scape, but in 
fact, he went directly over to the table and began talking with Mameha. I had no idea as yet 
how I would lure the Minister to the theater with me, and even less idea how I would arrange 
for Nobu to find us there. Perhaps Pumpkin would take Nobu for a walk if I asked her to? I 
didn't feel I could ask such a thing of Mameha, but Pumpkin and I had been girls together; 
and though I won't call her crude, as Auntie had called her, Pumpkin did have a certain 
coarseness in her personality and would be less aghast at what I was planning. I would need 
to direct her explicitly to bring Nobu to the old theater; they wouldn't come upon us there 
purely by accident. 

For a time I knelt gazing out at the sunlit leaves and wishing I could appreciate the beautiful 
tropical afternoon. I kept asking myself whether I was fully sane to be considering this plan; 
but whatever misgivings I may have felt, they weren't enough to stop me from going ahead 
with it. Clearly nothing would happen until I succeeded in drawing the Minister aside, and I 
couldn't afford to call attention to myself when I did it. Earlier he'd asked a maid to bring him 
a snack, and now he was sitting with his legs around a tray, pouring beer into his mouth and 
dropping in globs of salted squid guts with his chopsticks. This may seem like a nauseating 
idea for a dish, but I can assure you that you'll find salted squid guts in bars and restaurants 


here and there in Japan. It was a favorite of my father's, but I've never been able to stomach 
it. I couldn't even watch the Minister as he ate. 

"Minister," I said to him quietly, "would you like me to find you something more appetizing?" 
"No," he said, "I'm not hungry." I must admit this raised in my mind the question of why he 
was eating in the first place. By now Mameha and Nobu had wandered out the back door in 
conversation, and the others, including Pumpkin, were gathered around the go board on the 
table. Apparently the Chairman had just made a blunder, and they were laughing. It seemed 
to me my chance had come. 

"If you're eating out of boredom, Minister," I said, "why don't you and I explore the inn? I've 

been eager to see it, and we haven't had the time." 
I didn't wait for him to reply, but stood and walked from the room. I was relieved when he 
stepped out into the hallway a moment later to join me. We walked in silence down the 
corridor, until we came to a bend where I could see that no one was coming from either 
direction. I stopped. 

"Minister, excuse me," I said, "but. . . shall we take a walk back down to the village together?
"
He looked very confused by this.
"We have an hour or so left in the afternoon," I went on, "and I remember something I'd very


much like to see again.
"
After a long pause, the Minister said, "I'll need to use the toilet first.
"
"Yes, that's fine," I told him. "You go and use the toilet; and when you're finished, wait right 


here for me and we'll take a walk together. Don't go anywhere until I come and fetch you.
"
The Minister seemed agreeable to this and continued up the corridor. I went back toward the


room. And I felt so dazed-now that I was actually going through with my plan-that when I put 
my hand on the door to slide it open, I could scarcely feel my fingers touching anything at all. 
Pumpkin was no longer at the table. She was looking through her travel trunk for something. 

At first when I tried to speak, nothing came out. I had to clear my throat and try again. 
"Excuse me, Pumpkin," I said. "Just one moment of your time ...
"
She didn't look eager to stop what she was doing, but she left her trunk in disarray and came


out into the hallway with me. I led her some distance down the corridor, and then turned to
her and said: 
"Pumpkin, I need to ask a favor.
"
I waited for her to tell me she was happy to help, but she just stood with her eyes on me. 
"I hope you won't mind my asking-
"
"Ask," she said. 
"The Minister and I are about to go for a walk. I'm going to take him to the old theater, and-
"
"Why?
"



"So that he and I can be alone." 

"The Minister?" Pumpkin said incredulously. 

"I'll explain some other time, but here's what I want you to do. I want you to bring Nobu there 
and . . . Pumpkin, this will sound very strange. I want you to discover us." 

"What do you mean, 'discover' you?" " 

"I want you to find some way of bringing Nobu there and opening the back door we saw 
earlier, so that . . . he'll see us." 

While I was explaining this, Pumpkin had noticed the Minister waiting in another covered 
walkway through the foliage. Now she looked back at me. 

"What are you up to, Sayuri?" she said. 

"I don't have time to explain it now. But it's terribly important, Pumpkin. Truthfully, my entire 
future is in your hands. Just make sure it's no one but you and Nobu-not the Chairman, for 
heaven's sake, or anyone else. I'll repay you in any way you'd like." 

