It’s that time of year again, and we kick things off with my best of the rest. These are the matches that aren’t quite my favourite of the year, but if you got me on a different day, they could be. As always, they’re listed in chronological order, and there are a bunch of others that could have made this list (including one that I already wrote about). If you’re feeling the burning need to inform me I’m wrong about something on this list, please don’t bother – it’s not worth either of our time. However, if you’ve got some cool recommendations, I’m always intrigued to hear them.
Senka Akatsuki vs Ai Houzan, Marvelous (4/1/25), Marvelous
I know, I know. Not only was this not the Senka Akatsuki match that everyone was talking about this year (Aja Kong), it’s not even the Senka and Ai Houzan match that caught most people’s eye. Famously, after this ended in a draw, Chigusa Nagayo declared the rematch would be an AJW shoot pin match. Akatsuki would go on to win that, causing Ai to let out one of the most upsetting noises I’ve heard come from a wrestling ring outside of the snap of a bone. I hate that match. I can appreciate what it did for both of them in the long run, and I understand why people love it, but I am too attached to Marvelous’ feral wild child. Houzan is one of my favourites, and as I’ve said multiple times since I first saw it, I thought the whole thing was cruel.
Thankfully, this prequel has a lot of what made that match great, without the pain. Just a few months after Senka’s debut, Houzan comes in as the senior wrestler, and she’s desperate to cement that. Until the arrival of Akatsuki and Sora, Ai had spent her whole career as Marvelous’ junior wrestler, toiling away, trying to break through the walls around her. Now, she’s got two new faces further down the pecking order, and for the first time, she should be able to exert a degree of superiority. Except, life doesn’t work like that. Akatsuki is everything Ai isn’t. While Houzan has had to scrape and claw for everything in her career, it all seems to come so naturally to Senka. So while Ai tries to get mean here, stamping on the rookie the way that a Mio or a Takumi would, it just doesn’t have the same effect. In fact, it’s Senka who earns the first bragging rights, taking Houzan down to the mat before demanding she stand up.
It’s a tension that fizzles throughout the whole thing. Akatsuki isn’t quite ready to dominate Ai, and there are moments where that senior-junior relationship clicks into place, but Houzan also isn’t able to put her away. Senka is too big, too powerful. Even at this point in her young career, she had already figured out that, more often than not, she’s capable of bulldozing her way out of situations. It leaves them at a stalemate, time ticking away as they both push for the win, but are neither able to get over the line. Experience crashes against pure athletic ability, and neither can break through.
I’m not sure how much this match will mean to someone who isn’t invested in Marvelous – someone who isn’t invested in Ai Houzan. The sequel works because of the way reality sneaks into the picture, something that everyone can understand. This match is traditional pro-wrestling, and while I would argue it’s hardly complicated, a degree of buy-in makes a huge difference. Thankfully, I have that buy-in, years of it, and that’s what makes it one of my favourites of the year. It was the start of Senka’s ascent, but also, much more quietly, the beginning of Ai finally getting something to get her fingers into. It helped her find what she was missing. That might not have been the headlines for most coming out of these matches, but it certainly was for me.
Emi Sakura vs Kaho Hiromi, Nagisa, Kaori & Sara, Darejyo EXTRA 15! (11/1/25), Darejyo
It’s hard to put into words how much I love this match. Of everything on this list, it’s the one I’ve watched the most, and while part of that is because it’s a handful of minutes long, it’s also because it’s the one that is guaranteed to cheer me up. It’s Emi Sakura taking on Kaho Hiromi and the Chibi Gang, and I’m kind of glad that it is placed chronologically near the top because if you’re annoyed at the idea of that being one of the matches of the year, you’re probably in the wrong place. On Ramblings About, we appreciate anyone that alters ‘Ring a Ring o’ Roses’ to make it an offensive move.
