When people talk about Ramon “El Toro Blanco” in Lucha Libre, they mention thunder in their voice. When they talk about Mima Shimoda, they talk about tectonic plates shifting—and not politely. The woman who once upscale Tokyo Sweetheart, became half of the most infamous tag team in Japanese and Mexican women’s wrestling: Las Cachorras Orientales.
Born December 23, 1970, in Tokyo, Shimoda made her pro debut in August 1987. By the time she was two years in, she was already sparring with future legends—notably her eventual lifelong partner, Etsuko Mita. Mima’s early matches were textbook — fluid, fast, respectful. But don’t get comfortable. It was only training.
Tokyo Sweethearts: Beauty and the Bruiser
Shimoda initially teamed with Manami Toyota as the “Tokyo Sweethearts”—a duo as elegant as their name suggested—but they dropped that veneer when it suited them. They fought like ballet dancers whose slippers had been replaced with steel-toed boots. A staple pairing throughout the early ’90s, they could blend charm with chaos in a single sequence.
In October 1989, Shimoda claimed her first singles title: the AJW Junior Championship. A sweet victory…until you realize half her teeth would later be ripped out during a kickboxing match with Aja Kong. Yes, she lost—but not without awarding Kong a dental checkup. When she came for the belt, you knew you were in for trouble.
Las Cachorras Orientales: Bitches Run This Town
1992: The year Shimoda transformed. She joined forces with Etsuko Mita (and briefly Akira Hokuto) to form Las Cachorras Orientales (The Oriental Bitches). The name alone was a warning label. They started on undercards, working the crowd. By ‘94, they swept tag titles: JWP Tag Team and UWA World Women’s Tag Team gold. They held both until January 1995—defending with a brutal grace that made opponents rethink career choices.
Their defining moment? Facing Lioness Asuka and Jaguar Yokota for the UWA belts and walking away with both shoulders intact—after toppling titans for the ages. They vacated in September ‘95 but not because they were beaten. They vacated because it felt like a mercy move, like snapping your own leash before someone else could.
Betrayal and the Birth of a Heel
May 1996, Tokyo Sweethearts reunited for one final epic showdown—against “Double Inoue” (Kyoko and Takako). The match clocked a staggering 52 minutes, ending in a win for Double Inoue. But Shimoda and Toyota emerged the victors in April ’97, capturing the WWWA World Tag Team Championship for the first time. They held it until January ’97, proving time is cyclical—and sometimes, vindictive.
By late 1997, Shimoda and Mita abandoned AJW as it neared bankruptcy. They weren’t retiring—they were mutinying. They bounced between Gaea, JWP, Ladies Legend, JDStar and other promotions. They joined heel factions like SSU and detonated rivalries in NEO. Their ring psychology: soft whispers before haymakers. Simultaneous seduction and savagery.
Freelance Fury: Global Domination
By 1999 they were full-time freelancers—traveling, feuding, headlining. They won the “Twin Stars of Arsion” league. They recaptured the WWWA Tag Titles in AJW by beating Watanabe and Maekawa in July. LCO was unstoppable: slick technical wrestling, dive bombing, jaw-rattling tag spots—and enough attitude to power Tokyo’s neon skyline.
Between 2003 and 2005 Shimoda briefly retired to work backstage in AtoZ Pro-Wrestling. Don’t call it a retreat. Call it recharging for round two. AtoZ folded, she resurrected. In 2006, she moved to CMLL in Mexico, turning her career into a cultural exchange program in violence and charisma. She split time between Mexico and Japan—wrestling for Diana and CMLL as a weather system you could never forecast.
The Luchadora Bruja: Mischief and Mazes
In Mexico, Mima found a new dimension. She reinvented herself as a heel in lucha libre: masked chaos incarnate. Her tag team with Mita became folkloric—scolding technical mat-wrestlers with corner ratchets and suction scissors, bathed in filth, locked in loops of foreign submission holds. She made fans blush, gasp, cheer, and collectively consider life insurance.
LCO’s Curtain Call—and Legacy
November 1, 2009: Mita retired. LCO’s final dance came against Kyoko Inoue and Nanae Takahashi—a perfect epilogue. Shimoda kept fighting. As of today, she splits her ring time between CMLL and Diana—veteran lights over new chaos, nursing younger talent…and reminding them why fear still matters.
Shimoda’s Signature Recipe:
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Speed + Sting: Quick joints, sharper counters.
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Tag telemetry: She and Mita could telepathically read each other before turning angles.
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Villainy as Euphoria: Being a heel never looked so intoxicating—ever read lip service from a devil?
Shimada doesn’t collect titles for glam—she collects them for chaos, to prove she belongs on podiums of discomfort. Her ring psychology thrives in discomfort, in the snap of hair extensions under pressure, in a raggedy mask stitched with malice.
Why Sports Illustrated Should Care
Because Shimoda built tag wrestling on her terms. Because her career spans eras: AJW’s glory days, indie fragmentation, women’s wrestling’s mass appeal. She survived bureaucracies, censored gimmicks, broken promotions, chronic injuries—and then she learned Spanish.
As an iconic figure bridging Tokyo dojo training and Mexico City’s masked mystique, Shimoda crafts a memoir in every match—memoirs of disrespect for tradition and unflinching loyalty to oneself.
Parting Thoughts
Younger wrestlers today spit their promos in front of ring lights and social-media filters—but Shimoda spat venom in grimy locker rooms and doorknob-sized arenas with no air conditioning and fluorescent bulbs buzzing like bees. She didn’t need a viral clip. She needed a guttural gasp, a chair shot landing with guaranteed resonance.
She’s not just remembered. She’s chronicled. Inked. Tattooed in the memory of people who know real wrestling—where strategy is a skullbuster, and empathy is a foreign country.
