Three, four, keep them begging for more.

I saw her again the following week. She wore pale pink and blue lined with gold. A dark rose had been woven into her hair for shock and contrast. Her injured hand was wrapped in plain cloth though I expected it was made of silk and other fine materials as well.

She had my full attention and I was thankfully sober this time.

She glided through the alleyways and the vendor shops like a cloud on the wind and I wondered exactly what I was dealing with.

My older brothers, I realized, couldn't have been more wrong.

I knowngly took the bait.

She froze in the act of selecting a peach from a vendor and looked at me. "Sir, you are being untoward," she said, with the hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Am I," I asked her. Her face turned flush and she dropped her eyes demurely. I selected one from the pile and took a bite.

This did not impress the vendor selling peaches and the older woman unleashed a torrent of Japanese curses and waved a cast iron around. I was a foreign invader and now I was stealing produce from the locals.

In retrospect, I had the good sense to not discard the peach and pay for twice as many. The old woman still murdered me with her expression.

I handed the extra one to my siren when I managed to catch up to her. She held it in her hand and obeserved it in a way that made me doubt myself completely. "Well, it isn't a pumpkin," she said. The peach disappeared somewhere into her robes.

"You are pumpkin-adverse," I teased. Surely, she knew she had me by now.

"You don't know the half of it," she teased back, leaning closer, conspiratorially. She produced one of her fans from the folds of her robes and used it to conceal all but her eyes. She dropped her gaze again, slowly lifting it until our eyes met again. I imagined her hidden smirk.

I was getting a better understanding of how geishas work. I was still intrigued as to why this one had not painted her face like the others. I wanted to know more.

"Would you like to go dancing with me tonight," I asked, pursuing her deeper into shadow.

Her mood shifted completely. She dropped the fan from her face. "It is said that when a geisha dances that she becomes the wind."

If I hadn't seen her dance yesterday I wouldn't have understood what she meant. My expression must have betrayed my thoughts. She told me, "I am not a geisha."

"You're not," I asked her, in complete shock. "But last night you-." I had no idea what to say to her in response.

"The wind does not get tangled in it's own robes," she snapped at me. She glanced at the ground and seemed to remember herself.

"Then perhaps you are like water, flowing endlessly. The earth itself cannot bind you and yet life springs up where ever you go. I am certainly refreshed by your presence."

She gave me a strange look. "Water? Are you mocking me, sir?" Again I was at a loss for words. When I didn't say anything, she sighed and told me, "Sayuri was my friend. She was a geisha before the war. I don't know what happened to her but they were always comparing her to water." She spat the last word like it was disgusting. She sighed again. "Her eyes are the most beautiful blue. Hatsumomo said it just made her abnormal but everyone else loved Sayuri for it."

"I think your eyes are beautiful even if they aren't blue. I don't know this Sayuri or Hatsune-"

"Hatsumomo," she corrected me. She waved off my second attempt. "Hatsumomo is a proper geisha, if there ever was one." Her smile dazzled me now that it was on full display.

"She sounds lovely."

"Oh she is. She's so lovely that I let her enjoy her own company last night."

"Then join me tonight. That way she can have more alone time with the person she loves the most."

"Good sir, I would never dream of such a scandal. I have not gone through mizuage and you are American." Her tone remained light and playful.

"Well, let's invite Hatsune that way she can scare anyone with the wrong ideas away."

"Flowers die and children run to their mothers whenever Hatsumomo comes near."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "I want to know more about Japan and geisha and you: Ms. Notageisha."

She didn't like the portmanteau. But there was something else. She took a long while to respond. "The only name I can give you is Pumpkin." It clearly reminded her of water. I was seeing a pattern.

"What is the Japanese word for light," I asked her.

"Hikaru."

"Then I will call you Hikaru. And I'm not giving up just yet as you haven't told me no."

"Perhaps I will go with you tonight and continue to not say no." She gave me a pointed look. "Mr. American Invader."

"Robert Hayworth the second. But everyone just calls me Red."

"I'm not calling you Red," she promised me.

I couldn't wait to see her again and show that Americans could fall over their feet while dancing too.