The Japanese Ninja Surprise

by jeff brown

  Flat Stanley’s Worldwide Adventures Book No 3

  The Japanese Ninja Surprise

  Created by Jeff Brown

  Written by Sara Pennypacker

  Pictures by Macky Pamintuan

  Contents

  1. The Seventeenth Samurai

  2. Fan Mail

  3. The Ninja Way

  4. Flat Ninja!

  5. Off Like a Speeding Bullet!

  6. Surprise Visitors!

  7. Kidnapped!

  8. The Ninja Star

  9. Tokyo

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors and the Illustrator

  Other Books in the Flat Stanley’s Worldwide Adventures Series

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  The Seventeenth Samurai

  “I salute you, Master Oda Nobu, greatest of all Samurai warriors!”

  Arthur Lambchop bowed deeply from the waist as he spoke these words to the large poster hanging in the bedroom he shared with his brother, Stanley. The poster was for a movie called The Seventeenth Samurai. It showed two warriors—a tall samurai and a small ninja—looking very fierce. The tall samurai wore a long kimono and held a shining silver sword above his head. The small ninja was dressed exactly like Arthur, in black pajamas with a strip of white cloth knotted at his waist and another tied around his forehead. He held his hands high, like the blades of knives ready to strike. Both warriors looked as if they could leap right out of the poster.

  And then the small ninja did just that! “Hiii-yaaaah!” he shouted, as he flew off the wall. He bounced high on the bed and landed with a thud in front of Arthur!

  “Prepare to be defeated, Arthur-san!” the small ninja cried.

  “Never!” Arthur leaped up, bounced high on the other bed, and landed with a boom on the opposite side of the room. “It is you who will be defeated, Stanley-san!”

  The small ninja was Arthur’s older brother, Stanley Lambchop. Not long before, he had awoken to find that a large bulletin board had fallen upon him in the night, leaving him unharmed, but as flat as a pancake. By now, Stanley’s family was used to his unusual shape, although Stanley wasn’t always so happy about it.

  At the moment, however, he was enjoying himself tremendously. He and his brother chased each other around their bedroom, leaping on and off their beds with thuds and booms as they imitated the karate chops and kicks of their all-time favorite movie star, Oda Nobu.

  “Boys!” Mrs. Lambchop called. “My teacups are rattling!”

  “Is there nothing you fellows can do that doesn’t make a ruckus?” called Mr. Lambchop. “How about a little quiet time?”

  “Quiet time,” Stanley grumbled. He pulled off the white cloth around his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  But then he had an idea. “Arthur, let’s write a letter to Oda Nobu! Maybe he’ll write back and send us an autographed picture!”

  “Or a ninja throwing star!” Arthur agreed, his grumpiness disappearing. He rummaged through his desk until he found a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen. “You’re good with words, Stanley. What should we say?”

  “Hmmm,” Stanley said. “How about ‘Dear Master Oda Nobu, we are your biggest fans ever. We have seen every one of your movies…’” He sent Arthur a questioning look.

  Arthur shrugged. “A hundred times?” he suggested.

  Stanley smiled. “Yes, that’s good. Write ‘We have seen all of your movies at least a hundred times.’”

  Arthur began to write. Then he stopped. “Stanley,” he said, “Oda Nobu might think we’re exaggerating.”

  Stanley looked up at the poster, now with only one warrior on it, and bowed. “You’re right,” he said to Arthur. “Honesty is an important part of the ninja code of honor. How about this: ‘We have seen every one of your movies several times.’”

  Arthur nodded and Stanley continued to dictate: “‘Master Oda Nobu, it is too bad Japan is so far away. If you were closer, we would offer our services as your personal ninjas.’”

  Stanley paused. “Wait a minute, Arthur!”

  “‘Wait…a…minute,…Arthur,” Arthur repeated, as he wrote the words down.

  “No, don’t write that!” Stanley said, and took the pad out of Arthur’s hands. “I have a better idea!” He dropped the pad on the desk and began to rummage around through the drawers.

