I am over the idea that the ideal way to do that is to litter things people might recognise across the screen. Finally, neither Toni Storm nor Mariah May have ever blown me away. Even at their most hyped, they’re wrestlers who have fallen short of what I was looking for, and while far from awful, I’m typically happy to leave their matches to other people.
And yet, despite all those potential pitfalls, this was good. Really fucking good, in fact. Why? Because regardless of what I think, May and Storm clearly believed in what they were doing. It was their baby, and my god, did they commit to bringing it up properly. Even as Nigel McGuinness was seemingly working his way through a Letterboxd list of every movie ever made and cramming them in willy-nilly, the women in the ring were treating this like it was everything. You can make up for a bucket full of flaws if you’re willing to bleed all over the place and take risks that others aren’t.
It also helped to rub some of the edges off my issues with the action itself. Make no mistake about it – this shit was cheesy. They cranked the melodrama up to 11, delivering big sweeping gestures aimed at the back row. However, despite that, it rarely felt fake. It helped, of course, that Storm was leaking freely from her forehead, coating the rest of her body, the ring and May in the red stuff, but that wasn’t all. There was a real sense of hatred here. I bought into the idea they wanted to hurt each other, and while they occasionally undercut it (why was May going for an early pin in a match where they’d promised to rip each other apart?), they got it right more often than not. I loved a terrified May dipping her hands in the bucket of glass, willing herself to push through the fear and the pain in the hope of an opportunity to drive her fist into Toni’s face.
Everything right about this match comes back to something I’ve talked about before. If the wrestlers believe in what they’re doing, I’ll probably believe in it too. May and Storm delivering this match with a wink and a nod to the camera would have sucked. It would have ripped all the heart from it and turned into a parody of a parody. Thankfully, they did nothing of the sort. They approached their final act like it was the biggest stage in the world, and while it wasn’t all perfect, they did enough right to make the mistakes and the flaws seem inconsequential.
Kaito Ishida vs Yusaku Ito, Crazy Fest (10/3/25), Barb Sasaki Produce
The main event of this show got all the buzz. Don’t get me wrong, it was great in the way you’d expect a Masashi Takeda vs Jun Kasai vs El Desperado deathmatch to be great, but nothing about it surprised me. While you could perhaps put it down to expectations (I wasn’t aware of either of these guys), this fast-paced and hard-hitting opener delighted me in a way I didn’t see coming. Truthfully, I almost skipped right past it, happy to leave it behind to get to the stuff that intrigued me.
Thankfully, I didn’t because this was a blast. I’ve no idea if Ito and Ishida have any history, but they certainly wrestled like that was the case. Right from the bell (and they only had seven minutes), there was a pettiness to their offence that screamed of mutual disdain. It wasn’t just the stiff forearms and kicks but the little swipes they threw out there. I find a wild boot thrown at someone’s face so much more aggressive than a carefully aimed one to the chest, even if it does miss. There is a realness to it that screams of bloodied mouths and broken teeth.
It wasn’t perfect. Ishida had a thigh-slapping tendency that felt unnecessary. That kind of stuff rarely bothers me, but in a match with an abundance of strikes that delivered the satisfying meaty thud of flesh hitting flesh, those crisp cracks felt out of place. They brought an air of artificiality to a showing that, those aside, felt like the opposite of that. However, that’s easy to forgive, especially when something is as fast and to the point as this was. Faults that would annoy me more in an epic are easier to forget in a match that’s over before they get annoying. I’m sure plenty of you have already gone and checked out that main event, but if, like I almost did, you skipped over the opener, I’d recommend giving it another look. You might just be as pleasantly surprised as I was.
121000000 (Miyu Yamashita & Maki Itoh) vs Kyoraku Kyomei (Shoko Nakajima & Hyper Misao), Grand Princess (16/3/25), TJPW
The stripping down of wrestling to focus on ‘moments’ rather than the bigger picture is what happens when you hand control of the reigns to the creatively moribund. Yes, that’s the shit we’re building towards, but when you place them above everything else, they become something that only looks good in video packages. WWE has lots of ‘moments’, but how many of them stick? Unsurprisingly, it’s nearly always been the ones that came about naturally, built on the back of months, if not years, of wrestling, rather than a desire to have something happen. You can book anyone to win any title at any time and scream about how important it is, and people might even be fooled for a moment, but that’s not the stuff that moves them.
