The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of sweat. The dim glow of hanging lanterns cast long shadows across the walls, where banners bearing the crest of AAPW hang proudly. At the center of the room, Naoko Mori stands barefoot on the polished wooden floor, her hands wrapped in white tape as she methodically strikes a heavy bag with sharp, calculated blows.
Each strike echoes through the silence, her precision and intensity reflecting the battle looming ahead. A nearby poster for the Ronin Rumble is taped to the wall, depicting the clashing logos of AAPW and Ultimate Wrestling, the words "Who will claim Japan's honor?" emblazoned across the top. Naoko’s face is among the featured competitors, and her tiger mask is prominently displayed.
She pauses mid-strike, her chest rising and falling as she takes a deep breath. Her eyes drift to the mask resting on a wooden stool nearby, its gaze staring back at her like a silent challenge.
Naoko: (Thinking) This is bigger than just me. Bigger than Riko. This is for AAPW… for everything we stand for.
Her expression hardens as she turns back to the bag, unleashing a series of rapid strikes—a Tora Claw, followed by a Bushido Kick, finishing with a swift Samurai Slam that sends the bag swinging violently. She steps back, wiping the sweat from her brow, her focus unwavering.
The faint sound of a television catches her attention. She moves to the small screen mounted in the corner, where footage from Ultimate Wrestling plays on a loop. The image of Riko Matsumoto fills the screen, her cocky grin and flashy moves on display as she eliminates an opponent with a springboard dropkick. The crowd cheers wildly as Riko taunts them, gesturing for more.
Naoko’s jaw tightens, her hand clenching into a fist. She reaches for the remote, rewinding the footage to study Riko’s movements. Her eyes narrow as she watches, dissecting every move with the precision of a predator analyzing its prey.
Naoko: (Quietly) You’ve learned new tricks, Riko. But in the rumble, tricks won’t save you.
The camera lingers on her face as she rewinds the footage, pausing when Riko gestures to the crowd, leaving herself momentarily vulnerable. A flicker of a smirk crosses Naoko’s lips as she turns away from the screen, her mind racing with strategy.
She walks back to the heavy bag, rolling her shoulders as she prepares for another round of training. This time, her strikes are faster, harder, as if each blow is aimed directly at Riko.
Naoko: (Thinking) You think you’ve escaped me, hiding in Ultimate Wrestling. But there’s nowhere to run in the rumble, Riko. You’ll face me, and you’ll learn what it means to defy the Wild Tora.
Her movements slow as she reaches for the mask, lifting it gently from the stool. She stares into its eyes, her reflection distorted in the polished surface.
Naoko: (Quietly) This isn’t just for me. This is for every wrestler who believes in honor. For AAPW. For Japan.
She places the mask back on the stool, bowing slightly as if paying tribute to her ancestors. Turning to the Ronin Rumble poster, she steps closer, her fingers brushing over the image of Riko’s face.
Naoko: (Murmuring) You’ve disgraced everything I taught you, but in that ring, I’ll make it right. One elimination at a time, until only the true champion remains.
The scene fades as Naoko returns to the heavy bag, her strikes echoing louder and faster, her resolve unshakable.
Flashback
Clashing training pads echo through a brightly lit AAPW training gym. Naoko Mori stands tall in the center of the ring, her posture precise and commanding. Across from her, a younger, scrappier Riko Matsumoto struggles to keep her balance as Naoko lands a perfectly executed Bushido Kick to a training pad she’s holding.
Naoko: Again.
Riko staggers but quickly adjusts, her determination shining through despite the sweat dripping from her brow. She steadies the pad and braces herself, her stance slightly off-balance. Naoko notices and points with the precision of a teacher correcting her student.
Naoko: Your footing, Riko. Always stay grounded. Control comes from the base.
Riko huffs, her energy wild and untamed compared to Naoko’s calm demeanor. She shifts her stance, muttering under her breath.
Riko: Grounded... Got it. Easy for you to say.
Naoko smirks slightly, the hint of approval in her eyes hidden beneath her stern exterior. She steps back and demonstrates the kick again, her movements fluid and deliberate.
Naoko: Wrestling isn’t just about strength or speed. It’s about discipline. Precision. You can’t always rely on instinct.
Riko nods, watching intently before mimicking the move. Her first attempt is clumsy, but her second is sharper, more focused. She lands the kick against the pad with a satisfying thud. She grins, turning to Naoko expectantly.
Riko: How’s that for precision, Mori-san?
Naoko crosses her arms, nodding slightly.
Naoko: Better. But don’t let your confidence get ahead of your skill. Pride can make you reckless.
Riko rolls her eyes playfully, throwing the pad aside and stretching dramatically.
Riko: Relax, Mori-san. I’ve got natural talent on my side.
Naoko’s expression softens briefly, a rare moment of warmth breaking through her disciplined exterior.
Naoko: Talent will only get you so far. Remember that.
