She debuted with a name that sounded like it belonged in a poetry book, and now she walks the aisle as Victoria Yuzuki, a moniker that rings less like a debutante and more like a warning label. Yuzuki Kokawa wasn’t built to climb slowly — she was fired from a cannon into the shark tank of Joshi wrestling and learned to swim by strangling the current.
She’s the kind of wrestler who came into the business when the paint was still drying on her boots and started fighting like she had rent due and demons to exorcise. If her short time in Stardom was the symphony’s overture, Dream Star Fighting Marigold is where she’s decided to set the building on fire.
Let’s rewind the wreckage.
Rookie of the Year, But Make It Hurt: Stardom’s Sparkler (2023–2024)
World Wonder Ring Stardom — the Tokyo death carousel where reputations are built in bruises — welcomed Yuzuki to the jungle at New Blood West 1 in November 2023. Her first opponent? Momo Watanabe — a woman known for ending careers the way most people end conversations. It didn’t go well.
But Yuzuki didn’t flinch. She licked the blood from her teeth, got up, and said “thank you.” Because that’s who she is — a masochist’s apprentice with a dream and a very short fuse.
Through December, she bounced between teams like a bar brawler trying to find someone who won’t flake mid-fight. She lost with Mina Shirakawa. She lost with Hanako. Then, finally, at Dream Queendom 2023, she picked up her first win, tagging with Miyu Amasaki and Azusa Inaba to outmuscle a team of Stardom’s most likable cannon fodder.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t even coherent. But it was hers.
Stars and Scars: Yuzuki Finds Her Place
New Year’s Day 2024, Yuzuki entered the Stardom Rookie of the Year tournament — a rite of passage where fresh blood spills in technicolor. She beat Ranna Yagami and Hanako in the span of two nights like she’d been doing this for years. Never mind the fact she was barely out of training — she fought like someone with memories she was trying to punish.
The next night, she picked up another win. This time, she wasn’t a guest. She was Stars-bound.
When Mayu Iwatani, the godmother of Stardom’s conscience, gave Yuzuki her blessing to join Stars, it was like Mother Teresa handing a grenade to a teenager. Yuzuki didn’t hesitate. She clicked the pin out with her teeth.
It didn’t take long before she set her sights on the Future of Stardom Championship. At Supreme Fight 2024, she challenged Rina. She lost, sure. But she went down swinging like a barstool brawler who brought a switchblade to a thumb-wrestling match.
Then came the Cinderella Tournament. March 9. First round. Starlight Kid sent her packing like a bad dream — the kind you wake up from with your mouth bleeding. It was Yuzuki’s last dance in Stardom. By March 31, she was gone.
No farewell speech. No final bow. Just silence, like a hitwoman leaving the scene.
Rebirth in the Wreckage: Welcome to Marigold (2024–Present)
And then came Marigold. A new promotion rising from the ashes of corporate reshuffling and creative bankruptcy, Dream Star Fighting Marigold promised a brave new world. One where bruises were currency and mercy was optional.
In April 2024, Victoria Yuzuki stepped onto the scene. Not Yuzuki Kokawa, the polite upstart. But Victoria Yuzuki, all capital letters, dripping with ambition and wrapped in vengeance like it was haute couture.
At Marigold Fields Forever, the company’s inaugural show, she stepped into the spotlight next to Nanae Takahashi, a woman who’d seen more wars than most countries. Victoria lost that first match. But no one remembers the loss. They remember the way she stared at the lights — not in despair, but like she was memorizing them. Planning to return and rip them down one by one.
She wasn’t just reborn. She was repurposed.
January 3, 2025: The Coronation at First Dream
You know how some people collect trophies? Victoria collects statements. And on January 3, 2025, at First Dream, she made the biggest one yet: defeating Natsumi Showzuki to win the Marigold Super Fly Championship — her first title, barely a year into her career.
It wasn’t a five-star classic. It was a mugging in spandex. Victoria didn’t win by finesse. She won by impact — every forearm a confession, every slam a eulogy for the girl who used to be called Kokawa.
The crowd didn’t erupt — they exhaled, like they knew something inevitable had just unfolded. The kind of inevitability that comes from a girl with no safety net and no second gear.
The Lethal Metamorphosis
What sets Victoria apart isn’t just talent — though she’s got it in spades — it’s intent. She doesn’t fight like she’s trying to prove herself. She fights like she’s erasing a past life.
Her matches are less performance and more confessionals. Every bump is a memory she’s trying to kill. Every kick is a goodbye to the person she used to be.
And in that ring, dressed like a Bond villain’s niece and hitting like an unpaid debt, she doesn’t just survive. She demandsyour attention. You either watch her, or you get the hell out of the way.
Closing Bell, Opening Act
Victoria Yuzuki is not a veteran. Not yet. But she carries herself like one. She’s barely twenty matches into her life as a destroyer, and yet she already holds gold, headlines new promotions, and walks with the kind of calm usually reserved for people who’ve already buried their past.
She used to be a rookie. Now, she’s the kind of problem that promotions build divisions around. The Super Fly Championship isn’t a stepping stone for her — it’s a calling card. Proof that she’s not here for the journey. She’s here to take the whole damn map and set it on fire.
In the age of hashtags and overhyped debuts, Victoria Yuzuki is something terrifyingly rare: earned momentum. She didn’t get a rocket strapped to her back. She lit her own fuse.
And the explosion? Still coming.