The Devolution of Yamashita Tomohisa – Parts Two and Three
The Devolution of Yamashita Tomohisa
(A Fairy Tale)
by Ender’s Girl
Part Two: A Happy Childhood
As Johnny’s new Heir Apparent, YamaPi was given everything his heart desired. (And since he did not desire much, it worked just as well for the Goblin King.) Safe inside the castle keep, YamaPi grew to be a fine young boy — fit as a fiddle, in the pink of health — while the lands across the Evil Empire continued to wither under the fulvous heat of the sun, while the drudges moiled in vain for gold in the near-empty strip mines on the far reaches of the desert, and while the grunt armies sweat blood and pus as they labored to complete the Goblin King’s latest monument to his greatness (a five-hundred-foot obelisk adorned with a statue of him carved from the finest imported mudstone). And like the other weanlings, YamaPi was strictly forbidden from venturing forth beyond the castle’s outer walls, so he had no inkling of the unimaginable horrors that lurked just outside the impregnable stronghold in which he had dwelt his whole life. Safe inside the castle keep, he lived, and he grew.
The gooey cocoon from YamaPi’s amniotic state had sloughed off a few days following his first public appearance as a weanling, and the wrinkly brown skin had eventually smoothened out to a nice, even complexion. His tiny appendages, which at the onset had been no more than rudimentary buds, germinated into small but sturdy arms. Only his legs remained rather spindly, but they did not seem to deter him from scampering up and down the mildewed stone stairs as he explored the endless warren of corridors and backrooms that gnawed deep into the keep, mindless of the retinue of silent, gray-garbed minions who followed the princeling’s every move and made sure the child did not slip into some dark hole from which there was no returning. YamaPi’s eyes were strangely vacuous as ever, which somehow offset the open sweetness of his smile, or the sheer delight ringing in his laughter. For YamaPi loved to smile — at everyone and everything. Even the most inconsequential things amused him — a mealy bug crawling lugubriously across a moss-covered windowsill, or the droppings of the spiky-plumed vultures wheeling high above the outer courtyard, or even the congealed grease-slop that was served at dinnertime. While the other neotenic weanlings his age would have squashed the mealy bug or run screaming for cover from the vultures or flicked the greasy gunk at each other’s faces with even greasier spoons, YamaPi continued to smile, and everyone around him wondered why.
YamaPi smiled the way he did, and laughed the way he did, because he could hear the Music — even if no one else could. It filled his every waking moment: the lovely tinkle of invisible bells, the lilting variations of notes, the low humming of wordless tunes. The Music in his head brought color and sunshine to his life within the castle keep, this shut-in world steeped in gray silence and rustling shadows. Though without really knowing it, the nameless melody only he could hear made him happy, made him smile, made those dead-fish eyes twinkle with incongruous gaiety. The castle servants and cassocked eunuchs marveled at his smile and secretly wished that the other Johnnies could be as agreeable. But none of the other youngsters smiled the way YamaPi did, if at all.
From his animal-print boudoir in the tallest spire of the fortress, Johnny Kitagawa watched with great satisfaction as YamaPi grew and thrived under his auspices. Nothing that the child did ever escaped his beady eyes, still sharp despite their cataracts and suppurating encrustations. Johnny made weekly visits to the Common Room where the Johnnies were all corralled, awaiting his appearance. And when the gray-garbed minions announced the Goblin King’s presence, the rugrats would swarm around his gnomish form, eagerly showing off their latest dance moves while throwing dagger looks and elbow jabs at each other. Johnny would chuckle at their competitive displays and pat their crimped heads indulgently as he scanned the room for the one face that could give him joy. And YamaPi would come tottering over from his corner of the Common Room (painted pink, just for him), his bright, open smile the only thing that mattered to the Goblin King.
Even in his tender years YamaPi could sense that the Darkling Lord doted on him above anyone else from his litter, yet being just a child, he thought little of it, and in his happy ignorance remained oblivious of the envious stares some of the youngsters shot his way. For such was his nature. And if YamaPi ever noticed the narrowed eyes and frosty silence that greeted him upon entering the Common Room (particularly from the runt wearing black and red bloomers and dark eyeliner, the one who liked to practice his dance steps in his own little nook), YamaPi thought little of it, and kept smiling his sweet smile and humming the song that no one else could hear… For such was his nature.
