It might be a new year, but some things remain the same, as I commit to rambling about whatever wrestling I’ve been watching each month. You can tell it’s January because I always enter a new twelve months motivated to keep up with as much different stuff as possible. Will these lists be slowly whittled down to mainly covering Marvelous, TJPW and ChocoPro by the time April rolls around? Probably, but it’s nice to convince myself 2026 could be the year I stay on top of everything. You never know!
Emi Sakura vs Rina Yamashita, Purple Chocolate (30/12/25), ChocoPro
Time is starting to catch up with Emi Sakura. That’s a relative thing. Thirty years into her career, the vast majority of which has been plagued by back issues, Sakura is having to adjust her approach. She wrestles less, and when the big matches come around, she goes about them in a slightly different way. That’s not to say she can’t pull out some big hits when the time comes, but she has to be more selective about when to do so. The days of 450s and Moonsaults are probably behind her.
However, if there is one wrestler I have faith in figuring out how to adapt to ageing, it’s Emi Sakura. I’m writing this after I wrote about the Naito match below, in which you can read me rambling about a similar idea, but I’m always intrigued to see how wrestlers age. Some fight against time, trying to do what they’ve always done, even as their bodies fall apart. Others adapt. They figure out how to make more out of little and to save those big moments for when they matter. It’s something I think Aja Kong has excelled at in recent years, and it should be no surprise that Sakura is showing signs of doing similar.
Her battle with Rina Yamashita is the perfect proof of that. A few years ago, this would have looked quite different. Sakura would have aimed to match Rina more on the physical side of things. Now, nearly all of that is saved for the last act. Instead, she spends the majority of the action playing the oni, stalling or setting herself up as the punchline before catching Yamashita off guard. She was never a modern ‘workrate’ wrestler, although she was capable of all that and more, but now she’s pulling out every trick in the book to fill these matches up before they hit their conclusion.
And it works. It helps that, despite being the natural heel (a powerful outsider who has won Sakura’s company’s title), Rina has become something of a crowd favourite in Choco. Her clear love of the company makes it so easy to root for her, and Sakura is always happy to play the coward. She’ll cry and cower before stamping on a foot or dragging her nails across flesh. You can point to a lot of themes that have played out across her career, but desperately seeking the adoration of fans isn’t one of them. If anything, she does the opposite. She relishes being booed by the people her work has brought together.
Of course, Yamashita deserves credit, too. I was caught off guard when ChocoPro put the belt on her, but it has turned out to be a masterplan. Every title match has been a little bit different, as we’re getting to see more sides of her than I have in years. For ages, she’s either been the solid hand you bring in or the deathmatch wrestler, but ChocoPro lets her be more than that. She was the hero of this match, the scarred outsider taking on the evil overlord. It ruled, and as a farewell to a year where ChocoPro (and Sakura, in particular) had to deal with a lot because of the horrible injury to Masa Takanashi, it was a perfect celebration of how healing wrestling can be.
Yuki Miyazaki vs Sakura Hirota, Yuki Miyazaki’s Retirement “The End of Rampage” (1/1/26), WAVE
What an unexpected joy. There are many ways for wrestlers to retire. You can have one last battle with an old rival, an all-star tag of your closest friends and enemies, the traditional joshi gauntlet or a simple announcement on a website as you disappear off into the sunset. Miyazaki’s final bout, a Weapons Rumble with her old friend Sakura Hirota, was a love letter to a career. A wild forty-odd minutes of nonsense and shenanigans, all of which built to someone who wasn’t even involved winning. It was wonderful.
And I’m not going to ruin every bit, as I do write these hoping you will go and watch the matches I’m recommending, but I do have to touch on some of them. If nothing else, I have to celebrate that we got a glimpse of a Cohaku vs Mio Momono match, a treat for this Marvelous fan that I did not see coming. The two old pals slipped back into each other’s orbit like they’d never left, and while it wasn’t as tight as it was back in the day, if you give them ten minutes together, they’ll get there. Alongside that, there were antics aplenty, from some old GAEA stalwarts coming out to reveal Hirota’s secrets to both Sanshiro and Kayako Takagi making an appearance. One of the beautiful things about retirements is that you get a glimpse into how beloved these wrestlers are, and judging by the length of the train of people crashing into Miyazaki in the corner (although an unprecedented number chose to go for kisses or cuddles instead), she was loved by all.
