Let’s talk about heartbreak, the type that burns slow—not in romance, but in wrestling. Let’s talk about Waka Tsukiyama, a woman who debuted in Actwres girl’Z in 2020 and spent the next three years staring down the mat lights after loss, after loss, after loss. She was the perennial underdog, the geeky sidekick, the girl who wore defeat like a cardigan. She wasn’t the fastest, strongest, or flashiest. Hell, she didn’t even win until most fans forgot what her offense looked like. But she kept walking through the curtain.
Because that’s what Waka does. She walks through hell in soft shoes—and makes you care.
Actwres Debut: Where It All Began
It started like so many quiet horror stories in Joshi: a debut match at Actwres girl’Z Color’s show, where Waka teamed with Ayumi Hayashi and promptly lost to Saki and Sakuran Bonita. No pyro. No shock victories. Just the sting of a three-count and a chorus of “eh, she tried.”
But in those early matches, you could already see something different. She wasn’t stiff like a statue or green like unripe fruit. Waka sold like she was in a car crash. She made your heart hurt. And in a business where believability matters, she made people believe she was a survivor waiting to rise.
The Stardom Trials: Ten Losses and a Funeral for Pride
When she joined Stardom in 2021, she was baptized by fire. First match? Unagi Sayaka wiped the floor with her for the Future of Stardom title. Then came the infamous “10-match rookie trial”—a parade of defeat. Think of it like Rocky if Rocky lost every single round. Ten straight beatings, ten shattered dreams, and still she stood up every time. No tears, just determination.
Stardom didn’t hand her a rocket. They gave her a rope and said, “Climb.”
And so she did. Sort of.
She begged to join Cosmic Angels in the middle of a press conference, eyes wide with desperation, hoping Tam Nakano would notice her. And Tam, queen of melodrama, obliged. Waka was in. But in Stardom, being “in” doesn’t mean respected. It means tested.
Cosmic Clashes: Family Ties and Internal Wars
The honeymoon was short. By late 2021, the Cosmic Angels were combusting. Mina Shirakawa and Unagi Sayaka had egos too big for their tag belts. They looked at Waka and Mai Sakurai like extra luggage on a flight to destiny. Tensions exploded. Waka, never the chosen one, tried to prove herself the only way she knew how—by fighting.
She lost to Sakurai in a match where the loser had to leave the group. But Sakurai won. And the cracks widened.
There were more flailing tag matches—”C Moon” with Lady C scored zero points in the Tag League. Not low. Not bad. Zero.
She couldn’t buy a win with counterfeit money. But still she smiled, still she fought. She was the scrappy background singer in Tam Nakano’s glitter-drenched lead role.
Club Venus: Glitter, Grit, and Rebirth
April 2023. Waka made a move that felt like a script rewrite. She left Cosmic Angels and joined Club Venus—a shinier, sassier unit led by Mina Shirakawa. It was less about sisterhood, more about spectacle. And Waka leaned in.
You’d think she’d flounder there, too. But something happened: she started to win. Not all the time. But just enough for people to notice. Just enough for the crowd to cheer louder. Just enough to prove the punchline had become a fighter.
She wasn’t background anymore. She was turning into a cult favorite.
In September, she did something no one expected—she produced MOONDOM, a Stardom event tailored for English-speaking audiences and inter-promotional flair. While others chased belts, Waka chased vision. She was rewriting what it meant to be “midcard.” She was becoming Stardom’s emotional core, its bleeding heart with mascara and grit.
Empress Nexus Venus: New Crown, New Mission
In early 2024, Club Venus evolved into Empress Nexus Venus. Waka didn’t just stick around—she co-founded the damn thing. Alongside Hanako, Maika, Xena, and Shirakawa, she turned from satellite into queenmaker.
And then came the cherry on the redemption sundae: Waka and Hanako won the New Blood Tag Team Championship. For the first time, Waka wasn’t the loser. She wasn’t the one counted out. She was the one holding gold. Holding it like it weighed nothing and everything at once.
Legacy of a Moonbeam Warrior
Waka Tsukiyama is not Stardom’s ace. She’s not the future. She might never headline a pay-per-view or paint her name in neon on the marquee.
But she is the heart.
She made losing a form of performance art. She made resilience into her ring style. And when she finally won, it felt like the whole arena exhaled with her.
She didn’t need a rocket push. She became the engine.
In a world of moonsaults and megastars, Waka Tsukiyama is the quiet glow—consistent, undying, and strangely beautiful.