Tora looked after them disappointedly. Now what was he to do?

"Well?" The auntie had come up behind him. "Did you like the little zither player? I told her you admired her."

"Oh. I didn't know." Tora was crestfallen.

"You mean you let her go?" The auntie threw up her hands. "You must be stupid."

"Never mind, Auntie," sighed Tora. "Tell me about this girl Omaki. Is she here?"

"That one? You can forget her! She's taken. And I've washed my hands of her. Took her on because the professor asked me to, but she's unreliable. Always looking to catch a man."

"What do you mean, she's taken?"

"Never you mind! She's not here and I'm busy and don't have time for silly fools. Go away!"

Outside the lanterns glimmered in the scented darkness like fireflies among the trailing willows. Revellers crowded the streets in holiday garb and lovers embraced in the shadow of the trees. Tora spent an hour strolling about, smiling at the few unaccompanied girls. None proved free and easy company. His spirits low, he finally leaned against one of the willow trees and pondered what he should do. It was too early to go home. He had bragged about his plans, and the other servants would tease him unmercifully. On the other hand, he had not enough money left to go to a cheap brothel.

"Tora-san," whispered a voice at his shoulder. He turned, and there stood the pretty zither player, clutching her instrument to her chest and smiling at him. She said shyly, "I am finished for the night."

Tora's eyes widened in joyous surprise. "Sweetheart," he cried, "I was just making a wish and here it is already come true! I was wishing for you."

"Oh, go on!" She blushed and giggled. "We only met tonight."

"That's the way it hits some men! Like lightning! Nothing we can do about it, but suffer. Unless . . ." He looked at her beseechingly.

"You shouldn't say such things to a girl, Tora."

"You know my name, but I don't know yours. How can such a thing be?"

"I'm Michiko. And I know your name because the auntie at the Willow told me."

Bless the auntie, thought Tora. He liked Michiko and her artless manner. "Let's walk a little, Michiko," he said, "and if we see a good place to eat, let me buy you supper. You must be hungry and tired by now."

She smiled up at him. "Yes, thank you, Tora."

But all the restaurants and wine houses were too crowded by now and the private rooms were taken. Since Tora had designs beyond dinner, he began to feel frustrated.

"Why don't we buy some food at one of the stalls and take it back to my place?" Michiko suggested when she saw his glum face. "I live close by."

Tora brightened instantly. He purchased fried shrimp and a large pitcher of wine, and they left the pleasure quarter. Michiko rented a room behind a bamboo blind-maker's shop. The family was already asleep. So they tiptoed down the long hall and entered a small room which was no more than a flimsy wooden shack added to the back of the house. It was perfectly clean and tidy.

Michiko took a rolled-up reed mat from a shelf and spread it across the bare wooden floor. Then she set out dishes and cups which had been stored in a simple chest. They sat down. She placed the food in bowls and Tora poured the wine.

The girl was starved. Tora, who was full, watched her eat, passing her his own portion when she had finished hers. He liked a girl with a healthy appetite. Close up she was even prettier; her eyes began to sparkle as her hunger and tiredness vanished, and her moist lips looked full and inviting. Finally she stopped eating, burped in a ladylike fashion, and gave him a big smile. "Thank you, Tora," she said with feeling. "That was very good."

Touched, Tora reached into his sleeve and handed her the sash with the crane pattern. "Here," he said. "It's not much, but it's for you if you like it."

She spread it out on her lap. "Oh Tora!" she whispered, touching the fabric reverently. "It is so beautiful. I had no idea you bought me a present. Did you know I'd come back to you?"

Tora had the grace to blush, but thought that, on the whole, it would be kinder not to confess the truth. "I told you I had made a wish," he said.

Michiko flung her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his. "I'm so glad," she cried. Then she jumped up and started putting away the dishes. Tora got up to help.

"Do you happen to know a girl called Omaki?" he asked, handing her one of the shrimp bowls.

"Oh, yes. She used to be my friend."

"Used to?"

Michiko knelt, poured some water into a large bowl and rinsed the dishes. "She got snooty. Taking lessons from a professor who comes to the Willow a lot. He made her think she was better than the rest of us. Then she got sick to her stomach a lot, and when I asked her if there was something wrong, she snapped at me to mind my own business." She pointed to a neatly folded length of cheap cotton. "Do you mind drying?"

Tora obliged. "That wasn't very nice of her."

"No, and of course it made me think. She must be pregnant. And I bet that's why she wasn't working today. The auntie probably told her nobody wants to look at a pregnant musician."

"Any idea who the father is?" asked Tora, stacking the clean dishes on the chest.

"My guess is it's the professor's," said Michiko, pouring the dirty water out the window, and putting away the bowl. Then she turned, giving Tora a thoughtful look. "Why are you asking? Don't tell me you've fallen for her?"

"Never, my sweet!" Tora said fervently, stepping closer to stroke her cheek with his finger. "I don't even know the girl. Someone said she was a good lute player, and I thought Madame Sakaki was her. What a charming neck you have."

Michiko giggled and caught his hand in hers. "Omaki can't touch Madame's playing. She's the best. And she hates Omaki." She nuzzled Tora's hand, and said wistfully, "I'm sorry I can't play the lute, Tora, but I know lots of other games."

"Really?" Tora pretended ignorance. "Like what?"

"Like 'bamboo bridge to the pavilion,'" she whispered, tracing Tora's jaw with her finger and fluttering her eyes at him, "or 'cicadas clinging to a tree,' or 'monkey swinging from a branch' or 'bouncing the infant.'"

Tora's eyebrows shot up. " 'Monkey swinging from a branch'?" he asked, astonished. "What sort of game might that be?"

She moved quite close to him. "Silly! Don't you know anything? Haven't you ever visited the ladies of the Willow Quarter?"

Tora made a grab for her and pulled her down onto the mat. "No, you hussy," he muttered, fumbling for her sash. "And you shouldn't know such things either."

She giggled, twisting in his arms. "The girls tell us all about their work. They make good money, but I prefer to take my pick of the handsome fellows."

"Do you now?" asked Tora with a broad smile, tossing aside the sash and pushing her gown off her shoulders.

"Wait," she cried. "Let me make up a bed first!"

Tora stumbled up, cursing under his breath. He was taking off his robe, while she brought out her bedding and unrolled it on the floor. Her loose gown gaped enticingly, revealing glimpses of bare skin— a slender thigh, high breasts, a flash of well-rounded hip and . . . She slipped off the gown, folding it neatly away. Tora gasped and began to tear at his loincloth.