And so the drab, seasonless years wore on uneventfully, although YamaPi and the other children’s days were always filled with something to do. Needlework and table-decorating classes took up their mornings; and after grub time in the, uh, Hall of Grub, the afternoons were reserved for ikebana, baking, and DIY costume design. The gray-cassocked eunuchs who presided over the lessons were lenient and even solicitous around their pupils, and each finished work the children produced — a lopsided cross-stitch of a one-legged dung beetle here, a formless (and fairly uneatable) mud cookie there — was promptly adjudged to be “a marvel!” by the fawning minions, who never dared risk the ire of their all-seeing master, or the stinging kick from his sequined ruby shoes.
Part Three: Coming of Age
One day in YamaPi’s sixteenth year, the Johnnies’ embroidery lessons in the Common Room were cut short by the weekly visit from the Goblin King. His glistering ruby shoes scraping the stone slabs, Johnny hobbled into the large chamber and began to inspect the wretched-looking attempts of the youths to stitch on flower appliqués to their lace hankies, which they eagerly waved before his face. Johnny patted their heads absently and moved on, his mottled hand lingering a heartbeat longer on some of the boys. The Goblin King stopped before YamaPi who was bent over his work, diligently sewing a grubby pink heart onto his grease-flecked hanky. “You,” Johnny began, and when the boy looked up with that sweet smile of his, the Goblin King’s shriveled heart swelled with pride and affection. “Show Johnny-sssan your work, lad.” YamaPis dead-fish eyes shone as he offered his embroidery project to the Darkling Lord, who took it and eyed the patchwork appreciatively. “I made a heart, Johnny-san, my heart, because when I hear the Music I feel like singing and my heart feels like singing too and I made a heart, Johnny-san,” YamaPi explained excitedly. Or tried to.
The Goblin King nodded fondly and returned the lace hanky back to his favorite ward. “Excellent work! You pleassse Johnny-san very much, lad.” YamaPi gurgled happily and smiled his sweet smile, his vacant eyes crinkling. Johnny turned to address the rest of the Juniors: “You, you, you, all of you. Lessonsss are over. Playtime now.” The boys broke off into their groups and cliques, most of them eyeing YamaPi enviously over their shoulders. “Come, lad.” Johnny placed an arm around YamaPi’s slender frame and steered him to one of the huge windows in the Common Room. YamaPi followed obediently, his precious hanky clutched to his chest. Johnny stretched out a scabrous hand from the window. “One day, lad, all thisss will be yours.” “What, the curtains?” YamaPi asked eagerly, already thinking of all the pink hearts he could sew on the fabric, now that the drapes would one day be his. The exciting thought made him giggle. “No, not the curtainsss, lad,” Johnny quickly answered, darting a furtive look over his stooped shoulder in case the other boys had heard the gaffe. None seemed to be within earshot, except for that alert-looking youngster in the black and red bloomers, the one who was dancing energetically in the nearest corner, a smirk on his sharp, weaselly face. Johnny wondered if the boy had heard, but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. No matter. It wouldn’t change a thing.
The Goblin King sighed wearily and turned back to the window, extending his arm over the parched panorama of his Evil Empire. “Not the curtains, lad,” he repeated more firmly. “All that you can see stretched out over the swamplands and the desert wastes! That’ll be your kingdom, lad.” Johnny looked down at YamaPi, who had stopped giggling and was now chewing his dewy lower lip rather thoughtfully, a small furrow marring the smoothness of his brow. Johnny’s peripheral vision (amazingly, still unencumbered by all his cataracts) told him that the sharp-eyed dancing boy had somehow twirled a few inches closer to the window where the Goblin King and YamaPi stood. Johnny crossed two of his claws, desperately hoping his pink-loving Heir would not embarrass himself this time.
YamaPi finally spoke, his voice tremulous but clear: “But I don’t want no land, Johnny-san.” The Music swelled up in his heart, the wordless tune nobody else could hear. It made him clamber up on the windowsill, ignoring the sputtering protestations from the Goblin King. Balancing himself on the ledge, YamaPi turned to face the Common Room, earnestness lighting up his face. He flung both arms open as the other Johnnies and gray-clad minions watched with mouths agape. The pent-up Music within YamaPi’s heart burst out of him, shaping the sounds in his throat into words. “I just… want… to… sing!!!” And he began to warble that formless, wordless song that had been festering in his little pink heart for much of his life.