What makes it so special is that it feels like a perfect encapsulation of, yes, Darejyo, but also a lot of what makes wrestling great, too. Emi Sakura heeled on a group of children, only for them to come together, scamper around her and eventually bundle her up for the three. One-on-one, not even the leader of the gang, Kaho, is likely to beat Sakura, but when they join up? Then they can do something special. They can overcome the oni, cast her down and get the win. Is that not wrestling 101? And what’s more Darejyo than people coming together to create something wonderful? I adore it all.
I’ve hardly been quiet about my affection for Darejyo. Truthfully, if I didn’t feel a bit weird writing in-depth about one child crying, I’d probably also include wee Nagisa’s victory in the dropkick competition from the May edition on this list. That wee lass, who was so overwhelmed by everything and could not stop crying, throwing a beautiful dropkick for her mum, was one of the most wonderful moments of the year, and bless lovely Soy for rewarding her for it. You can’t get that anywhere else. The closest, I guess, is a Marvelous pro-test, but those lose a touch of the magic by having real stakes behind them, making it almost impossible for me to watch them unspoiled due to my terror at seeing some young lass’s heart be broken. Darejyo has that similar touch of seeing an, as of now, non-wrestler perform, but without a fraction of the pressure. It’s delightful, and while this particular wee slice of joy featuring Sakura and the kids was the best of it this year, every Darejyo event spiritually has a place on these lists forevermore.
Miu Watanabe vs Uta Takami, Max Heart Tournament 2025 (8/2/25), TJPW
A match of contrasts. Uta, the excitable young rookie coming up against Miu Watanabe, the former champ, who has a smile on her face, but ice in her veins. You can parse everything you need to know here before the bell even rings. When Uta steps into the ring, she starts to get overwhelmed. Tears are streaming down her face before Miu’s music has even hit. By the time Watanabe joins her there, she is sitting in the corner, facing away from everything. Takami needed that moment to get everything under control, preparing herself for facing her hero.
Part of what makes Uta so exciting as a wrestler, though, is how quickly she adapts. I often mention Mei Suruga’s influence on her career, but when you break it down, the time they’ve spent in the ring together is as little as three matches. She’s a sponge, able to absorb what others dish out to her and blend it into her wrestling without losing what makes her fun. Early in this match, she’s clearly still trying to keep things under control. There’s an attempt at what I assume was a Mei Jump, but it goes almost unnoticed because Uta is too frantic, her floppy limbs scrambling in the air as she attempts to pay tribute to Suruga. However, the longer it goes on, the more Miu’s calm seems to transfer into Takami. It pays off in the moment when Watanabe reaches for the ropes in the Koala Clutch and Uta adjusts, loosening the hold for a second to wrap her leg around Miu’s arm, forcing her to find another way to escape.
It’s not just Uta’s match, though. What makes this special is that the Miu performance plays into everything Takami is feeling. Watanabe is her usual self during her entrance, grabbing onto the camera as she grins from ear to ear. However, when the match starts, she understands that Uta has to be the expressive one. It’s her squeaks and her flopping that people will want to plug into. Miu is out there to be the veteran, and she is brilliant at it. She spends the bulk of the opening period calming Uta down, a serious expression on her face as she throws her to the ground for headlock after headlock. It’s all enough to get across to Takami that she needs to take a breath and relax, while also playing perfectly into the idea of a seasoned pro educating a rookie in how it’s done.
The biggest reason this match is here, though, is because I believe in it. I believe in the emotions Uta is feeling, right up until Kira Summer has to help her from the ring, tears causing her body to shudder with emotion. It feels real. When I came back to this, I did so after rewatching the Miu vs Mizuki Ittenyon match, which, in many ways, is superior. It’s a grander affair, full of bigger moves and two great performances. However, this is the one that got into my head. It’s the one I started thinking about and unpicking. The story of that tiny Wee Koala going up against her hero, giving it everything she has, and ultimately finding that she has a mountain left to climb, is hardly original, but it means something. I respect Miu vs Mizuki, but I love this, and that, ultimately, is why it’s here, and that’s not.
