Somersault

1

Ogi and Dancer had preceded everyone else to the site in Shikoku where the new church was to be established. There they held talks with the people on-site who had been taking care of the buildings and handling visitors; these meetings included a woman from an old established family in the area, the head of the Fushoku temple-a Soto Zen sect-plus a representative of the Kansai headquarters who had been instrumental in keeping the church run- ning as a religious corporation after the Somersault.

Ogi had been in charge of laying the groundwork for the move, so this wasn't his first time in the place. Still, when he saw Dancer's surprised reac- tion to the scale and beauty of the chapel and the building the locals called the monastery, he was amazed all over again that such buildings, together with the large artificial lake they surrounded, had been provided for Patron's new church.

With Patron and Guide's Somersault, for all practical purposes the church's activities in Tokyo and the surrounding areas had come to a grind- ing halt. The Kansai headquarters alone continued its public activities, albeit on a reduced scale; meanwhile, the solidarity of their members had only grown stronger. Their leader was a Mr. Soda, from one of the leading general con- tracting firms in Shikoku and Kyushu. This conscientious late-forties man, accompanied by his hard-working personal secretary, had now come to the backwoods of Shikoku to attend the meetings.

Mr. Soda's secretary first passed out documents related to issues between the church and local authorities, as well as specific improvements that needed to be made to the facilities before the church moved in en masse, with Mr. Soda giving a short explanation to clarify the documents. He and his sec- retary could only stay for half the first day of the talks, having to attend a cer- emony marking the completion of a JR train station in Kyushu.

After the two of them left, the remaining members were given a detailed briefing on the local area by Asa-san, wife of the retired former principal of the local junior high school, and by the humorously eloquent head priest of the Fushoku temple, Mr. Matsuo; Asa-san was taking care of the buildings the church would use, and she and Dancer had been in close contact regarding preparations for the move. Ogi was impressed by how objective these two local representatives were regarding short-term issues involved in the church's move. What's more, the two of them seemed to be rivals in the considerable influence they had over those who held the political strings here. Ogi was particularly impressed by their discussion of the background of the area and its recent local history.

The town here was called Maki Township, in Kita County of Ehime Prefecture. The region was on the northern slope of the central mountain range running through Shikoku, just about in the middle; soon after the town- ship was incorporated, in an area called the Old Town, a church called the Church of the Flaming Green Tree rose up and, after a short time, disap- peared. Fifteen years before, the leader of the church, named Brother Gii, had been murdered. His church had built the chapel that stood on the eastern edge of the south bank of the man-made lake in the Hollow, the chapel that was so well known as an example of modern architecture. On the land to the west, the church members had set up a site for tents where many of them used to stay.

With Gii's death the church itself, to use a popular term borrowed from the terminology of political demonstrations, just melted away. The church members dispersed like so many drops of water soaking into the ground.

Actually, the final sermon to commemorate the breakup of the church had been given by Mr. Matsuo, then a church activist who had since returned to his role as local Buddhist priest.

"Brother Gii was a very simple man," Mr. Matsuo said, "yet one of the most ethical people you'd ever want to meet. He always considered others' lives more important than his own, and put that belief into practice. His in- fluence is still felt among us here. The Church of the Flaming Green Tree is no longer with us, but Gii's life and death are etched in our memories, not just those of us who were close to him but other people as well. We would like to keep the area around the Hollow as sacred ground, which is why when you asked to take over the chapel for your own church, we leapt at the idea.

We thought, Why don't we help them make it happen?"

According to reports that Ogi had gathered, the transfer of ownership of the chapel, and the subsequent construction of the monastery, came about in the following way. Brother Gii had inherited the Hollow and surround- ing land from one of the established families in the old village. Along with this, one follower, the head of another old family in the area, decided to con- struct the chapel and contributed the needed funds. When the Church of the Flaming Green Tree was incorporated and tax issues became moot, this par- ticular church member donated the land and the chapel to the church.

Along the south side of the Hollow, a road sixteen feet wide had been built running the entire length of the man-made lake from east to west. This road was lined with cobblestones, modeled on the cobblestone paths that, according to the rich folklore of the region, used to be constructed high in the forest, remnants of which could still be found here and there. On the east- ern edge of this road was the cylindrical chapel, constructed in the latest con- crete technology, a building that at the time of its construction was a hot topic of conversation in architectural circles. After the chapel was built, Mr. Soda's construction company came up with a plan to construct a courtyard out of the road leading up to the chapel, with communal residences running along both sides. But it was at this point that the church broke up.

Many local residents didn't want the buildings to remain unoccupied, and they wanted to complete the ones that had been planned, as well. After accepting the donation of the chapel and the land along the south shore of the lake, the town decided to build a junior high school and a continuing education center there, and there was strong support for this idea. The plans fell through, though, because of the economic timing-the Bubble Economy of Japan had just burst and money was tight. In opposition to those in the Old Town who still wanted to go ahead with the original plan, a rival movement arose calling not just for a cancellation of the continuing education center but the junior high as well-there weren't enough children in the area to justify it, they claimed. In fact, one candidate for town head had run on this plat- form and won election, so the whole plan was back to square one.

This still meant they had to deal with the investment already made in the construction plans. With exquisite timing, just when the town authori- ties were racking their brains as to what the next step should be, the Kansai headquarters of the church began to show an interest in the land. Mr. Soda, the headquarters' leader as well as the one who'd been involved in the origi- nal construction, played a major role in the negotiations. Things didn't al- ways go smoothly, but with the church now taking on the loans from the town, they were able to complete the original second phase of construction pretty much as it had been originally envisioned.

The chapel and the monastery had been kept up-not exactly in a hands- on way but regularly nonetheless-and like some recent ruins were beauti- ful and abandoned, and no discord arose between the local residents and church members from the Kansai headquarters during their intermittent visits. However, with a good number of people expected to move to the town as Patron restarted his religious movement, there were sure to be difficulties ahead. What's more, this was taking place soon after all the uproar involving the Aum Shinrikyo satyan that had been widely reported in the media.

Ogi and Dancer flew from Haneda to Matsuyama airport. When they arrived at the Maki Town JR Station and went into the business district in the Old Town to rent a car, they came across some protest banners and leaflets: DON'T LET OUR TOWN BE TAKEN OVER BY FANATICS! WILL OUR CHILDREN SEE MURDERS ON THE STREETS AGAIN? AND OPPOSE ARRIVAL OF PATRON'S CHURCH!

The banners and leaflets were the work of a group called the Associa- tion to Oppose the Move of Religious Organizations to Maki Town, made up largely of residents of the Old Town. A month before they had put up their banners at the entrance of the Ohashi Bridge over the Kame River, which ran through the center of town, and plastered all the shop windows with their leaflets. Thanks to Asa-san's tenaciousness, these had all been removed a week earlier.

