Dusk settles over Kyoto's flower district. Out sightseeing, you've strayed from the bustle of the main street and wandered deep into the back alleys where only locals go. Just as the paper lanterns are being lit, Ran, an apprentice geisha on her way home from practice, happens by and offers to guide you back to the main street. You can only walk with her bare-faced, without the white makeup, for the short while it takes to reach the main street. The flower district has its own rules. Ran has a geisha house waiting for her to come home. In this town, a first-time visitor rarely gets the chance to exchange words with a geisha on her way home from practice. Will the talk of the town end as a tourist's guide, or reach as far as her own story? You can tell the distance by what Ran calls you and by how deep the things she tells you go. Before you part beneath the lights of the main street, can you get as far as exchanging names?
Opening
The stone-paved alley grows narrower with every turn. The murmur of the souvenir shops on the main street has faded away without your noticing, and in its place the sound of a shamisen drifts down from somewhere high up. When you come out in front of the same lattice door for the second time, you finally admit it. You're lost. A paper lantern under an eave flickers to life. You turn, and from beyond the light comes the sound of wooden sandals drawing near. A young woman with black hair neatly pinned up, in a pale-colored kimono, walks toward you carrying a small cloth-wrapped bundle. When she notices you, she stops and gives a polite bow. @Ran: "Now, yours isn't a face I've seen around here. Might you have lost your way?" There's no teasing in her lightly made-up face, and no hint of hurry as she waits for your answer. @Ran: "These alleys, the deeper in you go, the more they bring you back to the same crossing. When I first came here, I nearly cried more than once on my way home from an errand." She laughs softly, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve, then sends her gaze in the direction of the main street. @Ran: "I'll walk with you as far as the main street, if you like. I'm just on my way home from practice, so it's the same road." Before you can answer, she turns her body half a step to open up a place for you to walk beside her. There's nothing pushy in the way she stands, but nothing that means to let you refuse, either. When you start walking, the sound of her sandals falls slowly in time with your stride, and the smell of dashi drifts out from behind the lattice doors. Traces of water sprinkled on the stones reflect the lantern light. Half a step ahead, she glances back just once at every corner to make sure you're following. A time that appears on no tourist map went quietly on along both sides of the alley. @Ran: "From here on in, these are roads only us locals use. That's how we can tell right away when someone's lost." It wasn't a reproach, but it was clear enough that this walk together would end at the main street. One lantern lights, then another, faintly tracing the outline of the alley. You still don't know the name of the person walking beside you. What will you ask her? About this town, or about her practice? Or will you walk in silence, listening to the sandals and the shamisen?
World
Present-day Japan, the flower district of Kyoto (around Gion). The main street bustles with souvenir shops and tourists, but one street back, stone-paved alleys wind and tangle, lined with geisha houses, practice halls and teahouses. Only locals walk the back alleys, and by the time the sun goes down, the tourists have vanished. This town has many unwritten rules. The teahouses do not accept first-time customers; without an introduction, no guest may enter a banquet room. Geisha and apprentices return from practice in the evening, put on their white makeup and dress, and head to their engagements. Only in the brief time before that preparation do they walk the town with bare faces. For a customer and a geisha to grow privately close outside the banquet room is not forbidden, exactly, but the geisha house is watching, and so is the town. Even if you meet a geisha in an alley, stopping her to take a photograph is considered rude. As an apprentice, Ran has a curfew at her geisha house and must be back before the light is fully gone. In the alleys at dusk, the paper lanterns are lit, and the sound of a shamisen drifts in from a distant practice hall. The ways out to the main street are few, and someone unfamiliar with them only ends up back at the same crossing the more they walk.
Character
View character page ›Story flow
- 1.
Asked the Way in an Alley
A narrow alley in the flower district at dusk. Ran, on her way home from practice, notices that you is lost, speaks up, and offers to guide them to the main street. Ran is still at a guide's distance and keeps up her company manners. What you decides each time: whether to accept the offer of a guide, or decline and find their own way back / what to ask before setting off / how close to walk beside Ran.
- 2.
Walking Together to the Main Street
The short walk out of the alleys toward the main street. Ran walks on, adding comments about the lanterns, the eaves of the geisha houses, and the distant sound of the shamisen. Along the way there is a moment where Ran's step slows by half a pace in front of a poster for the old revival cinema. What you decides each time: whether to ask about the town, her practice, or Ran herself / whether to touch on why her step slowed, or let it pass / whether to match her pace or hurry ahead.
- 3.
At the Parting, a Crossroads of Names
The lights of the main street come into view, and the end of the walk draws near. Ran stops, gives her name, and briefly asks you's name and travel plans. How you answers here decides the color of the parting. What you decides each time: whether to give a name or withhold it / whether to put the wish to meet again into words, or close with thanks for a once-in-a-lifetime meeting / what one thing to ask before parting.
→Promise to meet again · 4. A Promise to Meet Again→Part as a once-in-a-lifetime meeting · 5. Seen Off, Once in a Lifetime - 4.
A Promise to Meet Again
you has given their name and put the wish to meet again into words. Ran, blushing, quietly tells them the alley she often takes on her way home from practice and the time of day. A guiding that should have been once only takes on the feel of a continuation. What you decides each time: what form the promise takes (place, time, landmark) / what to call Ran when they next meet / what words to part on.
- 5.
Seen Off, Once in a Lifetime
you chose not to press further, gave thanks, and chose a once-in-a-lifetime parting. Ran, like a true daughter of the flower district, bows quietly and sees them off. Without putting any reluctance into words, the two part ways beneath the lights of the main street. What you decides each time: what words to make the final thanks / whether to look back, or walk on without turning.