Nonoka Seto vs Hiyori Yawata, ChocoPro 446 (4/5/25), ChocoPro
Goodbyes suck. Even the ones that you hope won’t be forever. With Nonoka Seto returning home to help run the family business, she has been forced to put her wrestling career on hold, leading to her final, for now, appearance in Ichigaya Chocolate Square. It was only right that the person who stood across from her was Hiyori Yawata. The two of them had become close friends through Darejyo and ChocoPro, so for their last dance they were handed the rare opportunity to headline an Ichigaya and see Nonoka on her way.
And there are matches that can exist outside of context. Everything is better with it, of course, but you can turn them on and instantly get what makes them special. I think this does to an extent. You might not know where the emotion behind it comes from, but you can tell it’s there. However, this works all the better if you’re familiar with Nonoka’s career. For her time in Ichigaya, she was, affectionately, known as something of a crybaby, a wrestler who struggled to control her emotions, and that bursts out of this match. There is a touch of sadness in Hiyori’s eyes before it begins, but when the bell rings, Nonoka doesn’t hesitate. She charges across the mat, almost slamming into Yawata in her haste to lock up with her.
You can read that as Seto’s desperation to end her career on a win, something she never managed in a singles match, and I don’t think you’d be wrong. However, it also feels like someone who is facing all that emotion bubbling up, and is well aware that if they pause, it will become too much. In fact, this whole match reads like that. Nonoka is relentless in a way we rarely saw from her, constantly coming at Hiyori, slamming her leg into the ground or wrenching on her neck. In some ways, it’s the most focused performance of her career. In others, it feels like someone who is going on the attack as a method of holding it all together. It’s one of the rawest performances of the year, real and honest, constantly on the verge of teetering over.
And Hiyori runs with it. I adore her. She’s the most Darejyo member of the roster right now and has stepped into a nonsense role that hasn’t really been occupied since Lulu Pencil vanished. However, this isn’t that performance. Yes, there are touches of her eccentricity, escaping a crab by hammering on Nonoka’s calves or scuttling backwards to break a hold before it’s even been put on, but she’s the solid centre of this match. As Nonoka releases her emotions, Hiyori is, unusually, the one who has to hold it all together. She plays spoiler come the end, but you also get the impression she’s the one making sure Nonoka doesn’t break.
Until the bell has rung, that is. When it’s all over, and Hiyori formally holds out a hand to shake, Nonoka slaps it away, engulfing her friend in a hug, instead. It makes me cry every time. The wrestling that works for me the best is the stuff that, through all its performance and fakery, has at least a grain of truth. A shared emotion, be it love or hate, that burns brightly when two people meet in that ring. Hiyori and Nonoka found that together. It may have only been an eight-minute match that main evented an Ichigaya, and it probably won’t, context or not, bother the minds of certain sections of the wrestling fanbase, but it’s stuck with me. And I suspect it will continue to do so for a long time.
Chie Koishikawa vs Mei Suruga, Warring Era (31/3/25), ChocoPro
There is an argument to be made that Chie’s entire career had been building to this match. Yes, she’s challenged for titles before, even won them, but none of that happened against Mei Suruga. Mei is Chie’s white whale. Whether it’s solo or as part of Best Bros, she’s always been what stands between Chie and the chance of being at the top of the promotion she loves. They may be friends, they may even team at times, but what Koishikawa hie wants more than anything else is to be Suruga’s rival. To stand as an equal next to her and carry ChocoPro on their backs.
The opening of this match shows why Chie is chasing that goal. Suruga doesn’t treat her like an equal. When she wrestles an AZM, Mei Seira or Rina Yamashita, Suruga practically buzzes with excitement, desperate to show what she can do against an outsider. Against Chie, she approaches it like any other match, dismissively staying in her corner when it comes time to shake hands. In the past, that might have got to her. The energy that fuels her might have started to bubble over as she bounced herself into defeat. This time, she’s having none of that. She marches across the ring, grabs Mei’s hand and insists on her. Chie refused to be ignored.
