otally dedicated to Japan； his Japan； and to this end he belonged to many groups； not merely one of the zaibatsu conglomerates。 Yet it became manifestly clear to Nicholas on the night of the party that； inwardly； Satsugai believed himself superior to others。 This； curiously enough； was at least part of the basis for his ability in leadership。 The Japanese were born followers； they had been bred to follow with blind obedience the dictates of the shogun even unto death。 Was it so surprising then that Satsugai should find a wide following of fanatic supporters？ It was a subtle pillow upon which he slept … had Caesar done otherwise？ … but none the less it was a prime motivational factor in his life。
Always Itami was by his side。 Near him； too； was Saigo as if he were bathing in the energy of a panion sun。 However； that night there was a fourth person with them and； from the first moment he saw her； she captivated Nicholas。 He leaned over； asked his mother who the girl might be。
'That is Satsugai's niece。 From the south；' Cheong said。 'She has e for a brief visit。' By her tone of voice Nicholas could tell that； as far as Cheong was concerned； the visit could not be brief enough。 He meant to ask her why it was she disliked the girl but already Satsugai had her in tow and was introducing her to Cheong and the Colonel。
She was slim and tall … willowy； a Westerner might call her。 Her dark hair was very long； her eyes seemed enormous； liquid and feral。 Her skin was like porcelain； possessing an inner glow quite impossible to duplicate via cosmetics。 Nicholas thought she was quite stunning。 Her name； so Satsugai informed him when he introduced her separately to Nicholas； was Yukio Jokoin。
She had e with Saigo。 He made this plain by keeping within her shadow for most of the evening。 Though Nicholas tried； he could not tell whether she wanted this attention or not。
For most of the evening he stewed inside himself； debating whether to ask her to dance。 He knew that he wanted to do it； he just did not know what waves his action might cause。 Not that he was intimidated by Saigo's close princely protection of her； rather he was burdened by the secrecy of the father； whose relationship with the Colonel was stormy at best。
There was no one's counsel he could seek but his own and； in the end； he decided that he was worrying about something that had significance only for him。
Accordingly； he approached them。 It was Yukio herself who provided； the opening； for she immediately began to ask him questions about Tokyo； which she had not visited for some time； his immediate impression was that she was fairly well confined to Kyoto and its environs。
Saigo； as might be anticipated； took a rather dim view of his interference and was about to voice his displeasure when his father called for him and； reluctantly； he excused himself。
As he led her onto the dance floor； Nicholas had time to admire her kimono。 It was dove…grey with platinum…coloured threads running through it。 It was embroidered with the design of a midnight…blue wheel…and spoke pattern typical of the standard of a daimyo in feudal times。
She seemed weightless as they danced to the slow music and； holding her close； he felt the heat from her body； the subtle shifting of her flesh beneath the thin kimono。
'We two are both too young to remember the war；' she said； her voice husky。 'Yet we are so much affected by it。 Doesn't that seem odd to you？'
'Not really。' He was breathing in the musk of her skin and it seemed to him as if her very sweat were perfumed。 'Isn't history continuous？ Incidents don't happen in a vacuum but cause ripples spreading outward； interacting with other ripples； changing their courses and； in turn； being themselves changed。'
'My； what philosophy。' And he thought that she might be mocking him until she laughed and said； 'But I like that theory。 Do you know why？ No？ Because it means that what we do here will affect our histories。'
'What； you mean us？'
'Yes。 The two of us。 A duo。 White ；and black。 Yin and Yang。'
Now while she spoke she had contrived； without Nicholas's being in the least aware； to slide closer to him。 Abruptly； as they swayed to the music he found her left leg between his。 She pushed discreetly forward and he felt the hot contact with her thigh and then； incredibly； her pubic mound。 She continued talking； staring up into his eyes； while she rubbed herself lightly back and forth against him。 It was as if they were joined by a hardening fulcrum。 Nicholas scarcely dared to breathe lest some precipitous move of his dislodge them from this position。 It was an astoundingly intimate gesture； ing as it did in the midst of six hundred or so people； lavishly dressed； still disdainful of new ways or liberal viewpoints。 Its highly clandestine nature thrilled him especially when； turning her around； his gaze fell upon Saigo staring at them from the edge of the dance…floor； still engaged in a discussion from which his father would not release him。 It was the only time Nicholas would think kindly of the man。
They danced for what seemed like endless moments but when； at length； they parted … with not one word exchanged about the intimacy … he was unaware that he would not see her again for nearly four years。
On Sundays the Colonel slept late。 This luxury he permitted himself perhaps because； on a day when he did not work； he was delighted to smash routine to smithereens； though he awoke six mornings a week at precisely six o'clock； he rolled out of bed whenever he wished on that first day of the week。
No one disturbed him then save Cheong； who seemed invulnerable' to his infrequent wrath。 At times she would stay on the futon with him until he was awake but at other times she was up early； working in the kitchen； having shooed the servants away。
Cheong prepared the meals at the weekend。 She would have cooked every day； Nicholas knew； because she loved to do it； but the Colonel forbade it。 'Let Tai do the cooking；' he told her somewhat crossly one day。 'That is what she is paid for； after all。 Your time should be your own； to do with what you want。' 'Do what？' she had said。 'You know very well what I'm getting at。' 'Who； me？' She pointed to herself。 'Me only ignorant Chinee； Colonel…san。' She said this in pidgin English； though she had superb grasp of that language。 She bowed to him over and over。 The Colonel was exasperated by her parodies … she was a brilliant mimic； picking up individual accents and idiosyncrasies with astounding rapidity … because they struck so close to reality。 He did not like to recall those aspects of the hazed Asian shore so close to them across the genkainada： the utter disdain with which the English and the Americans alike treated the Chinese and the Malay； as if they were some subhuman species； suitable only for menial； and sexual labours。 The Colonel had taken Cheong in his strong sun…browned arms and kissed her hard on the lips； holding her tight around； knowing from experience that this was the only way to silence her； that the expression of his anger would only egg her on。
That particular Sunday morning； Cheong was already up and slicing fresh vegetables when Nicholas came into the kitchen。
Oblique bars of sunlight jazzed the windows； turning them sparkly。 The drone of a distant plane could be heard； preparing to land at Haneda。 Low on the horizon he could see the flying V of the geese； moving away from the ellipse of the rising sun。
He kissed her and her arms went around him。
'Will you go to the dojo today？' she asked quietly。
'Not if Father will be home。'
She split green beans。 'I think he has a surprise for you today。 I was hoping you would decide to stay。'
'I felt I should be here；' he said。 'I wanted to be。'
'There may e a time；' Cheong said without looking up from her cooking； 'when that will not be possible。'
'You mean with Father？'
'No； this applies to you。'
'I don't think I understand。'
'When your father and I left Singapore； So…Peng was already dying。 It was to be a relatively slow death and he had much to acplish before the end。 But as he said to me； it would be the last time we would see each other； and he was right。' Her hands moved in a blur alo