For the second month in a row, I’ve left a whole bunch of matches I would have loved to write about on the table. That’s partly because I was still incredibly busy at the start of May, so I’m working my way through my backlog, and partly because my brain hasn’t been playing fair recently, and I’ve been struggling to do, well, anything. However, I did manage to get a few words down, so hopefully, there’s something here to enjoy! Fingers crossed that normal service will be resumed next month.
Chie Koishikawa vs Miya Yotsuba, ChocoPro #445 (3/5/25), ChocoPro
The tension between Chie Koishikawa and Miya Yotsuba has been simmering away for months and is starting to create a delicious stew. While Chie was taking steps to close the gap between her and Mei Suruga, Miya glowered from the sidelines, frustrated that it wasn’t her. You never get the impression there is anything personal between these two, but as they both aim to hunt down the champ, their paths are destined to intertwine.
With that tension comes the grit that has started to define their matches. With that anger sizzling up between them, nothing they do ever feels fully cooperative, as they both force the other to work for every inch. ChocoPro, as a whole, is a fairly light-hearted promotion, but when these two collide, there’s a sense that they’re on the verge of pushing themselves, almost unintentionally, into something that gets a touch more violent. They’re always in competition, neither willing to budge in case it allows the other to leave them behind, limping along and unable to keep up.
It’s something that they both need. Mei is a goal to chase, but she’s still far in the distance, a dream rather than a reality. A rival standing by your side who wants the same thing as you, though? That opens up a world of possibilities. I adore the happy, bubbly atmosphere that ChocoPro creates, and I wouldn’t want them to move away from that, but it also makes the serious moments hit that much harder. When these two wrestle, there is no messing around or cheap laughs. They’re forehead to forehead, horns interlocked as they grapple to see who is ready to take that title from Mei. At this point, it’s probably neither of them. But if they keep pushing like this, they might just be able to drag each other up to the podium.
HIMAWARI vs Suzume, Golden Week Fan Appreciation Day ‘East’ (3/5/25), TJPW
I’m always intrigued by how wrestlers approach pairings like the one you get from Suzume and HIMAWARI. The natural inclination here is to set HIMAWARI up as the aggressor. She’s not much bigger than Suzume, but the title of Powerful Cheeky Chappy wasn’t bestowed upon her for nothing. She’s cheeky, she’s a chappy, and she’s damn powerful. Up against the buzzy bee, who has spent most of her career working on the backfoot, the instinct is to go out and have HIMAWARI dominate the match. However, in a world where hierarchy is so important, and HIMAWARI was challenging for her first singles title, you find one natural story coming up against another. She had just as much claim to the title of underdog as Suzume did.
It was a challenge these two dealt with admirably, finding a way to play to both of their strengths without losing anything in the process. Suzume wrestled this as the veteran, dismissively stomping away HIMAWARI’s first attempt to go for her patented dropdown spot and casually rolling through to thwart an early attempt to escape an armbar. Thanks to her delightful outer demeanour, it’s sometimes missed that Suzume has developed a mean streak. When paired up with the youngsters, she has started to push them harder than you might expect, grasping onto a few of the violent tendencies people like Mizuki have (although she’s got a way to go before she gets to that level). She’s one of the many TJPW wrestlers that you can imagine being born from Sakuraism – a style that produces incredibly likeable figures (Riho, Mei Suruga and, again, Mizuki being the obvious ones) but hides an edge underneath their kawaii surface.
What made this tick was that they didn’t neuter the power in HIMAWARI’s game in the process. When she got a head of steam, barrelling into Suzume or whipping her with her hair, she was hitting harder than the bee ever could. There were a few big hits from HIMAWARI here where you could almost see the air explode from the champ’s lungs. On top of that, she was evolving in real-time, reacting to Suzume’s early shutting down of her dropdown shenanigans by altering them on the fly, catching her off guard when she reacted to what she assumed HIMAWARI was about to do. While Suzume was controlling the action through experience, HIMAWARI was coming forward by lobbing grenades into the fray, never quite finding a way to work the bursts of aggression into a sustained period of control but coming close to bursting through regardless.
