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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