It was a moment that set the tone. Mei started by taking it easy, but every time she did, Chie punished her for it. As Suruga poses on the rope, being cute for the crowd, Koishikawa grabs that leg and locks on her first stretch muffler of the afternoon, dangling her off the ground. It’s the first warning shot Mei can’t take this lightly while setting up the challenger’s target. She spends this match determined to rip that leg apart, showing a focus and attention that stands in direct contrast to her usual hyperactive nature. The limb work here is fantastic, as Chie constantly varies her attack, wrenching on that leg, stretching it over her shoulders or driving her foot into the joint. She comes in with a plan and executes it brilliantly.
As much as it’s Chie’s match, though, it’s because of Suruga’s work that it’s allowed to happen. Mei gives this over to her. She lets herself be punished for every spark of arrogance, and as the match action goes on, you can see the worry set in. More and more, Suruga starts going for the win, as it becomes increasingly obvious that this might be the day that Koishikawa has her number. Chie’s spent her whole career in Mei’s rearview mirror, the bouncy, happy figure who was never really a challenger for her throne. Yet as Suruga grew comfortable with that, it turned out Chie was only getting stronger. Picking up the pace and threatening to overtake before the champ even knew it was happening.
And yet, like so much in life, this ends in heartbreak. Chie does everything right apart from the final 5 seconds. She never wavers from her plan, and just as everything is in place for her to slip into the lead, Suruga finds the right counter at the right moment to steal out with the win. Chie’s great, incredible even, but Mei is still better. It’s gutting, but it’s also brilliant. Defeat is always more interesting than victory, and as Chie sobs in frustration in the aftermath, it’s not Suruga that people are paying attention to. Sadly, of course, injury would go on to derail the momentum Koishikawa picked up from this match, but that doesn’t change what happened here, and it doesn’t change that this is proof that if Mei rests on her laurels for a second, Chie Koishikawa will be there to punish her for it.
Shuji Ishikawa vs Satsuki Nagao, Fighting Detectives 3 ~One Life to Live~ (8/4/25), KT-Dan
These Fighting Detective shows have quickly become a highlight of the year. They’re fresh and interesting, offering up a style that very few people are doing (is GLEAT still doing shoot-style? Is GLEAT still a thing?). And while I tend to enjoy what Abe and Nomura have got planned in the main events, it’s almost always the matches further down the card that catch my eye, particularly the ones where they line up some young buck and throw them at a grizzled old bastard. Last year’s event had the battle of Satos. This year, we got Shuji Ishikawa vs Satsuki Nagao.
It all starts very calmly. Ishikawa and Nagao locked up, grappling for control, and it looked like we were going to be treated to a mat-heavy affair. Of course, that’s ignoring who Shuji Ishikawa is. He’s not a shoot-style purist. Truthfully, I’ve got so used to seeing him through the prism of his lovely relationship with his adult daughters in Evolution that I forget the man is a monster. Then he decided to lay a headbutt on Nagao, and it all came flooding back. Ishikawa wasn’t going to go out and show off his technical prowess. He wanted to turn this into a fight, and a fight it became, full of the kind of hits you only get on these shows. At one point, he picked Nagao up and launched him headfirst into the turnbuckle. Not a nice, safe throw like Undertaker’s Snake Eyes. No, it was a proper neck cruncher of a toss.
A match like this lives and dies on the performance of the youngster, though. Veterans kicking the shit out of people is always fun, but to hit that next level, the kid needs to step up (I should mention that Nagao is 27 and has wrestled for five years, so despite the way I’m talking about him, he’s hardly some wet behind the ears babe). He gave as good as he got here. Every time Ishikawa hit him, Nagao gave it back just as hard, embracing the brawl he was being dragged into. You get some of those proper meaty thuds in this match – the sound of flesh on flesh and, at times, skull on skull. I know it’s not healthy, but I fucking love it. What can I say? Sometimes I just want to see two lads beat the shit out of each other.