“Get. Down. Now!” Johnny hissed, and with surprising strength yanked the boy down from the stone ledge, and YamaPi tumbled to the floor. “Fool of a boy, what nonsenssse is thissss?” The Goblin King gave YamaPi a rough shake, until the boy’s bones rattled and the Music in his soul subsided — for now. “You do not understand, lad! You. Are. The. Chosen. One. My. Sssole. Heir.” Johnny ground out those last words, reddish tendrils of smoke curling dangerously from his nostrils. YamaPi looked up at the Goblin King and the song caught in his chest. For the first time in his life he felt something he had never felt before: fear. Fear of Johnny-san, who had always seemed to be this kindly old man with the funny red shoes, but who now loomed before him, livid and quite terrifying.
The Common Room went deathly still; even the dancing boy in the corner had stopped whatever he was doing and stood quietly by the wall, his dark eyes watching Johnny intently. All was silent except for the raspy breathing of the Goblin King. YamaPi was rooted to the ground, not speaking, not moving, but still clutching his embroidered hanky close to his heart, where he hoped the Music still lived.
Then the door to the Common Room burst open and a squat, toad-like herald entered, bearing a rusty bugle that looked like it had never seen a cleaning rag in years. After genuflecting hastily on one stumpy knee and making a few desultory puffs on his instrument (which also sounded painfully out of tune), the herald intoned, “O Great Gnarled One, I present His Royal Highness KimuTaku, newly returned from his last dorama crusade. Prince of the Evil Empire, Grand Duke of the All the Scary Places, Marquis of the Festering Fens, Field Marshall of the Grunt Legions, Lord Plunderer of the Sulfur Gorge, and Best Jeanist Hall of Famer…” The herald was promptly squashed to the floor by a shiny leather boot adorned with feathers, and Kimura, prince of the realm, sauntered into the room yawning. “Now, now, let’s not get carried away with ranks and titles, hmmm?” The gray-clad eunuchs prostrated themselves, murmuring salutations, while a current of excitement rippled through the young Johnnies. So this was the legendary Prince KimuTaku, the original Heir whom they had only heard about from the minions and the castle servants who often regaled the youngsters with tales of his mighty deeds and conquests.
Johnny shuffled away from the window, away from YamaPi who remained by the wall, his tousled head still hung in shame. “So… after all these years, the great prince of the land finally deigns to return to the hole that spewed him forth.” The Goblin King’s raspy voice dripped poison, but KimuTaku seemed unperturbed by the glacial greeting. “What, no welcome party? Oh cheer up old man, I would have come home eventually,” the prince drawled, raking slender fingers through his thick caramel mane. He cast a lazy eye on the room’s inhabitants while his razor-sharp mind assessed the situation. Something, clearly, was amiss. Something had happed just before his arrival, something he had interrupted.
Johnny peered at the door behind KimuTaku, past the toad-like herald who was still struggling to get up. “Nakai? Goro? Where are the othersss?” the Goblin King demanded. Kimura yawned again while eyeing the embroidery projects that hung from the slack-jawed Johnnies’ hands. “Oh, them? The boys didn’t feel like coming home this time. Cripes, embroidery lessons, old man? You sure you’re still breeding Johnnies, and not little old ladies?” Kimura chuckled at his own joke, ignoring the scathing look the Goblin King gave him. The prince untied the travel-stained cloak he was wearing and tossed it to one side of the room, where it fell on a group of Johnnies. The youths promptly began fighting over the piece of clothing. Some of the smaller ones who got kneed in the face started howling. Kimura rolled his eyes. “How touching. Five minutes home and the runts worship me already.” He began turning up the cuffs of his bright orange tunic, which was cinched at the waist by a belt of gold discs that clinked as he moved. Dark buckskin breeches clung to his lean, wiry legs. “Nakai and the rest decided to spend their downtime playing blackjack…” Kimura paused from rolling a sleeve and smirked. “…Over at Mori’s place,” he finished casually.
The smoke tendrils that had puffed out of Johnny’s nose fairly exploded out of his nostrils, and both eyeballs popped out of their sockets, each one dangling precariously from a single optic nerve that was beginning to fray. The Goblin King did not bother to put the viscoelastic orbs back in place as he shuffled menacingly towards KimuTaku, black veins bulging out from under his parched skin. “You. Know. That. Name. Issss. Forbidden!!!” Green spittle from Johnny’s cracked mouth flew across the room and hit the rugrats — who did not seem to notice, as they were still busy fighting over the filthy riding cloak. Outside the stronghold, thunder boomed across the dull red sky and a burning smell filled the air. An acid storm was brewing. The minions cowered on the stone floor, but the young Johnnies remained preoccupied with their squabbling.