As she should be. Miyazaki is neither a critic’s darling nor a casual fan’s favourite, but she has been consistently outstanding for years. She’s as comfortable being slammed on stools (a bump that always looks heinous) as she is placing younger wrestlers in compromising positions. WAVE might not be the biggest promotion in the world, but you only have to scroll through her Cagematch to see how many prominent names have popped their head round the door to get in the ring with her. In the final year of her career, she wrestled over 100 times, a total that some young wrestlers take four times that long to get to. She’s a treasure, and while there have been retirements that have picked up more column inches in the last couple of months, she’ll be as missed as any of them.
Emi Sakura, Mei Suruga & Baliyan Akki vs Soy, Hiyori Yawata & Erii Kanae, ChocoPro #498 (1/1/26), ChocoPro
Ichigaya is always a special visit, but the run of shows they do over the changing of the year always have a particularly sparky energy to them. The venue is packed, the fans are in good spirits, and the vibes are immaculate. I’ve been lucky enough to attend one of them in the past, and it’s still perhaps my favourite show I’ve ever been to, but even watching them from home warms me up inside. They capture what makes ChocoPro so special.
I know it’s my fault, but I made the mistake of reading a Cagematch review which complained this match was too chaotic. There are many things on that website I disagree with, but that might be the biggest one yet. Too chaotic? In Ichigaya, there is no such thing. For alongside those Hogmanay vibes, what makes this so great is that it constantly feels like it’s on the verge of spiralling out of control. With six people sharing the mat, they consistently threaten to spill over into the crowd, and at one point, they do, as an unlucky fan ends up needing a new chair after theirs broke in a collision with Akki. It’s fast-paced and wild, holding on to sanity by a thread. And I love it.
I love it because that is the magic of Ichigaya. You can go to countless other venues and see great wrestling from a distance, but it’s only in Chocolate Square that it literally falls into your lap. And does that occasionally lead to mistakes? Of course, but they’re fun mistakes. They’re mistakes that work for the world they inhabit. Everyone in that room is rooting for it to work, and when things go wrong, there is never a sense that anyone is that bothered about it. They just keep moving forward, enjoying the action and appreciating the joy of the moment.
And what joy there is. Hiyori steals the show in this one, getting herself in trouble by brashly taking more of the match than she probably should. However, Soy isn’t far behind her. Not only because of her increasing annoyance at her excitable partner, but because she can throw down with your Akkis and Sakuras of the world. Those chops are getting lethal, and my early worries that she was too nice to ever wield her power effectively are proving unfounded. She’s smashing it right now.
Mostly, though, this is all about the moment. It’s about the brightness of a packed Ichigaya on New Year’s Day, where everyone is having the time of their life. It makes my heart ache for it. I want to be there, drinking in that atmosphere, revelling in the chaos. Sadly, that wasn’t to be, but I got the next best thing, and that’s still pretty good.
Los Tranquilos de Japon (Tetsuya Naito & BUSHI) vs Naomichi Marufuji & KENOH, NOAH ‘The New Year’ (1/1/26), NOAH
I’m not going to pretend I know what’s happening in NOAH. It’s been years since I watched it regularly, and while I know the consensus is that it’s bad, I’m also aware that the consensus around most of the promotions I enjoy is wrong, so I’m not going to hold that against it. Most wrestling fans don’t really enjoy watching wrestling, so their opinion on stuff doesn’t bother me.
However, while I have no intention of watching NOAH regularly again, if there’s anyone who can make me poke my head around the door, it’s Tetsuya Naito. I may have stopped watching New Japan years ago, but at heart, I’m still the guy who booked his first trip to Japan on the dream of seeing Naito finally win the gold at the Dome. He was my first puro favourite, and even as his body clearly struggles to do what it once did, he’ll always have a place in my heart. If anything, his departure from NJPW and the esoteric way he’s been conducting his career since has rekindled my interest. Naito is never more interesting than when he’s left to his own devices.
The gimmick coming into this match was great. BUSHI was announced to face KENOH and Marufuji with the mysterious XXXX, whose shadow looked somewhat familiar. Absolutely no one, least of all NOAH, was trying to hide that it was Naito, but of course, they weren’t going to admit it, and with KENOH on the other side, that was never going to go down well. Naito milked his fury for all it was worth, sending out a masked decoy before finally emerging. Of course, that also had the double advantage of meaning he got to soak in two huge pops from the NOAH fans, a timely reminder that, no matter the fact that he can apparently barely see and his knees are dust, there isn’t a bigger star in Japan right now.
