Sam Samurai (8 page)

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Authors: Jon Scieszka

BOOK: Sam Samurai
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Jo draws another perfect-looking character. “Oh no, that’s just a simplification for English speakers. It’s more about images. Like the famous poem of Basho:
“Old pond ...
A frog leaps in
Water’s sound.”
“Ms. Basho, our teacher?” I say.
“No, Basho the famous poet who will be born in 1644,” says Jo. “Let me see your calligraphy.”
I hold up my lettering. It’s a nice graffiti: JOE
Fred, Sam, and I kneel facing Freddi, Samm, and Jo.
“Wow,” says Sam. “What a day. If this were a movie it would be a great montage.”
“Yeah, that was the word I was looking for,” I say. “So about
The Book
—”
A castle samurai slides open the screen wall behind us.
“Lord Tokugawa will see you now.”
“Okay,” says Sam. “We’ll be right there. We just have to figure out—”
“Now,”
says the samurai.
We believe he means it.
TWELVE
There was something very scary about being called before Tokugawa—the guy we knew would soon become the samurai shogun of all Japan.
Maybe it was the twelve fully armed, folded-ponytail, fancy-dressed samurai. Six knelt in a row on either side of us.
Maybe it was the ladies with their eyebrows shaved off and repainted higher on their foreheads.
Maybe it was the quiet and everyone looking at the six of us kneeling down in front of Tokugawa’s raised platform.
I think it was mostly us knowing Tokugawa could do whatever he liked with us. That and the fact that I still didn’t have the foggiest idea how this whole haiku,
renga,
Book time warping thing was supposed to work.
On the way in I saw Honda and Zou at the very back of the long room. They were the only friendly faces I saw. I did see Owattabutt. He was not a friendly face.
We knelt there silently for what seemed like hours. You would have been proud of us. We acted very serious and didn’t say a word. Finally someone broke the silence.
“Young strangers,” said Tokugawa. “I have heard many thoughts from others, telling me who you are. Now I would like to hear from you.”
We all looked up from our kneeling bows. Tokugawa sat above everyone wearing a huge wide-shouldered kimono. Did he have two samurai swords? Is my name Joe? Tokugawa looked every bit like the general of generals that he was.
So this is going to take the trick of all tricks, I thought. I took a deep breath, hoping the Auto-Translator was still in working order. “I am Joe. This is Fred, Freddi, Sam, Samantha, and Jo. We are travelers from a far-off time and place—Brooklyn.”
“You see, Lord?” said Owattabutt. “Outsiders, just as I said.” Samm was right about making that guy an enemy.
Tokugawa held up his hand for silence. He turned to the lady just behind him. It was Jo, Samm, and Freddi’s friend. “Lady Tokugawa?”
“Yes, Lord Tokugawa, they are outsiders. But students of our arts and way of life.”
“Sorcerers, more likely,” said Owattabutt. “That one turned a poor old woman into a bird. I questioned people who saw it. At the very least, they are enemy spies.”
Tokugawa turned his fierce gaze on us. “So you see my problem. Students? Sorcerers? Spies?”
I had a sinking feeling there was no trick that could answer that question.
“That’s it,” said Fred. “Let’s dive through that paper wall and get out of here before they toss us in the dungeon ... or worse.”
“I don’t want to lose my head,” said Sam. “I like my head.”
Jo whispered, just loud enough for us to hear, “Time to go.”
Then she spoke so everyone could hear.
“I think I can answer that question, Lord Tokugawa. If I may ask the priest Zou to bring us our book of poems, we will answer in the form of a
renga
for your entertainment.”
Lord Tokugawa’s face changed from frowning general to kid in a candy store.
“Renga?
You are outsiders but know
renga?
Delightful. Please do.”
Lady Tokugawa gave a little smile. Owattabutt ground his teeth loud enough for us to hear.
“A what-ga?” asked Fred.
“This isn’t a dance, is it?” said Sam.
“I hope you know what you are doing,” I said.
Jo smiled at us. Samm frowned. Freddi looked like she would have whacked me with a sword if she had one.
Zou handed Jo her “book of poems.” I looked at the book and could have kissed him and her, I was so happy. The “book of poems” was a thin, blue, silver-writing, thank-goodness, time warping Book.
Jo thanked Zou with a bow. She turned to us. “That was fun. Maybe we’ll see you some other time.”
“But quit messing around with the Auto-Translator,” said Samm. “It really wears on the Probability Mechanism.”
“The what?” said Fred.
“We will,” said Sam. “But what the heck is a
renga,
and how do we do one?”
“Short verses linked together,” said Jo. “Each one connects with the verse before it. The whole thing tells a story by hopping around. But the good news is,
The
Book scans your recent time memory, then writes out the verse you are thinking. All you have to do is read it.”
“We knew that,” said Fred, Sam, and I.
“Right,” said Jo. “I’ll start.” Jo turned and knelt with
The
Book in her lap. She opened it and read:
“Green morning mist
A good day to travel.”
She handed
The
Book to me. I thought about our day and saw my verse write itself. I read it out:
“Red Devils
Red ants
Marching on the Tokaido Road.”
Freddi read:
“Wooden sword
hack attack.
Watch out, Great-granddad.”
Fred read:
“Hot steaming
Noodles are
Delicious.”
Samm read:
“A butterfly flaps its wings
in Brooklyn.
Storm in Edo.”
Sam looked around the room of samurai, then at Zou. Without even reading, he spoke his verse:
“Flag moving, wind moving
Time warping
Mind moving.”
Tokugawa smiled a huge samurai smile.
The most peaceful swirl of green mist we have ever felt wrapped us up like a baby in its mom’s arms. Time Warp poetry.
Zou and Honda dipped a slight farewell bow.
Fred, Sam, and I bowed to Freddi, Samm, and Jo. I had a feeling we probably would see them like Jo said, “some other time.”
Then we disappeared like Mount Fuji behind the mist.
THIRTEEN
The green mist drained away. Fred and I were back at Sam’s kitchen table. Sam was back standing in his ready karate pose. The last of the mist slipped into
The
Book. Sam collapsed into a kitchen chair.
“Oh table. Oh books. Oh home,” said Sam. He laid his hands on the table to make sure it was real. “It’s so good to be home safe and sound.”
Fred and I looked at him.
“Well, mostly sound anyway,” I said.
“Safe,” said Fred. “Definitely safe.”
We kept looking at Sam, not quite knowing how to tell him.
“What?” said Sam. “What are you two staring at? That was a pretty amazing zen samurai verse I came up with, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, amazing,” I said.
“Yeah, a real samurai verse,” said Fred.
We couldn’t take our eyes off Sam’s head.
“A real samurai,” I said. “I’ll bet that’s what happened. Your verse was so samurai, that The
Book—”
The downstairs doorbell buzzer buzzed.
Sam jumped up. “That’s probably my mom. Put The
Book
away. We’ll tell her we learned all this stuff studying samurai.”
“Oh yeah,” said Fred.
I heard Sam’s mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Sam went to get the door.
Time warped and started speeding up.
There was no other way but to just tell him.
We couldn’t take our eyes off Sam’s head.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I said quickly. “We’ll tell her we were studying samurai and got so carried away that you ... uh ... shaved half your head and put the rest of your hair in a ponytail.”

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