They called it Raw 200 because the night felt like two hundred breaths stretched between punches, chants, and the hot electric hum of a crowd that refused to sit still. The arena was a living organism—sweat, neon, and the low throb of anticipation—ready to snap a string, spill a story, and leave everyone altered.

If you’re buying online, demand photos of the size tag (Japanese characters only) and the heel stamp. No exceptions.