And yet, for all that I ramble incoherently about the importance of wrestling, this is a match that, to be blunt, sucked for about two-thirds of it. I have no real desire to keep bashing Yamashita and Itoh – their hearts are elsewhere, and that’s fair enough – but their control section in this match was the final nail in the coffin. It’s probably time for them to scratch that itch and step away permanently rather than continue to exist in this half-and-half state. However, it was all so easy to forgive when this kicked into its final act, and Hyper Misao took centre stage, taking her opportunity to prove that she is not just Shoko’s wacky pal. She shone so bright that even Miyu seemed to come back to life, that inner Ace shining through as she smirked down at the unmasked Misao, ready to kick her head off as she has done to so many before. We’ve all been there, watching as our latest hero’s dreams crumble under the intensity of Yamashita’s glare.
Except, this time, it was different. With an assist from the Big Kaiju, Misao pulled through, surviving what Miyu had to throw at her and refusing to die. It was heroic and brilliant and a perfect example of what a ‘moment’ can be. Despite not liking a decent chunk of this match, it also proved my point. Misao overcoming the Ace worked not because of the belts or even because it was Yamashita. It worked because of who she is. For Tokyo Joshi fans, who have watched Misao for years, learning her story and witnessing that beautiful brain unfold when surrounded by people willing to follow her down any path, this was a crowning moment. One where she and her equally ridiculous friend proved that you can make it to the top even if you do indulge in the nonsense. It was perfect, and while Kyoraku Kyomei have already gone on to have better matches, this will be the one that lingers. It was their ‘moment’, and on this occasion, it was one I was happy to indulge.
Meiko Satomura vs Chihiro Hashimoto, The Top of Joshi Wrestling (19/3/25), Sendai Girls
I don’t think anyone needs me to tell them Big Hash vs Meiko Satomura was great. If you’re the kind of person who has found their way onto this dumb website, then you already know that. So, instead, as we inch closer to her retirement, please indulge me in a ramble about Meiko Satomura.
In my review of this show, I mentioned that Satomura is the wrestler who introduced me to joshi, which is the truth. However, what I didn’t get into is that for a long time, I respected rather than loved Meiko. Part of that is simply a reflection of my taste. I tend to lean towards the oddballs, losers and weirdos of the wrestling world, foregoing any interest in your typical aces in favour of your Pom Harajukus or Chie Koishikawas. Even when I do fall for someone up the top of the card, it is usually a Mio Momono rather than a Takumi Iroha. I like the wrestler who chases rather than the one who defends. The Satomura I have watched for the last few years was never going to be as interesting to me as the latest scrappy rookie or weirdo who has stumbled into this stuff, even if I have always been very aware of her brilliance.
Then, I went back and watched a load of Satomura’s rookie years, and suddenly it clicked. Suddenly, I knew Meiko Satomura not as the so-called Final Boss of Joshi but as a somewhat self-serious youngster with more guts than brains. Young Meiko was all arm-waving and screaming, charging into situations that were only going to get her into trouble. I’m probably not going to make the argument that the best version of Satomura is the one, still clad in her red swimsuit, who defended GAEA’s honour against an invading Oz Academy (at that time, they were an Ozaki faction rather than a company), but I’m also not throwing that out there for no reason. There is a part of me that secretly believes it.
It’s what’s extraordinary about people like Satomura, Nagayo, Kong, Nanae and every other wrestler who has done this for decades. They have lived their lives in that ring, changing and adapting to become the people they are today. Stripped of the context, they’re still geniuses, but when you put it back in, it makes so much more sense. Satomura is still, in some ways, that screaming rookie, and when she was battling against her prize pupil for the last time, there were moments when it snuck out, her poise dropping and that desperation to prove herself escaping. It’s why, nearly 30 years into her career, she’s still as good as she is and why she’ll be missed by everyone involved in this ridiculous sport. The wrestler who is retiring in 2025 might never have been my favourite, but there is a good chance that if I’d been a regular at those GAEA shows in 1995, that rookie would have been. I’ll miss them both.
Veny vs Yumiko Hotta, Kawasaki Pro Wrestling Matsuri (20/3/25), SEAdLINNNG
Like most wrestling fans, I suspect I’ve seen significantly more bad cage matches than good. And yet, there’s something about locking two people in a big, scary box and making them fight that will always be exciting. Veny and Hotta’s attempt to rip each other apart in a cage was nowhere near as good as their preview tag from last month. The escape rules meant they spent a lot of time trying to climb the damn thing rather than punching each other in the head (although Hotta taking a ladder in to aid her escape did make me laugh), and they still relied a bit too much on outside interference to get the job done. However, if you give me Hotta bloodying someone up and smacking them about while surrounded by steel, I’m probably going to have a good time regardless. Plus, Miku Kanae leapt from the top of it. Who saw that coming in her AWG Nonsense Squad days?
