From Tanahashi to Tsuji: Wrestle Kingdom 20 as a Passing of the Torch
- Brandon Morgan
- Jan 23
- 6 min read
The big mood: “End of an Age” prestige TV
Wrestle Kingdom 20 is built around two core ideas:
The Ace says goodbye.
The next centerpiece arrives holding two belts and a mission statement.
It’s not subtle. The show is structured so the Dome audience gets: warm-up, chaos, a serious women’s title feature, faction warfare, a crisp junior contender sprint, a “sports crossover” debut, a modern-epic double-title match… and then Okada vs. Tanahashi as the closing chapter.
Also, as a piece of media ecosystem trivia that actually matters: this was noted as the first January 4 Tokyo Dome show aired on TV Asahi since 2004—which adds a little “we’re back on the big stage” electricity to the whole production.
1. Young Lions Tag
Katsuya Murashima & Masatora Yasuda vs. Shoma Kato & Tatsuya Matsumoto
This was classic NJPW developmental theater — not meant to be flashy, but meant to be honest.
The match leaned heavily on:
Fundamental chain wrestling
Positional storytelling
Visible exhaustion as drama
What stood out was Murashima’s ring IQ. His pacing suggested someone already thinking in “Dome scale,” not dojo scale. Yasuda played the emotional hot tag well, giving the crowd a small but meaningful early dopamine hit.
Why it mattered: This wasn’t a pre-show throwaway — it was NJPW reminding viewers that the future pipeline still exists, even as the main card closes generational chapters.
2. NJPW World TV Championship
El Phantasmo (c) vs. Chris Brookes
This match had a fascinating tonal mission:introduce DDT flavor to NJPW without breaking NJPW’s tone.
Brookes leaned into his gangly, awkward menace, while ELP countered with:
Crowd-aware heel charisma
Perfectly timed momentum shifts
A pacing style designed for the TV belt’s “snackable” identity
Rather than going full indie chaos, they told a “style clash” story — Brookes as unpredictable disruptor, ELP as the smooth operator trying to keep control.
Key success: It felt like a networking handshake between promotions, not a novelty cameo.
3. New Japan Ranbo → NEVER 6-Man Titles
TMDK (Zack Sabre Jr., Ryohei Oiwa, Hartley Jackson)
This Ranbo worked better than most because it structured chaos into faction narrative.
ZSJ winning gave the segment legitimacy — he brings instant credibility — while Oiwa’s presence positioned him as:
“The heir to technical prestige.”
Hartley Jackson grounding the team physically kept the trio balanced:brain (ZSJ), future (Oiwa), muscle (Jackson).
What elevated it: Instead of feeling random, it felt like a faction power grab.
4. Women’s Winner-Take-All
Syuri vs. Saya Kamitani — IWGP vs. Strong Titles
This match had the cleanest emotional arc on the entire show.
Syuri worked as the veteran assassin:
Precision strikes
Measured selling
Calm under pressure
Kamitani wrestled like someone trying to prove she belongs on the Dome’s biggest stage — faster, riskier, more explosive.
The pacing told a story of:
experience vs. ambitiondiscipline vs. desperation
By the final stretch, every Kamitani comeback felt like a “now or never” moment — and Syuri shutting her down read as earned, not cruel.
This match legitimized NJPW women’s wrestling in-canon.
5. Ten-Man Faction Warfare
United Empire vs. War Dogs & Unaffiliated (Takagi / Hiromu)
This match was essentially a cinematic trailer for NJPW’s 2026 faction landscape.
United Empire’s role:
Andrade = global star power
O-Khan & Henare = faction backbone
Newman & Jake Lee = future positioning
War Dogs’ role:
Violent, reckless antagonists
Heat magnets
The “danger element”
Takagi & Hiromu:
They functioned like guest stars from a prestige spinoff — instantly over, instantly electric.
The match’s biggest strength was rhythm:
Burst
Reset
Chaos
Character moment
Repeat
It wasn’t about winning — it was about brand positioning.
6. Junior Heavyweight #1 Contender Four-Way
El Desperado vs. Fujita vs. Ishimori vs. SHO
This match was built like a playlist of junior division identities:
Fujita = young technical prodigy
Ishimori = veteran athletic efficiency
SHO = chaos gremlin
Desperado = emotional anchor
Despy winning felt deliberate — he’s NJPW’s “safe hands + passionate fan favorite.”
Structurally, the match avoided four-way sloppiness by:
Limiting overlapping spots
Giving each wrestler a defined mini-arc
Building to a clear finishing narrative
Result: It felt competitive, not gimmicky — exactly what a #1 contender match should feel like.
7. NEVER Openweight Championship
Aaron Wolf vs. EVIL
This was arguably the most politically delicate match on the card.
They had to:
Make Wolf look legitimate
Avoid humiliating EVIL
Not let House of Torture derail the tone
Wolf’s offense was presented as sport-based and grounded, which gave him instant credibility. EVIL played the perfect gatekeeper villain — cheating, posturing, and getting comeuppance without being buried.