They gave me exactly what I wanted: 11 minutes of hard-hitting and violent action. Eventually, Ishikawa realised he was in more danger than he liked, so slapped a choke on Nagao and saw him off. It was a simple, perfectly realised ending to a match that did everything it needed to. There were countless more complicated performances this year, but few scratched the itch this one did, and that’s the joy of it all.
Team Marvelous (Takumi Iroha, Riko Kawahata, Maria, Ai Houzan & Sora Ayame) vs Team Marigold (Chika Goto, Miku Aono, Natsumi Showzuki, Rea Seto & Kizuna Tanaka), Rising Spirit (25/4/25), Marigold
As their feud with Marigold heated up, Marvelous pulled an old trick out of the bag, repeating the gauntlet match format that was such a success when they battled Sendai Girls in the build to GAEAISM. That was one of my favourite matches of 2021, and it’s no surprise this effort achieved something similar this year. They actually ran this stipulation twice, and while I slightly favour this one (for reasons I’ll talk about), you can read this as a recommendation for both matches.
My favourite thing about this stipulation is that the gauntlet format plays into the more tactical side of wrestling. Like the best War Games matches, you can see why teams have decided to send wrestlers out at certain times. Here, we see Marvelous start with their two weakest members, Ayame Sora and Ai Houzan, both of whom go for quick wins, only to be caught by Kizuna Tanaka. It’s at that point that they pivot, turning to Maria and Riko Kawahata to even things up. Maria sees off the two Sendai youngsters, Tanaka and Rea Seto, before heroically battling to a time-limit draw with Natsumi Showzuki, eliminating them both, even as Showzuki attacked the arm that Seto had already worked on. Similarly, Kawahata finds herself outmatched by Miku Aono, her once AWG senior, but puts up a heroic fight, ultimately not only surviving the ten minutes to take Marigold’s biggest hitter out, but almost getting the win herself.
And those performances are the heart of this match. I think I’m higher on Magenta’s heel turn than most, as I’m enjoying watching Maria and Riko figure out something they clearly wanted to do, but their presence in the rematch doesn’t quite work. By that point, they’d turned their back on Marvelous, so having them fighting for the pride of the company gave the whole thing a disjointed feel. Here, they’re free to babyface it up, and Maria, in particular, is brilliant. Her arm is attacked relentlessly while she’s out there, but she refuses to go down, and getting to that time limit draw with Showzuki feels like a huge achievement. She and Riko halt Natsumi and Aono before they can get going, and while they sacrifice themselves to do it, that is the right call for the team. Like a footballer committing a professional foul and taking the yellow card, meaning they miss the final, they did what was right for Marvelous.
Because the conclusion of this match shows that while Marvelous got their ordering spot on, Marigold fucked up. In a moment that can either be read as hubris or a willingness to let someone prove themselves, they left Chika Goto to last, leaving her alone with a fresh Takumi Iroha. To give her credit, Goto is defiant to the end, the Marigold fans rallying behind her as she gives her all, but there was only ever one way that was ending. I have my issues with Iroha, but she’s at her best when she’s a prick, laying in those chops and kicks to a wrestler she sees as beneath her. She’s generous enough to give Goto her moment in the sun, but the Running Three saw it off, and Marvelous took the win.
I’ve said it before, but the Marvelous roster flourishes when asked to defend the company. Whether it’s Sendai Girls, Oz Academy or Marigold, they will go to war in the name of Chigusa Nagayo. Even with Mio Momono missing this match (the advantage the second one does have is her return, and she did succeed in getting something great out of Utami), they brought it once again. When this Marigold feud ends, I hope there is someone else in place, ready to step up and take them on. I want more!
