The tragedy of Jasotoni

This is a story of tragedy, of the random events that can aim one's
steps towards inevitable doom. When one is a samurai, the smallest
mistake can strip one of one's honor. This story is of such a
mistake. Listen, and learn from my example.

Our tale begins in an antechamber of the great castle of Hideyori
Toyotomi in Osaka. The great warrior Jasotoni Teeyerusan



was working through his forms





under the watchful eye of the castle weapons master, Meesheru Shyarik.



(Editor's note: Scholars have theorized that Meesheru often wore
exceptionally tight undergarments, which is why he is never pictured
smiling. It is well-documented that the first artist to portray him
grinning was also the last artist.)

Meesheru, pleased with Jasotoni's loyalty to the Daimyo Toyotomi,
had just presented him with a magic helmet.



During weapons practice, Jasotoni, endeavoring to be worthy his lord's
of the great gift, became overly-enthusiastic, as he is wont to do,
and made a small boo-boo: his upswept sword damaged a tine of the
helmet's spray of blades.





A small matter, perhaps, but one that brought dishonor upon the
Daimyo. How could Jasotoni go into battle? The helmet was storied
both in word and verse, worn by legendary conquerors and leaders. The
famous lay, "The 29 Swords," ascribes the history of each of the tines
of the fabled headgear.



Realizing that there was no solution but to die with honor, Jasotoni
made to commit seppuku.



But, he found that he couldn't. Even the demands of honor could not
keep him from his beloved Dianuretsuya. He was about to strip the
helmet from his head and leap for escape, when his second, Tesiku
Hustoyu, realizing Jasotoni's moment of weakness, strove to strike him
down to preserve his family's honor.





Determined that he would not suffer a fool's death (I mean, c'mon,
there were still *28* of the stupid sticks left on his hat!), Jasotoni
retaliated and a furious battle ensued.







Oh, how the hallways rang with the staccato reports of their magical
swords! The fury that can only arise when friends suffer betrayal at
each other's hands! Back and forth the battle raged, neither Tesiku
nor Jasotoni able to attain and keep the upper hand for long. Until,
for a brief moment, three angels intervened.



The angels pleaded with the two warriors to recall their bonds of
friendship and to put aside this hatred.

Somehow, they broke out into the samurai version of the macarena


Unfortunately, such a rapprochement was not to be. The two samurai
had drank to the dregs the cup of betrayal and anger. Three oddly
dressed, vaguely school-girl looking angels could hardly bridge the
vast gulf that now separated them. (Did I mention that Tesiku and
Jasotoni had at one point been rivals for the hand of Dianuretsuya?
No? Well, you should have known that anyway, so there.)

They resumed their pitched battle.






(Editor's note: Scholars have been unable to determine why Tesiku is
seen to be smiling so often in the endless murals with which later
artists depict this classic story. Some have hypothesized that the
angels had given him foreknowledge of the battle's eventual result;
other's think he was just a happy person. We may never know.)

The battle went on.



And on.



And on.



Until, finally, the great Jasotoni could stand up to Tesiku's might no
longer.





And, then the curtain darkened on the magnificent Jasotoni, as his
once-friend and bud laid the final cruel blow across him, ending his
bright but brief existence.



What is the moral to this tragic tale? Don't wear big hats and risk an even bigger costume malfunction (don't
tell Ruben that). The end. (It's late!)