The finish didn’t feel like a celebrity stunt —It felt like a new roster member being coronated.
NJPW passed a risky test here.
8. Double-Title Match
Yota Tsuji vs. Konosuke Takeshita
This was the aesthetic centerpiece of the show — modern NJPW’s identity crisis turned into a match.
Tsuji’s performance:
Wrestled like a homegrown protagonist
Sold fatigue like a long-term ace
Carried emotional gravity beyond his years
Takeshita’s performance:
Wrestled like the perfect rival promotion champion
Brutal, athletic, confident
Felt like a walking “what if” scenario
The match structure mirrored NJPW’s meta-story:
Outsider excellence vs. internal destiny
When Tsuji won, it didn’t feel like “we beat Takeshita.”It felt like:
“We chose our future.”
This was a franchise-defining booking decision.
9. Main Event — Tanahashi Retirement
Kazuchika Okada vs. Hiroshi Tanahashi
This match functioned more like a farewell film than a standard main event.
Tanahashi’s role:
Wrestling through visible physical decline
Leaning on charisma, timing, and memory
Turning every comeback into a nostalgia surge
Okada’s role:
Respectful but ruthless
Wrestling like the keeper of history
Never mocking Tanahashi — only surpassing him
The pacing was slower, intentionally — letting:
Emotion breathe
Crowd reactions linger
Each signature moment feel like a chapter closing
When it ended, it felt less like a pinfalland more like the final page of a book being turned.
One of the most emotionally satisfying retirement matches in modern wrestling.
Overall Match Quality Tier List
All-Time Great
Okada vs. Tanahashi
Tsuji vs. Takeshita
Excellent
Syuri vs. Kamitani
Desperado Four-Way
Very Good
Wolf vs. EVIL
Ten-Man Tag
Fun / Functional
Ranbo
TV Title
Young Lions
Final Thoughts: A Kingdom Still Finding Its Shape
Wrestle Kingdom 2026 ultimately lands as a show you respect more than you love—and for New Japan Pro-Wrestling, that distinction matters.
Pros:
On a pure bell-to-bell level, this was a strong Dome offering. The top-end match quality delivered exactly what Wrestle Kingdom is supposed to deliver: gravity, consequence, and memory-making moments. The double main event was pitch-perfect. Yota Tsuji vs. Konosuke Takeshita felt like a genuine statement about the future, while Kazuchika Okada vs. Hiroshi Tanahashi was the rare retirement match that understood restraint is more powerful than excess. One match crowned tomorrow, the other honored yesterday—and neither undercut the other. That balance is incredibly hard to pull off, and NJPW nailed it.
Aaron Wolf’s debut deserves special praise. This could have been a disaster in the wrong hands, but instead it came off as one of the most convincing “non-wrestler” integrations New Japan has ever attempted. Wolf looked composed, credible, and belonged—not because he did flashy things, but because the match was structured around realism and legitimacy. Winning the NEVER title immediately established him as more than a curiosity; it made him part of the ecosystem.
United Empire also quietly emerged as one of the night’s big winners. The addition of new members and the faction’s clear international positioning made them feel refreshed and dangerous again. They don’t feel like “just another group” anymore—they feel like a long-term strategic pillar, and that’s a big win for a company that lives and dies by faction identity.
That said, Wrestle Kingdom 20 was not without creative blind spots—and some of them are hard to ignore on the biggest show of the year.
Cons:
The absence of Junior Heavyweight, Junior Tag Team, and IWGP Tag Team Championship defenses is glaring. These divisions aren’t side quests; they’re foundational to New Japan’s identity. Leaving them off the card doesn’t feel bold—it feels incomplete, especially when Wrestle Kingdom historically prides itself on showcasing the full spectrum of the roster.
Then there’s House of Torture. EVIL did everything he could in an extremely tricky situation, but the broader issues remain: interference-heavy booking, tonal whiplash, and a presentation that still feels at odds with the prestige NJPW tries to project on January 4. When House of Torture works, it works in spite of itself—not because the concept has evolved.
And finally, the New Japan Ranbo rules continue to be baffling and ones that I personally don't like. The “one person eliminated = entire team eliminated” stipulation actively undercuts drama and momentum. It turns what should be escalating chaos into sudden, deflating exits, and it robs the match of organic storytelling. If the Ranbo is going to keep evolving, this is the one rule that needs to go.
So where does that leave Wrestle Kingdom 2026?
It’s a show with excellent matches, a strong sense of transition, and a clear vision at the very top of the card—but also one that occasionally trips over its own creative habits and structural omissions. It’s New Japan in the middle of a recalibration: confident in its main characters, less certain about how every division fits into the bigger picture.
That tension is felt throughout the night.
In the end, Wrestle Kingdom 2026 stands as a meaningful, well-wrestled, sometimes frustrating, but undeniably important chapter in New Japan history.
Comments