In trying to persuade people to accept the new church coming to town, Asa-san used the following argument. Fifteen years ago, during the brief period when the Church of the Flaming Green Tree flourished, their farm products had sold quite well in Matsuyama, and the farmers in the area had turned a nice profit. The church members' spending alone had been a shot in the arm to the local economy. After the demise of the church, the valley's economy had gone into a tailspin unconnected with the bursting of the Bubble Economy. If it was good for the economy why were people opposing another church?

Already the church had used its resources to pay off loans the town had taken for the junior high school project. And they'd hired people locally to build the monastery. Isn't it natural, now that they own the chapel and the monastery, for church people to move in? With all the benefits you've had so far, how can you possibly join a movement opposing their arrival?

Patron's church doesn't commit criminal acts like Aum Shinrikyo, she went on. According to reports on TV and the weekly magazines, Patron's Somersault took place because he anticipated the danger of his church becom- ing Aum-like and wanted to nip any terrorist plans in the bud. The death of Guide reported not long ago was the work of a terrorist group that has been hostile to Patron ever since the Somersault, with the church its victim. After ten painful years of self-reflection, Patron had chosen this place to build his church anew. Why not just let it happen?

2

After Mr. Soda and his secretary left, Ogi and Dancer heard more details about all this from the head priest of the Fushoku temple and from Asa-san herself. Once this conversation drew to a close, they set off in their rental car, Asa-san leading the way in her own car, Mr. Matsuo as their guide, and drove from the temple to the Hollow. It was already late afternoon, and a strong late-rainy-season downpour was falling.

Right after descending to the river from the temple they came across the newly completed bridge connecting up to the bypass leading to the cross- Shikoku highway. Mr. Matsuo explained how in crossing it they would pass by the road leading down to the Hollow, but today, since he wanted them to remember the lay of the land as it used to be in this region, they drove along the old main road on this side of the riverbank.

The Kame River is lined with dikes now, he said, and is no longer a wild river-it used to flood its banks every year-yet if the water filling the man- made lake to its brim overflowed, Old Town would be flooded. According to Mr. Matsuo, this fact lay behind the wariness with which the residents of Old Town viewed the followers of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree- who lived, at that time, in the chapel and in tents in the banks of the lake- and also lay behind the movement opposing this newest church.

Besides introducing them to the special topographic features of the region, Mr. Matsuo also related some of the highlights of local history. Dancer didn't say anything while she sat next to Mr. Matsuo in the front passenger seat, but when she was alone with Ogi she complained. "That priest thinks that since our church is moving to these woods we have to revere their his- tory just like he does. But aren't Patron and all of us going to create a new history in this region?" she grumbled.

All complaints aside, when they crossed a ridge filled with red pines, began descending a slope, and cut through a dark road filled with tall bam- boo trees, Dancer looked up to the rise above her, filled with layers of wind- swept deciduous and coniferous trees, and felt her breath taken away.

The road began to climb up again. Although it was paved, it was more like a mountain path, with wild grasses on either side, and with raindrops dripping down from the thick oaks and beeches it felt like they were cutting through a deep forest. As soon as they emerged into the open, they came across a dam, like a huge wall blocking the way. Beside it, Asa-san, who'd preceded them, was parked in a flat spot and stood beside her car, umbrella open and extra ones under her arm.

They opened up the umbrellas, each of which had the mark of a tree done in the style of a woodblock print-umbrellas left over, it turned out, from the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. Asa-san told them that there were plenty of extra raincoats and high boots too, items essential to life here be- tween river and woods, stored in the shed at the monastery, and they should feel free to borrow them. They all then trooped up a railless stairway carved out of the outer wall of the dam.

"This lake that was made when the water was dammed up was also the work of some young people in this area involved in a group called the Base Movement. They flooded the plain, leaving the trees standing to make the lake, and one huge tree we call the Hollow's Cypress rises above the water on a bit of land, like some island that's been there forever."

"Asa-san was a main actor in one act of recent history that took place there," Mr. Matsuo said, as he brought up the rear.

Asa-san, who was first to the top of the dam, riveted her eyes on the rain- pounded misty surface of the lake and the overgrown island with its huge cypress, but she didn't follow up on what Mr. Matsuo said. All of them- Dancer, Ogi, and even Mr. Matsuo, who scrambled up on top of the dam last- fell silent for a while as they gazed at the scene.

In the now unimpeded field of vision, the rain fell on the conifers, rais- ing a mist around them and on the dark green of the broad-leafed forest, making its darkness brim with vigor, sending up splashes on the slightly clouded surface of the lake. On the small island near the north shore, the unusually large cypress towered upward, so high the top disappeared in the fog swirling about it, with only its charred trunk near the lake's surface and the thick, intertwined branches, the life force of the tree, visible.

On the east side of the lake, to the right, stood a wet, bright gray-blue cylinder with a gently sloping, conical roof: the chapel. On each side of the roof a half-globe skylight swelled out, showing a faint golden luster. To the west of the chapel an ancient-looking stone wall ran up to the southern edge of the dam, and above this loomed a Western-style shed-shaped monastery-the dormito- ries, in other words-a courtyard between them, with two parallel rows of roof tiles, the one nearer the forest slightly higher than the one in front.

As Ogi and Dancer stood absorbed in the scenery, Asa-san spoke content- edly to them in a way that left no doubt what a basically decent person she was.

"The huge cypress is trying its best to be as full of greenery as the stand of camphors on the slope to the north, isn't it? If you stand at a different angle, though, it looks horrible, like a blackened, charred pillar. Even from here you can see that a little. Fifteen years ago, the withered branches were burnt, you see. I find it hard to believe now, but that was Brother Gii's one and only sav- age act."

"There's no need to recite the whole of recent history, now, is there?"

Mr. Matsuo gently chided her.

Asa-san readily turned to more practical matters. "That patchwork- colored area just in Iront of the camphors used to be a tangerine orchard," she said. "And do you see that prefab building off to one side? We haven't taken as good care of it as we should, so the branches all around are overgrown and you can only see the roof. I inherited that house, and your church asked to buy it from me. I've decided to accept their offer and have it fixed up so you all can use it. The monastery will have to be thoroughly cleaned, I'm sure, before it's livable. In the meanwhile you can live in that prefab building on the north shore."

"When she decides to support something, Asa-san doesn't fool around,"

Mr. Matsuo added, putting Ogi's thoughts into words.

Asa-san turned her face, the freckles standing out on her prominent cheekbones, toward the lake and directed a languid look at its surface. Her expression looked sad, but when she spoke her voice was full of conviction.