With all that hoopla, the match almost becomes irrelevant. It’s certainly not one I ever particularly cared about. The myth of Marufuji has always been more appealing than the reality; BUSHI was my least favourite LIJ member, and KENOH is an alright hand. Plus, they all paled in comparison to Naito. Even as the look on his face suggested he couldn’t be arsed, he was always the centre of the action, as the NOAH fans popped for him spitting in the faces of their legends. So much of his shtick is heelish, as he taunts and stalls his way through proceedings, but they lap it up. It’s the enigma of Naito. The more hated he tries to be, the more people love him.
And truthfully, it caught me off guard how good he looked here. I know he’s been out of New Japan for a while, working on a significantly reduced schedule, but I’d been led to believe he could barely walk. Instead, he looked like an ageing wrestler, not what he once was, but able to take a few bumps and hit his signature spots. Even more importantly, he played the match like a fiddle. Marufuji and KENOH wrestled the whole thing like they were furious, and the more he refused to engage, the more potent their anger felt. His blank expression wasn’t a flaw – it was what made this work.
Of course, there is a touch of my own bias here, and a glance at Cagematch suggests there are people that fucking hated it, but that brings us back to what I said at the start. I think fans often make their minds up about older wrestlers regardless of what is in front of their eyes. As the likes of Aja Kong have shown again and again, what’s interesting about watching people age is seeing how they adapt. I don’t want to watch Naito wrestle like it’s 2015. I want to see how he can evolve and change for 2026. While I wouldn’t put this forward as evidence that he’s found a whole new way of doing things, it gave me enough to make me think I’d be checking out a few more of his matches as this year goes on.
Abdullah Kobayashi vs Yusaku Ito, New Year’s Battle Begins (2/1/26), BJW
Here’s something I might not have mentioned before – I adore Abby Kobayashi. He’s a chubby, ovuncular lad who happens to excel at blood letting, be it his own or someone else’s. I’m not going to pretend I watch all his matches, but once or twice a year I’ll shove one on and have a lovely time. Sure, he’s not zipping around the ring, pulling off the incredible, but the guy oozes charm and charisma. There are very few people I want to root for as much as Abby.
And that’s what makes this match. I won’t pretend to have a clue what’s going on in BJW, but Ito seems like he’s a wee shite, and Abby’s here to put him in his place. Within seconds of the bell, Kobayashi’s bleeding, and it’s not much longer before he ends up with a fork sticking out of his forehead. As you’d expect from a BJW deathmatch, the blood sticks around for the rest of the bout, although eventually it is joined by a substantial amount of black ink. Ito blows it into Abby’s face, and, unfortunately, it does make it look a little bit like he’s blacked up. He hadn’t! But I suspect one or two people might see pictures and have a momentary spark of worry.
That’s not the point, though. What matters here is how wonderfully sympathetic Kobayashi is throughout this. So many deathmatches have become bloated in machismo, and while that can be great, it does take away a lot of the fire. Abby’s not afraid to look vulnerable. After having his back shredded repeatedly on light tubes, he begins to back away, anxious about taking the next bump. It could almost be a heel move, but it’s entirely sympathetic, coming across like a man desperate to survive. Then, when he does turn the tide, he goes route one, sweeping up armfuls of lighttubes and hurling them at Ito. Deathmatch spots have gotten so elaborate that sometimes it’s the simple stuff that hits hardest. Abby launching piles of tubes at Ito’s head is the perfect example of that.
Truthfully, I’m not clued in enough on the scene to talk about where this sits in the grander scheme of things right now. All I know is that I enjoyed it. The fans were in Kobayashi’s corner throughout, and when he finally put the wee shit away, burying him under light tubes to do so, it felt good. Sometimes you need the simple story of the hero getting the job done, and while there was significantly more glass involved in this telling of that tale than usual, it still did the job.
Miu Watanabe vs Suzume, Tokyo Joshi Pro ’26 (4/1/26), TJPW
I spoke about this main event in-depth in my review, but I wanted to focus on how important it feels for TJPW as a whole. TJPW first ran Korakuen Hall on Ittenyon in 2016, making this the 10th anniversary of that original show. In that time, including this year, eleven people have main-evented. Not all of those have been company mainstays. There are three who have left (Yuu, Itoh and Reika Saiki) and one foreigner (Masha Slamovich), but there has been a recurring theme. At least one of Miyu Yamashita, Shoko Nakajima, Yuka Sakazaki, Rika Tatsumi and Mizuki has featured in those matches. Quite often, two of them have, and Miyu has headlined a remarkable 7 times in that period. TJPW was built on those women, and yet, this year, they weren’t there. They weren’t even in title matches. They were relied upon to flesh out the undercard.
