Two Years Ago
The alleyway stinks of stale beer and rotting trash. Neon lights from nearby clubs cast a sickly pink hue over the cracked pavement. A gang of teenage boys scatters as Sakura Ishikawa, no more than sixteen but already built like a wrecking ball, stands over the unconscious form of their leader. Her knuckles drip blood—some hers, most not. The alley goes silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights and Sakura’s heavy breathing. Yukihiro Tada watches from the shadows, his figure barely visible.
Gang Member #1: You’re gonna regret this, Ishikawa! You think he’s the only one who’ll come for you?
Sakura: (cracking her neck and wiping her knuckles on her torn jeans) Regret? Nah. Regret’s for people like you. Me? I get even. And you know what? You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to keep swinging.
She spits on the ground near the fallen leader’s face. The rest of the gang flinches but doesn’t dare approach.
Gang Member #2: You think you’re untouchable, huh? This ain’t over!
Sakura: (smirking) Yeah? Well, you better send someone bigger next time. Maybe someone who doesn’t cry when they get hit. Now get outta my face before I make you all part of the pavement.
The boys shuffle backward, dragging their unconscious leader with them, cursing under their breath. When they’re gone, Sakura slumps against the graffiti-covered wall, flexing her fingers and grimacing at the pain in her knuckles. She mutters to herself, her voice low but sharp.
Sakura: Weak. Gotta hit harder next time. No mercy. Ever.
Yukihiro Tada steps forward from the shadows, clapping slowly, his face lit by the flickering neon sign above.
Tada: No mercy, huh? Interesting philosophy.
Sakura snaps her head toward him, her body immediately tensing up.
Sakura: Who the hell are you? Another punk who thinks he can teach me a lesson?
Tada: (grinning) Not exactly. Let’s just say I’ve been watching you. You’ve got something… raw. But you’re wasting it out here, throwing punches at trash that ain’t worth the blood you’re spilling.
Sakura: (snarling) Don’t care who you are. Don’t need your advice. Get lost before you join them.
Tada: You think this is it? Beating up gangs in back alleys? You’re bigger than this. Stronger. But strength without purpose? That’s just noise. I can give you purpose.
Sakura steps forward, her fists tightening, her eyes locked on Tada with a mixture of suspicion and defiance.
Sakura: Purpose? What, you got some scam? You want me to fight for you? Get outta here. I fight for me.
Tada: Not a scam. An opportunity. Wrestling. Real fighting. Not this street-level crap. You’re good, but you could be great. That is… if you’re willing to put in the work.
Sakura narrows her eyes, studying Tada. The tension is thick, her mind racing through every possible angle. Finally, she scoffs, stepping back and shaking her head.
Sakura: Wrestling? That circus act? I’ll pass. I don’t play by anyone’s rules.
Tada: Maybe not yet. But when you’re done wasting yourself on losers like them… you’ll come find me. You want to be a legend or a footnote? Choice is yours.
Tada turns and walks away, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he arrived. Sakura watches him go, her jaw tight, her fists still clenched. She looks down at the blood on her hands, then back at the empty alley.
Sakura: (muttering to herself) Legend, huh? Sounds like a joke.
The scene fades as Sakura steps out of the alley, her silhouette framed by the flickering neon lights.
Two Months Later
The training gym smells like sweat and old leather. The equipment is battered but functional, the kind of place where only the desperate or the determined come to work. Sakura Ishikawa is in the center of the ring, drenched in sweat, throwing sluggish punches at a training dummy. Yukihiro Tada stands ringside, arms crossed, his face a mask of stern disapproval. Two other trainees spar in the background, glancing at Sakura’s performance with mild amusement.
Tada: What the hell was that? You call that a punch? I’ve seen toddlers hit harder.
Sakura: (snarling, throwing another punch) I don’t see you in here, old man. Maybe you wanna show me how it’s done?
Tada: If I get in there, it’s to throw you out. You’re wasting my time. And yours. Tighten up. Control. Power’s nothing if it doesn’t land.
Sakura steps back from the dummy, her fists tightening as she glares at Tada. She grabs the ropes, leaning forward, her voice low and venomous.
Sakura: You don’t know me. You think I need this? I’ve been fighting since I could walk. I didn’t need technique to survive. I used these.
She holds up her bruised fists, flexing her fingers as her knuckles crack audibly.
Tada: (calmly) Yeah? And how far did that get you? A kid swinging in alleys, waiting for someone bigger to finally put you down. You want to stay a street rat? Fine. Door’s right there. But if you’re serious about this—about being more than just some thug—then shut up and listen.
Sakura’s jaw tightens as she stares at Tada, the other trainees watching now, their sparring paused. The gym goes quiet except for the dull hum of the overhead lights. She steps back into the center of the ring, her fists up again.
Sakura: (gritting her teeth) Fine. Show me.
Tada smirks, stepping into the ring. He motions to the training dummy.
Tada: Watch. Feet planted. Shoulders squared. All that strength you love so much? Focus it here.