Kimura chuckled once more, the sound this time a shade more nasty. “Keep your wig on, old man,” he drawled mockingly. “Always so ornery, never could take a joke. Your health will suffer, y’know, and you’re not getting any younger…” Kimura trailed off, observing the Goblin King’s wrathful expression. “I mean, you’re practically… MORI-bund.” The prince sniggered at his pun while Johnny sputtered with rage, his face a bright purple. Strange lumps rippled under his splotchy skin. Turning his back on KimuTaku, the Goblin King drew a ragged gulp of air and began a Yoga breathing exercise — one whose calming effect his resident quack doctor had emphatically assured him of. Having nothing to do, Kimura moseyed around the Common Room, and was sniffing dubiously at a moldy mud cookie lying on a table, when his gaze fell on YamaPi standing by the window ledge, staring at him with the strangest and blankest eyes he had ever seen. KimuTaku swaggered over to the boy. “So who’s the twinkie with the dirty pink hanky?” The Goblin King turned around slowly, his eyes (now plugged back into their sockets) glowing red with malice. Grim satisfaction rang in his gravelly voice: “Your replacement.”
Kimura quirked a silky brow as he gave the youngster a once-over. “Interesting…” YamaPi continued to stare unblinkingly at this attractive, well-built man who was eyeing him quizzically. So this was what a true prince looked, acted, sounded like. The Music, which had fled before the wrath of the Goblin King, suddenly hummed back to life. Of two things YamaPi was now certain. One, that he wished to sing all his life. Two, that he wished to grow up and be like this princely visitor. “I heard something about you choosing a new heir and all that, “ Kimura went on. “So I thought I’d drop by to see if the rumor was true.” The prince jerked his head in YamaPi’s direction. “So what can the runt do?” KimuTaku’s eyes flickered towards the pink patchwork that YamaPi was holding. “Besides cross-stitching, that is. Can he dance? Act? Sing? You know, the works?”
Johnny moved closer to YamaPi and laid a mottled hand on the boy’s shoulder while waving his other hand dismissively. “Inconssssequential, minor little hiccupsess. Mere technicalitiessss. Thingsss have changed since your youth, lad,” he rasped scornfully at KimuTaku. “Raw talent is no longer… obligatory. He will be great, special abilities notwithssstanding.” Kimura’s eyebrows raised a notch. “Getting battier every year,” the prince muttered, tapping his temple with a tapered finger. He looked askance at the Goblin King. “So you don’t bother teaching them to sing or dance or act anymore. Wonderful. Just how do you propose to make these squirts amount to anything, huh?” Johnny stroked YamaPi’s mop of hair and replied calmly, “By their sheer charisssma.” KimuTaku snickered. “Good one, old man.” Then the prince noticed the stringy boy in the black and red pantaloons, who had resumed twirling in his corner. “What about him? He’s dancing. What’s his motivation?” Johnny smiled frostily at Kimura. “The little show-off? Heh. Ambition drives him, lad. Ambition. I have great hopesss for him, as well. But for now, he’s my… back-up plan.” The dancing boy’s rather large ears (which he had tried to cover up by growing his dark hair long) perked up at the Goblin King’s words, and he began to gyrate more vigorously than before.
Kimura dubiously scanned the Johnnies in the room, who had by now quite effectively ripped his traveling cloak to shreds. The princely prince let out a mild oath when he saw what the rugrats had done. The Johnnies scampered across the room, some now wearing the tatty pieces of fabric on their foreheads, others using the strips they had purloined to mercilessly whip the prostrated eunuchs. A large group of Johnnies in colorful jumpsuits sat in a tight circle in the middle of the room, chittering in a strange dialect. They looked happy. Kimura turned to Johnny. “Let me guess… your Kansai unit?” Johnny nodded stiffly, still smarting from Kimura’s earlier show of insolence. “Kanjani8,” was his terse reply. KimuTaku rolled his eyes, muttering, “Well, of course you just had to sneak your name in, didn’t you. Gawwd.”
