Hello and welcome to the severely overdue continuation of Hatsumomo's story! I'd planned to publish this back in 2012 or so, but time and adult responsibilities got in the way. Eventually I figured people had forgotten and no one would care. Imagine my surprise when I found I was wrong! There's no time like the present, so let's begin!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Certain characters are property of Arthur Golden, or may be loosely based on historical figures.

Chapter 1

It's so curious how one's fortune can change, and how those changes can be brought about by any little thing. Given time, a gust of wind, or a drop of water can turn a brilliant diamond into a common, dull pebble. But those same conditions, under a more fortunate star, can turn a simple rock into an elegant jewel.

Of course, I'm alluding primarily to myself. I believe we last met in the middle of WWII, when my suffering was at its peak. I'd just moved to Tokyo, the most dangerous city in all of Japan at the time, and rented a moldy room above a pharmacist's shop; a room I paid for by playing the prostitute among the few bars left intact around town. Truly a lowly existence for a woman who had once been one of the elite geisha in all of Kyoto, a position I'd fought for since girlhood.

Having been banished years earlier, I didn't think I'd ever be able to return to Gion. Banishment was permanent, after all, even after the troubles of the war shut down it down. It was announced that the geisha districts would be reopened in the winter of 1945. Just in time for New Year's, usually one of the busiest times of year for anyone. I'm sure they thought they were doing us a favor, but a nation in defeat hardly had anything to celebrate; I knew the teahouses would be a silent as ever while everyone mourned our shared disgrace. It was some months before things would start to recover.

Even through the haze of my own misery, it still pained me to see the okiya of the nearby Akasaka district slowly return to life. Silk kimono were nearly unheard of by the end of the war – the following summer, however, hardly a day went by that some apprentice didn't pass me by on the street in full regalia. Were I able to feel anything beyond the sickening waves of resentment & self-pity, the sight would've made me nostalgic and a bit homesick. Despite myself, I secretly yearned for Gion, the only home I'd ever known. I would've been even happy to run into Mameha or Sayuri, if only for the chance to strangle them. Little did I know, however, that a small piece of Gion would come to me.

One day, in the spring of 1947, we got a customer in the pharmacy below my loft. I still volunteered my time there during the day in exchange for reduced rent, helping the old woman who ran the place with this or that. With her busy stocking boxes, it fell to me to take her order at the little counter in the back. Imagine my surprise when I sullenly looked up and saw Fujiko-san, my old fortuneteller! It had been many years since my disgraceful departure from Gion, so I wasn't sure if she'd recognize me; my body now slumped, my features looked gray & haggard, and my hair lay clumped around my shoulders, greasy from infrequent bathing. But something about my shocked expression must have tipped her off, for she leaned forward and peered at my face a bit before letting out a gasp of her own.

"Hatsumomo-san?! Is that you? Oh, it must be; I can see you remember me, as well." I can't tell you how it felt to be called Hatsumomo after so many years. It took me a few moments to compose myself enough to answer.

"Yes… Yes, I am Hatsumomo. Or, at least I used to be…"

"Ah. Of course," she murmured gravely. I learned in the weeks after my falling out with Shojiro, there wasn't a single soul in all of Gion who hadn't heard of the attack and my subsequent exile. I admit to spending many a night that first month wondering how wild and exaggerated the tale had become by then.

"Well, let's not dwell on such dark matters; time has passed and many things have simply become old wounds. You may as well come over for tea," she continued after I rang up her purchase. "I'm here visiting my sister in Aoyama – she survived the bombs, but a nasty cough might be the final straw. I'm taking care of things while she recovers. Let me leave you our address so you can drop by tomorrow. We obviously have much to catch up on."

She scratched a few lines down a piece of spare paper and left afterwards, leaving me standing there as if I'd been struck. To think, after all these years, I'd meet someone from my past! And someone who could possibly answer my questions, no less. In particular, I'd had one prevailing thought these past few years – how could I get back to Gion, where I knew I belonged?

I know it must seem silly, to hold out hope for so long. I suppose it was, and had I been anyone else I would've told myself just as much. I'd behaved terribly in my final years as a working geisha. There were far more enemies than friends in that city, people who would go through any length to never see me again. But I suppose I still believed that it was mine. Gion is often like an unfaithful lover, one who was just as likely to hurt you as anything else - many geisha who were sold into the profession cursed the place and dreamed of leaving forever. But, like a foolish, pining wife, I still loved it.

The next day, I hurriedly dress and rushed out the door in the direction of Aoyama. I no longer wore kimono of any kind, only Western dresses I could scrounge up from second-hand shops and families selling their belongings for money to flee town. There were chances to buy a cheap housewife's kimono – for those were still much more common than skirts or a one-piece – but I wouldn't have had any idea how to put one on by myself. As for peasant's clothes…what was left of my pride would've never allowed it. I'd suffered countless indignities up until that point, but I refused to ever be considered a peasant.

The address led me to a small, two-story house squeezed between two storefronts. The tiled roof was covered in soot from where it looked like the building next to it recently caught fire, but otherwise looked like it escaped the ravages of war. Fujiko-san herself answered the door and led me to a wide room on the ground floor, where a table sat low on the tatami surrounded by books, papers, and the other paraphernalia of her trade.

"Please excuse the mess, Reiko-san," she waved, calling me by my assumed name I adopted after my exile. "I had no idea how long Michiko-chan would take to recover, so I was forced to open up shop right below her; the extra funds are welcome to pay her medical bills you know."