Truthfully, this gets by more on vibes than action. I liked the idea of it and wanted it to succeed, which made it easier to push any issues aside. Was it perfect? Far from it, but there was blood and chair shots and chains, and that’s sometimes all you need. Something doesn’t have to be perfect to tick the boxes you’re looking for it to tick.
Mad Dog Connelly vs Alpha Zo, West Coast Best Coast (22/3/25), West Coast Pro
Is Mad Dog Connelly the only American wrestler who matters? Okay, that might be a touch harsh on a rather large country, especially as I’ve already praised a couple of Americans on this list, but it sometimes feels like it. It’s not just that Connelly is good (although he is). It’s that no one else I’m aware of brings the things he does. He’s a squat, hairy bastard of a man, and if you think I mean any of that as an insult, you’ve vastly misunderstood me. Whenever he has one of these dog collar matches (and he might be the rare example of a travelling stipulation), it is guaranteed to be worth your time.
Up against Alpha Zo (who did some good work on his Marvelous tours), Connelly’s bumping caught the eye. On two separate occasions, he went tumbling backwards through the ropes (one caused by being dragged over them by the chain and the other after a stiff running knee), bouncing off the apron and down to the floor. Both brought a sense of danger that very little in wrestling can replicate. Yes, you can hit piledrivers and dump people on their heads with high-angled throws, but there’s always at least a sense of control to moves like that. There is nothing controlled about a man trusting himself to fall backwards, relying on instinct and luck to ensure he gets down to the floor in one piece. It’s probably bloody stupid, but it’s also exciting as hell.
And then there is all the other stuff that Connelly is so fucking good at. The biting and punching and scrabbling. He’s a throwback, an actual brawler rather than someone who has had the title bestowed upon them because they stand in the centre of the ring trading forearms. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing him live, but when you watch one of his matches, you know there’s a decent chance at least one member of the front row will be wiped out. He’s more likely to bleed on you than politely wait for you to get out of the way, and while not everyone wants to be in that danger zone, you can’t deny it’s thrilling. There’s an energy to his wrestling that’s fuelled by no one knowing what he’ll do next. If he can project that through a screen, I can only assume it’s even better in person.
I don’t know if there is space in American wrestling right now for a guy like Mad Dog to make it to the top. There aren’t many wrestlers in the big companies who look like him, and the idea of him having to tone it down or sanitise his work makes me sad. However, that almost makes me love him even more. He’s clearly doing the wrestling he loves rather than chasing a trend, and he’s damn good at it. Whether he makes it to the top or spends the rest of his career bloodying pricks up in the indies, he’s already more than succeeded in my book. Until Eddie Kingston is back, he’ll be the one American wrestler I give a damn about, and while that’s a small achievement, I think it’s a pretty cool one.
Chie Koishikawa vs Emi Sakura, The Show Must Go On #436 (22/3/25), ChocoPro
It feels like a long time ago that Chie proudly turned up to Ichigaya wearing a t-shirt proclaiming that she’d quit her job for wrestling. When you watch her now, it’s easy to forget that the Chie we saw back then was a very different person. She still had that infectious energy, but outside of the mat, she was quiet and unsure of herself. When she started joining the live streams with Akki, Mei and Sakura, she would typically sit in the back, rarely finding the confidence to put forward an opinion. In the months and years since, we’ve watched her grow into her energy, finding her voice and turning into one of my favourite wrestlers to watch.
And while it’s a stretch to say that was also the story of this match, it was a marker of how far Chie has come. Ahead of her title shot against her long-term rival and friend, Mei Suruga, Chie got a shot at the boss on her latest return to Ichigaya Chocolate Square. I won’t pretend to have gone back and watched every Chie and Emi interaction before making this point, but like so many of Sakura’s relationships with her students, it’s an in-ring relationship built on the master bullying the pupil. Chie has never been on Emi’s level, and until this match, her record was 0-5.
Yes, Chie didn’t win this one, but it still felt like a changing of the guard. Sakura didn’t alter her approach, looking to out-muscle and out-experience Koishikawa, but with the confidence brimming ahead of her title shot, Chie wouldn’t let her. Every time Sakura took a moment of smugness, revelling in having chopped her opponent to the ground or slammed her into the wall, those energy reserves would bubble up, and Chie would come again. It says it all that in the final seconds, it wasn’t Emi going for the win, but Chie, leaping from the window sill even as the bell rang to get a final strike in. She’d made it to the time limit, which, when they last wrestled one-on-one back in 2021, would have been the biggest result of her career, and yet this time, she arguably came away disappointed.