"I'm already old, having spent most of my life right here," she said, "and I've seen a lot of tragic but compelling things happen here in the Hollow- everything from the Base Movement to the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. After the church disappeared, though, the young workers in this area just seemed to shrivel up and die, and even a staunch supporter like Mr. Matsuo went back to his temple.

"I was worried that the local spirits might get too frustrated. That's what happened just before and after the Meiji Restoration, when the riots took place.

The local spirits here have a history of stirring things up. And just while I was thinking these things, look what happened-you all decided to take over the chapel and monastery! I feel revitalized now, and I'm hoping that before I pass away something exciting will happen, just like the old days! Admit it, Mr. Matsuo, you feel the same way, don't you? The other day I stopped by the Church of the Flaming Green Tree Farm, and things seem much livelier than before. You all don't know about the Farm yet, but Mr. Soda has been interested in it for quite some time. The wife of the church's founder, who helped build the chapel and planned the monasteries, is running it with a small number of friends."

The rain continued to strike the surface of the lake forcefully, sending up a thick material, neither mist nor fog, rising up toward the dam. The splashes from the raindrops at their feet grew higher.

"Let's go inside," Asa-san said. "It's silly of me to expect you to sympa- thize with my feelings regarding this land. Besides, Mr. Matsuo's trying to keep me from getting too worked up."

"As if I had the strength to do that," the chief priest demurred, but this time he went first, leading Ogi and Dancer into the grounds of the compound.

At the end of the dam there was a metal staircase skirting the end of a stone wall that, old though it was, had been put to good use. At the top of the stairs a cobblestone path ran straight to the east. On both sides were Western- style wooden structures that looked like school buildings. As it had appeared from the dam, the roof of the building on the forest side was just slightly taller than the one nearer the lake. Ogi and Dancer walked around the monastery, a fitting name at least from outward appearances, and peeked into the kitchen, the laundry room, and the storage rooms.

The lakeside corner of the east dorm, the part of the building fronting the courtyard that led to the chapel, was set up as an office, while its counter- part in the forest-side dorm was a detached wing with a high watchtower- like roof. Hesitantly yet persuasively, Asa-san suggested that Patron and those who helped him might live there. A passageway connected the dorms and the chapel, covering a concrete ditch down which a roiling swath of water flowed to the lake.

Looking down at the water, Asa-san said, "It's raining a lot today, but even when it isn't there's a spring on the forest side always flowing into the lake. If there's anybody in your church who's done some farming, they could grow something there, since there's so much water. Behind the building on the forest side there's a fairly substantial piece of land running east and west.

That's part of the building's grounds and part of your land."

With Asa-san leading the way, Ogi and Dancer went into the chapel.

The rainy sky and the half dome on the conical ceiling were bright, but only a dim light--like a collision of intersecting prisms-filtered into the rest of the building from the windows on the wall of the cylinder that were uncov- ered. There was enough light for them to look around the interior, however.

Muffled rain beat against the solid roof. In the faint light, over two hundred chairs lined up in a fan shape threw shadows on the floor, and at the focal point stood a solid-looking lectern. Mr. Matsuo, coming in later, appeared at the entrance.

"I turned on the electricity," he said to Asa-san. "Shall I turn on the lights or keep it as is?"

"Why don't you turn them on. We're transferring this over as a build- ing I've taken care of, rather than as a church, so there's no need for us to get all pious about it."

"I just thought it would be nice to look outside from the chapel without any lights on," Mr. Matsuo said disappointedly, and threw the main switch.

Once the bright lights were on, the cylindrical building looked just like a modern concert hall. The walls were as Mr. Soda had said, lustrous from a high-tech high-pressure paint job. In contrast, from a set height up to the ceiling, the walls turned decidedly rough, with porous soundproof- ing boards overlying the concrete. With everything brightly lit, the windows and entrance door seemed to match, though they had had an odd look ear- lier in the dimness.

"What a magnificent hall!" Dancer said in admiration. She'd been silent up till then. "There's a piano, too, and wonderful audio equipment."

"The control room is next to the entrance," Mr. Matsuo replied.

"The floor is solid too."

"Most people ask about the acoustics," Mr. Matsuo said happily. "But you're right. The floor is solidly built."

"She's a professional dancer, you see," Ogi interjected, and Asa-san, as you might expect someone from the country to do, gave Dancer a careful once-over.

"I'm hoping you'll make full use of all the chapel's facilities," she said, a more formal look on her face now. "Will Patron give his sermons here? The other church had its sermons here, but also concerts open to the public that everyone could enjoy. Though it seems ages ago… There hasn't been a single concert here in the last fifteen years. As I said before, once the Church of the Flaming Green Tree was gone, everyone seemed to shrink back into their shells. Which is another reason why I'm so happy that new people will be coming here."

The light inside hit some broad-leaf tree branches, blown by a gust of wind, scraping against the east windows. Mr. Matsuo half turned to check out the movement and took up from Asa-san, his tone changed from before.

"The Base Movement had us all excited as kids, and the Church of the Flaming Green Tree movement, too, inspired the entire valley. I was so wrapped up in it from day to day I had no time to consider how it all fit into the history of this region… Now that I look back on it, though, I can see Asa-san is right-it may very well have been on the same scale as the insur- rections in 1860 and 1871. Even people who weren't directly involved got swept up in it. And after things settled down everyone became indifferent to the church. If it hadn't been for the funding from your headquarters, the extension of the monastery and even the chapel itself would have gone to wrack and ruin. Despite Asa-san's Herculean efforts, it's beyond one person's strength to keep them all up.

"Asa-san, here's what I think. I understand how happy you are that new people will be using the buildings for their activities. But as of today our roles as managers of the chapel and the monastery are over. We need to accept the fact that the beliefs of the people who will be coming here are different from the other church. After everything's been handed over, I think it would be better if we take a step or two back. Of course, if you find yourself in sympa- thy with this new movement, that's a different story."

"I wasn't even a follower of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree,"

Asa-san said. "I just helped them from the outside. Have you forgotten that?

The reason I was attracted by what the young people were doing in the Hol- low was just what the architect who designed this chapel said: 'There's power in the place.' I believe there really is such a thing as the power of a place. People have used the expression power of the land down through the ages.

"Ever since I was little, whenever I climbed up to the Hollow I felt a strange power here. The Base Movement created its so-called Lovely Village here. It sank beneath the water, of course, when the man-made lake was built, and now, like an emblem, that huge cypress stands on the island.