There has long been this perception that Koda is a boring booker. That he returns to his favourites and is never willing to take a risk. It became a particularly potent opinion when he didn’t belt up Maki Itoh, a wrestler whose entire shtick was that she couldn’t get over the line. Despite that dig, I’m not going to deny that Koda takes things slowly, but I am going to kick back against the idea that it doesn’t work. Go and listen to the crowd during this match. They’re electric. Easily as loud as they’ve been for any of those other matches over the year. Why? Because they’ve been on a journey with Suzume and Miu. They’ve seen them come in as timid little rookies and grow to this position. They’ve seen them lose and they’ve seen them win, and it all built to this moment, when they were trusted to sell out Korakuen on January 4th.
And I get that sometimes it makes sense to strap the rocket pack to a wrestler. Not everyone has a ten-year shelf life, and when the time comes for it, you should take that risk. However, there is also something to be said for taking your time and making an audience work for what they want to see. In theory, Koda could have done this years ago. He could have stacked up a Korakuen with Suzume, Miu, Hikari Noa and more, and who knows how it would have done. Maybe they would have sold it out, and he’d be hailed a genius. However, I don’t think it would have been as satisfying as this match. It wouldn’t have had the thrill of seeing two people not only succeed, but do so beyond your wildest expectations. Let’s not get it twisted, Suzume and Miu were incredible here. Incredible in a way that they couldn’t have been even last year.
I don’t think, or want, this to be the end of the core TJPW five in their main events. I think Shoko, Rika and Mizuki, in particular, have a lot more stories to tell, and I’ve even started to warm up to Miyu again now that she’s teaming with the bird. However, we are undeniably at the point that Koda has been building to for years. The moment when the momentum begins to shift so strongly in the direction of the younger generation that it’s becoming impossible to stop. It’s not just Miu and Suzume, either. From Endo down to Uta Takami, TJPW is bursting with young, enthusiastic talent, all of whom are desperate to prove themselves. Will it take them a while? Maybe, but this Korakuen, and this main event, is proof that you’d be a fool not to go along for the ride.
Hiroshi Tanahashi vs Kazuchika Okada, Wrestle Kingdom 20 (4/1/26), NJPW
Other people will write about the importance of Hiroshi Tanahashi’s career. They’ll unpick what he meant to NJPW and puroresu as a whole. I’m not the person to do that. By the time I came along, Tanahashi was arguably already past his peak. Still great, but on the tail end of an incredible career. Since then, I’ve been lucky enough to see him all over the place, from 30 minutes from my flat to the Tokyo Dome, and it’s never stopped being exciting. Even when he hobbled down the ramp in Glasgow last year for AEW, looking every bit the man who’d carried NJPW on his back for years, I still got that thrill. There was the Ace.
And this was one final great Ace performance. We’ll never know what a Nakamura or a Shibata match might have looked like, and they would have been the emotional choice, but Okada turned up and was exactly what Tanahashi needed him to be. A wee cunt. Like when he walked out and dared to challenge Tana all those years ago, he was sneering and petulant, returning to the company he left to put his old rival in the ground. In his first attempt at the Rainmaker, he didn’t even spread the arms, instead raising a cruel middle finger to the camera. Yet, as the match went on, as Tanahashi dug deep and gave him everything he had, Okada began to come out. The Ace reached down inside his old rival and forced him to surface, demanding his respect even as his body gave up. When he finally gave Tana what he wanted, spreading his arms wide for the Rainmaker pose, it was an acknowledgement that Hiroshi Tanashashi is still a man worth fighting.
What a man he is. He doesn’t move like he once did, and there are moments here where he struggled (when he leaned back for that Nakamura tribute, I worried he wasn’t going to be able to stand back up), but he was still magnificent. Tanahashi’s brilliance is in his sincerity. Yes, he was capable of heeling it up, but when the time called for a hero, he was willing to be one, as cheesy and over the top as they needed him to be. People loved him because of that, not despite it. Towards the end of this match, when he managed a desperate kick out from a Rainmaker, he pulled himself back to his feet, driven by a crowd who were screaming him on. In that moment, you believed, you believed that the fans could drive Tana to that one final moment. They couldn’t, but that was always Tanahashi’s magic. You could put your faith in him, even when it seems impossible.
