"You would sell this to His Majesty, would you?" Tora asked the clerk, gathering a piece into his large fist to test its strength.

"Yes, yes," cried the clerk, wringing his hands, "but please don't do that. The fabric is very fragile. Rough hands can quite destroy it."

Tora relinquished the brocade reluctantly. "It's soft all right. Of course I like a bit more color. How much would such a thing cost?"

One of the officials burst into laughter. "He has good taste!" he cried and said to Tora, "Oh, just ten bars of silver. There's enough there for a court robe, if you like. Or perhaps you were thinking of a hunting coat?" His companion guffawed.

Tora regarded them with wrinkled brow. "No. I just want a sash for a little maid I've got my eye on," he told them.

This caused even more merriment. The other official cried, "Why, sir! In that case you may wish to purchase my ox and carriage to impress the lady when you pick her up." This time even the young clerk could not suppress a grin.

"What's going on here?" snapped a sharp voice behind Tora. "What does this fellow want?"

Tora turned and looked down at the shop's owner, or rather at his bald spot, inadequately covered by a topknot thickened with false hair.

"Oh," stuttered the clerk. "Nothing, Mr. Kurata. The gentleman was just inquiring about a sash."

"A sash? You're a fool, Yotsugi. This man cannot afford brocade." The shopkeeper turned to Tora. "A sash from this brocade costs twenty silver pieces, more than someone like you can earn in years. We have nothing for you or your woman. You'd better leave."

Tora looked at the man closely and did not like what he saw. There was meanness in the small eyes and compressed lips. Neither did he appreciate being made the butt of a joke. Turning to the two officials, he said, "I may take you up on your offer just as soon as I start collecting bribes like you fellows." Then he nodded to the clerk and departed.

In the next street he purchased a cheerful cotton sash in a pattern of white cranes flying above blue waves from a properly accommodating shopkeeper and tucked it in his sleeve. A couple of streets farther he found a baker of sweet rice cakes favored by the ladies. He bought an elegantly wrapped box of the most select sweets and put it in his other sleeve. By now it was getting dusk, and Tora turned his steps towards the river.

Between Fourth Avenue and Kyogo Street, along the Kamo River, stretched the Willow Quarter, named after the willows that grew on the bank. Here a lively trade catered to pleasures of the body, from the most basic of food, drink and sex to the more refined aesthetic delights of music and dance.

The sun was gone and twilight had fallen; the streets were already shadowed in darkness, while above still stretched a luminous violet sky with the first faint stars. Ahead Tora saw the gate to the amusement quarter. It sparkled with the lights of many-colored lanterns, and the first faint sounds of music reached his ears.

He increased his pace and passed into a fairyland of lights. They were suspended from the branches of the willows and the eaves of the wine houses, and swayed in the soft breeze which came from across the softly gurgling river. Warm colored light fell on the robes of pretty women who peered from doors and windows and caught the brilliant colors of the elegant robes of wealthy customers strolling along the river.

Tora looked and yearned for the expensive goods on display, but he could not afford the prices charged in the best houses of assignation, or in any houses for that matter. He consoled himself by engaging in lighthearted banter with the pretty girls behind the wooden grilles he passed.

The wine houses and restaurants were not all prohibitively expensive and quite good. Tora had become something of a regular at the Willow, unimaginatively named, but offering excellent value in food, drink and entertainment.

Here he was greeted by the gap-toothed auntie who arranged private entertainments with some of the best courtesans of the quarter.

"Tora-san," she cackled. "We have been expecting you, the girls and I. Surely on the night of the spring festival a strapping, handsome fellow like you will wish to enjoy the clouds and the rain?"

"Auntie-san," said Tora, bowing with a soulful look, "I am your most devoted admirer, but my station in life does not permit me to enjoy the company of ladies such as yourself or your companions. Please accept this insignificant present instead." He presented her with the box of sweets.

"Ooh!" Auntie received the box with delight and peered inside. "Foolish boy!" she cried, giving him a playful slap on the arm, "if you did not waste your money on stupid old women like me, you would warm your august implement in the grotto of a thousand delights tonight. Surely by now the poor bird must be quite worn out looking for its nest. Won't you let Auntie find it a cozy resting place? We'll just put it on account."

"Ah, in that case…" Tora leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

She burst into hysterical laughter, shook her finger at him, and cried, "One of these days, my pretty young cock, you'll meet a woman who'll take you at your word. Now run along! Your friends are waiting. Enjoy the food and wine. And maybe, if you like one of the pretties, Auntie will make it right for you."

Tora gave her a bear hug, much to her delight, and then went along the hallway and into a large room where five boisterous men were sitting around a brazier warming bottles of wine.

"You're late, Tora," cried a scrawny fellow with permanently bowed legs and a sunken chest. He was the tatami-maker Ueda, his physique the result of generations of Uedas sitting cross-legged and bent over straw mats. "We had to start without you. There's room next to Kichibei."

Tora grinned and flopped down next to a muscular, heavily tatooed porter, who shouted, "Bring more wine! A very thirsty fellow has just arrived."

"He's not the only one," grumbled a pudgy young man in the thread-bare blue robe of a minor clerk, turning an empty bottle upside down.

"You'll never make a night of it at your rate, Danjuro!" teased his middle-aged neighbor who was a potter and never could get all the red clay from under his fingernails. "We've pooled our money, Tora. Fifty coppers will cover food, drink and the bounciest little bottom in the quarter."

"Sorry, Osada." Tora pulled the remnants of his wages from his sash and counted the coppers on the string. "Fifteen is all I can spare tonight."

After some cries of protest, Osada said, "Well, you can eat and drink, but it's not enough for any real fun."

Tora handed over the fifteen coppers with a sigh. "I was hoping to bring my own girl," he said, "but I couldn't find one in time."

"You should make your master pay you more," suggested Danjuro. "I plan to celebrate the festival of blossoms properly, among the local 'blossoms.' But then, they don't work for nothing."

"I prefer to do the work myself," Tora said. "You poor fellows must be so out of practice that you have to pay for the action." Danjuro joined in the general laughter and raised his cup to Tora.

"Well put, Tora," applauded the gray-haired man. "Never mind your empty purse!" he told Tora consolingly. "You just eat and drink your fill, and if you should pass out from too much wine, you'll never know what you missed."

"Thanks, Kunisada," laughed Tora. "That's good advice from a pharmacist. I'm parched and starving at the same time. Where's the food?"

A waitress arrived with more warm rice wine. After cheerful discussion, they ordered a feast which included eggs, fish soup, marinated kisu fish and boiled chestnuts among other delicacies.

Tora drank deeply from his cup, refilled it, and looked around at the shining faces of his companions. "Here's to good company," he cried. "May we enjoy each other for many years."