Sakura-ko was a samurai’s daughter who had become a geisha to feed her mother after her father died. She lived on a narrow street. Sounds of geisha practicing their shamisen filled the air at all hours. Sakura-ko proved gifted with the shamisen. She also played the koto and the biwa.

Sakura-ko’s liquid eyes and ivory skin attracted many teahouse appointments. Her conversation skills and charm could melt the hardest man. She spent her days looking down on the street from the gallery of her geisha home.

People would point and exclaim, “There’s Sakura-ko, the Flower of the Cherry. The most beautiful dancer of Edo.”

But as she looked down at them, she often said to herself, “The narrow street is paved with bitterness and broken hearts. The houses are full of vain hopes and regrets. The flowers in the gardens are watered with tears, yet these people don’t realize this.”

If you watched her dance, you’d never guess she had such a sorrowful heart. Gentlemen compared her to the rainbow-winged dragonfly and to the morning mist dancing in the new sunlight. She danced like the shadow of a willow tree on the river. They would never guess the resentment she carried from her three lovers.

The first was a middle-aged, rich and great man. When he first tried to win her, he sent a servant with a lot of money.

“You’re obviously lost,” she told the servant. “You should have gone to the merchant street and bought your master a doll. Let him know he won’t find a doll here.” She shut the door in the servant’s face.

After the servant accounted this, the master visited her. “Come to me, Flower of the Cherry,” he said. “I must have you.”

“Must?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Must is the only word for how I feel.”

“And what will you give me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You will have the finest kimono. I will give you a house with servants. Gold hairpins—whatever you want.”

“And what do I give you in return?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Just yourself, Flower of the Cherry.”

“Body and soul?”

“Body and soul.” He licked his lips.

“Goodbye. I plan on remaining a geisha. It’s a fun life.” She laughed and shut the door in his face.

The second lover was old. He hired Sakura-ko to dance at a feast he had scheduled, but he remained attached to her throughout it instead of being a proper host. “Sakura-ko, I am madly in love with you!”

“I can easily believe it,” she said.

“I’m not as old as you may think.”

“If the gods are compassionate, you might have some time to prepare for your end. You’d best go home and study your scriptures.” Sakura-ko adjusted a hairpin. “It is time for me to dance.”

After her dance, he made her sit beside him and called for wine. Her geisha sister, Silver Wave, served them. After making her drink with him he pulled her close. “Come, my love. My bride! There was poison in that cup, but you don’t have to be afraid. We will die together as lovers.”

“Please. My sister and I aren’t children. Nor are we foolish. I didn’t drink the saké. Silver Wave poured me fresh tea. But I feel sorry for you. I will stay with you until you die.”

He died in her arms.

The third lover was a young, courageous man. He happened to see Sakura-ko one day during a festival and went out of his way to find her. He finally found her watching the street from the railing of her gallery. He stopped in the shadows to listen to her softly sing:

My mother made me spin fine thread

Out of the yellow sea sand.

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

My father gave me a basket of reeds.

He said, ‘Draw water from the spring and carry it a mile.’

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

My heart would remember.

My heart must forget.

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

When she looked down, her gaze met his. He wiped a tear from his eyes and called out, “Do you remember me, Flower of the Cherry? I saw you last night.”

“I remember you well.”

“I am not as young as I look. And I love you. Please be my wife.”

Sakura-ko blushed.

“My dear,” the young man said. “Now you are a flower of the cherry indeed.”

She shook her head. “Child, go home and don’t think of me. I’m too old for you.”

“Old? There’s barely a year between us!”

At this point, people stopped and watched the two, tittering behind their hands.

“No, not a year, but an eternity. Don’t think anymore of me.” Sakura-ko went inside.

Of course, the young man could think of nothing else. He couldn’t drink or eat or sleep. After several days, he finally went out to the geisha street, fainting with weakness. Sakura-ko came home at dawn and found him slumping near her home. Without saying a word, she helped him to his house outside Edo and stayed with him until his health returned. Three months passed.

One evening, they sat together admiring the stars. Sakura-ko smiled at them. Happiness filled her heart.

“My dear,” the young man said. “fetch your shamisen and let me hear you sing.”

The spell broken, she did as he asked. “I will sing a song you already know.”

My mother made me spin fine threat

Out of the yellow sea sand.

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

My father gave me a basket of reeds.

He said, ‘Draw water from the spring and carry it a mile.’

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

My heart would remember.

My heart must forget.

A hard task. A hard task.

May the dear gods speed me!

“What does the song mean? Why do you sing it? It is so sad.” He frowned.

“It means it’s time for me to leave you. I must forget you. You must forget me.”

He grabbed her hand. “I will never forget you. Stay.”

She smiled. “I will pray for you to find a sweet wife and have many children.”

“I don’t want any wife except you. I want your children, Flower of the Cherry!”

She pulled her hand away. “That can’t happen.”

The next day she was gone. The young lover looked all over for her, but she had disappeared. Eventually, his family found him a wife, and they had a son together. When the boy was five years old, he sat at the gate of his father’s house. A wandering nun came by, begging for alms. The servants brought her rice.

“Let me give it to her,” the boy said.

As he filled the begging bowl and patted the rice down with the wooden spoon, the nun caught his sleeve and gazed into his eyes.

“Why do you look at me like that?” he asked.

“I once had a boy like you, and I had to leave him.”

“The poor boy! Why?”

“It was better for him. Far better.” She turned away and continued down the road.

This story can be found in my collection of over 170 modernized Japanese folktales, Tales from Old Japan.