Yes, when I was fantasy booking it in advance, I wanted him to win. Surely, after all this time, Okada could return the favour Tanahashi gave him all these years ago when the world believed he wasn’t ready – one last climb to the top, one last High Fly Flow, one last three. However, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? Who cares what the result reads come the end of this match? Years from now, people won’t remember that Okada won. They’ll remember that the Ace dug deep, pulled up everything he had left and gave one last heroic performance. That he forced the guy who walked out to take it easy in AEW to remember who he was. They’ll remember their hero putting it all on the line one final time.
Go Ace!
Haru Kazashiro vs Shion Kanzaki, New Year Party (10/1/26), TJPW
I make this point every couple of months, but my god, Haru has come far. That shy, nervous kid who walked into TJPW in March 2023 is now unrecognisable. Again, it’s the example I always use, but this is the same lass who once needed Runa to join her documentary because she was too nervous to answer the questions herself. It’s hard to imagine that happening now.
And tasked with giving a rookie her first singles match, she was fantastic here. Haru controlled the flow of the action, attacking Shion’s arm and grinning from ear to ear when she locked on her armbar. It wasn’t just that she was wrestling well – she was enjoying it. There wasn’t a hint of nerves at being asked to walk the new kid through a match. She delivered an exemplary veteran performance, and, in case you’ve forgotten, she’s only 17. How much further can she go?
Kanzaki also deserves some credit. She was given a big debut at Ittenyon, not only competing in her own match, but also being dragged into Misao and Shoko’s antics. That she took all of that in her stride is probably a good sign for her future. In the ring, she’s already impressively expressive, arms flailing as she takes her beating. If anything, she’s perhaps a bit too over the top, as she could trust the fans a touch more to be able to follow what she’s doing. Still, considering this was only her second match, I think that is the preferable outcome. There are a lot of stony-faced rookies out there, so having to teach someone to tone it down a touch is a nice issue to have.
These kinds of matches always make me happy. Two young wrestlers get five minutes at the start of the card to show what they can do. Are they particularly complex? No, but that’s not their job. They’re setting the tone for the show ahead, and considering this was Shion’s first go at it, they did an impressive job.
Chihiro Hashimoto vs Saya Iida, Step and Go (11/1/26), Sendai Girls
It’s a while since I’ve talked about her, but Saya Iida was my first joshi rookie. I started watching Stardom in 2019, and she debuted just a couple of weeks into the year. As long-term readers will know, I tend to get attached to rookies, and Iida was no exception. She quickly became a favourite, and while it’s taken a while for the rest of the world to catch up, from what I gather, she’s bulldozed her way into Stardom’s plans – partly by getting fucking ripped. As happy as I am to hear she’s doing well, there will always be a part of me that wants to see how Iida would get on outside of Stardom. We were treated to a touch of it when she and Momo Watanabe turned up in SEAd to battle Arisa Nakajiima and Nanae Takahashi, and there have been one-offs elsewhere. However, those opportunities have been sadly limited, which is part of what made this war with Big Hash so exciting.
And they delivered exactly what you’d hope for. Big meaty lasses slapping meat. These two hosses smashed into each other in all manner of delightful ways, with Giant Saya seemingly catching Hash off guard with the damage she was able to inflict. Those chops, in particular, have become a lethal weapon, but they weren’t alone. She held her ground here, going up against one of the scene’s premier tanks and matching her head on. Of course, she was also dumped on her head with a hell of a Hashimoto German, but that’s part of the deal. You always worry that people who have existed entirely within one system will struggle when removed from it. Stardom isn’t quite WWE, but they have their way of doing things, and Iida doesn’t know much else. Thankfully, she is also a child of Kagetsu and Hazuki, so she adapted to what Big Hash threw at her brilliantly.
As excited as people get about dream matches, these are the ones that I’m actually intrigued by. It’s what makes Saya Kamitani in WAVE or HATE in Oz Academy exciting. They’re the pairings you didn’t expect to see, and the ones that allow you to push up against what a wrestler is used to. Crashing into Big Hash isn’t that far removed from Iida’s day job, but it’s a step away from her comfort zone, and she flourished when handed that opportunity. I actually don’t mind isolationism – there are benefits to it – but if you’re going to spread out, I’m a thousand times more interested in clashes like this than I am overblown Ace vs Ace showdowns. You know what those matches are going to look like, but throwing a talented midcarder into the unknown? That’s where the exciting stuff happens.