As I write this, I don’t actually know the result of Chie vs Mei. I’m attempting to stay spoiler-free so I can enjoy convincing myself one of my favourites will do it. Truthfully, I can’t see it happening, but the dream is a nice one to indulge in. However, regardless of whether she is currently holding the big belt or not, it’s nice to think about how far Chie Koishikawa has come, both in and out of the ring. She was always a force of nature, but now she’s one with the confidence to funnel that energy into what she wants to do, and as silly as it sounds for someone who I have only ever briefly been in contact with, I’m proud of her. She’s done a hell of a lot, and champion or not, I can’t see anything stopping her from continuing to do so.
Kyoraku Kyomei (Hyper Misao & Shoko Nakajima) vs Miu Watanabe & Uta Takami, Spring Tour (22/3/25), TJPW
Uta Takami’s position as the entire TJPW roster’s younger sister (despite not being its youngest member) was further strengthened here as Shoko and Misao celebrated winning the belts with some loving teasing. It didn’t take much to get a reaction. They led the crowd in an 赤ちゃん (baby) chant that got Uta so irate that she flew across the ring for a dropkick. Of course, Misao and Shoko were ready for that, sidestepping her and forcing poor Miu to continue her new role as Takami’s babysitter (a job that you get the impression she is consistently on the verge of quitting rather dramatically).
And I don’t want to ruin all the fun jokes, but I adored all the dynamics at play. Wee Uta is desperate to escape accusations of being carried by her Up Up Girls senpai, but every time she tries to go it alone, she only succeeds in making it worse. That’s doubly true when she’s up against Kyoraku Kyomei, the perfect people to exploit every tiny misstep she makes. This match might not have had the emotional payoff that their title win did, but it was a much better example of what they bring to the picture as champions. Yes, you get all the antics, and they were glorious, but they’re backed up by two giant wrestling brains that know how to put a match together. They blend the messing around and the wrestling so effortlessly that you almost don’t notice when we’ve slipped from one to the other. One second, Uta has been blindfolded by Misao’s cape and the next, you’re gripped by a return to the brilliance of Shoko vs Miu.
It makes for some of the easiest watching wrestling in the world, and if Kyoraku Kyomei’s title reign is going to see them have a match like this on every show, we’re in for a treat.
Ai Houzan vs Ryo Mizunami, Magenta Produce Show (27/3/25), Marvelous
Since her humiliating loss to Senka Akatsuki, Ai Houzan has been slipped into something of an unofficial trial series. As readers of this site will know, I hated that match, not for its wrestling, but for how it treated wee Ai. It felt cruel. However, with the benefit of a touch of hindsight, it’s starting to look like it could be the catalyst for a turning point in her career. Ahead of this showdown with Aniki, she’d already had spirited losses to Rina Yamashita and Mika Iwata (which closed the show on her birthday), as it appears the sting of that defeat has lit a fire under her.
Who better to keep that fire going than Aniki? Of course, there was never any doubt about how a match like this would go. Ai might be riding the wave of something right now, but pinning Aniki isn’t in her future, and it was all about the performance. Since that defeat to Senka, the message towards Houzan has been consistent. They love her, but she needs to show her passion in the ring. That’s not just about the screaming and the yelling, although she’s definitely doing more of that, but her ability to get across the idea that she is giving it her everything. It’s something that the likes of Mio Momono and Chigusa Nagayo have built careers on, and in recent times, I think Ai is starting to get there. She’s throwing herself into those dropkicks with a commitment that wasn’t there before and even dared to repeatedly slap Aniki across the face. By the end of this, she was exhausted, but crucially, Aniki was also breathing heavily. Ai had tested her.
Ai Houzan is one of my wrestlers. I clicked with her early in her career, and I’m incapable of even attempting something like objectivity with her. She’s my favourite feral wrestling child, and I’m desperate for her to get everything she wants from her career. However, I don’t think it’s just me imagining that she’s on to something here. That scream of frustration and anger and sadness that she let out at the end of the Senka match burrowed its way into the minds of the Marvelous fans, and there is suddenly a sense that everyone is willing her on. Towards the end of this match, as she threw everything she had left at Aniki, they were as loud for her as they have ever been before. I have no idea what her ceiling is, but it feels higher right now than it did a few months ago, and if she keeps giving herself to matches like this, she’ll get the opportunities she deserves.
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