In the back alley of a business that thrives on neon lights, screaming fans, and the delicate ballet of destruction, Kiyoka Kotatsu moves like a shadow with unfinished business. You don’t hear her coming, and by the time you see her—it’s already too late. The Stardom faithful may know her by that polished name, but the girl who answers to Maya Fukuda—the karateka, the kickboxer, the UWF specialist—isn’t trying to be famous. She’s trying to be feared.
She’s not a veteran. She’s not a prodigy. She’s something worse: inevitable.
Before she slipped into the God’s Eye stable like a blade into a well-worn sheath, Fukuda earned her scars in Gleat, a promotion where the ropes are often suggestions and the pain is real. There, under UWF Rules—an unforgiving cocktail of catch wrestling and shoot-style smothering—Fukuda wasn’t interested in flying; she was interested in finishing.
Her debut, like all good horror stories, started with blood. July 1, 2021, Gleat Ver. 1. Opponent: Chihiro Hashimoto. Outcome: a loss. A lesson. You could almost hear the crowd hold their breath when Fukuda stood up afterward, unshaken, like someone who’d just been mugged in an alley and asked the criminal for another try with better aim.
She didn’t chase wins in Gleat. She chased credibility. Anyone can pile up victories in the undercard against soft bodies and softer wills. Fukuda picked the ones who could break her and demanded they try. Most of them did. Some almost succeeded.
And then there was the bloodsport detour. June 22, 2024—Josh Barnett’s hell-stained playground for the broken, the bitter, and the borderline psychotic. Konami choked the fire out of her in that one, and still Fukuda stood tall when it was over. If wrestling was poetry, Bloodsport was Bukowski haiku—five rounds of cheap whiskey, concrete knuckles, and broken teeth—and Kiyoka Kotatsu recited every line through grit teeth and a nosebleed.
Then came the turn. The shift in the wind. The curtain call on the indie blood feuds and the leap into Stardom’s high-gloss, high-stakes carnival of chaos. World Wonder Ring Stardom, where everyone’s dressed like they’re going to war at Harajuku, but half of them fight like they were raised in a junkyard.
It was Syuri who saw the killer behind the calm. After gutting Konami at Dream Queendom 2024, she didn’t go celebrate with fireworks or martinis. She called in Fukuda. The fans didn’t even know who the hell she was, but Syuri did. She saw what every good general sees in a soldier: pain in the past and peace in the violence. Kiyoka didn’t smile. She didn’t pose. She just stepped over Konami’s twitching corpse and went to war.
January 3, 2025, at Stardom New Year Dream, Kotatsu made her official in-ring debut with God’s Eye. She didn’t waste time. Alongside Syuri and Tomoka Inaba, she went through Momo Watanabe, Fukigen Death, and Azusa Inaba like a buzzsaw through a parade float. No grandstanding. No catchphrases. Just pure, distilled violence with a splash of philosophy. If Bruce Lee had a kid with a broken heart and a background in UWF grappling, it’d look a lot like Kiyoka Kotatsu.
She may not scream in the ring, but every movement writes a story in bruises and torque. At Supreme Fight 2025, she stepped in with Syuri, Inaba, and Saki Kashima and beat Stars—Mayu Iwatani, Hazuki, Hanan, and Momo Kohgo—like they owed her money. You could almost hear the thunder clap when she threw Hazuki like a suitcase full of regrets.
And that’s what she is: Stardom’s suitcase of regrets. You open it, thinking maybe it’s full of fireworks or roses, and instead you find a quietly seething martial artist with the smile of a funeral director and the soul of a haunted alley.
She’s taken to the New Blood series like a shark to warm water. February 5, 2025, New Blood 18, she joined Inaba and Hina to wreck Kohaku, Honoka, and Saran. On paper, it looked like a training match. In reality, it was a message to the rest of the roster: even Stardom’s “rookie brand” has room for a quiet executioner.
But every god has its trials. At Path of Thunder on February 24, she teamed with Syuri and tasted the bitter metallic sting of loss again, this time against Konami and Azusa Inaba. It wasn’t a misstep. It was a reminder. The mountain never stays climbed. You don’t get to keep your crown in this business. You earn it every match.
And at Grand Queendom 2025, she stepped into the Stardom Rumble—a chaotic mess of limbs and ambition—for a chance at any title she dared to pursue. She didn’t win. Hanako did. But Kiyoka Kotatsu didn’t walk away bitter. She walked away calculating.
Because that’s the thing about her—she’s not fighting for belts. Not really. She’s fighting for something colder. Something that keeps her up at night and makes her stare into bathroom mirrors too long. Maybe it’s redemption. Maybe it’s rage. Maybe it’s just that fighting feels more honest than smiling.
At only a few matches in, Kotatsu isn’t Stardom’s top dog. Not yet. But she’s the growl in the dark. She’s the ice in your drink right before it melts. And somewhere, deep in the bones of this gaudy, glitter-drenched promotion, there’s a chill when she walks through the curtain.
She doesn’t need pyro. She doesn’t need theme music that sounds like a K-pop riot. She just needs an opponent and the quiet hum of inevitability.
Because Kiyoka Kotatsu doesn’t win like a champion. She wins like a disease.