Mio Momono & Titus Alexander vs Mizuki Watase & Yosuke Santa Maria, Marvelous (12/10/26), Marvelous
On the one hand, this was a shtick-heavy match. Mio and Titus reprised their BOSS & 子分 (henchman is probably the most accurate translation, but since this is Mio, I think minion is probably more appropriate) team, which meant Mio spent a lot of the action with her arms folded in an authoritative posture. Then there was Yosuke Santa Maria going around kissing everyone, which I don’t think Chig is ever going to tire of. To be clear, none of this is a complaint. Mio and Titus are always a fun pairing, and there are worse undercard comedy acts than Santa Maria out there. It’s just probably not enough to make this match worthy of note.
What makes it worth your time is Mio repeatedly being thrown up against two wrestlers who are bigger than her. When the comedy moved to the side in the second act, this became the Momono babyface show, and there are few things better than that. Watase, in particular, seemed to relish getting a smaller wrestler to throw about the place, and Mio sold the hell out of it. She was flopping and crumbling from every blow, putting in the work even as their respective sizes made it easy to cruise by on aesthetics alone. Maria was no more forgiving, though. Having messed around with Titus, she was all business up against Momono, throwing some stiff old shots out there. When you’re given a babyface that sympathetic and brilliant to work with, I guess you’ve got to take the opportunity to lay it on thick.
And it meant that when Mio finally picked up some momentum, culminating in her getting Watase over for a German, it felt great. Titus was a fun hot tag, even launching Momono over the top rope onto their opponents, but Mio was her own saviour. It always takes a bit for her to get up to top speed after an injury (although a half-speed Mio is better than most), but this really felt like her hitting form. Not only was she darting around the ring in classic Momono fashion, but every beat, both comedic and action, was hit perfectly. In the midst of the nonsense, this became a Momono showcase, and if this is her form at the start of the year, I can’t wait to see what she’s doing at the end of it.
Blue Panther vs Ultimo Guerrero, Fin De Semana Internacional (16/1/26), CMLL
Two old masters at work.
I assume this match has already been chopped up into a thousand GIFs. If it hasn’t, someone is missing a trick. It is the perfect stuff for generating a lot of retweets on Twitter. Who doesn’t want to revel in 65-year-old Blue Panther taking advantage of being up against one of the more widely acclaimed bases of all time? Panther pulls out some stuff in this that would be impressive if he were twenty years younger.
That’s not really what makes this match great, though. Of course, what they can still do is incredible, and I’m not being snarky when I talk about revelling in it, but it’s the way Panther and Guerrero control Arena Mexico that makes this special. It’s in moments like Guerrero attacking Panther during his entrance, going on the offensive in a way that prevents Panther from getting ready for the match, as Ultimo gets heat for going after a mask that Panther would have been removing anyway. Even better is that Panther, when he finally does create a bit of distance, manages to get the rare pop for being able to remove the mask himself, generating celebrations for being free to reveal that beautiful, old, weathered face by his own hands. For every big dive, there are these little moments where Panther and Guerrero work the room, artfully nudging Arena Mexico in the direction they need them to go.
It’s the kind of match that makes me wish I had the time to get into CMLL properly. I’m a completionist, and if I want to commit to something, I need to commit to it fully, but I also don’t want my entire life to revolve around watching wrestling. It might surprise some of you, but I do have other interests. However, I am determined to watch a bit more this year, to push past my own instincts and dip in for some shit that looks cool. Matches like this are proof of why that can still be rewarding, and if it means I get to spend time with these masters, that can only be a good thing.
Arisa Shinose vs HisokA, Ice Ribbon #1469 (17/1/26), Ice Ribbon
I’ve mentioned it before, but there was a period when Arisa Shinose wasn’t great. I don’t like to go in hard on rookie wrestlers (some people take time), but it really felt like those early injuries rocked her confidence. She always had an air of fear when she stepped into the ring. It wasn’t quite as bad as one-time Stardom rookie Itsuki Ishino, but it was there, and if you’d asked me to make a prediction, I would have quietly bet she wasn’t going to be in wrestling long.
Thankfully, this is one of those times where I am delighted to have been proven wrong. Not only has Shinose gained a lot of confidence over the last couple of years, but she’s starting to really put it together. Take this match, which is the first time I’ve ever seen her work at all heelish. Up against the younger HisokA, Shinose was a bit of a bully. She was delighting in scuffing her boot across her opponent’s face or digging a knuckle into her head. Even better was how she reacted to all of HisokA’s offence. There was a moment where HisokA knee-dropped her arm, and Arisa turned to the referee with a perfect ‘what are you going to do about this?’ expression on her face. When she was trapped in the corner, much like she’d had HisokA not that long before, it was an outrage.