In the end, HIMAWARI committed just a touch too much, going big when Suzume was still capable of finding a counter and paying the price for it. However, as a first singles title challenge, this one goes down as a rousing success. HIMAWARI stepped up to the stage and held her own, adapting her talents to playing the role that was required of her and chasing after the bee in a way that, for a second or two, felt like it might just work. On this day, it didn’t, but I would bet a lot of money that we’ll see that belt around her waist.
Mayu Iwatani vs Nanae Takahashi, Rising Spirit (4/5/25), Marigold
Mayu Iwatani’s switch to Marigold is one of those things where my initial reaction is one of excitement until I think about it for a minute or two. How big a difference does it make, really? We’ve had years of Mayu wrestling in a Rossy Ogawa promotion, and it’s not like Marigold has shown any inclination that the old perv is willing to try his hand at something new. The company is only a year old, and it already feels tired. Sure, there will be a handful of fun matchups that we haven’t seen before, and maybe I’ll tune into those, but the reality is that while I always knew it was where Mayu was heading, it’s the place I’m least interested in seeing her. The only upside I can cling to is that it means she might end up on a Marvelous show at some point.
And yet, the chance to see her wrestle Nanae Takahashi in a singles match for the first time since 2012 joined the Marvelous feud in being something that could tempt me to Marigold’s door. It was great. Obviously, it was great, it’s Nanae and Mayu. I haven’t been keeping up with Takahashi’s retirement road, but everything I have seen has been a blast, as she’s wrestling with the freedom of someone who knows it’s all coming to an end. Occasionally, you see people try a little too hard as their careers draw to a close – like they’re desperate to prove something before they go. With Nanae, there is no worry about that. While I’m still sad that she left SEAdLINNNG, I’m also glad she’s been able to have this late-career run where she’s seemed rejuvenated from the freedom of being just a wrestler and not the person with all the power and the pressure that comes with it.
It also reminded me how great Iwatani can be. I don’t watch a lot of her these days, but I’ve tuned into a few of her recent dream matches, and they’ve always tended to fall a bit flat, suffering from the usual issues of inflated expectations and watching wrestlers who haven’t had a chance to develop their chemistry. Up against someone with whom she has a long history, Mayu was free to go full Mayu, committing to things only she would. When they brawled into the Korakuen stand, she somehow contrived to fall backwards over a row of orange seats from one of her own chops before taking her customary tumble down the stairs. I find some of the praise around Iwatani hyperbolic (she’s brilliant, but I wouldn’t have her up as one of the absolute greatest of all time), but you can never doubt her willingness to potentially break a bone.
Sadly, I’ll never get the Mayu run I want. That would require her to take a fairly significant pay cut to get involved in post-show mini-games in Gokigen and figure out how to navigate the mat of Ichigaya. Instead, she’ll probably spend the last few years of her career in Marigold doing most of the same stuff she did in Stardom. However, I do have to remind myself sometimes that such things aren’t the end of the world. She’s still Mayu Iwatani, and while I’m not going to watch every match, having the option to do so is no bad thing.
Hiyori Yawata vs Nonoka Seto, ChocoPro #446 (4/5/25), ChocoPro
Now and then, you’ll see someone claim that ‘x match’ is the type that young wrestlers should be made to watch. Typically, it’s something featuring a high degree of technical excellence or a performance that defines a certain style or approach to this wonderful nonsense. I’m not about to disagree with any of that, and the best wrestlers do study the classics, but I also think the idea that you should only be watching the classics is a flawed one. If I were making a list of matches that people should watch to learn how to wrestle, it would include quite a few that look like this – a basic bout between two rookies who are getting a whole lot out of not much.
Part of what made this special had very little to do with wrestling. It was Nonoka’s final match in Ichigaya before her (hopefully not permanent) hiatus. On top of that, she was going up against Hiyori, someone who, despite both admitting they have very little in common, she has become close to since wandering into Darejyo for the first time. That’s the kind of emotion that you can’t fake. You only had to look at Yawata’s face beforehand, her usual mischievous grin replaced by an expression that sat somewhere between nerves and determination. They wanted this to mean something, and with most of the locker room coming out to watch through the windows, that feeling hung in the air. There was no gaudy belt on the line, but it felt important.
