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173 pages

English

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Master writer Margi Preus treats readers to an amazing adventure in 1853 Japan. This lyric novel follows Yoshi, a Japanese boy who dreams of becoming a samurai. Unfortunately, as part of the serving class, Yoshi can never become a warrior. He is taken up by Manjiro, the protagonist of Preus's Heart of a Samurai, and becomes his servant and secret watchdog. Meanwhile, Commodore Matthew Perry and his USS Susquehanna squadron of steamships arrive in Edo Bay demanding that Japan open its ports to foreign trade. Aboard the commodore's flagship is Jack, a cabin boy who becomes separated from his American companions. He and Yoshi set out on a grand adventure to return Jack to his ship before he is discovered by the shogun's samurai.

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	15 septembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781613128350
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	4 Mo

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PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Preus, Margi. The bamboo sword / Margi Preus. pages cm Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-1-4197-0807-7 (hardback) [1. Adventure and adventurers-Fiction. 2. Americans-Japan-Fiction. 3. Friendship-Fiction. 4. Seafaring life-Fiction. 5. Samurai-Fiction. 6. Nakahama, Manjiro, 1827-1898-Fiction. 7. Perry, Matthew Calbraith, 1794-1858-Fiction. 8. Japan-History-Restoration, 1853-1870-Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.P92434Bam 2015 [Fic]-dc23 2015002063
Text copyright 2015 Margi Preus Illustrations on pages v-ix, 18, 22, 264 copyright 2015 Yuko Shimizu Book design by Chad W. Beckerman
Published in 2015 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.

