ut in my efforts to reach the Chairman, Nobu was an obstacle I'd found no 
way around. And yet I could cause him to be consumed by the flames of his own anger; 
Nobu himself had told me how to do it, just a moment after cutting his hand that night at the 
Ichiriki Teahouse only a few weeks earlier. If I was the sort of woman who would give myself 
to the Minister, he'd said, he wanted me to leave the room right then and would never speak 
to me again. 

The feeling that came over me as I thought of this ... it was like a fever breaking. I felt damp 
everywhere on my body. I was grateful Mameha remained asleep beside me; I'm sure she 
would have wondered what was the matter, to see me short of breath, wiping my forehead 
with my fingertips. This idea that had come to me, could I really do such a thing? I don't 
mean the act of seducing the Minister; I knew perfectly well I could do that. It would be like 
going to the doctor for a shot. I'd look the other way for a time, and it would be over. But 
could I do such a thing to Nobu? What a horrible way to repay his kindness. Compared with 
the sorts of men so many geisha had suffered through the years, Nobu was probably a very 
desirable danna. But could I bear to live a life in which my hopes had been extinguished 
forever? For weeks I'd been working to convince myself I could live it; but could I really? I 
thought perhaps I understood how Hatsumomo had come by her bitter cruelty, and Granny 
her meanness. Even Pumpkin, who was scarcely thirty, had worn a look of disappointment 
for many years. The only thing that had kept me from it was hope; and now to sustain my 
hopes, would I commit an abhorrent act? I'm not talking about seducing the Minister; I'm 
talking about betraying Nobu's trust. 

During the rest of the flight, I struggled with these thoughts. I could never have imagined 
myself scheming in this way, but in time I began to imagine the steps involved just like in a 
board game: I would draw the Minister aside at the inn-no, not at the inn, at some other 
place-and I would trick Nobu into stumbling upon us ... or perhaps it would be enough for him 
to hear it from someone else? You can imagine how exhausted I felt by the end of the trip. 
Even as we left the airplane, I must still have looked very worried, because Mameha kept 
reassuring me that the flight was over and I was safe at last. 

We arrived at our inn about an hour before sunset. The others admired the room in which we 
would all be staying, but I felt so agitated I could only pretend to admire it. It was as spacious 
as the largest room at the Ichiriki Teahouse, and furnished beautifully in the Japanese style, 
with tatami mats and gleaming wood. One long wall was made entirely of glass doors, 


beyond which lay extraordinary tropical plants-some with leaves nearly as big as a man. A 
covered walkway led down through the leaves to the banks of a stream. 

When the luggage was in order, we were all of us quite ready for a bath. The inn had 
provided folding screens, which we opened in the middle of the room for privacy. We 
changed into our cotton gowns and made our way along a succession of covered walkways, 
leading through the dense foliage to a luxurious hot-springs pool at the other end of the inn. 
The men's and women's entrances were shielded by partitions, and had separate tiled areas 
for washing. But once we were immersed in the dark water of the springs and moved out 
beyond the partition's edge, the men and women were together in the water. The bank 
director kept making jokes about Mameha and me, saying he wanted one of us to fetch a 
certain pebble, or twig, or something of the sort, from the woods at the edge of the springs-
the joke being, of course, that he wanted to see us naked. All this while, his son was 
engrossed in conversation with Pumpkin; and it didn't take us long to understand why. 
Pumpkin's bosoms, which were fairly large, kept floating up and exposing themselves on the 
surface while she jabbered away as always without noticing. 

Perhaps it seems odd to you that we all bathed together, men and women, and that we 
planned to sleep in the same room later that night. But actually, geisha do this sort of thing all 
the time with their best customers-or at least they did in my day. A single geisha who values 
her reputation will certainly never be caught alone with a man who isn't her danna. But to 
bathe innocently in a group like this, with the murky water cloaking us ... that's quite another 
matter. And as for sleeping in a group, we even have a word for it in Japanese-zakone, "fish 
sleeping." If you picture a bunch of mackerel thrown together into a basket, I suppose that's 
what it means. 