Senka Akatsuki & Sora Ayame vs Seri Yamaoka & Victoria Yuzuki, 1st Anniversary Series ~ Burning Desire (16/7/25), Marigold
If it’s true that your first bite of food is with the eye, then it’s also accurate for your first impression of wrestlers. One glance usually gives you an idea of the realms you’re stepping into. Take Victoria Yuzuki, the youngster being groomed for the top of Marigold, who is already wearing gear that falls under the category of Rossycore. It’s the kind of costume that everyone who has made the move to Stardom, and now Marigold, ends up wearing, whether it feels appropriate or not. Although, to be fair to them, Seri Yamaoka hasn’t been pushed down that route. Her get-up is far from plain, but there is enough of a wrestling singlet in there to hint at her roots. However, even then, it stands in contrast to Sora Ayame and Senka Akatsuki. In their simple red and blue singlets, the colours of the Crush Gals, they hark back to a previous age.
Even more impressive is that these rookies, three of whom at this point had wrestled for less than a year, already feel distinct from each other when wrestling, too. A lot of young joshi wrestlers are similar. It’s all dropkicks and forearms, as it’s more about showing passion than doing anything fancy. That’s not the case here, though. Senka and Ayame may still be working from a limited playbook, but they make it feel very different. In Akatsuki, you’ve got the bullish power of someone determined to bulldoze their way through opponents. Sora, meanwhile, is a bit more subtle and a lot more sympathetic. Even early in this match, she’s more emotion than heft, but it works for her. She’s chasing behind these other three, but when she starts going for those flash pins at the end, trying to steal the win, people eat them up. She’s the easiest person in the world to root for.
It’s how those styles clash with those on the other side of the ring that makes this exciting, though, particularly in the case of Seri and Senka. Those two have been tied together since Marigold vs Marvelous started, and it was a perfect call. They have to be dragged apart before the match begins, but when they finally get to face off, Senka is so confident in herself that she shoots for a takedown on the former amateur wrestler, desperate to prove she can hold her own on the ground. While she’s no slouch (as anyone who has watched a Marvelous pro-test can tell you, you don’t debut if you can’t go on the mat), she’s fighting a losing battle. As we see later on, she’d be better keeping things upright, duking it out with lariats rather than holds, but she doesn’t even consider that. It’s not in her nature. She doesn’t just want to beat Seri; she wants to do it by besting her at her own game.
While the other pairings aren’t quite as heated, there is a similar clash. Everything Sora does is from chapter one of the wrestling book, as she’s still limited to what Marvelous’ rookies are allowed to do. When compared to Giulia and Rossy’s protege, Yuzuki, it leaves her somewhat outgunned. They feel like they come from different worlds, yet, as much as I’m inclined not to root for someone of Victoria’s background, it works here. She played the exact right level of flashiness, always standing out, particularly as the most experienced wrestler involved, but never shining so bright as to dim the others. What puts this above so many other similar matches between young wrestlers is that everyone in it not only gets their moment to shine, but delivers perhaps the best example of what they’re capable of. They get to show how bright the future is.
Mei Suruga vs Rina Yamashita, Game Changer (5/9/25), ChocoPro
There is an obvious version of this match. It’s one that Rina Yamashita is very familiar with. She comes in as the challenger of the month, using her power to bully the champ, before being caught at the end. I’m not insulting that formula (it can be brilliant), but it’s the safe option. The old reliable that you know is probably going to work.
There are elements of it here, too. With the size disparity between Rina and Mei, it’s impossible to eject entirely. A simple boot from Yamashita was enough to send the champ sprawling, and it gets the reaction it merits from the ChocoPro fans. Choco isn’t devoid of physical wrestlers. Both Miya Yotsuba and Sayaka, not to mention Emi Sakura, have touches of that to their game, but they don’t compare to Rina Yamashita. She has a brute force approach that makes it easy to picture her brushing Suruga aside.