"After that came the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. The church died out, but now, with people from the city moving here to start a new church, I feel power in the place all the more, a power that moves people to gather here. This happened in 1860, and even earlier-in the Middle Ages, in fact. Whether it was dormant or not, I don't know, but I'm happy that the power of the place is back. That's why I took care of these buildings for fifteen years-because I wanted to care for the power of the land in the Hol- low. And I want to make sure the young people who'll take over under- stand that."

Asa-san blushed, a severe look rising to her freckled face. She closed her mouth carefully, as if she were having problems with her teeth. The chapel was again filled with the gentle yet weighty sound of the rain and wind. Ogi was impressed, and Dancer, her mouth open, pink tongue visible, looked lost in thought.

"When the church disbanded I was the one who delivered the sermon here, but I remember you gave a lovely sermon yourself on the occasion of the chapel and the monastery's being handed over." Mr. Matsuo didn't speak with his earlier easy familiarity; his tone now was more respectful.

3

Led by this middle-aged woman who seemed to glide as she walked, Ogi and Dancer followed along a narrow path overgrown with bushes that kept snagging their umbrellas, finally arriving at a lone house on the north slope. The house looked to have just been cleaned that morning. They didn't need to take towels out of the Boston bags they'd brought by car to dry their wet heads and shoulders, since freshly laundered towels awaited them in the laundry area.

For a prefab building the house was well built and was outfitted in nicely coordinated gray and light brown furniture and carpeting. Dancer took the room on the west side, with a bed and desk. Ogi was given the living room, which was across from a short corridor and had a small attached kitchen. Asa- san explained to them about the chaise longue Ogi decided to use for a bed, built in the woodworking shop of the former church, a wooden-framed af- fair carved with flowers and birds and covered with a cloth mat. No doubt urged on by Asa-san, Mr. Matsuo had gone out of his way on the trip up to the Hollow to stop by a small market so they could pick up enough food for dinner and the next morning's breakfast.

When the two of them were alone and had finished unpacking, Dancer invited Ogi into her room. She'd opened the shutter and curtain facing the lake, had half opened the window to let in some fresh air, and was sitting on top of the covers on her bed. This bed, set out from the western corner beside the window, apparently had also been designed for the owner of the house by the church's woodworking shop. It too was built in European folk style, a little too short to be an adult's bed, angled so one was sitting up slightly in bed. Dancer rested her elbows on the flat frame of the bed. She motioned to Ogi, and he crossed to the desk on the north side of the room and pulled over the chair to sit beside her.

The surface of the lake had turned a muddy brown in the rain. Right before them lay the island, the giant cypress rising from a small meadow like some gigantic bonsai plant lashed by rain, the cloud of fog covering its upper branches having descended closer to the ground than when they'd last looked upon it. The low fog hanging over the surface of the lake had crept up the slope on the east bank, where a stand of mountain cherry trees was surrounded by broad-leafed trees, and advanced up the north slope as well. The Hollow was wrapped in silence, but every detail, along with the sound of the rain and wind, seemed in motion. The wind fluttering the branches and leaves of the giant cypress sounded almost like an entire small forest. This sound filtered in the crack of the window, along with cold-damp air. It was only four in the afternoon, but already traces of a deepening twilight had begun to fill the Hollow, itself like the bottom of a pot.

"When a huge tree like that burned up, it must have been scarier than if a house was on fire, even if no one perished in the flames," Dancer said, as if she'd been silently mulling over Asa-san's words.

Seen from the north side of the lake, the giant cypress looked like a small bush that had been hit with a flamethrower, the surface of its trunk up to ten or twelve feet completely carbonized, just thick branches like black tusks remaining, with a wet cluster of small green branches sticking out around them. Though Ogi couldn't really picture the tree burning, just looking at the clash between the inky black and dark green made his chest tighten.

"I don't think this was a happy place for someone to live. Do you sup- pose the former diplomat who lived here died in this bed?"

Dancer's face was ashen as she said this. She looked sleepy. Ogi stood up and reached past her shoulder to shut the window. The outline of the chapel to the southeast was vague in the rain, and a darker gray than when seen up close, the whole structure looming up against the backdrop of the foggy forest.

"I know Patron's decided to build a new church here," she said, "but I have no idea what he actually plans to do. You have some idea, though, don't you?"

"I know about as much as you do," Ogi said.

"You're in charge of sorting out all the information coming from the headquarters."

"But I'm not bound to Patron through faith, remember."

"Professor Kizu says the same thing," Dancer said. "But both of you are very important people to him."

"And so are you-for a lot longer time than me."

"Compared to Dr. Koga's group, though, I'm practically a newcomer. I didn't come to be with Patron originally out of any faith. You knew that, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Ogi exclaimed, in surprise, ever the innocent youth. "I've never heard that!"

"I suppose only Guide knew the truth. I did tell Professor Kizu and Ikuo about it… but I can say it again…"

As one condition of being allowed to live on her own when she went to Tokyo to study modern dance, Dancer's father made her drop by to see an old friend of his who was to be her guarantor, and then to visit him occasion- ally whenever she needed advice. This friend was a classmate of her father's when they were in the science department at the university, and soon after she arrived in Tokyo, Dancer went to see him. The person turned out to be Guide, who was living in seclusion with Patron after the Somersault.

Dancer had a hard time at first figuring out what sort of person Guide was, but he not only took her under his wing as guarantor and mentor but helped her find a place to live in Tokyo and even guaranteed a small income, having her do odd jobs in the office in their residence in Seijo. They had a woman who made their meals and did other tasks, but she quit after half a year and Dancer took on the job of running the household. Her dance les- sons were just three afternoons a week in Shimokitazawa, so she had no trouble coping with both her studies and her work. After she graduated from her dance program she couldn't find a job in her field, so while she prepared for her own private performances she worked as Patron and Guide's personal secretary. In the beginning, at least, the office work hadn't kept her too busy.

"You started living in that house even though you didn't know the two of them that well?" Ogi asked. "Pretty courageous of you."

"I trusted Guide, since he was my father's friend. I didn't know the first thing about living in Tokyo, but I felt as long as I followed Guide's instructions I'd have nothing to worry about… They hadn't yet built the annex, so the three of us lived in the main house. I stayed in the room by the front entrance that you used for a while. I could lock the door, and there was a window opening to the outside, so I figured if need be I could make a quick getaway."

"You really were on your guard, weren't you?" Ogi commented.

"I wasn't afraid or anything. In addition to the dance club, in high school I was a sprinter and middle-distance runner. Even now I'm a decent runner."

"Don't worry, I'm not about to assault you here," Ogi said, naively offended.

"At first I thought that Guide must be Patron's parole officer, keeping an eye on him. There was something about Patron that just wasn't right. The first time I saw him, he reminded me of freshly unearthed beetle larva. He had skin like yellow paper stretched over soft-looking flesh, his movements were slow and lethargic, and he spoke in a small voice in a kind of disjointed way. It felt like Guide was raising some weird creature, and I was his assis- tant keeper.

