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to subsist on millet。
Stricken； farmers were forced to put their wives to work sewing or weaving and to send their young children to toil in the city。 Yet even this was not enough； and so often one female child was selected to be sold to the brothels in order for her family to survive。
There was no loss of face in this。 On the contrary； these young girls were looked upon with a mixture of great respect…for submitting to their gin of filial piety…and pity； for it was generally known that while a prostitute might on a very rare occasion bee the mistress of a wealthy samurai； once she crossed the moat that surrounded the Yoshiwara she surrendered all hope of being a wife and creating her own home。 So there was always an air of mystery tinged by the purity of sadness that drew men into the arms of geisha in the same way it drew them to Ueno each spring to view the cherry blossoms。
Dean began life at Fuyajo； the most ancient of such establishments in the Yoshiwara； as a kamuro； a kind of apprentice who fetched for the oiran； the higher…level prostitutes； when she was not busy cleaning and polishing。
In this capacity she was constantly busy yet she always found time to observe and to learn from her observations； often imitating the motions and delicate swirls of the oiran early in the mornings before； exhausted； she fell on her futon。
When she was twelve； Ikan took a strenuous examination and passed on to the level of shinzo； where she began her courses in the study of baishun。 These included singing； the difficult art of haiku； ikebana； chano…yu； dancing； a study of literature； and； of course； lovemaking。
Her training took five years； at the end of which she was required to take another exam。 This was the crucial one for； if she failed to pass it； she would return to the level of kamuro and spend the rest of her days at Fuyajo doing nothing more than taking out the garbage。
She had no serious trouble and； at the age of seventeen； rose to the exalted station of oiran。 For four years she plied her difficult and plex trade diligently and well； her open； inquisitive mind allowing her to absorb the best from the more experienced women around her； her innate sensitivity to creating all forms of pleasure in a man； intellectual； esthetic； as well as physical； creating an ever…expanding world that she alone could explore。
And on the day of her birth； twenty…one years after she was born； Ikan became tayu； the loftiest of the three stations of oiran。 Never in the history of the Castle That Knows No Night had there been a tayu of such tender years； and a celebration was thrown in her honor。
And it was in that most festive of atmospheres； when the sake was flowing freely and the samisen spangled webs of music in the steamy air； that Ikan first encountered Hiroshi Shimada。
He was a man of quiet intensity； not a handsome man by any but the broadest of standards； yet possessed of a strength of spirit that she found most attractive。
For his part； Shimada had singled her out almost at once。 His eyes fell upon her stately alabaster beauty and his heart turned to water。 He felt a great cry rising up from within him； and for a moment he had to put a hand out to grasp the knurled wooden stairpost for support。 When his knees stopped shaking； he began to breathe again。 His head felt light； as if he had been drinking sake long into the night； there was an odd metallic taste in his mouth as if he had bitten down into a piece of tinfoil。
It never occurred to him that he might be falling in love。 One did not fall in love with a geisha； one came to her for fort； relaxation； and a night of total enjoyment。 And yet at the moment he first saw Ikan； her awesome physicality struck from his consciousness any thought he might have held of any other woman； his wife included。
There was an aura about Ikan that was undeniable。 Even the other oiran whispered of it in clandestinely envious tones among themselves。 For she had achieved what all members of the floating world aspire to： that ineffable merging of the ethereal and the animal that unfailingly set men under its almost magic spell； an aphrodisiac for all the senses； all the pleasures。 For her clients loved her just as strongly when she was reading to them from Genji Monogatari； when she arranged day lilies just for them or wrote a haiku in their honor； as when she bedded them。
Thus Shimada found himself drawn to Ikan's side； his gaze lovingly caressing each elegant fold of her glittering kimono； the three translucent tortoiseshell kanzashi angled through the gleaming black pile of her hair； the kushi； the simple traditional b of tsuge wood at the back of her head。
And when he spoke his first word to her through cracked lips； merely the gesture of her turning her head in his direction sent flutters of desire through his chest。
There was； of course； no chance for them to be alone at the party and； in any event； a proper assignation had not been arranged beforehand as was the strict policy at Fuyajo。 But the next week； when Shimada could take time out from his busy schedule； he returned to the Yoshiwara。
On the threshold of the pale green and caramel structure he paused； trembling。 Rain pattered on the conical shelter of his ama…gasa and he looked up； watching it drip off the eaves just beneath the curved tiles of the roof。 As the samurai in olden days had done he had disguised himself somewhat before setting out on his trek to the red…light district。
It was not that he was ashamed of ing here or that he wished to hide his presence at Fuyajo from his wife。 On the contrary； it was to her that the Castle That Knows No Night sent the bills for his sojourns of pleasure。
Rather it was the unsettling political and economic climate within the bureaucracy that caused him to act with caution。 As vice…minister of MCI he had many enemies and he had no wish to present his ill…wishers with fodder for his political demise。
A chill gust of wind bowled down the street； making him shiver and pull his long capelike raincoat closer about him。 That SCAP hound； Colonel Linnear； was already sniffing around for incriminating bones and though Shimada was quite certain he had buried his deeply and well； he nevertheless refused to relax his vigilance； for he knew that in the wake of the war's end he could not rely on his Prime Minister for refuge if the truth were to e out。 In fact； knowing Yoshida； he would be among the first to deliver Shimada up as a sacrificial lamb to the gaijin war crimes tribunal。
War。 The thought made Shimada shiver。 Always it came back to the war。 How he wished now that Japan had taken another course。 In retrospect； he saw his own rabid ideas of expansionism； his close ties to those warmongers in the zaibatsu as tantamount to slashing open his own belly。 And yet there was no dignity in the association。 His hands were soiled by the clandestine work he had done for his friends in the zaibatsu both before the war and during it。 Shimada had been a key figure within the Ministry of Munitions and had been saved from the war crimes tribunal by a mixture of his own cunning in hiding his past and the decision of his superior to break apart the ministry at the last mom