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As for Ikan； she was never the same after Shimada's death。 Like a blossom at hanami she had reached her peak of beauty and； having slid past it； could never go back。 An intense form of melancholia stole over her like a shroud； etching lines into a face that had been filled with perfection。 She drank copious quantities of sake； often passing out insensate in the middle of an assignation as if the mere state of consciousness was too much for her。
Those who ran Fuyajo were understandably perturbed and then； as Ikan's state declined rapidly； filled with anger。 She had many more years left in her and； they felt； after she had passed beyond the barriers where sexual union was paramount； she could still fulfill her potential as the house's finest sensei； training the younger women。
But such was not to be。 In the spring of 1958； when Akiko was thirteen； Ikan could not be roused from her futon。 Fright flew through Fuyajo like an evil kami； turning the girls nervous and short…tempered。 All conversation dropped to a whisper as the doctor arrived and took the long； slow climb up to her room。 Akiko was kept with a group of the girls and they forcibly restrained her from ascending。
There was no life left within Ikan's glorious husk。 The old physician shook his head from side to side and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth。 He sat on the edge of her futon and stared down upon the pale face and thought that he had never seen such magnificent human beauty in his life。
By her side he found an empty bottle of sake and a small vial。 This； too； was empty； save for a light dusting of white powder along its curved inside。 The doctor dipped his little finger and touched the white tip to his tongue。 His head nodded again； his tongue continued its clucking。
He heard movement behind him and he quickly pocketed the vial。 Perhaps there was something for him to do here； he thought。 For when those who ran Fuyajo asked him the cause of death； he lifted his shoulders； let them fall resignedly； and told them she had died of heart failure； which in a sense was true。
He felt no punction about lying to them or even falsifying the death certificate。 In fact he felt ennobled by the deed。 He had read the papers concerning Vice…Minister Shimada's shocking suicide and in its aftermath the unraveling of the evidence against him。 This woman had endured enough； he thought。 Let her death be a peaceful； natural one； a death that will cause no further ripples of evil talk。
Those who ran Fuyajo wasted no time in explaining to Akiko what had happened。 And at last it dawned on her what the position of her life would be from this moment on until the day she died； perhaps in precisely the same manner that her mother had expired。 And that knowledge was totally unacceptable to her。
That night she gathered up her belongings； much as Ikan had done the night before her departure from her family's farm deep in the countryside； and several items of her mother's that she loved and did not want to leave to the scavengers at Fuyajo。 Stuffing these； too； into a small； battered bamboo suitcase； she stole out of the building in the dead of night。 The height of the varied activities served to shield her from discovery。
Soon she was crossing the narrow street and； turning a corner； hurried down a dark alley； moving quickly and surely until she had left the Yoshiwara far behind her。 She never once looked back； and she never returned。
They came after her； of course。 They had every right to。 She was an enormously valuable modity and they had a great many years invested in her。 There were no Yakuza involved in running Fuyajo and the Boryokudan held no piece of it。 Still； those who had founded the Castle That Knows No Night were hard businessmen and their descendants to whom the running of the brothel now devolved were much like their ancestors。 And though the Occupation Forces had begun to disband the Yoshiwara； and Fuyajo was thus forced to move； they did not take kindly to Akiko's defection。 In fact； they wished to put an end to it as swiftly as possible。 To that end they dispatched two thugs to return her to her proper home and； if that were not practical； to exact from her the highest possible penalty for her treacherous deed。
The first Akiko suspected that she was being followed was when she saw two shadows moving at once； one slightly ahead of her and one perhaps two blocks behind her。 She would never have seen the shadows at all…for they were absolutely silent… had it not been for the cat。 Four tiny kittens had been suckling at the cat's distended teats when Akiko stumbled into her territory and； startled； she had arisen and； arching her back； hissed at the intruding shape； baring her teeth and glaring carnelian eyes into the wan light。
Akiko gasped； her heart pounding painfully in her chest； and she skidded to one side； her head and shoulders moving away from the angered cat even as her feet and legs were still sliding along the pavement toward it。 That's when she saw the twin movements； and her eyes went wide。
She pressed herself against a cool wall； looked to front and back。 Now there was nothing。 Silence。 The absence of traffic was eerie and not even a koban； a police call box； around。
She was still in the Asakusa district； filled with the old traditional ways； Tokyo's last remnants from ages gone by。 The buildings here were small and low； of wood and oiled paper as they once had been throughout Japan； no steel and glass towers as in other sectors of the city。
Akiko； her heart still in her throat； sidled away from the bristling cat； certain now that the long arm of Fuyajo was stalking her。 But there was no way they were going to bring her back to that hated place； she decided。 She would die first。 And not before she hurt someone badly。
A red rage beat through her like a tide； an accumulated sizzling she was still only dimly aware of。 Quickly she knelt down and as she did so； a dark flicker came to the corner of her eye； a swift blur like a racing cloud obscuring for a moment the face of the moon。
Unhesitatingly she opened her bamboo suitcase and took out the pistol。 It was fairly small； a pearl…handled 。22 caliber； well oiled and in good operating condition。 It was fully loaded； she had double…checked that before she had removed it from its hiding place beneath her mother's futon。 Why Dean would have such an implement in her possession Akiko could not fathom； but the day she had discovered it more than a year ago she had had enough sense not to tell anyone； not even her mother； what she had found。 And tonight she had not wanted to leave it behind。 Now she knew why。
They were closing in。 Akiko swiftly closed her suitcase and stood calmly； the pistol hidden behind her。 Curiously； she felt no fear。 She had been born into the night； and darkness held none of the primitive terror it did for many people。 She was at home in its furtive light and rather enjoyed the anonymity its shadows afforded her。 Night at Fuyajo would find her rising from her futon to roam the many rooms at will； honing her instincts and her hand…eye coordination； stealthily climbing back stairs and crawling through vent passageways in order to observe the myr