"Before long I found out that Patron and Guide were former leaders of a religious organization who'd done a Somersault. In magazines they have those features-right?-like WHERE ARE THEY NOW? stories. A freelance reporter writ- ing one of those came to our place but Guide, if not Patron, saw him coming and refused to open the door, so he ambushed me when I went out shopping.

The reporter hardly let me get a word in edgewise, with all his questions. I just remember, out of a childish sense of justice, believing it was wrong of the founder and his top executive to have abandoned their followers.

"I worried a lot about what they'd done, and late one night I went to Guide to ask him about it. I think I was afraid to ask Patron directly. I was still young and kind of unstable, emotionally. Guide fdled me in. I'm sure he's told you things about Patron too, and as you know he doesn't talk about something until he's come to a conclusion about it himself. Talking to an ig- norant young thing like me was like pruning off all the branches, laying bare the trunk. Guide told me that Patron has mystical experiences… in other words, he journeys to the other side, talks directly with God or else has a vision from God, and then returns.

'"And I try to put these visions into intelligible language,' he said, 'not an easy job. Our reports regarding these mystical experiences have become our church's gospel. It's been through this process that we've constructed our faith.

'"The church movement that developed in this way gradually started to look outward, toward the world outside, and when this became a major component of what we were, Patron began to have doubts about whether our gospel was really giving people a true picture of God's visions. What's more, at this point some of the young people in the church began preparing to take action, and we had to stop them. It became necessary for us to publicly announce, in as dramatic a fashion as possible, that our gospel was wrong.

That is when we performed our Somersault. Using TV to announce it proved a great success. Through the Somersault, our church and the beliefs of our followers became a national laughingstock. All those who viewed the broad- cast must have had a good laugh. Patron and I survived, living on as we had, not without some pain. I'm sure you've sensed this?'

"Guide opened his heart to me when he told me this," Dancer concluded.

"I decided, no matter what, I wanted to follow Patron, and for the first time I realized I was starting to believe in him."

4

When Ogi woke up in the middle of the night, the first thought that came to him was the naive notion that hell must be as pitch black as this. An utterly gentle, quiet hell. Not completely without sound, though, for the lake and the hills were still enveloped in rain, but it was weaker than before. At first Ogi thought his bed was narrow, but when he stretched out it supported his back nicely and made him feel secure. As he lay on this wooden box and listened to the rain, it was as if the rain had cut off all his surroundings and was slicing through his body and into an abyss below his bed.

There must have been some reason why he woke up in the middle of the night, but he couldn't figure out what it was or get back to sleep. He recalled an experience similar to Dancer's that he had soon after meeting Patron and Guide.

When Ogi first started visiting Patron's head office as part of his work with the foundation, Dancer had already been working for them for three years. Even then, Patron had impressed him as being quite extraordinary.

At first Patron didn't talk directly to Ogi, so it fell to Guide to explain religious matters to him whenever he had questions. Ogi's questions weren't ones he'd been musing over for a long time, just things he burst out with. Later he found it strange that he'd even said such things. And even stranger was the way Guide answered his questions so painstakingly. At any rate, their talks were less dialogues than lectures.

They began like this. One day Guide appeared in the main house car- rying two LP records, explaining that the new sound system in the annex only handled CDs. Dancer had gone out with Patron to the barbershop, and Ogi was to watch things at home while they were away. Guide listened to his two records, one after another, both performances of the same Mozart sym- phony--number 40 with Bruno Walter conducting-in one case the Berlin Philharmonic, the other the Columbia Symphony Orchestra. Ogi asked him if the two performances were very different, to which Guide replied in a rather curt way that they were both recordings of Walter in his final years and of course they weren't the same, but you couldn't say they were all that differ- ent, either.

Ogi suddenly felt like asking a question that had popped into his mind many times after he'd begun his regular visits to Patron's office. Guide was sitting silently at a right angle to him, and Ogi was distinctly uncomfortable at his sitting there right in front of him. He may well have been influenced by hearing the subtle shades of difference in the two versions of the Mozart symphony by the same conductor, though he couldn't exactly put into words how this affected him.

"In your faith," he finally managed to ask, "what is salvation?"

Guide's response was no longer abrupt; he weighed each word carefully.

"When I'm asked whether I have a clear notion of salvation, I can't say that I do. Some days I feel the need for salvation very strongly, only to find that the next day I'm not so worked up about it. It's as if the weight of my heart seeking salvation makes me sink to the bottom of a tank of water. And then I rise again to break the surface. When this happens, I think that yester- day my desire for salvation was such that my mind and body were wrenched by it, yet here I am today, so calm. Doesn't this sense of calm, though, arise from the knowledge that my strong conviction that I will reach salvation is proof that indeed I will?

"I suffer sometimes, writhing in pain with the need for salvation. And because of this, I don't want to try to reach some rushed, clumsy, stillborn version. I just believe that I'm on the road to salvation and carry on from there."

"What does it feel like, to need salvation so much that you're in agony?"

Ogi asked.

Guide lifted his head and gazed at Ogi, the look in his eyes half serious, half amused. His expression oozed sincerity. What he was about to say spoke to the core of his being, and Ogi could see in him the selfless, caring teacher of old.

"This is just based on my experience," Guide began, letting his head hang again. "There comes a time in a person's life when he feels the unity of his self disintegrate and realizes he can't go on living this way. You start life as an organism that knows nothing, and when you reach a certain age (for me, it was when I was past thirty), the glue that holds you together comes undone and you have no clue how to put yourself back together. And before long you die like this, broken in bits, and that's the end of you. It's no differ- ent from a bug's life, I thought, and I suffered knowing this. Now when I think of it, though, comparing myself to a bug was bit arrogant on my part.

"You find yourself seeking salvation, and though this desire isn't always right there on the surface it never dies out and remains deep down inside you.

Just when I was feeling this way, another crisis occurred in my life and I hap- pened to run across Patron. When I began working with him later on, though it didn't take me to salvation, I did find the agony of feeling my mind and body being dismembered was, to a certain extent, alleviated.

"As time passed, I became a little independent of Patron and formed my own sect within the church. This became the reason he and I were driven to the point of doing the Somersault. Now it's just the two of us. But if you ask whether meeting Patron and having gone through hardships with him has made me reach salvation, the answer is no, it did not.

"Here you need to understand that in some basic sense Patron, too, is split in two. At one extreme there's the Patron who has mystical experiences.

Before the Somersault I helped him relate the visions he had as part of this. I clung to both of these extremes in turn.