And don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t a perfect match. While I was impressed with the meanness, Shinose could tighten it up a bit, as her digs to the head, in particular, didn’t have a whole lot of heft behind them. She also needs to work on maintaining her selling, as HisokA’s solid work on her arm never really felt like it was limiting what she could do. Plus, with it going to a ten-minute draw, they fell into a ‘big move, sell a bit, big move’ formula in the home stretch, which ditched a lot of the earlier good work. However, this felt like a pairing with potential. Shove these two together a bunch more over the next few years, and you could imagine it clicking into a wee banger.
More importantly, this is proof of why companies like Ice Ribbon and their ability to give young wrestlers time to improve are important. In a more high-pressure environment, Shinose might never have got over those early nerves. She might have packed it in and proved idiots like me right. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and seeing her take control of this match, looking at home in the ring, made me feel very happy. Good on her.
Maria vs Senka Akatsuki, Marvelous (17/1/26), Marvelous
Pure-hearted, bullish rookie Senka is a great opponent for Magenta. I enjoyed that Marvelous kicked off Maria and Riko’s heel turn by having them lose to the kid and has continued to have them be a thorn in their sides. They might not be beating them regularly, although Senka did reverse that trend a touch here, but they always cause more issues than they should. Even if it’s just Ayame pinching the underside of their arms.
It particularly worked in this match because of the different challenge that Maria presents for Akatsuki. Senka has faced people who will out-muscle her or out-strike her, but Maria isn’t interested in that. She’s sneakier, winding the rookie up and, when the opportunity presents itself, going after that arm. Whether it’s dragging Senka’s head along the ropes or having Riko snatch her legs out from underneath her, Maria spent most of this match using that bullish nature to her advantage. She knows she can set up traps that Akatsuki will charge into.
And yet, what makes Senka so exciting is that it doesn’t matter how often you bait her in and dupe her. She’ll keep coming. I swear that lass would run into a brick wall, size it up, and try again. She’s all action, and while she never takes control of this match, it keeps her in it. Maria’s quick and sly, but whenever the rookie gets her hands on her, she’s in trouble. It’s that which makes the difference here. She eventually traps Maria on the mat, and while anyone who follows Maria on Twitter will know she’s been trying to bulk up, she doesn’t have the strength to shift her. Senka keeps going and going, eventually keeping those shoulders down for the three.
Normally, I wouldn’t love having your tag champ lose a random main event to a kid, but circumstances are different here. Senka is no ordinary rookie, and Maria getting caught because of her own arrogance makes perfect sense. There is also every chance this is setting Senka up for another title shot, whether it be with Sora Ayame or someone else, in which case the conclusion will be worth it. Either way, this was a great wee match, and more proof of how good these two are.
Darejyo EXTRA (17/1/26), Darejyo
Yes, it’s that time of year when I go off on one about how special Darejyo is. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again, and no part of me feels bad about it. The wrestling world invites cynicism, and you’d have to be a fool to approach it all with boundless optimism, but we should also celebrate the greatness that exists within it. Darejyo is one of those things. Their first Extra of 2026 was the perfect example of why.
And there are a load of great little moments to pick out here. There is the stuff we’ve come to expect: a gang of unruly children outwitting Emi Sakura, a surprisingly intense lock-up competition and the joy of these people showing off this thing that means a lot to him. However, there are always a few special surprises, too. Here, we had Aoi Kizuki reminding everyone that while she’s the happy, lovable GM most of the time, she was once a wrestler, so when paired up with the soon-to-debut Waka for the aforementioned lock-up competition, she was going to put her in her place. Then there was Masae coming after Erii Kanae’s arm in their sparring session, causing the pro to panic for a second before she regained control. Or, of course, the joy of the mad lads putting on Erimo vs Hiyori Yawata as the main event, a match that saw Hiyori forced into the role of the straight woman, as Erimo’s brilliance put even her in the shadows. These shows are littered with lovely moments caused by this group of trainees and enthusiasts showing the world a glimpse of their personalities.
It’s also exciting to feel like we’re getting to know the Darejyo regulars. There are always people who cycle in and out alongside a few new faces, but the core group, the one that is on most of these shows, is fairly consistent. So you get the pleasure of seeing what Erimo has come up with and the relief of seeing wee Nagisa with a smile on her face, only shedding a few tears after a Sakura compliment, after she was overwhelmed by the occasion last time. I always go on about the thrill of watching wrestlers grow up on screen, and while we’re not seeing as much of the Darejyo trainees as we are someone like Kaho, we’re still getting these little snapshots into their lives. These snippets where they get to be wrestlers.