She looked at me for a long moment. "So it's time for a favor from Pumpkin again, is it?" she 
said. I didn't feel certain what she meant by this, but rather than explaining it to me, she left. 

I wasn't sure whether or not Pumpkin had agreed to help. But all I could do at this point was 
go to the doctor for my shot, so to speak, and hope that she and Nobu would appear. I joined 
the Minister in the corridor and we set out down the hill. 

As we walked around the bend in the road and left the inn behind us, I couldn't help 
remembering the day Mameha had cut me on the leg and taken me to meet Dr. Crab. On 
that afternoon I'd felt myself in some sort of danger I couldn't fully understand, and I felt much 
the same way now. My face was as hot in the afternoon sun as if I'd sat too close to the 
hibachi; and when I looked at the Minister, sweat was running down his temple onto his neck. 
If all went well he would soon be pressing that neck against me . . . and at this thought I took 
my folding fan from my obi, and waved it until my arm was tired, trying to cool both myself 
and him. All the while, I kept up a flow of conversation, until a few minutes later, when we 
came to a stop before the old theater with its thatched roof. The Minister seemed puzzled. 
He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky. 

"Will you come inside with me for a moment, Minister?" I said. 

He didn't seem to know what to make of this, but when I walked down the path beside the 
building, he plodded along behind me. I climbed the stone steps and opened the door for 
him. He hesitated only a moment before walking inside. If he had frequented Gion all his life, 
he'd certainly have understood what I had in mind-because a geisha who lures a man to an 
isolated spot has certainly put her reputation at stake, and a first-class geisha will never do 
such a thing casually. But the Minister just stood inside the theater, in the patch of sunlight, 
like a man waiting for a bus. My hands were trembling so much as I folded my fan and 
tucked it into my obi again, I wasn't at all certain I could see my plan through to the end. The 
simple act of closing the door took all my strength; and then we were standing in the murky 
light filtering under the eaves. Still, the Minister stood inert, with his face pointed toward a 
stack of straw mats in the corner of the stage. 

"Minister ..." I said. 


My voice echoed so much in the little hall, I spoke more quietly afterward. 

"I understand you had a talk with the mistress of the Ichiriki about me. Isn't that so?" 

He took in a deep breath, but ended up saying nothing. 

"Minister, if I may," I said, "I'd like to tell you a story about a geisha named Kazuyo. She isn't 
in Gion any longer, but I knew her well at one time. A very important man-much like you, 
Minister-met Kazuyo one evening and enjoyed her company so much that he came back to 
Gion every night to see her. After a few months of this, he asked to be Kazuyo's danna, but 
the mistress of the teahouse apologized and said it wouldn't be possible. The man was very 
disappointed; but then one afternoon Kazuyo took him to a quiet spot where they could be 
alone. Someplace very much like this empty theater. And she explained to him that. . . even 
though he couldn't be her danna--" 

The moment I said these last words, the Minister's face changed like a valley when the 
clouds move away and sunlight rushes across it. He took a clumsy step toward me. At once 
my heart began to pound like drums in my ears. I couldn't help looking away from him and 
closing my eyes. When I opened them again, the Minister had come so close, we were 
nearly touching, and then I felt the damp fleshiness of his face against my cheek. Slowly he 
brought his body toward mine until we were pressed together. He took my arms, probably to 
pull me down onto the planking, but I stopped him. 

"The stage is too dusty," I said. "You must bring over a mat from that stack." 

"We'll go over there," the Minister replied. 

If we had lain down upon the mats in the corner, Nobu wouldn't have seen us in the sunlight 
when he opened the door. 

"No, we mustn't," I said. "Please bring a mat here." 

The Minister did as I asked, and then stood with his hands by his side, watching me. Until 
this moment I'd half-imagined something would stop us; but now I could see that nothing 
would. Time seemed to slow. My feet looked to me like someone else's when they stepped 
out of my lacquered zori and onto the mat. 

Almost at once, the Minister kicked off his shoes and was against me, with his arms around 
me tugging at the knot in my obi. I didn't know what he was thinking, because I certainly 
wasn't prepared to take off my kimono. I reached back to stop him. When I'd dressed that 
morning, I still hadn't quite made up my mind; but in order to be prepared, I'd 