"He'd go over to the other side, and make a connection with God quite smoothly, but those mystical experiences were, for Patron, such a trial that it was painful to be beside him and see how much it took out of him. My role was to transmit the experiences he described in that condition, and I became his closest companion.

"Once he overcame his exhaustion, though, he'd begin to consider God on his own. This was the other extreme-the fact that he didn't think of God in personified terms-which again led to suffering. I said to him, 'But you've come face-to-face with God, haven't you? You go over to the other side, and you receive your visions from something that can only be called God. Never once as I've worked as your translator have I doubted that.' But Patron was unable to agree with my words of encouragement.

"Patron enters a deep trance where he's swept away to the other side and, through this experience that's completely out of his hands, he's with God. But once he returns to this side and his mind and spirit are back under his control and he regains his identity, he insists that the personified God he'd pictured all these years is not the way things really are. And I think he suffers mightily because of it.

"Before long Patron began to think the following ideas, which formed his basic teachings before the Somersault. 'God is in the world. If that weren't true,' he explained, 'the whole world would be as scattered and pointless as the pain you feel tells you it is. Imagine another Earth existing on the outer reaches of the solar system,' he said, 'or maybe beyond the Milky Way. A world where God does not exist. Everything on that planet is in pieces, so much so that even if human beings appeared and evolved, they wouldn't be able to maintain their civilization for many centuries. Human beings would be scat- tered and die out, and the world would be bereft of people. Whether this is a kind of wilderness-as-hell or a paradise for creatures other than man, I don't know… '"On our planet, mankind hasn't self-destructed but somehow contin- ues to cling precariously to life. Somehow or other order is maintained, and it's hard to deny that this is because of God's presence. Millions of people- Jews, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists-have personified this God, but I don't see God this way. Though I do want to construct a theory about this God who most definitely does exist.' This is what Patron said.

'"Wide awake on this side,' Patron continued, 'I want to find out exactly what it is I confront when I go over to the other side. Once I get a clear picture of this, the world shouldn't be in pieces for me anymore. Since this convic- tion that the world is not in pieces is something I've created on this side, with my eyes open, I can feel relieved about it. Once I can grasp that sense of relief, my awakened spirit can put in proper perspective the God I see in my vi- sions-and this should lead to a deep and profound sense of spiritual peace I can experience in both worlds. But if I die before I can attain that peace, then I'll be torn between the two worlds and my disintegrated body and soul will flutter down into the abyss.'

"Patron was so open to me, I believed everything he said. And I was certain that someday, through this man who himself would be saved, I would reach salvation too. But I also considered at times what it would be like if I didn't reach salvation through him, and intimations of that fright- ening thought made me shudder. Patron seemed to struggle with the idea of the need for salvation in an incomparably deeper way than I ever did. One thing I was sure of, though, was this: Apart from his intercession, I could never be saved."

As these memories of what Guide had told him came back in snatches, Ogi once again had a sense of what had woken him up. Ah, he thought, this is what I felt earlier. He opened his eyes to the dark purplish gloom and turned on the hard flat bed to face the man-made lake.

Later on, when he reviewed the order of events in his mind, he was cer- tain this is how it happened, but soon after he turned in the direction of what he sensed, in a sky that was so jet black he hadn't closed the curtains before he went to bed, far off in the still-falling rain, he saw it happen. A large light lemon-yellow disc floated up, at the top of which were five shining hemi- spheres. The lower part was a giant black upright pillar in which were three shining rectangular doors. It was as if a UFO had flown though the vast dark- ness and suddenly come to a halt.

Ahí Ogi heard a voice call out, something halfway between a sigh and a shriek.

The cry came from Dancer's room… so this wasn't just some illusion he alone was seeing! Ogi looked hard into the gloom and saw the glowing saucer and the pillar with its bright doors open soon shut in the rocklike darkness.

I believe God is in this world too, Ogi thought, half asleep, but not a personified God who has the facial features of any particular race-a God instead who would appear like this structure, built of light and darkness. Ogi knew, though, that in the morning he wouldn't be able to regain this total understanding he now had, and that he wouldn't speak of it to Dancer. And certainly not to Patron.

1

After it grew light out and Ogi had awakened again, he lay still in his wooden box of a bed, waiting for time to pass. The night before, he and Dancer had talked until late and had made do with just a light dinner of ham and let- tuce sandwiches. They'd found the sandwiches at a local market, and though the place didn't seem to have many customers Dancer declared the ham to be fantastic and showed a great deal of interest in the people who produced it lo- cally. That was all they ate, washed down by some milk, so now, in the morn- ing, Ogi didn't feel any special need to use the toilet. He also hesitated to use the bathroom before Dancer had a chance to.

Ogi gazed up from his bed at the foliage of the stand of Japanese oaks that cut off his view of the broad sky. From the window on the lake side, there were overly luxuriant pomegranates and camellias bursting with leaves as far as the eye could see. The trees were covered with young leaves, bright green against the cloudless sky; only the places where the leaves overlapped were dark green, like a multilayered watercolor. A childhood memory came to him-from a school outing, perhaps, he couldn't recall exactly-of lying down like this and gazing up at tree branches from this angle.

Soon the whole area was filled with a cloud of soft fist-sized little lumps descending from the sky and letting out high-pitched screeches: a flock of wild birds. Two or three of the birds, like puffy little white balls, hung upside down on the tips of the slender branches of the Japanese oaks. Before long, in search of bugs to eat, the flock flew off to another corner of the slope, and a profound silence returned.

After a while, the same shout he'd heard last night came from the next room. Ogi sat up in bed, ready to meet the intruder. Dancer came in. She had on green pajamas, and her mouth was open wider than usual.

"There's fresh blood! Just below the window!" Dancer said to Ogi reproachfully.

Ogi had slept in his underwear. He wrapped the light bedcover around his waist before going over to the window and shoving open the heavy single pane. And as he looked out, he too was taken aback. From the western edge of the house a pellucid stream seemed to meander over the grass and flow into the lake. From the stone apron where the stream turned, a red belt seeped upward toward them. Ogi took a breath and, after realizing what he was see- ing, said, "They're lake crabs that've floated up because of all the rain last night."

Dancer looked back at him with a look of disgust, then took her turn looking out the window.

"They're pretty small crabs, and so many of them. They're not even boiled, yet look how red they are. Anyone would think it's blood flowing."

Her slender taut calves emerged from under her pajama bottoms. Her whole body, from her thighs, butt, and waist-trained through her dancing- to her straight shoulders and thin neck, was a strange mix of firmness and fragility.

"You spent your childhood in Tokyo," Ogi said, "and earlier in down- town Asahikawa, right? I imagine you've never seen crabs float up like this before."