And yet, that’s not this match. If anything, it’s Mei who plays the antagonist here. She’s the one who goes dirty, trying to throw Rina across the ring by her hair, before showing off a touch of that Best Bros’ cockiness when she gets the advantage on the outside. She never goes full menace – this isn’t her wrestling a rookie in Ichigaya – but she definitely leans into that element of herself. Yamashita has come into her home, and while Mei has been bullied there before, she’s now the all-dominant champion, and she seems unwilling to let it happen again.
That works because the secondary story here is about Yamashita falling in love. This run is far from her first ChocoPro appearance, and she’s been something of an irregular regular over the last few years, but something really seemed to click with her in 2025. I’ve talked about it elsewhere, but as much as I enjoy Rina’s work, she has a tendency to coast. To come in and do what she needs to do before vanishing off to America to hang out with some of the dregs in GCW. However, there is none of that here. She has fallen for ChocoPro’s charms, and the longer this match goes on, the more apparent that becomes. Yamashita isn’t simply willing to do the job. She wants that belt.
Let’s not go over the top. This isn’t some grand double turn where the fans switch from their Ace to Yamashita, but there is definitely a shift. A feeling that maybe Rina isn’t just here to tick the box this month, but is a challenger who could pull off the win. As the match goes on, the atmosphere in the room changes and the reactions grow louder and louder. Yamashita finds answers to all of Mei’s tricks, and when she doesn’t have any left, suddenly that power comes back to the fore. Suruga is left alone with someone bigger, stronger and just as smart as her, and the inevitable comes to pass.
I love this match. ChocoPro might be one of the smaller promotions Rina appears in regularly, but it felt like a turning point for her, a spark that woke something up inside. She’d go on to have another cracker with Antonio Honda (it would make the group of matches just below this list) the month after, and with Emi Sakura set to challenge before the end of the year, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was even better. By doing the unexpected, Mei and Rina found something special, and it topped almost everything else they did this year.
Miu Watanabe vs Yuki Aino, Additional Attack (18/10/25), TJPW
If you’d given me a list of every TJPW main event we’d see this year in January and had asked me to predict my favourite, I doubt I would have leaned this way. It’s no slight on Yuki Aino, who, alongside her sister, was one of my early TJPW favourites. However, Aino vs Watanabe fails to leap off the page next to Mizuki vs Rika Tatsumi, Shoko Nakajima vs Miu Watanabe and co. It looks like a filler Korakuen. The first runout for a new champion, where you know the chances of them dropping their newly earned gold are minimal at best.
Yet, here we are, and this is easily the Tokyo Joshi main event that’s stuck with me. Why? Because it’s not like the others. I somehow doubt it’s the case, but this is a match where it feels like Watanabe and Aino have been watching their Strong Division tapes. From the second the bell rings, they go crashing into each other, and that forms the central theme of the action. It’s a goddamn hoss fight.
They’re good at it, too. There are a bunch of little moments I love here. Aino lining Miu up to send her crashing through the chairs at ringside, a bump that she more than commits to, and a moment that feels like such a brilliantly basic form of violence. Then there’s Watanabe pausing to feel out her shoulder, the constant bashing into each other beginning to take its toll on her body. So often this style of match is depicted as a war of stoicism, both wrestlers refusing to show a sliver of weakness. That’s not TJPW, though. They’re allowed to show that it hurts.
And it’s not a totally new thing for Miu to come up against someone who wants to hoss it out with her. She’s fought bigger and stronger wrestlers before. However, noone has done it this way. Noone has gone out and challenged Miu to bash heads until one can’t keep going. They’ve maybe thrown her around, chopped her and made it hard for her to hit some of her big moves, but they’ve not faced her head-on like this. Challenging her pride in a battle of who can stay on their feet the longest.
So yes, ultimately, this was the match I described at the top – a filler title match where no one really thought Aino had a chance of winning. However, that became irrelevant. By delivering something fresh and new, at least within the confines of TJPW, they tapped into a whole new well of excitement that allowed me to forget what I knew. I wanted to watch these two wee hosses bash into each other all night, and while it sadly did eventually come to an end, I really hope it’s not the last time they do this dance.
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