Then out of nowhere, a red and black blur nearly crashed into him. Upon closer inspection Kimura noticed that the writhing mass was made up of a number of boys who were pummeling each other, snarling and cursing rather viciously. Johnny noticed them, too. “Tut-tut. These ladsss. Alwaysss fighting, alwaysss fighting,” he croaked, visibly displeased. Kimura backed away from the red and black action and promptly stepped on something soft, squishy and… moving. He looked down and saw two small Johnnies who were conjoined at the waist, holding hands and harmonizing in a clear falsetto. Two sets of saucer-shaped eyes blinked fruitily up at him. Kimura kicked the bicephalous ball away from him with a snort of disgust. “Cripes, old man. Now they’re bred gay, too?” As the ball rolled away, the high-pitched harmonizing turned into piteous whimpers.
YamaPi, who was watching all this while, felt something inside him explode in a pink surge of indignation. “Don’t hurt them!” he shouted hotly at Kimura, who was inspecting his boots for baby slime. “Don’t hurt TegoMass they’re my friends, don’t hurt them because they’re my friends!!!” YamaPi crouched on the stone floor and helped the sobbing little ball to its feet — their feet — its feet — whatever. “There, there, don’t cry TegoMass, don’t cry, don’t cry.” YamaPi stroked his two-headed friend–friends–friend–whatever, crooning softly. He smiled sweetly at the Siamese pair, until the mewling sounds became hiccups, and finally little burbles of delight. YamaPi laughed with relief. The Music was starting to well up within him. It made him want to sing again. He stood up and rushed over to the Goblin King.’“I can hear the Music again, Johnny-san, I can hear it I can hear it and it’s making me sing again I can hear the Music, Johnny-san!” Johnny tried to clamp a gnarly claw over the boy’s mouth, hissing, “Ssstop. Ssssinging. Not. Now.” But YamaPi’s song could not be stifled, nor could the jerky movements his scrawny limbs were making (for he had started to dance, as well) be stopped.
Kimura stared incredulously at YamaPi, as if seeing the boy for the first time. A heartbeat passed. Then he broke out into a high-pitched hyena laugh. “That’s my replacement, old man? A pipsqueak who can’t dance for sh*t, and who sounds like a — like a — clogged sinus???” Kimura gasped for breath and slapped his buckskin breeches, choking on his own chortles. The Goblin King waited in cold silence for Kimura’s laughter to subside. It took a long time. “Gawd, what a loony bin this place is. What do you put in their breakfast? Crack?” KimuTaku wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, his broad shoulders still shaking. “Now this I gotta tell Nakai and the others about.” Johnny took short, deliberate steps towards Kimura, a claw raised in rebuke. “Leave,” the Goblin King rasped, his eyes glowing red with rage. “Ungrateful fool, after all that I’ve done for you. You think you’re better than the new onesss? You’ll be a washed-up rag in a few yearsss, anyway. LEAVE, and NEVER COME BACK.”
Kimura straightened up and smirked. “Washed-up rag? The fans don’t seem to think so, old man.” His cool gaze swept the room for the very last time, over the groveling eunuchs, over the ruckus of fighting Johnny boys. “I wondered for a second why you’d want to replace me, after everything I’ve done for your stupid empire. Turns out, your little plan is the joke of the century. You’re going down, old man.” Kimura turned towards YamaPi, who was still dancing and warbling to the Music that no one else could hear, and bowed deeply before the boy with mock flourish. “At your humble service, your Highness.” KimuTaku stood up and stretched in one fluid, catlike motion, and in his desiccated heart, Johnny cursed him a thousand times. The prince turned on his booted heel and wordlessly stalked out of the room.
YamaPi felt the Music in his heart snuff out like a flickering flame. He couldn’t understand why his Idol was leaving. All his singing and dancing was to please Kimura, to show him what he could do. “Johnny-san Johnny-san!” YamaPi cried, “Why is Kimura-san leaving?” Johnny looked down at the boy’s stricken face, and a plan began to sprout in his crafty little mind. Maybe there was a way to get YamaPi to willingly inherit the Evil Empire. “Well, because he doesn’t like you, lad.” Johnny smiled sadly and patted YamaPi’s tousled head while the rest of his plan quickly took shape. “But I like him Johnny-san, I like him!” YamaPi whirled around frantically. “I have to go to him Johnny-san, I have to go to him because I like him and I want to be just like him so I have to go to him Johnny-san!” YamaPi tore out of the Goblin King’s grasp and went pelting after Kimura, running as fast as his spindly legs could let him, clutching the pink hanky in his stubby fingers. Down the winding stairwells he flew, and past the cobwebby alcoves and the rank sewers and the dungeons filled with inhuman moans and squeals. Something deep in YamaPi’s addled brain told him to make straight for the castle stables, and so he did.