"So you know all about the flora and fauna in Hokkaido. But do you know the names of the birds that were just here? The Japanese great tit."

Standing beside the window, Dancer turned toward Ogi, seated on his box bed, the color quickly returning to her face.

"I agree with Asa-san that this is a special place," she said, trying to regain the upper hand. "I guess I jumped to conclusions. I find it amazing how the abandoned followers of Patron and Guide, while the two of them were in hell, laid the groundwork right here, in this land. You know something? In the middle of the night, I saw a sign that the land here accepts our church!"

Ogi recalled what he'd seen the night before. But he'd also been there when Dancer had been handed the complete set of keys to the chapel. It was hard to imagine that someone else had gotten into the chapel and turned on the lights in the middle of the night.

Leaving Ogi to his thoughts, Dancer disappeared toward the bathroom near the entrance, her pajamas swishing like a dance costume.

As they ate a repeat of last night's supper, they heard a new disturbance from the far shore. Dancer was sitting at the dining table diagonally across from Ogi, her back to the east as they ate, and they both turned to look at the glistening trees and the building, newly washed in the rain. In the forest be- hind the chapel, people hidden by the stand of trees were rushing by. In the wind blowing up from the south there was the sound of feet, a line of people tutting through the forest.

"Lumberjacks, maybe?" she asked. "Heading toward jobs in the woods?"

"If that's what it is, it'd just be a couple of them. And wouldn't they use animal trails to go up the hill?"

"People hunting wild boars?"

"It sounds too orderly, like a troop of Boy Scouts out on a hike."

"I thought this was a quiet place, but I guess not."

"But at least we're not being surrounded by people with placards op- posing the arrival of the 'fanatics,'" Ogi said.

Dancer said she wanted to go over that morning to see if the cottage Asa-san had suggested for Patron to use was suitable. Before she went down along the narrow path toward the dam she went out to look at the crabs close up, only to report back to Ogi that they must have slipped into new holes that had opened up in the soil because they'd disappeared. Her shoes were muddy, and in one hand she held a newly emerged brown cicada on a butterbur leaf.

One of the cicada's forelegs was missing its first joint, and as it tried to clam- ber up the higher edge of the butterbur leaf it tumbled down in a comical way.

"I imagine it must have been pretty surprised after spending a thousand days tucked away under the soil to emerge and find it doesn't have enough legs to cling to the trees. Would you choose a branch where its cry can be heard easily and put it there? The reason they cry is in order to mate, right?"

Ogi took the cicada, leaf and all, and placed the poor little creature on the branch of an oak that faced the lake, the leaves heavy after the rain.

When they stood at the entrance to the house set aside for Patron, an entrance made up of round stones held together with cement, they remem- bered they had left all the keys for the other buildings on top of the lectern in the chapel. Dancer went back to retrieve them.

For the five minutes she was gone, the sound of the water coursing down the channel from the forest into the lake grew noticeably louder. Worried about Dancer, Ogi peeked in from the entrance of the chapel carved into the wall. In front of the space between the lined-up chairs and the far wall, Dancer was down on her knees, leaning against the lectern. Ogi removed his shoes, went inside, and found her gazing up at him like some young girl who'd been beaten as she pointed in front of her. On the floor lay a small unblemished little skull facing in their direction. Thigh bones, ribs, and other large bones were laid out to form a complete skeleton, the finger bones and other smaller bones pushed over to one side. Next to this were fragments of bones, like small branches, laid out to spell YOUNG FIREFLIES.

Dancer's shoulders shuddered slightly, and in a tearful voice she said, "I thought that was a sign, but all it was was them stealing the keys to this place and doing this. In the morning we weren't likely to come over here, so they grew impatient and kicked up a racket. I can't believe how cunning these people are who don't want Patron's church here."

2

After Ogi made a call from the office beside the chapel, Asa-san got in touch with Mr. Matsuo, the head priest, and they both rushed over. They didn't think the bones had anything to do with a crime, but they didn't dis- turb them until finally Asa-san told Mr. Matsuo to gather them all up in a cardboard box. Ogi returned to the office where he'd made the phone call, and Asa-san told them about the YOUNG FIREFLIES.

"That's a name found in legends from the Old Town, the section apart from Maki Town. The name and practice died out long ago, but when one of the elderly people in the main house of my family passed away, they re- vived the practice at his funeral because he put great stock in the old customs.

I think I have a good idea where those bones came from.

"I'm sure you got this impression yesterday when you looked up from the road along the riverbed, but the land around here is shaped like the in- side of an urn. Young Fireflies refers to a custom where the young people ot the town light torches and climb up to the top of the forest at night. The young people here just liked the name, apart from the ceremony associated with it, and gave it to their young men's association.

"Children are basically very conservative, you know. Your moving in here marks a change in the status quo, so they're against it. I'd heard rumors that they were eager to do something to express their opposition. If this is what they came up with, I'd have to say it's pretty scurrilous. Scurrilous is the word old people use here when something's vulgar… "Since it's come to this, I'll have my husband talk with the junior high principal.

"Be that as it may, I was in charge of the keys for this building. I thought if I let them make spare keys for the chapel, they might use it for their junior high chorus practice. But they've repaid good with evil, you could say. It's all quite scurrilous, and I'm ashamed and truly sorry you had to be upset this way."

The next day, Patron, accompanied by Ms. Tachibana and Morio, arrived at the Matsuyama airport. Twenty or so former radical-faction members joined them there, having driven down from Tokyo in a caravan of sedans and a minivan. After linking up with Kizu, Ikuo, Dr. Koga, and Mr. Hanawa, who'd arrived at Matsuyama Station on the Yosan Line, the entire group arrived at the Hollow in force.

Apart from Dancer and Ogi, this was the first contingent of the new church to arrive in the area, and a few local people waited along the road by the riverbed to watch their arrival. In the lead car Morio sat next to Patron in the backseat, dressed quite stylishly in a long midnight-blue overcoat, gray chinos, and lightly tinted metal-frame glasses. Seeing him sitting there gaz- ing up with his splendid forehead and strongly etched nose, someone reported later to Asa-san that he was sure Morio must be the founder of the church.

Having set up his residence in the Hollow, Patron decided to meet within the week with the widow of the founder of the defunct church who had trans- ferred the chapel to them. With so many new people coming from the out- side to live in the area, the question of securing enough food for all of them had become a pressing matter, and as one practical step toward solving this, Asa-san introduced the widow, Satchan, the owner of the Farm, to Patron.