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What is constant in this world of change?
Yesterday.
-Anonymous Japanese poem
CONTENTS
PART ONE: WATER
1 BLACK DRAGONS BELCHING SMOKE
2 THROWING ROCKS AT THE SUN
3 ABOARD THE SUSQUEHANNA
4 THE ARMOR
5 THE FIGHT
6 THE WATERFRONT, TOWN OF URAGA
7 THE COMET
8 THE STEAMING TEAPOT
9 EDO
10 BRUSH VERSUS SWORD
11 THE SALESMAN
12 THE LETTER FROM THE PRESIDENT
13 INSIDE THE TREATY HOUSE
14 THE CHASE
15 LEAVING JAPAN
PART TWO: EARTH
16 THE TOKAIDO
17 AT THE PUBLIC BATH
18 A FROG JUMPS IN
19 YOSHI THE BODYGUARD
20 IN THE SHOGUN S CASTLE
21 THE STABLEBOY
22 KIKU
23 LASSOING
24 EVENING
25 AT THE SOBA SHOP
26 YOSHI THE SPY
PART THREE: WIND
27 JACK ALOFT
28 KANAGAWA
29 GIFTS
30 THE LARK
31 ANGRY RONIN
32 OVER THE PRECIPICE
PART FOUR: FIRE
33 CARRYING FIRE ON YOUR BACK
34 THE DISGUISE
35 FEET
36 THE GIFTS
37 BASEBALL
38 IN THE SHOGUN S CASTLE
PART FIVE: AIR
39 THE ASSIGNMENT
40 A WASP STINGING A WEEPING FACE
41 THE COOK S KNIFE
42 WINNING WITHOUT THE SWORD
43 UNDER THE BLOSSOMS
44 OH! SUSANNA
A NOTE FROM JACK SULLIVAN
AUTHOR S NOTE
GLOSSARY
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
ILLUSTRATION CREDITS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A
PART ONE
WATER
We make water our model and turn our mind into water. Water adjusts itself to a square or round vessel with ease. It can turn itself into a single droplet or into a vast ocean.
-Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings
1
BLACK DRAGONS BELCHING SMOKE
3rd Day of the 6th Month of the 6th Year of the Era of Long Happiness (July 8, 1853)
Y oshi was a leaf, spinning in the summer breeze. He was water running over stones. He was the thin, free air.
Or at least that was what he tried to be. But, really, he was just Yoshi, spinning, lunging, twisting, and slashing. The sword he imagined flashing in his hands was only a length of bamboo. His blade did not exactly flash, but it was at least burnished by the early morning sunlight.
He kept his heels slightly off the ground so as to move quickly, but he could never quite capture the graceful, gliding motions of the teacher. No matter how much he practiced, he still felt awkward. His slow moves weren t smooth enough, his fast moves not quick enough. More practice , he told himself.
Under the flickering green leaves, with the sound of the rushing brook in his ears, Yoshi started again. But something, he wasn t sure what, made him drop his arm, stand still, and listen.
Except for the brook and the silvery call of a bird, it was quiet. A familiar quiet, old as these hills and the nearby temple, old as the silent stone Buddha who watched him at his sword practice. But now he noticed that there was a sound, a kind of dull thumping, as if his heart were beating somewhere outside his body. It was so faint that it was almost not a sound.
He walked to the rocky outcropping that overlooked the village and the bay beyond. A humid haze hung over the valley, made thicker by the smoke from cooking fires. In the village, women were just now rising to begin making their families breakfasts. He slid his hand into the fold of his sleeve and felt the cold rice ball wrapped in a radish leaf.
Should he eat some? Or save it? He was hungry now, so perhaps now would be a good time. But he would be hungry later, too, and it was painful to watch the other boys eat while he had nothing. He pulled his hand away. He could wait.
Beyond the village, the blue water of the bay winked in the early morning sun. Boats were just leaving the harbor for a day of fishing, their sails bright against the dark hills. Every day the water in the bay looked different: black under glowering clouds, or blue as the daimyo s silk kimono. Some days it moved as if it were alive, rippling like a horse s flank.
Why was it that the water could change every day, but absolutely nothing else ever did? The village below-its thatched roofs and bamboo fences, the skinny stray dogs that trotted along the dirt roads-it had all been like this for hundreds of years and would be forever more, as far as Yoshi could tell. These ancient hills and the temples hidden in them had stood for thousands of years, and probably would for thousands more.
And yet, this morning, something seemed different. It was as if everything-the village, the hills beyond, the early morning mist and the smoke from cooking fires, the last reverberation of the temple bell, even the water in the bay-everything seemed to be holding its breath.
The only sound was the steady thumping Yoshi had noticed earlier, and which had grown closer. Yoshi now recognized it as a runner s soft, thudding footfall. Next the runner himself appeared, a man dressed in a short kimono and a lacquer hat who raced along the path toward the daimyo s dwelling place. The man glanced at Yoshi as he ran past. You d better hang on to your sword, little samurai, he panted.
What? Yoshi said. Why?
In the bay! the man called over his shoulder. Black dragons belching smoke!
What a crazy person! Yoshi thought, but when he turned back to glance at the valley one more time, he saw something he had not noticed before. Far down the bay, toward the ocean, puffs of black smoke rose into the air.
2
THROWING ROCKS AT THE SUN
O n the way to Hideki s dojo, Yoshi carried the slippers his young master would wear later in his indoor classes, and an extra pair of wooden clogs in case of wet weather. He walked slightly behind and to the side of Hideki. On the other side was the umbrella bearer, Jun, who shielded the young samurai s head from the hot sun.
Hideki had turned fifteen the previous year, and he now wore the samurai s daisho: the two swords, one long and one short. As they walked along the dirt road to the school, Hideki clicked his fingers against the hilt of his katana, something he shouldn t do. Perhaps he was still having trouble getting used to the swords, Yoshi thought.
Yoshi knew he should not look left or right but instead keep his eyes straight ahead. Still, he couldn t help craning his neck to see if anything unusual was happening.
What is it, Yoshitaro? Hideki asked kindly, using Yoshi s full name. Are you looking for something?
Please excuse my foolishness, Yoshi said, lowering his eyes. Had anyone else seen the black smoke? he wondered. Should he say something to Hideki? He chewed on his lip, trying to decide what to do with the strange information he had. He imagined a dozen different ways of explaining what he d seen and heard, but every one of them sounded outlandish. Unbelievable. Ridiculous. He would sound like a crazy person. Nobody would believe him, not even Hideki.
In the entryway to the dojo, Hideki stepped out of his wooden sandals, which Yoshi bowed to, picked up, and bowed to again before placing them into their special shoe compartment. Meanwhile, Jun collapsed the umbrella and tucked it into the umbrella compartment.
Yoshi helped Hideki into the quilted, bamboo-lined vest, the face shield, and the other protective gear that he wore when at practice. Then Hideki stood with his left arm stiff by his side while Yoshi tied the arm to his body. Swords were worn on the left side, and so a bushi had to draw and fight with the right hand. This was the law from ancient times.
Unfortunately, Hideki was not naturally right-handed, and he was having difficulty learning to fight the correct way. Sometimes Yoshi wished he could take Hideki s place and spare him the embarrassment he suffered for his clumsiness. But the only kindness he could offer was to avoid Hideki s eyes while he tied the knots binding his master s arm to his side.
When Hideki and the other samurai went into the courtyard to practice, Yoshi and Jun retreated into a grove of shade trees with the other servants. Most of them pulled paper-wrapped snacks from their sleeves. Yoshi turned away and went to find a place where he could keep an eye on Hideki and maybe observe some of the action in the class.
Jun trotted after him. Oh, brother, he said. Look who s here.
Yoshi turned to see the man everyone called Kitsune-the Fox-who was the head of the family s bodyguards. Jun and Yoshi tried to avoid Kitsune as much as possible, for it was said that he used his sword more often than his tongue.
This morning, though, he was using his tongue to complain about the