Natsumi Maki wrestles like a woman who left her childhood in a suitcase somewhere between the backseat of a Tokyo bus and the shimmering lights of Korakuen Hall. She enters not like a gladiator but a glitch in the simulation—something out of step, out of sync, like a lullaby in the middle of a gunfight. And yet, when the bell rings, the sugar melts off her frame and what’s left is nothing but sharpness and spite.
They call her Natsupoi now. Don’t let the name fool you—“cute” is a costume, just like the ribbons and sparkles. Beneath it all is a soul raised on ring ropes and betrayal, a spitfire wrapped in satin who’s tasted every shade of disappointment the business has to offer and still smiled through the blood.
She’s been everywhere, done everything. Debuted at Actwres Girl’Z with big dreams and bigger bruises. Wrestled in rings most fans couldn’t find with a GPS and a prayer. Tag matches in All Japan Pro Wrestling? Check. Teamed with Saori Anou in Roppongi halls so humid your dreams stuck to the ceiling. Ate kicks from Meiko Satomura. Got pinned by Mayumi Ozaki. Danced with death under DDT’s disco lights. And yet every loss added polish to the bullet casing she was building herself into.
But it wasn’t until she stepped into Stardom full throttle in 2020 that Natsupoi stopped being potential and started being a problem. She didn’t just join Donna Del Mondo—she injected herself into its bloodstream like an unprescribed pill. With Giulia’s mad scientist leadership, the stable was a parade of exiles, misfits, and magnificence. Natsupoi fit right in: fast as a mosquito, meaner than she looked, and charming enough to make you apologize for bleeding.
She won the High Speed Championship like she was born with it under her ribcage. Flew like a hummingbird with a grudge. Matched AZM beat for beat, held her own against Koguma, and made opponents regret looking at her like she was just another idol cosplayer playing wrestler.
But pretty things break. And Natsupoi doesn’t just break—she shatters.
The moment that still gives purists an ulcer happened July 9, 2022. Ten-woman tag match. DDM vs. Cosmic Angels. Giulia barking orders like Patton in sequins. Everything seems in control until Natsupoi turns heel—only she doesn’t turn heel so much as she turns back into herself. A slap. A betrayal. A sprint into the arms of Tam Nakano and the Cosmic Angels. If Shakespeare booked pro wrestling, this was his cherry blossom Macbeth.
Donna Del Mondo didn’t lose a teammate—they lost a piece of their spine.
Fans howled. Giulia stood there stunned, like she’d been handed a bouquet of barbed wire. But Natsupoi? She glowed like a woman who’d finally stopped lying to herself. This wasn’t defection—it was liberation.
Since then, she’s been Stardom’s most lethal paradox. All smiles and sparkles in the entrance, but once the bell rings, she’s a landmine in ballet shoes. Her moveset is lightning bottled and shaken until the cap explodes—spinning kicks, snap Germans, top-rope dives like she’s allergic to gravity. She’s not the biggest, not the strongest, but she doesn’t need to be. She hits first and fast and leaves you wondering if you dreamt the whole thing.
She formed REStart with Kairi and Saori Anou, like some celestial girl gang dripping with elegance and ego. Artist of Stardom Champs. Then, the moment passed like all beautiful things do. Next, she and Anou took Goddesses of Stardom gold off Rose Gold and made it look easy. But Natsupoi doesn’t do reigns like legacy. She does them like heartbreak—intense, unforgettable, and over too soon.
People say she’s the de facto leader of Cosmic Angels now. Maybe. Or maybe she’s just the first one who figured out this whole act isn’t about unity—it’s about survival. She’s not singing with the group. She’s humming her own funeral dirge in the dressing room mirror.
The Stardom ring is a galaxy, and Natsupoi is its dying star—burning so hot, so fast, that she might not be around long enough to be appreciated. But you’ll remember her. Maybe it’s a corkscrew plancha. Maybe it’s the betrayal of Giulia. Maybe it’s just that smile—plastic on the outside, pain behind the eyes.
She’ll leave this business like she entered it: unexpected, unbothered, and unmistakably Natsupoi.
Because some wrestlers fight for titles.
Natsupoi fights like she’s avenging every time someone underestimated her.
And she usually is.