What’s impressive is what these two rookies did with that emotion. Everything you need to know was in the opening lock-up, as Nonoka charged across the ring to meet her friend, throwing her whole weight behind her as she backed the typically stronger Hiyori into the fans. I’ve talked about it before, but 90% of wrestlers seem to sleepwalk through those moments in a match. Letting them happen to them rather than engaging with the action. Here, it felt like a contest, the first move in a battle where (thanks to their relatively low experience levels) working hard could make the difference. Struggle is an occasionally irritating wrestling buzzword, but this whole thing was a struggle, and part of what brings it to life is that these two aren’t perfect. They’re having to bite and claw for every little moment, both in and out of kayfabe.
And it’s a theme I return to again and again, but caring is cool. There is a place for aloof detachment in wrestling, but it’s rare, and something that defines most of the wrestlers I truly love is my belief that this means something to them. I know a lot of wrestling fans also like to pretend they’re above the thing they have such a strong attachment to, but I fucking love this shit, and watching Hiyori and Nonoka pour their emotions into their match, makes it special. It meant the world to them, and by not being afraid to show that, they took an eight-minute main event in Ichigaya Chocolate Square, and made it, just for a few minutes, feel like the most important thing in the world. That’s a talent a lot of people could learn from.
Darejyo EXTRA 16 (11/5/25), Darejyo
Darejyo is special. I’ve said it before, but it’s always worth reiterating. Emi Sakura opens up the doors of Ichigaya Chocolate Square and invites everyone from wee tots to recent mothers to genius eccentrics to come in and give wrestling a go. Will they all make the step to becoming pros? No, of course not, but that’s not the point. The point is to bring them together and let them all get a taste of the wonderful world that is wrestling.
The jewel in the Darejyo crown are the Extra shows, where Sakura runs her charges through a series of exercises, some exhibition bouts and the famous dropkick competition. Even with all the context stripped away, they’re a fascinating insight into Sakura’s process, where she hides tough and serious drills under the guise of friendly competition. That’s not what makes it incredible, though. What makes it incredible is seeing how this group interacts with each other. The perfect example was when wee Nagisa got upset early on in this show and, being a literal child, struggled to get her emotions back under control while performing in front of an audience. It culminated in her getting choked up and freezing as she prepared for her dropkick, struggling to get her words out before encouragement from the crowd and her fellow Darejyo pals allowed her to declare she wanted to win for her mum. The dropkick she fired off after that was incredible, especially when you consider she was still crying as she did it. More importantly, everyone’s response was supportive and loving (although Sakura, being Sakura, did make sure to get a little bit of light heel heat off it all), with the pièce de résistance coming when lovely Soy rewarded her for it. It was beautiful and sweet and completely detached from the often faux-macho nonsense of the wrestling world.
And shockingly, when you give people that support, they flourish. It wasn’t the professional wrestlers who took part that stood out on this show. No, it was Rina putting up a fight in her lock-up battle with Kaho or Erimo announcing every move as ‘Erimo x’ before performing it. It was the chibi army uniting to beat Sakura (again) or seeing Waka perhaps fall in love with this nonsense as she messed around with Aoi Kizuki. It was Nagisa’s dropkick and Masae wrestling while her 6-month-old watched through the window. I’ve made this point before, but I think if you’re the kind of person who starts attending a wrestling class up an alleyway in Ichigaya, you’ve probably got something special about you. Every Darejyo Extra proves me right.
When I’ve praised Darejyo in the past, I’ve revelled in the fact that, alongside all that, we know it works. That Emi Sakura’s methods have borne enough outstanding wrestlers for there to be no doubt about her genius. However, the more I watch it, the more I realise that’s not the point. If you hadn’t heard of a single wrestler to come out of Darejyo, and its various other iterations over the years, it would still be one of the most important things in wrestling. Emi Sakura hasn’t just created a wrestling school. She’s created a community and a space that lets these people express themselves, both on YouTube and behind closed doors, and that’s worth more than anything.
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