The scene shifts to weeks later, the AAPW arena buzzing with energy as Riko prepares for her high-stakes match against Tatsu Hime. Naoko watches from ringside, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Riko enters the ring with her usual flair, the crowd split between cheering for the scrappy underdog and rooting for the established veteran, Tatsu.
As the match progresses, Riko’s determination shines. She counters Tatsu’s aerial maneuvers with impressive agility, earning cheers from the crowd. Naoko leans forward slightly, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. But as the match wears on, Tatsu’s experience overwhelms Riko’s offense.
Riko stumbles after a series of high-impact moves, her desperation palpable. Tatsu prepares for her finishing move, climbing the turnbuckle to deliver a diving moonsault. The crowd roars as Riko rolls to the side and scrambles to her feet. The referee’s back is turned, and in a moment of panic, Riko reaches into her gear, pulling out a handful of salt.
Naoko’s smile vanishes, replaced by a look of horror as Riko hurls the salt into Tatsu’s eyes. Tatsu stumbles, blinded, and Riko capitalizes, delivering a quick DDT before pinning her for the three-count.
Ring Announcer: The winner of this match is Riko Matsumoto!
The crowd explodes, but the cheers are mixed with boos as Tatsu clutches her face, and the referee realizes what happened. Naoko rises from her seat, her face dark with disappointment. Riko celebrates in the ring, raising her arms triumphantly and gesturing to the crowd as if oblivious to the controversy.
Backstage, Naoko waits in the dimly lit corridor, her arms crossed tightly. When Riko finally arrives, clutching her makeshift championship belt, Naoko steps forward, her voice low and icy.
Naoko: What was that out there?
Riko grins, holding the belt aloft.
Riko: A win, Mori-san. Just like I promised.
Naoko’s voice rises, her disappointment boiling over.
Naoko: That wasn’t wrestling. That was cowardice. I trained you to fight honorably, not stoop to cheap tricks!
Riko’s grin fades, replaced by defiance.
Riko: You trained me to win, and I did! Tatsu was better than me, so I did what I had to do. That’s what survival looks like.
Naoko: (Sharply) Survival? You’ve disgraced me, Riko. You’ve disgraced yourself. Wrestling is about more than winning—it’s about integrity.
Riko throws the belt onto a nearby bench, stepping closer to Naoko, her voice rising to match her mentor’s.
Riko: Integrity doesn’t pay the bills, Mori-san! You think honor would’ve saved me when I was starving on the streets? Maybe you can afford to fight for tradition, but I can’t.
Naoko stares at her for a long moment, her jaw tightening as the weight of Riko’s words sinks in. Finally, she shakes her head, her voice low and bitter.
Naoko: You were never ready to carry my legacy. You’ve proven that tonight.
Riko steps back, her eyes blazing with anger.
Riko: Maybe I don’t want your legacy, Mori-san. Maybe it’s time for me to make my own.
The two women stand in silence, the air between them heavy with betrayal and resentment. Finally, Naoko turns away, her voice cold and final.
Naoko: We’re done here, Riko. Don’t ever ask me for anything again.
As Naoko walks away, the camera lingers on Riko, her fists clenched and her expression a mixture of anger and guilt. The scene fades, the memory of their fractured bond echoing into the present.
Present Day
The dojo is dark except for the glow of a television screen illuminating the room. Naoko Mori sits cross-legged on the floor, her tiger mask placed beside her. Her eyes are locked on the screen, which plays highlights of previous rumble matches interspersed with footage of Riko Matsumoto’s recent performances in Ultimate Wrestling. The faint hum of the video fills the otherwise silent room.
The screen shows Riko executing a springboard moonsault to eliminate an opponent. The crowd roars in approval as Riko taunts the fallen competitor, her charisma and athleticism undeniable. Naoko’s expression remains cold as she rewinds the footage, pausing when Riko’s showboating leaves her vulnerable.
Naoko: (Thinking) Still reckless. Still careless. You think the crowd's roar makes you untouchable, but arrogance is a weakness in the chaos of the rumble.
She picks up a notebook from the floor, flipping through its pages. Each one is filled with notes and sketches detailing potential strategies, key moves, and weaknesses of her opponents—Riko’s page has the most annotations. Words like "overconfident," "poor recovery after aerial moves," and "predictable counters" are scrawled in precise handwriting.
Naoko sets the notebook down and rises to her feet, walking to the center of the room where a training dummy waits. Her movements are deliberate as she replays Riko’s signature moves in her mind, countering them with precision strikes and holds.
Naoko: (Murmuring) Riko, you’re not just another opponent. You’re a reminder of my failure… but also my purpose. You’ve forced me to adapt, to be sharper, stronger. In the rumble, you’ll see the wrestler you never could become.