  “Aha!” he said, and held up a large brown envelope.

  “There!” he said, and held up a sheet of postage stamps.

  “Got it!” he said, and held up a thick black marker.

  “Stanley, what’s your idea?” Arthur asked.

  Stanley placed many, many stamps in the corner of the big envelope. He uncapped the marker, printed something on the envelope in big block letters, and then held it up to show Arthur:

  MASTER ODA NOBU

  JAPAN

  Stanley bowed deeply to his brother.

  “I salute you, Arthur-san. Now fold me up!”

  2

  Fan Mail

  Stanley Lambchop was no stranger to traveling in an envelope. Since becoming flat, he had been airmailed to visit a friend in California and had even been posted to Egypt.

  But Japan wasn’t California, or even Egypt. Japan was very, very far away.

  Arthur had packed a good supply of rolled-up fruit snacks, of course—so Stanley didn’t go hungry. But the trip was long and boring, and folded up as he was, he was almost always uncomfortable. Finally, he felt the airplane bump to a landing—and the next voices he heard were Japanese! After many more long, uncomfortable hours of travel, being flipped and rolled, sorted and stacked, Stanley felt himself come to a rest.

  In his eagerness to be released, Stanley began to stretch. He rocked from side to side and bounced up and down. That didn’t get him out of the envelope, but it did get him some attention: Stanley heard footsteps, and then voices, coming closer. He could tell by the tone of the voices that the people were at first surprised by, and then suspicious of, the jumping envelope.

  He was about to call out when someone shouted—and suddenly, the envelope was jerked up from where it lay.

  With a sharp rip, light poured in from above his head. Without even thinking, Stanley flexed his cramped muscles and sprang from the envelope. He had only a moment to adjust his eyes to the scene before him when he realized he was surrounded by…ninjas!

  “Uh-oh,” Stanley thought, realizing he was still dressed in his own ninja uniform. “This isn’t good!” But before he could say a word—or even think what he would say—the ninjas attacked!

  One flew through the air, his heel aimed straight at Stanley’s head. Stanley quickly turned sideways, and because he was only half an inch thick, the ninja flew right past him and crashed into a wall! Another ninja threw a swift karate chop at Stanley, but Stanley folded himself in two, right at his waist, and the ninja’s powerful hand sliced through empty air.

  Now all the ninjas were on the attack! Stanley leaped and hovered and bent himself this way and that—and somehow managed to avoid every blow. Then something whistled by his ear, and Stanley heard a loud thunk! A shiny ninja throwing star was embedded in the far wall. He looked back to see who had thrown it at him and saw…

  Oda Nobu!

  “Wait!” Stanley shouted. “Oda Nobu! I am not a ninja! I am just a fan! I’ve seen every one of your movies…several times!”

  But the ninjas kept coming. Stanley bobbed and weaved and rolled and folded. “It’s only me!” he tried again. “Stanley Lambchop, from America!”

  Oda Nobu shouted a sharp command in Japanese, and the ninjas immediately stopped their attack. He stepped forward, his eyes very wide. “You…are the�
�Flat Stanley?” he gasped.

  Stanley nodded.

  Oda Nobu turned to the ninjas. He spoke sternly to them, the words rushing out like karate chops. Stanley understood only the last two: “Flat Stanley!”

  The ninjas turned together to look at Stanley. They wore the same expression of awe as Oda Nobu, wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open. And then all at once, they were laughing and bowing and shaking his hand.

  “But,” Stanley said to Oda Nobu, “how do you know who I am?”

  Oda Nobu put his arm around Stanley’s shoulder. “Everyone in the whole world knows of Flat Stanley!”

  3

  The Ninja Way

  Stanley was shown to a beautiful room in Oda Nobu’s beautiful home. The walls, and even the doors, were made of delicate rice paper stretched across wooden frames. The only piece of furniture was a bed—a mat on a low platform, nearly on the floor.

  A handsome kimono, embroidered with scarlet dragons, lay across the bed. Stanley slipped his arms into the sleeves and wrapped the kimono around himself. And around and around—apparently kimonos were not styled for people with his shape—until finally he could tie the sash.

