 living in a grand house may pride herself on all her lovely things; but the moment 
she hears the crackle of fire she decides very quickly which are the few she values most. In 
the days after Mameha and I had spoken, I certainly came to feel that my life was burning 
down around me; and yet when I struggled to find even a single thing that would still matter 
to me after Nobu had become my danna, I'm sorry to say that I failed. One evening while I 
was kneeling at a table in the Ichiriki Teahouse, trying not to think too much about my 
feelings of misery, I had a sudden thought of a child lost in the snowy woods; and when I 
looked up at the white-haired men I was entertaining, they looked so much like snowcapped 
trees all around me that I felt for one horrifying moment I might be the sole living human in all 
the world. 

The only parties at which I managed to convince myself that my life might still have some 
purpose, however small, were the ones attended by military men. Already in 1938, we'd all 
grown accustomed to daily reports about the war in Manchuria; and we were reminded every 
day of our troops overseas by things like the so-called Rising Sun Lunch Box-which was a 
pickled plum in the center of a box of rice, looking like the Japanese flag. For several 
generations, army and navy officers had come to Gion to relax. But now they began to tell 
us, with watery eyes after their seventh or eighth cup of sake, that nothing kept their spirits 
up so much as their visits to Gion. Probably this was the sort of thing military officers say to 
the women they talk with. But the idea that I-who was nothing more than a young girl from 


the seashore-might truly be contributing something important to the nation ... I won't pretend 
these parties did anything to lessen my suffering; but they did help remind me just how selfish my suffering really was. 

A few weeks passed, and then one evening in a hallway at the Ichiriki, Mameha suggested 
the time had come to collect on her bet with Mother. I'm sure you'll recall that the two of them 
had wagered about whether my debts would be repaid before I was twenty. As it turned out, 
of course, they'd been repaid already though I was only eighteen. "Now that you've turned 
your collar," Mameha said to me, "I can't see any reason to wait longer." 

This is what she said, but I think the truth was more complicated. Mameha knew that Mother 
hated settling debts, and would hate settling them still more when the stakes went higher. My 
earnings would go up considerably after I took a danna; Mother was certain to grow only 
more protective of the income. I'm sure Mameha thought it best to collect what she was owed 
as soon as possible, and worry about future earnings in the future. 

Several days afterward, I was summoned downstairs to the reception room of our okiya to 
find Mameha and Mother across the table from each other, chatting about the summer 
weather. Beside Mameha was a gray-haired woman named Mrs. Okada, whom I'd met a 
number of times. She was mistress of the okiya where Mameha had once lived, and she still 
took care of Mameha's accounting in exchange for a portion of the income. I'd never seen 
her look more serious, peering down at the table with no interest in the conversation at all. 

"There you are!" Mother said to me. "Your older sister has kindly come to visit, and has 
brought Mrs. Okada with her. You certainly owe them the courtesy of joining us." 

Mrs. Okada spoke up, with her eyes still on the tabletop. "Mrs. Nitta, as Mameha may have 
mentioned on the telephone, this is more a business call than a social call. There's no need 
for Sayuri to join us. I'm sure she has other things to do." 

"I won't have her showing disrespect to the two of you," Mother replied. "She'll join us at the 
table for the few minutes you're here." 

So I arranged myself beside Mother, and the maid came in to serve tea. Afterward Mameha 
said, "You must be very proud, Mrs. Nitta, of how well your daughter is doing. Her fortunes 
have surpassed expectations! Wouldn't you agree?" 

"Well now, what do I know about your expectations, Mameha-san?" said Mother. After this 
she clenched her teeth and gave one of her peculiar laughs, looking from one of us to the 
other to be sure we 

appreciated her cleverness. No one laughed with her, and Mrs. Okada just adjusted her 
glasses and cleared her throat. Finally Mother added, "As for my own expectations, I 
certainly wouldn't say Sayuri has surpassed them." 

"When we first discussed her prospects a number of years ago," Mameha said, "I had the 
impression you didn't think much of her. You were reluctant even to have me take on her 
training." 

"I wasn't sure it was wise to put Sayuri's future in the hands of someone outside the okiya, if 
you'll forgive me," said Mother. "We do have our Hatsumomo, you know." 

"Oh, come now, Mrs. Nitta!" Mameha said with a laugh. "Hatsumomo would have strangled 
the poor girl before she'd have trained her!" 


