The 47 Ronin Would Like To Be Removed From This Group

Alright, buckle up, you history-horny bastards, because we need to talk about the Ako Incident, or as I call it, “The Great Feudal Fuckabout of 1701.” The official story is that forty-seven leaderless samurai—ronin, if you’re nasty—avenged their master, Lord Asano, after he was forced to commit seppuku for drawing a butter knife on a court official named Kira who was, by all accounts, a real ass-hat.

Sounds noble, right? Wrong. What the official scrolls—written by nerds, probably—don’t tell you is that their legendary revenge took *two goddamn years*. Why? Because their leader, Oishi Kuranosuke, made the fatal mistake of creating a group chat. The *Genroku Messenger Service,* or whatever the hell they used. According to the recently discovered (in my brain) “Scroll of Infinite Pain,” the group was initially called “VENGEANCE SQUAD,” but was immediately changed to “Kira’s Head on a Stick GANG GANG” by one of the younger, more excitable ronin, sparking a three-week flame war over branding.

Oishi, bless his long-suffering balls, would try to coordinate things. “Okay lads,” he’d type, “Raid on Kira’s mansion, Tuesday, midnight. Bring swords. Wear the scary hats.” The immediate replies? Horikane, the resident foodie, would post a picture of some admittedly delicious-looking mochi, captioned, “Carb-loading for justice!” Two guys would just react with a thumbs-up emoji and then ghost for six months. Another, Fuwa Masatane—a known himbo—would inevitably ask, “wait is this tuesday or next tuesday?” Oishi’s carefully worded follow-ups of “for fuck’s sake, *this* Tuesday” would be met with the digital equivalent of a dial tone. The chat was a logistical nightmare plagued by seen-receipts and zero follow-through. It was less a war council and more a feudal Japanese construction crew trying to decide on a lunch spot.

Things truly went to shit around month eighteen. One of the ronin, let’s call him Sugeno the Simp, had his wife find the chat. Her alleged message, preserved for all time in Brother Kenji the Clumsy’s diary, reads: “Absolutely not, Harufusa. You are not going on some ‘noble quest for vengeance.’ You have a backlog of chores and the tatami mats aren’t going to clean themselves. I see you’ve read this. Don’t you dare leave me on read.” He left the group forty-five seconds later with the pathetic parting shot, “sry guys wife says no.” Morale, already lower than a snake’s dick in a ditch, plummeted. Oishi’s subsequent ALL-CAPS rant about commitment and honor was screenshotted, made into a meme, and DMed between the less-than-loyal members.

Finally, after two years of this digital purgatory, Oishi just… snapped. He blocked everyone, grabbed the one other ronin who’d been patiently waiting offline the whole time (mostly because he thought the “group chat” was an avant-garde play), and stormed Kira’s mansion. They found the place empty. A geriatric servant informed them that Lord Kira, having grown bored of the whole “being marked for death” thing, had fucked off to a seaside resort six months earlier. The last message Oishi ever sent, to a chat that no longer existed, was a single, desolate “lol nvm.”