  Then, one of the ninjas, the one who had thrown a flying kick at Stanley, appeared at the door. He gestured for Stanley to follow him.

  At the end of a long sunlit hallway, the ninja slid open a rice paper door. There was Oda Nobu, seated on a straw mat in front of a low table. The movie star smiled as the ninja showed Stanley how to sit at the table, with his legs folded beneath him. For once, Stanley was grateful to be flat.

  Oda Nobu gestured over the objects laid upon the table: ceramic bowls, a small scoop, a ladle, and a covered jar. Beside these, water boiled in an iron pot above a flame.

  “This is the tea ceremony, Stanley-san,” he said. “It is a very ancient and very important tradition for Japanese people.”

  Stanley watched as Oda Nobu measured powdered leaves into one of the ceramic bowls. Next, he ladled hot water into the bowl. He used the whisk to stir the tea. Stanley could tell that the careful motions had taken a lot of practice to learn.

  The movie star bowed to Stanley and held the bowl out to him. Stanley bowed and took the bowl. Oda Nobu made a drinking gesture, and Stanley took a sip.

  Stanley had never had tea before. It tasted…

  Stanley searched for a word. Mrs. Lambchop always said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Thinking about his mother reminded Stanley of the delicious hot chocolate she often made for special occasions. For an instant, homesickness washed over him, but he fought it, because this was a special occasion! And he wanted to tell Oda Nobu how much he appreciated the tea ceremony, even if the tea tasted…

  And then a solution came to him: The tea tasted interesting!

  He started to say this, but his host held a finger to his lips. “We will talk soon,” he said, and reached for the bowl of tea. Stanley passed it to him, and Oda Nobu drank.

  When they were finished, Oda Nobu cleaned all the tea ceremony’s objects and arranged them neatly on the table. He and Stanley bowed to each other once again. Then Oda Nobu stood and motioned for Stanley to follow him out of the tearoom and into a garden. They sat on a bench next to a fountain. Around the fountain were the smallest trees Stanley had ever seen.

  “Bonsai,” Oda Nobu explained, as if he had read Stanley’s mind. “The art of training plants into pleasing miniature shapes. Another important tradition to my people. Yet another one is…” Oda Nobu looked directly at Stanley. “Stanley-san,” he said, “do you know the history of the ninja?”

  “Sure,” Stanley said. “Well, that is, I’ve seen all of your movies several times!”

  Oda Nobu laughed. “Ah, yes, of course! But permit me to tell you a little more.” He picked up a stick, and in the sand he drew what looked like a charging seahorse. “In the old times,” he said, “Japan had many rulers. Each had his own kingdom, his own army, his own people and lands to protect.”

  Oda Nobu drew small circles inside the larger outline, which Stanley now realized was the shape of Japan.

  “Often these rulers would fight one another,” Oda Nobu continued. “Like people everywhere, I am sorry to say. If you have something I want, and I believe I am more powerful than you, I just might decide to take it from you.”

  Oda Nobu drew a line between two circles in the sand. “Of course, a ruler could use his army to take what he wanted,” he said. “But often he believed it was better to use ninjutsu. Do you know what that word means, Stanley-san?”

  “Well,” Stanley said, “it sounds a little like ninja.”

  “Yes, it does,” Oda Nobu said. “Ninjutsu means ‘the art of stealth.’ Ninjas are trained in the art of going undetected, of not being seen.”

  “But,” Stanley said, “I could see your ninjas pretty clearly.”

  “Stanley-san, you are a very funny young man,” Oda Nobu said. “And very honest in your observations. No, those men are not ninjas. They are my bodyguards. They just like to wear the ninja uniforms.”

  “Bodyguards?” Stanley asked. “Why would you need bodyguards? You’re Oda Nobu!”

  Oda Nobu shrugged. He looked embarrassed. “Of course I don’t need bodyguards. It is the movie studio. They think it makes their biggest movie star look even more important.”