The camera follows her as she moves through a series of drills designed for the unpredictable chaos of a rumble. She practices low center-of-gravity moves to avoid being thrown over the ropes, rapid strikes to fend off multiple opponents, and creative counters for high-flying attacks. Each maneuver is executed with fierce precision, her discipline evident in every motion.
She pauses, sweat dripping down her face, and walks to the wall where the Ronin Rumble promotional poster is pinned. Her gaze locks on the image of Riko, surrounded by other Ultimate Wrestling competitors. A faint smirk crosses her lips.
Naoko: (Quietly) You won’t see me coming, Riko. Among sixty competitors, I’ll be the shadow you can’t escape and the strike you never saw.
The screen now displays highlights of Naoko’s past matches, a stark contrast to Riko’s flashy style. Her technique is methodical and powerful, each victory a testament to her unwavering focus and discipline. The camera pans to Naoko, watching her own footage with a critical eye.
Naoko: (Thinking) This isn’t just about Riko. It’s about AAPW. Every move I make must prove why we stand above Ultimate Wrestling. No distractions, no mercy.
She retrieves her tiger mask and places it in her gear bag, her actions deliberate and purposeful. The camera lingers as she wraps her hands tightly, her knuckles reddened from the evening’s training. Her voice breaks the silence, steady and resolved.
Naoko: Riko may be my target, but she’s not my only one. Ultimate Wrestling will feel the weight of AAPW’s pride in every elimination. When it’s over, only one legacy will stand tall.
The scene fades as Naoko switches off the television, plunging the room into darkness. The faint sound of her steady breathing is all that remains, a quiet yet powerful declaration of her readiness.
The locker room is alive with the low buzz of conversation as AAPW wrestlers prepare for the Ronin Rumble. The atmosphere is tense, a mixture of anticipation and pride as the weight of representing their promotion in this historic battle hangs heavy over them. Naoko Mori stands near the center of the room, her tiger mask in one hand and a towel draped over her shoulder. Her piercing gaze surveys the room, catching the eyes of each wrestler as she steps forward to address them.
Naoko: (Firmly) Listen up.
The murmurs fade as heads turn toward her. The respect she commands as a veteran is evident in how the room falls silent, all eyes on her.
Naoko: This isn’t just another match. This isn’t just about personal glory. Tonight, we carry the pride of AAPW into that ring. We face Ultimate Wrestling not as individuals but as warriors fighting for the legacy of Japanese wrestling.
Her voice is steady, but the intensity in her tone sends ripples through the room. She paces slowly, her tiger mask swinging slightly at her side.
Naoko: They think they can invade our home. They think they can steal the spotlight, disrespect everything we’ve built. But we will show them who we are. We will remind them why AAPW is the heart of wrestling in Japan.
The wrestlers nod, their expressions hardening with determination. Naoko stops in front of one of the younger competitors, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Naoko: We fight as one. If you see one of us in trouble, you step in. If you see them trying to gang up on us, you shut it down. Together, we are unstoppable.
She straightens, her gaze hardening as she lifts the tiger mask, holding it up like a symbol of their shared purpose.
Naoko: But don’t forget… this isn’t just about numbers. It’s about the heart. It’s about discipline. That’s what sets us apart. That’s what will carry us to victory.
The room erupts in murmurs of agreement, the tension giving way to a unified sense of purpose. Naoko steps back, her voice dropping slightly, but no less fierce.
Naoko: (With an edge) For me, this battle is personal. There’s someone out there tonight who betrayed me, who spat on everything I taught her. Riko Matsumoto. She stands with them now, a symbol of what happens when you abandon honor for selfishness.
Her fists tighten as she paces again, her voice rising slightly.
Naoko: But she’s not my only target. Every one of them—every wrestler wearing the Ultimate Wrestling logo—is an insult to AAPW. And tonight, we remind them why they don’t belong here.
The wrestlers around her start to nod more vigorously, their spirits rising as Naoko’s words ignite a fire within them. One of the older veterans steps forward, clapping Naoko on the shoulder.
Tatsu Hime: We’ll have your back out there, Mori-san for AAPW.
Naoko nods, her expression softening briefly before she lifts her mask and places it over her face. The room falls silent again as she adjusts the straps, the transformation into the Wild Tora complete.
Naoko: (Through the mask) For AAPW. For Japan. And for everything we stand for.
The wrestlers erupt into a rallying cheer, their voices echoing through the locker room. Naoko stands at the center, her eyes sharp and focused behind the mask. As the noise dies, she raises a single hand, silencing the room again.
Naoko: (Quietly but firmly) Now go. Fight like your lives depend on it. Because tonight… our legacy does.
The wrestlers file out, their energy palpable as they head toward the arena. Naoko lingers for a moment, adjusting her gear and tightening her gloves. She takes one last look at the AAPW banner hanging on the wall before turning to follow them, her voice a whisper as she steps into the corridor.
Naoko: Riko… your time is coming.
The scene fades as Naoko walks down the hallway, the crowd's roar growing louder with each step.