I couldn't help but chuckle; people in Gion almost never spoke of finances outside of family. It was curious indeed to hear Fujiko-san, of all people, speaking to me so frankly. When she noticed, I apologized and told her as much.

"I'm old, Reiko-san. It's been many years since we last saw each other – I was old then and I've only gotten older. People my age haven't the time for subtleties and such, especially in these uncertain times." She paused just long enough to gather up a few papers and pour two mugs of weak tea. "Now then, as I said before, we have much to catch up on. Why don't you tell me; what have you been up to since I last saw you, after that unfortunate night in Pontocho?"

I told her everything that I could remember – how I moved to Shizuoka; the old couple who lived there; their subsequent suicide at the news about their lost son; and how I came to live in Tokyo. But when I tried to dance around how I was supporting myself, she saw right through me.

"There's nothing to hide, Reiko-san," she waved simply, a gesture full of resignation more than anything else. "You aren't the first of my clients to have this fate befall them. If anything, out of all the girls who didn't have the great good fortune to find someone to shelter them, the geisha who became prostitutes were almost fortunate – the only other alternative was as a factory worker. I'm not sure if you know this, but life there was hardly worth living. The only difference between you & them is you started the trade before the war, but that feels like splitting hairs now."

"What about you, Fujiko-san? How did Gion fare after my untimely departure." She raised an eyebrow at the word 'untimely', but said nothing.

"More or less the same, to be honest. I must say, you left Gion quite the parting gift – the story of your little fight with Bando Shojiro was talk of the town for weeks, even more so once they found out you'd been struck from the registry and kicked out. Gion lost more and more of it's glamour as the war wore on, of course. We were hit the worst by tea and alcohol rationing; any teahouses that couldn't bribe the military police to look the other way were soon forced to close their doors." She took a slow sip and stared pensively into her mug, her face unreadable to me.

"When the geisha districts closed, I don't think I've ever had a busier day. Even geisha who had never come to me before stopped by and begged me for advice as to what they should do, where they should go, or if they would even survive. Some readings were better than others; all of them were bleak. I thought to live off my savings for a while, but the police came and told me that I had to leave my apartment for no one could live in Gion at all – which I thought was nonsense, but it was what it was. I lived out the war in a hotel run by a friend in eastern Kyoto.

"After the districts reopened, I moved back into my old apartment, for the landlord was kind enough to hold it for me, and I started business again. But it wasn't 6 months before I got news that Michiko had fallen ill, and I've been in Tokyo for a month. And that's that," she clapped with finality. "We're all caught up on the past – now let's speak of the future. What do you plan to do with yourself now, Reiko-san? So much time has passed that I doubt anyone would care if you returned to Gion."

Hearing that filled me with such hope that I found it difficult to stand still; it must have radiated out of my face, too, for I saw Fujiko-san give a small, wry smile as she looked at me.

"To be honest, Fujiko-san," I began carefully, "all I've wanted these past few years was to return to Gion. I was born there, you know – it's the only home I've ever known. If I could, I'd even return to being a geisha again."

At the sound of that, Fujiko-san's smile fell. She let out a heavy sigh as she rose from the table and retreated into a small, adjoining room. Several long minutes later, she returned with a scrap of paper – she'd left the room to divine my fortune. I caught myself holding my breath as she began to speak.

"I was afraid you'd say something like that. And I was afraid of this." She gestured to the paper. "I'm going to tell it to you, though, but you'd better heed my words carefully. What you ask for isn't impossible. But," she emphasized, seeing my features glow with happiness and hope, "you may forget about ever becoming what you once were. Hatsumomo is behind you, as are her years of success. You won't quite fail, but there is absolutely no point in even trying to become a star geisha again."

"Fujiko-san, please," I blurted out in impatience. "Have you ever heard of a star geisha who was in her thirties? I'm much too old to be as popular as I used to be, even if I'd never been kicked out."

"One never knows with you," she sniffed. "Moving on, if you were to return to being a geisha – at great risk to yourself, by the way – it appears that your greatest success will come as a teacher. Your fate seems to be in ushering the next generation, rather than self-glory."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. The teachers at the little school were geisha in name only – they almost never entertained and very few had ever even had a danna, preferring to spend their time mastering the arts than putting them to use. It was a job that usually fell to ugly or tragically unpopular geisha, the only way they would ever pay off their debts or command any measure of respect in Gion. I was none of those things and didn't feel good about counting myself as one of their number. If she noticed any displeasure in my countenance, Fujiko-san did not acknowledge it.

"Do you know why I'm telling you these things, Reiko-san?"

"To be completely honest, I have no idea. Anyone else in your shoes wouldn't even talk to a disgraced geisha, let alone offer to show her the path to redemption. It was my belief that most geisha believed that I'd earned my fate."

"And so you did! I liked you, Reiko-san; even as Hatsumomo, I could see that you were a clever and talented girl. No one succeeds in Gion without undercutting an opponent on occasion, not even me. But your nature was utterly ruthless, Hatsumomo-san! Your evil deeds stacked against you until you finally fell and wiped out the thing you treasured most; your career. The reason I'm showing you this path now – to "redemption", as you called it – is because I can only hope your years of suffering will serve to keep you in check, if nothing else. I'm warning you now and under no uncertain terms: if you try to return to Gion only to repeat your past behavior, that door will close to you forever. You will have lost any chance at karmic forgiveness, and will probably return to the live you lead now."