  Oda Nobu brushed away his drawings. He stood up and then bowed to Stanley. “Stanley-san,” he said in a low voice, “I must ask you a very important question. Will you be my personal ninja?”

  Stanley couldn’t believe his ears. His favorite movie star was asking him to be his personal ninja? Wait until Arthur heard about this!

  “But,” Stanley said, “why me? I don’t know anything about karate or judo or jujitsu or any of that!”

  “Remember ninjutsu, Stanley-san,” Oda Nobu said. “The art of stealth. Your flatness allows you to go places and do things without being seen. It makes you the perfect ninja.”

  Stanley couldn’t believe his luck. Of course he would be Oda Nobu’s personal ninja. Of course he would!

  4

  Flat Ninja!

  Stanley was taken to Oda Nobu’s personal tailor, where he was measured for a ninja uniform. It took the tailor a little time to figure out how to fit a boy only a half inch thick. But in the end the uniform made of glossy black silk fit him perfectly. Stanley had never felt anything so soft.

  That night, Oda Nobu and Stanley rode through the crowded streets of Tokyo in the movie star’s stretch limousine. The bodyguards followed in two other cars. They ate at one of Japan’s most famous restaurants, where everyone, from the waiters to the other customers, smiled adoringly at Oda Nobu and Stanley. Even the chef bowed deeply when he delivered a long lacquered board covered with sushi to Oda Nobu’s personal ninja.

  If someone had told Stanley just a week before that he would be eating raw fish, and enjoying it, halfway around the world, he would have laughed. He was laughing now, but for a different reason. The food was delicious, even the seaweed and the smoked eel, and here he was sitting with his all-time favorite movie star!

  After dinner, Oda Nobu took Stanley to a karaoke bar. They took turns singing one silly song after another. The crowd burst into wild applause after every one. Stanley drank three sodas that tasted exactly like bubble gum. He loved Japan!

  Only one thing bothered him. Just why did Oda Nobu want a personal ninja anyway?

  He found out the next day.

  Oda Nobu took Stanley to an exhibition of famous kites at a big modern art museum. After admiring the amazing kites—some like ferocious dragons, others like nearly life-sized houses—Oda Nobu stopped to speak to a group of reporters. They spoke in Japanese, and Stanley didn’t understand a word.

  But then one of the reporters asked a question and pointed at Stanley, and everyone laughed. Oda Nobu looked at Stanley and shrugged. Then he picked Stanley up and smiled—and tossed him high into the air.

  For a moment, Stanley hung there beside th
e kites on display, caught by the draft of the museum’s air-conditioning. It reminded him of other times he had flown like this—once in the park, with Arthur skillfully flying him with the other kites, and another time at Mount Rushmore. That time, he had been caught by a gust of wind and flown out dangerously close to Abraham Lincoln’s bushy eyebrows. But Arthur had cleverly thrown him a lasso and guided him back to earth. Stanley had always felt safe with his brother on the ground below him.

  Below him now, the crowd laughed and applauded. But then the air conditioner’s breeze stopped and Stanley plummeted to the hard marble floor of the museum.

  Everyone laughed, including Oda Nobu, who looked very proud of himself.

  Everyone except Stanley.

  Later that day, Oda Nobu took Stanley to the studio where he was making his latest movie. Stanley was thrilled to watch as his hero stood before the movie cameras and pretended to be the most famous samurai of all time.

  But something was wrong. Time after time, Oda Nobu stopped the action to complain to a man Stanley guessed was the director. The actor would cover his face, squinting and frowning. The director would shrug, shake his head, and start the scene over again.

  The fourth time this happened, Oda Nobu seemed angry. He made the same gestures again. The director shook his head again. Then Oda Nobu pointed to Stanley and said something to the director. The director nodded.

  The next thing Stanley knew, he found himself at the top of a long pole. He was stretched out on a frame, his hands and feet held by clips. A man on the ground held the pole, keeping Stanley between the bright sun and Oda Nobu’s face below. With the sun no longer blazing on Oda Nobu’s face, he was able to finish the scene.