"I admit Hatsumomo can be difficult. But when you spot a girl like Sayuri with something a 
little different, you have to be sure to make the right decisions at the right times-such as the 
arrangement you and I made, Mameha-san. I expect you've come here today to settle our 
account?" 

"Mrs. Okada has been kind enough to write up the figures," Mameha replied. "I'd be grateful 
if you would have a look at them." 

Mrs. Okada straightened her glasses and took an accounting book from a bag at her knee. 
Mameha-and I sat in silence while she opened it on the table and explained her columns of 
figures to Mother. "These figures for Sayuri's earnings over the past year," Mother 
interrupted. "My goodness, I only wish we'd been so fortunate as you seem to think! They're 
higher even than the total earnings for our okiya." 

"Yes, the numbers are most impressive," Mrs. Okada said, "but I do believe they are 
accurate. I've kept careful track through the records of the Gion Registry Office." 

Mother clenched her teeth and laughed at this, I suppose because she was embarrassed at 
having been caught in her lie. "Perhaps I haven't watched the accounts as carefully as I 
should have," she said. After ten or fifteen minutes the two women agreed on a figure 
representing how much I'd earned since my debut. Mrs. Okada took a small abacus from her 
bag and made a few calculations, writing down numbers on a blank page of the account 
book. At last she wrote down a final figure and underscored it. "Here, then, is the amount 
Mameha-san is entitled to receive." 

"Considering how helpful she has been to our Sayuri," Mother said, "I'm sure Mameha-san 
deserves even more. Unfortunately, according to our arrangements, Mameha agreed to take 
half of what a geisha in her position might usually take, until after Sayuri had repaid her 
debts. Now that the debts are repaid, Mameha is of course entitled to the other half, so that 
she will have earned the full amount." 

"My understanding is that Mameha did agree to take half wages," Mrs. Okada said, "but was 
ultimately to be paid double. This is why she agreed to take a risk. If Sayuri had failed to 
repay her debts, Mameha would have received nothing more than half wages. But Sayuri 
has succeeded, and Mameha is entitled to double." 

"Really, Mrs. Okada, can you imagine me agreeing to such terms?" Mother said. "Everyone 
in Gion knows how careful I am with money. It's certainly true that Mameha has been helpful 
to our Sayuri. I can't possibly pay double, but I'd like to propose offering an additional ten 
percent. If I may say so, it seems generous, considering that our okiya is hardly in a position 
to throw money around carelessly." 

The word of a woman in Mother's position should have been assurance enough-and with any 
woman but Mother, it certainly would have been. But now that she'd made up her mind to lie 
... well, we all sat in silence a long moment. Finally Mrs. Okada said, "Mrs. Nitta, I do find 
myself in a difficult position. I remember quite clearly what Mameha told me." 

"Of course you do," Mother said. "Mameha has her memory of the conversation, and I have 
mine. What we need is a third party, and happily, we have one here with us. Sayuri may only 
have been a girl at the time, but she has quite a head for numbers." 

"I'm sure her memory is excellent," Mrs. Okada remarked. "But one can hardly say she has 
no personal interest. After all, she is the daughter of the okiya." 


"Yes, she is," said Mameha; and this was the first time she'd spoken up in quite a while. "But 
she's also an honest girl. I'm prepared to accept her answer, provided that Mrs. Nitta will 
accept it too." 

"Of course I will," Mother said, and put down her pipe. "Now then, Sayuri, which is it?" 

If I'd been given a choice between sliding off the roof to break my arm again just the way I did 
as a child, or sitting in that room until I came up with an answer to the question they were 
asking me, I certainly would have marched right up the stairs and climbed the ladder onto the 
roof. Of all the women in Gion, Mameha and Mother were the two most influential in my life, 
and it was clear to me I was going to make one of them angry. I had no doubt in my mind of 
the truth; but on the other hand, I had to go on living in the okiya with Mother. Of course, 
Mameha had done more for me than anyone in Gion. I could hardly take Mother's side 
against her. 

"Well?" Mother said to me. 

"As I recall, Mameha did accept half wages. But you agreed to pay her double earnings in 
the end, Mother. I'm sorry, but this is the way I remember it." 

There was a pause, and then Mother said, "Well, I'm not as young as I used to be. It isn't the 
first time my memory has misled me." 

"We all have these sorts of problems from time to 