to it. When we held a lantern over the well, we couldn't find anyone there 
at all, but we continued to hear him until after the sun had come up. Then the sounds 
stopped and we never heard them again." 

"The other story is the true one," said Nobu, "and I haven't even heard it." 

"You have to listen to them both," Mameha went on. "Here's my second. One time I went with 
several geisha to Osaka to entertain at the home of Akita Masaichi." He was a famous 
businessman who'd made a fortune before the war. "After we sang and drank for hours, 
Akita-san fell asleep on the mats, and one of the other geisha snuck us into the next room 
and opened a big chest full of all kinds of pornography. There were pornographic woodblock 
prints, including some by Hiroshige-" 

"Hiroshige never made pornographic prints," said Pumpkin. 

"Yes, he did, Pumpkin," the Chairman said. "I've seen some of them." 

"And also," Mameha went on, "he had pictures of all sorts of fat European women and men, 
and some reels of movies." 

"I knew Akita Masaichi well," said the Chairman. "He wouldn't have had a collection of 
pornography. The other one is true." 

"Now, really, Chairman," Nobu said. "You believe a story about a man's voice coming out of 
a well?" 

"I don't have to believe it. All that matters is whether Mameha thinks it's true." 

Pumpkin and the Chairman voted for the man in the well. The Minister and Nobu voted for 
the pornography. As for me, I'd heard both of these before and knew that the man in the well 
was the true one. The Minister drank his penalty glass without complaining; but Nobu 
grumbled all the while, so we made him go next. 


"I'm not going to play this game," he said. 

"You're going to play it, or you're going to drink a penalty glass of sake every round," 
Mameha told him. 

"All right, you want two stories, I'll tell you two stories," he said. "Here's the first one. I've got 
a little white dog, named Kubo. One night I came home, and Kubo's fur was completely blue." 

"I believe it," said Pumpkin. "It had probably been kidnapped by some sort of demon." 

Nobu looked as if he couldn't quite imagine that Pumpkin was serious. "The next day it 
happened again," he went on tentatively, "only this time Kubo's fur was bright red." 

"Definitely demons," said Pumpkin. "Demons love red. It's the color of blood." 

Nobu began to look positively angry when he heard this. "Here's my second story. Last week 
I went to the office so early in the morning that my secretary hadn't yet arrived. All right, 
which is the true one?" 

Of course, we all chose the secretary, except for Pumpkin, who was made to drink a penalty 
glass of sake. And I don't mean a cup; I mean a glass. The Minister poured it for her, adding 
drop by drop after the glass was full, until it was bulging over the rim. Pumpkin had to sip it 
before she could pick the glass up. I felt worried just watching her, for she had a very low 
tolerance for alcohol. 

"I can't believe the story about the dog isn't true," she said after she'd finished the glass. 
Already I thought I could hear her words slurring a bit. "How could you make something like 
that up?" 

"How could I make it up? The question is, how could you believe it? Dogs don't turn blue. Or 
red. And there aren't demons." 

It was my turn to go next. "My first story is this. One night some years ago, the Kabuki actor 
Yoegoro got very drunk and told me he'd always found me beautiful." 

"This one isn't true," Pumpkin said. "I know Yoegoro.' 

"I'm sure you do. But nevertheless, he told me he found me beautiful, and ever since that 
night, he's sent me letters from time to time. In the corner of ever)' letter, he glues one little 
curly black hair." 

The Chairman laughed at this, but Nobu sat up, looking angry, and said, "Really, these 
Kabuki actors. What irritating people!" 

"I don't get it. What do you mean a curly black hair?" Pumpkin said; but you could see from 
her expression that she figured out the answer right away. 

Everyone fell silent, waiting for my second story. It had been on my mind since we'd started 
playing the game, though I was nervous about telling it, and not at all certain it was the right 
thing to do. 

"Once when I was a child," I began, "I was very upset one day, and I went to the banks of the 
Shirakawa Stream and began to cry . . ." 


As I began this story, I felt almost as though I were reaching across the table to touch the 
Chairman on the hand. Because it seemed to me that no one else in the room would see 
anything unusual in what I was saying, whereas the Chairman would understand this very 
private story-or at least, I hoped he would. I felt I was having a conversation with him more 
intimate than any we'd ever had; and I could feel myself growing warm as I spoke. Just 
before continuing, I glanced up, expecting to find the Chairman looking at me quizzically. 
Instead, he didn't seem even to be paying attention. All at once I felt so vain, like a girl 
posturing for the crowds as she walks along, only to discover the street is empty. 