Bathing in a group like this was innocent, as I say. But that doesn't mean a hand never 
strayed where it shouldn't, and this thought was very much on my mind as I soaked there in 
the hot springs. If Nobu had been the sort of man to tease, he might have drifted over toward 
me; and then after we'd chatted for a time he might suddenly have grabbed me by the hip, or 
... well, almost anywhere, to tell the truth. The proper next step would be for me to scream 
and Nobu to laugh, and that would be the end of it. But Nobu wasn't the sort of man to tease. 
He'd been immersed in the bath for a time, in conversation with the Chairman, but now he 
was sitting on a rock with only his legs in the water, and a small, wet towel draped across his 
hips; he wasn't paying attention to the rest of us, but rubbing at the stump of his arm 
absentmindedly and peering into the water. The sun had set by now, and the light faded 
almost to evening; but Nobu sat in the brightness of a paper lantern. I'd never before seen 
him so exposed. The scarring that I thought was at its worst on one side of his face was 
every bit as bad on his damaged shoulder-though his other shoulder was beautifully smooth, 
like an egg. And now to think that I was considering betraying him . . . He would think I had 
done it for only one reason, and would never understand the truth. I couldn't bear the thought 
of hurting Nobu or of destroying his regard for me. I wasn't at all sure I could go through with 
it. 

After breakfast the following morning, we all took a walk through the tropical forest to the sea 
cliffs nearby, where the stream from our inn poured over a picturesque little waterfall into the 
ocean. We stood a long while admiring the view; even when we were all ready to leave, the 
Chairman could hardly tear himself away. On the return trip I walked beside Nobu, who was 
still as cheerful as I'd ever seen him. Afterward we toured the island in the back of a military 
truck fitted with benches, and saw bananas and pineapples growing on the trees, and 
beautiful birds. From the mountaintops, the ocean looked like a crumpled blanket in 
turquoise, with stains of dark blue. 

That afternoon we wandered the dirt streets of the little village, and soon came upon an old 
wood building that looked like a warehouse, with a sloped roof of thatch. We ended up 


walking around to the back, where Nobu climbed stone steps to open a door at the corner of 
the building, and the sunlight fell across a dusty stage built out of planking. Evidently it had at 
one time been a warehouse but was now the town's theater. When I first stepped inside, I 
didn't think very much about it. But after the door banged shut and we'd made our way to the 
street again, I began to feel that same feeling of a fever breaking; because in my mind I had 
an image of myself lying there on the rutted flooring with the Minister as the door creaked 
open and sunlight fell across us. We would have no place to hide; Nobu couldn't possibly fail 
to see us. In many ways I'm sure it was the very spot I'd half-hoped to find. But I wasn't 
thinking of these things; I wasn't really thinking at all, so much as struggling to put my 
thoughts into some kind of order. They felt to me like rice pouring from a torn sack. 

As we walked back up the hill toward our inn, I had to fall back from the group to take my 
handkerchief from my sleeve. It was certainly very warm there on that road, with the 
afternoon sun shining full onto our faces. I wasn't the only one perspiring. But Nobu came 
walking back to ask if I was all right. When I couldn't manage to answer him right away, I 
hoped he would think it was the strain of walking up the hill. 

"You haven't looked well all weekend, Sayuri. Perhaps you ought to have stayed in Kyoto." 

"But when would I have seen this beautiful island?" 

"I'm sure this is the farthest you've ever been from your home. We're as far from Kyoto now 
as Hokkaido is." 

The others had walked around the bend ahead. Over Nobu's shoulder I could see the eaves 
of the inn protruding above the foliage. I wanted to reply to him, but I found myself consumed 
with the same thoughts that had troubled me on the airplane, that Nobu didn't understand me 
at all. Kyoto wasn't my home; not in the sense Nobu seemed to mean it, of a place where I'd 
been raised, a place I'd never strayed from. And in that instant, while I peered at him in the 
hot sun, I made up my mind that I would do this thing I had feared. I would betray Nobu, even 
though he stood there looking at me with kindness. I tucked away my handkerchief with 
trembling hands, and we continued up the hill, not speaking a word. 

By the time I reached the room, the Chairman and Mameha had already taken seats at the 
table to begin a game of go against the bank director, with Shizue and her son looking on. 
The glass doors along the far wall stood open; the Minister was propped on one elbow 
staring out, peeling the covering off a short stalk of cane he'd brought back with him. I was 
desperately afraid Nobu would engage me in a conversation I'd be unable to e