He throws a sharp, deliberate punch at the dummy, the impact echoing through the gym. The dummy rocks back violently but doesn’t topple. Tada steps aside, motioning for Sakura to try.
Tada: Your turn. Hit it like you mean it.
Sakura steps forward, mimicking Tada’s stance, her eyes narrowing as she focuses. She throws a punch, harder than before, but the dummy barely moves. Tada shakes his head, walking up behind her and adjusting her shoulders.
Tada You’re swinging wide. Focus. Think of it like a knife—not a hammer. You’re cutting through, not smashing.
Sakura: (muttering) Never needed a knife before…
Tada: And that’s why you’re here. Again.
Sakura takes a deep breath, planting her feet. She punches again, this time landing with more precision. The dummy rocks back slightly, enough to draw a nod from Tada.
Tada: Better. Not great, but better. Keep that up, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll be worth my time.
The other trainees snicker in the background. One of them leans on the ropes, smirking at Sakura.
Trainee #1: Guess the ‘Titaness’ isn’t as tough as she thinks, huh?
Sakura snaps her head toward him, her eyes blazing.
Sakura: Say that again, pretty boy. See if you’re still laughing after I lay you out.
The trainee backs off, raising his hands in mock surrender. Tada steps between them, pointing at Sakura.
Tada: Control, Titaness. You lose it, you lose everything. That ring doesn’t care about your feelings, and neither do I.
Sakura stares him down, her breathing heavy, but she doesn’t respond. She turns back to the dummy, throwing another punch. This one lands harder, rocking the dummy back further. She smirks, shaking out her hand.
Sakura: Guess I’m learning.
Tada: (nodding slightly) Guess you are. Don’t get comfortable. This is just the beginning.
The scene ends with Sakura returning to her drills, her punches growing sharper and more focused as Tada watches in silence.
The Present
The underground training gym is dimly lit, its walls lined with cracked mirrors and posters of AAPW legends long past. The air is thick with sweat and the metallic scent of iron from the weight racks. In the center of it all is Sakura Ishikawa, now the Tatakai Titaness, relentlessly working through her training routine. She’s drenched in sweat, her tank top clinging to her muscular frame, as she flips a massive tire across the room, her grunts echoing with each heave. Yukihiro Tada leans against the wall, arms crossed, silently watching her progress.
Sakura drops the tire with a thunderous thud and immediately moves to the heavy bag. Her punches land with brutal force, each strike rattling the chain it hangs from. She mutters to herself between hits, her tone low and venomous.
Sakura: (to herself) Sixty bodies. One winner. That’s what they want, right? A massacre. Fine. I’ll give ‘em one. But it ain’t for them. Ain’t for AAPW either.
She throws a particularly hard punch, splitting the bag slightly.
Sakura: This? This is mine.
Tada clears his throat, drawing her attention. Sakura turns to him, her fists still clenched, her breathing heavy.
Tada: Talking to yourself now? Not exactly inspiring confidence, Titaness.
Sakura: (grinning slightly) Don’t need to inspire anyone. Ain’t here to be a hero, boss.
Tada: Good. Heroes die young. Legends live forever. But legends? They win. And you don’t win by swinging like a madwoman.
Sakura walks over to the weight bench, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long drink before responding. She leans on the bench, her knuckles white as she grips the edge.
Sakura: You still think this is about winning? About some trophy? Nah. This is about proving something. To me. To every idiot who thought I’d break under pressure. Every fool who thought I couldn’t climb outta the dirt.” She looks at him, her eyes blazing. “Winning’s just the bonus.
Tada steps forward, his expression unreadable. He looks her up and down, nodding slightly.
Tada: Then prove it. But remember, this isn’t just about you. This is about AAPW. You’re their weapon now, Titaness. Don’t forget it.
Sakura: (snorting) A weapon, huh? Sure. But weapons don’t think. I do. And if AAPW’s expecting loyalty, they’re in for a shock.
Tada narrows his eyes, but doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he motions toward the ring.
Tada: Hit the ropes. Show me you’re ready.
Sakura smirks, wiping her face with a towel before stepping into the ring. She runs the ropes with precision, her steps heavy but controlled. As she finishes, she leans on the corner, glaring at Tada.
Sakura: Ready? Always.
Tada: (smirking) Good. Because at the Ronin Rumble, you won’t just be fighting for yourself. You’ll be fighting for the pride of AAPW. Don’t forget who gave you this chance.
Sakura steps forward, grabbing the top rope and leaning over it to stare him down.
Sakura: Who gave me this chance? Nah, boss. You’re confused. I took this chance. And I’ll take that ring too. Sixty bodies, one Titaness. Let’s see who survives.
Tada watches her for a moment, his smirk fading into a look of quiet approval. He steps back, motioning for her to continue training. Sakura turns back to the ring, dropping into a crouch and throwing shadow punches with blistering speed.
The scene ends with a close-up of Sakura’s fierce expression, her focus razor-sharp as her punches cut through the air. The sound of her fists echoes through the gym, a haunting promise of the destruction to come.