That’s why Darejyo matters. For the opportunities it provides, for the community it fosters and the special space it forges. Everyone involved clearly adores this weird little project that lives out of a backroom in Ichigaya, and even if we were never granted access to it, that would still make it a special thing. I’m forever grateful that we get these insights into their world, and while it’s not something I’ll ever experience myself, I’m so glad it exists.
Gajo vs Takahiro Tababa, Thank You Underground Arena (18/1/26), H-Production
So much of the joy of wrestling is in the thrill of discovery. I’m not ashamed to admit my knowledge of this wonderful world is limited. Ask me about certain periods of joshi, and I’ll talk all day, but when you move outside of those areas, there is so much I know nothing about. Take this match. I can’t tell you anything about Gajo, Takahiro Tababa or H-Production. All I know is that I saw a friend praise it on Twitter and was tempted in by the sight of two fat lads wrestling in a basement in Tokyo in a ring with chains for ropes. The joy of my yearly refresh when the calendar ticks over is that I become much better at giving myself time for stuff like this.
What I now know is that these lads are happy to beat the shit out of each other. This goes under ten minutes, but it’s a gruelling battle, in the most complimentary sense of the word. Every kick and slap feels like a potential knockout, and when Gajo is busted open towards the end, they don’t hesitate to work that wound, repeatedly headbutting each other to keep the blood flowing. By the end, both they and the ring are coated in the stuff. It rules.
The real thrill of this comes in the size of that basement, though. The camera is basically perched on the ring apron, and I love the sounds of the match. The heavy breathing of the two wrestlers, the clank of the chains, the thuds of the blows hitting home. They bring this to life in a way the visuals alone never could. You can watch two heads clunk together a million times, but it will never make you wince like the sound of it. That’s so much of what makes live wrestling for me. The creaks and the groans. If you watch a show in a big arena on your TV, you lose so much of it. I adore that this tiny room on YouTube can bring a snippet of it back.
And I am glad that after all these years, I can still discover stuff like this. A new YouTube channel to subscribe to, a couple of names to look out for and the hint of future bloody, stiff wars to enjoy. I’m not always great at following up on these things, but that doesn’t really matter. There are only so many minutes, and at least I got the joy of this one.
Mizuki & Uta Takami vs Shunrai Rekka!! Prism Greed! (Yuki Aino & Haru Kazashiro), Max Heart Tournament (25/1/26), TJPW
Mizuki and Uta Takami looked, on the surface, like one of those teams you throw together for a tag tournament, well aware that they’ll stumble in the first round and never be heard from again. Uta is there to take the fall for Mizuki, surely? Thankfully, it turns out that wasn’t the case because TJPW might have just stumbled into something here. This Sakuraism-adjacent team have a whole lot of potential.
And this match is the perfect example of why. Mizuki has joined Mei Suruga in corrupting young, excitable Uta into the skillset of the goblin. Even the little noises she made when Takami made the mistake of shaking their opponents’ hands pre-match spoke to that. Mizuki is, in many ways, the perfect mentor for Uta. She’s of a similar build and attitude, and if anyone can teach her to unleash the devil within, it’s her. My newfound love for this team isn’t just in the dynamic, though. There were moments littered throughout this match that hinted at a growing understanding between the two of them. Mizuki is still very much the ringleader, but as she ordered Uta around, dictating play, you could see this pairing start to come to life.
Credit also to Aino and Haru with their incredibly geeky team name. Having just had their title shot, they were never going to win this tournament. However, I’m hopeful that their new matching gear suggests this isn’t the end of them as a pairing. Like Mizuki and Uta, there is a good mentor-mentee thing going on here, and I want to see it explored further. Plus, they had some great moments here. Haru vs Uta is quickly becoming a fantastic match-up, as I loved Kazashiro’s selling of the Koala Clutch towards the end of this match. Her struggle as the hold slowly wore her down really sold the effect of the move, and while it didn’t turn out to be the finish, I would have easily bought it as such.
It felt like it summed up where TJPW is right now. Established veterans backing up young talent who are increasingly having the light shone on them. The final act here wasn’t about Aino and Mizuki – it was about Haru and Uta, and with where they are right now, that’s exactly how things should be.
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