YamaPi found Kimura inside the stables, saddling his enormous black charger. The castle grunts who were attending to the horse skittered away as YamaPi came hurtling through. Kimura glanced behind him and rolled his eyes. “Oh great, it followed me,” he muttered, jerking savagely at the stirrups. “Kimura-san Kimura-san don’t go, don’t go Kimura-san!” YamaPi cried, and he would’ve crashed into the charger (which would’ve promptly crushed the boy to bloody bits) had Kimura not yanked him back in time. YamaPi could hear the Music again and he smiled his sweet, open smile. KimuTaku blinked. Twice. That smile certainly caught him off-guard. Sure, the boy couldn’t do squat if his life depended on it, but maybe, just maybe, there actually was something more to the pipsqueak than those dead-fish eyes. Kimura sighed. He had to get out of the castle before this kid got to him. “Listen, squirt. Uh, you’re a good kid… Maybe a bit on the dopey side, but still a good kid. If you really know what’s best for you, you’ll leave this Evil Empire for good. You don’t know the old man, how twisted he really is. Get out. Go see the world. Get a real education. Find yourself a girlfriend. Live your life.” Kimura coughed uncomfortably, as he was not really used to giving inspirational speeches. YamaPi’s eyes shone happily. “But I don’t want to leave this castle or get me a girlfriend, Kimura-san.” The Music played on in his head. “I just want to singgmffrm–” The song was cut short when Kimura hastily clapped a hand over the boy’s face. “All right, all right, no need to get… emotional.” The muffled sounds stopped and Kimura lowered his hand, looking away awkwardly.
YamaPi persisted, “But Kimura-san, I am happy in the castle with Johnny-san. I just hear the Music and I’m happy, I’m happy in the castle with Johnny-san.” Kimura sighed impatiently. This was getting nowhere. Having been bred and raised here, the boy wouldn’t leave the Evil Empire. Ever. The black charger pawed restlessly at the muddy ground. “Listen, squirt, suit yourself. Me, I’m going back out. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You and the other munchkins don’t know what you’re in for, selling your soul to the old man and all.” Kimura mounted his steed with a graceful leap and looked down at the boy. “I only lasted this long and got this far because… well, because I’m so awesome. See ya. Or not.” Kimura tied back his thick caramel waves with a rawhide thong, took a long swig from his aleskin, gave YamaPi a jaunty grin and an even jauntier wink, dug his booted heels into the charger’s ebony flanks, and horse and rider galloped out of the stables and away from the castle, leaving the boy alone with his Music.
By this time, Johnny had retreated deep into his boudoir, and was nursing a foul migraine with a goblet of fresh blood while cursing Kimura in thirty-seven ancient languages. His spy vultures hovered outside his dimly lit chamber, bearing news of Kimura’s recent departure, as well as news of Kimura’s last conversation with the young princeling. Johnny tossed a dismembered body part (one of his faithful grunts) at the birds, and they wheeled away screaming and fighting over the maggoty flesh. Johnny lay back on his leopard-print coverlet and sighed. He had been too indulgent, too blinded by the boy’s charming smile. YamaPi didn’t want to rule the Evil Empire, didn’t want all the fame and fortune Johnny had promised him. All that thickheaded boy wanted to do was sing his stupid nonsense songs. Johnny brooded in silence, but the gears in his head were working quickly. The next few years would be pivotal, very pivotal indeed. YamaPi didn’t want to be his Heir…
But the Goblin King had other plans.
Next up: Part Four – The Final Years
Credits: Anyone who’s watched the 1975 Arthurian spoof “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” would have recognized the lines of dialogue that I pinched from the movie, particularly from the scenes involving the King of Swamp Castle and his son, the halfwit Prince Herbert. Johnny-san and YamaPi, King of Swamp Castle and Prince Herbert. Made perfect sense!
Photo credits: asianpopcorn.com, bestuff.com, emivee.vox.com, epunx99.vox.com, lynnz88.vox.com, mon-chan.vox.com, purfektions.blogspot.com, silver-rose88.livejournal.com, sironimo.livejournal.com, tinyangl.livejournal.com, tsinoy.com, and extra thanks to the various users at crunchyroll.com who posted YamaPi’s chibi pics.