Kayama : Rain glistening/ On the silver birch, like my lady's tears. Your turn.
Manjiro : Rain, gathering/ winding into streams, like the roads to Boston. Your turn.
Manjiro : [to Kayama] Will you draw your sword as a fellow samurai or shall I cut you down like the western dog you have become?
Manjiro : [to Kayama] Americans are easy. They shout. You shout louder.
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