I'm sure everyone in the room had grown tired of waiting for me by this time, because 
Mameha said, "Well? Go on." Pumpkin mumbled something too, but I couldn't understand 
her. 

"I'm going to tell another story," I said. "Do you remember the geisha Okaichi? She died in an 
accident during the war. Many years before, she and I were talking one day, and she told me 
she'd always been afraid a heavy wooden box would fall right onto her head and kill her. And 
that's exactly how she died. A crate full of scrap metal fell from a shelf." 

I'd been so preoccupied, I didn't realize until this moment that neither of my stories was true. 
Both were partially true; but it didn't concern me very much in any case, because most 
people cheated while playing this game. So I waited until the Chairman had chosen a story-
which was the one about Yoegoro and the curly hair-and declared him right. Pumpkin and 
the Minister had to drink penalty glasses of sake. 

After this it was the Chairman's turn. 

"I'm not very good at this sort of game," he said. "Not like you geisha, who are so adept at 
lying." 

"Chairman!" said Mameha, but of course she was only teasing. 

"I'm concerned about Pumpkin, so I'm going to make this simple. If she has to drink another 
glass of sake, I don't think she'll make it." 

It was true that Pumpkin was having trouble focusing her eyes. I don't even think she was 
listening to the Chairman until he said her name. 

"Just listen closely, Pumpkin. Here's my first story. This evening I came to attend a party at 
the Ichiriki Teahouse. And here's my second. Several days ago, a fish came walking into my 
office-no, forget that. You might even believe in a walking fish. How about this one. Several 
days ago, I opened my desk drawer, and a little man jumped out wearing a uniform and 
began to sing and dance. All right, now which one is true?" 

"You don't expect me to believe a man jumped out of your drawer," Pumpkin said. 

"Just pick one of the stories. Which is true?" 

"The other one. I don't remember what it was." 

"We ought to make you drink a penalty glass for that, Chairman," said Mameha. 

When Pumpkin heard the words "penalty glass," she must have assumed she'd done 
something wrong, because the next thing we knew, she'd drunk half a glassful of sake, and 
she wasn't looking well. The Chairman was the first to notice, and took the glass right out of 
her hand. 


"You're not a drain spout, Pumpkin." the Chairman said. She stared at him so blankly, he 
asked if she could hear him. 

"She might be able to hear you," Nobu said, "but she certainly can't see you." 

"Come on, Pumpkin," the Chairman said. "I'm going to walk you to your home. Or drag you, if 
I have to." 

Mameha offered to help, and the two of them led Pumpkin out together, leaving Nobu and 
the Minister sitting at the table with me. 

"Well, Minister," Nobu said at last, "how was your evening?" 

I think the Minister was every bit as drunk as Pumpkin had been; but he muttered that the 
evening had been very enjoyable. "Very enjoyable, indeed," he added, nodding a couple of 
times. After this, he held out his sake cup for me to fill, but Nobu plucked it from his hand. 

Chapter thirty-two 

All through that winter and the following spring, Nobu went on bringing the Minister to Gion 
once or even twice every week. Considering how much time the two of them spent together 
during these months, you'd think the Minister would eventually have realized that Nobu felt 
toward him just as an ice pick feels toward a block of ice; but if he did, he never showed the 
least sign. To tell the truth, the Minister never seemed to notice much of anything, except 
whether I was kneeling beside.him and whether his cup was full of sake. This devotion made 
my life difficult at times; when I paid too much attention to the Minister, Nobu grew short-
tempered, and the side of his face with less scarring turned a brilliant red from anger. This 
was why the presence of the Chairman, Mameha, and Pumpkin was so valuable to me. They 
played the same role straw plays in a packing crate. 

Of course I valued the Chairman's presence for another reason as well. I saw more of him 
during these months than I'd ever seen of him before, and over time I came to realize that the 
image of him in my mind, whenever I lay on my futon at night, wasn't really how he looked, 
not exactly. For example, I'd always pictured his eyelids smooth with almost no lashes at all; 
but in fact they were edged with dense, soft hair like little brushes. And his mouth was far 
more expressive than I'd ever 
realized-so expressive, in fact, that he often hid his feelings only very poorly. When he was 
amused by something b