Asa-san had been hoping that Patron would talk to Mr. Matsuo, her- self, and others who had been connected with the Church of the Flaming Green Tree about the new church he planned to start here. The people of Maki Town, too, had expressed the same hope, and now that the church had actu- ally begun moving in, they again proposed such a meeting to Asa-san, who was acting as intermediary between the church and the town government.

One practical issue soon arose. The group in Maki Town opposing Patron had already published a broadside revealing that the former radical faction would be participating in Patron's restarted religious movement and that one of the leaders of this faction, Mr. Hanawa, would be living here with his colleagues to help Dr. Koga. What's more-and this was the critical point- the town would be hiring Dr. Koga to run the clinic in the Old Town. As before, objections sprang up among the town leaders that the former radical faction, the one the newspapers had accused of the death of Guide, was going to be moving into the Hollow.

These issues would normally have been discussed by the mayor and Patron, but Patron was asked beforehand to talk in an informal town hall meeting with local citizens.

Asa-san, who had already convinced Ogi that she was a person who held considerable sway locally, as well as someone who didn't beat around the bush when it came to formulating plans, proposed that Patron first meet with Satchan, and Patron agreed. Dancer took advantage of this opportunity to ask Ogi to seek a more detailed explanation than they'd heard before as to how the former radical faction was to be dealt with.

What worried Ogi most was that the widow of the founder of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree might not like it if internal affairs of the church were discussed with local people-especially in the chapel. But Satchan agreed to attend, as long as Asa-san and Mr. Matsuo were also there, and for the first time in a long while entered the chapel that her church had once owned. Town officials had also wanted to attend, but Asa-san had been able to limit their attendance to just a few of the more influential members.

"How do you feel about the religion you've created, leading people to salvation- and about your own salvation?" Satchan asked, to start off the meeting.

"Well," replied Patron, recoiling somewhat, "didn't you and your late husband also found a church?"

"Satchan merely wants to ask an honest question of someone who is involved in a similar movement-and in the same place, no less," Asa-san explained encouragingly.

"I don't feel so much that I'm continuing some teachings of the founder of our church," Satchan explained in a softer tone. "I spend more time con- sidering how my husband felt about things himself, as a flesh-and-blood human being. I believe he tried to lead his followers to salvation, but when I remember how he died I wonder whether he cared about his own salvation at all. I've been pondering this for quite some time."

Patron clearly relaxed when he heard this. He also seemed to show in- terest in this earnest individualistic woman, well into her middle years.

"Before I did the now-infamous Somersault," Patron said, "when I was quite involved in religious activities, I don't think I really seriously consid- ered my own salvation either. It was after I fell into hell that the question of my salvation became a pressing matter. When you lead a religious organiza- tion, you soon become terribly busy, rushing around like crazy all the time. I had no time to consider whether I was saved, or wasn't saved, or even whether I would reach salvation in the end or not. What I wanted most was to lead the suffering young people who came to us for salvation. I actually groped for ways to push them in that direction.

"What I know from my own experience-and this is the same both at the beginning of the church and when it was at its height-is that there was indeed a way for the suffering people who came to our church to find the salvation they sought. All of them were proceeding toward their own salva- tion. The greater their awareness that they were not yet saved, the greater their conviction that they were on the path to salvation, despite the difficulties they might encounter. In fact, it was the very awareness that they hadn't yet reached salvation that accelerated their faith.

"As I've thought about my own salvation, or my image of salvation in the ten years since the Somersault, my ideas have become simplified-boiled down to a single mathematical formula, if you will. When a person thinks about death or is actually facing death, if he's convinced that his life and death are fine the way they are, isn't he saved?

"In my new church, my followers should be able to say, when they think about death or are actually staring down death, Let's go! Hallelujah! is another way of putting it. The basic orientation of my movement is to lead people gently in that direction. In order to do that, though, one has to truly repent.

As long as one has a true awareness that the end of the world is near, this can be accomplished.

"The new church's religious movement I've been contemplating is that simple-that naive, even. What I want to convey to you is that in the ten years since the Somersault this is the kind of simplicity, naive, unadorned, and stripped of anything extraneous, that has occupied my mind."

"The Savior of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree, that's what we called my husband," Satchan said, "if the Savior were alive now, I think he might not see what you've said as so simple or naive. Quite frankly, he wasn't very educated when it came to religious ideas, yet he was possessed by spiri- tual matters and in that sense was an unfortunate person. He was still a sort of lackadaisical savior when his old enemies stoned him to death.

"He was called Savior like you were, but he wasn't the ultimate Savior.

He believed that until the advent of the ultimate Savior there would be count- less saviors, that when the final Savior appeared all other saviors, being linked with him, would-in the end-become real saviors. He gave a sermon on this, here in this chapel… "He recognized himself as a sort of lukewarm savior, one of those countless lackadaisical saviors… That's the sort of thinking he wanted to believe in. Fifteen years after his death, I've grown more sympathetic to that view.

"If I understand your remarks correctly, putting my own spin on them, since I believe my husband's one of the ones who will be tied with the real Savior, I know that even when I'm on the verge of death I'll feel saved. The details of my own personal history would surprise you, but I would like to second what you say, as far as my own life is concerned. Let's go! Though I have the feeling that when I'm actually on my deathbed and say that, there won't be anyone around to hear me."

"There is a God," Patron said, "a God who is the whole of nature, who encompasses everything, your spirit and body included. Even these ideas that have arisen from your unusual life were already included in the principles that God created tor the world."

From the moment that Satchan entered the chapel where Ogi and the others were waiting, and sat down in the row of chairs lined up beside the podium facing Patron, every church member was impressed. She was a beau- tiful woman, but something about her also gave the impression of a mild- featured man. She was also quite tall for a Japanese woman. Her curly hair, mixed with white, fell in a natural way on both sides of her prominent fore- head. Her face had not the slightest trace of fat. In the way she looked straight at Patron as she spoke to him, you could sense an independent tough-minded spirit but also a clear open-mindedness brought about by her experience.

"I came here because I wanted to meet the people who are taking over the building used by the Church of the Flaming Green Tree," Satchan went on, "and also because I feel responsible to the local people here for your activities. People in your group were involved in some major terrorist activi- ties, so the mayor and members of the town council asked us to find out what sort of group was moving in here. We do recognize, mind you, that your Somersault put a stop to the radical faction's plans.

"We had a group in our church, too, that began to make waves, and as we confronted this we began to steer the church back to the small gatherings with which it began. Right at that critical juncture we lost our leader, and our church fell apart. But your church is getting back on its feet, with this region as your stage. My main concern is that this radical faction might once again play a major role."

"I quite understand your concern," Patron said. "Our church started out much like yours, and until it reached a certain size it was basically just a prayer group. There was another person who made this group with me and helped me run it-Guide, the man whose terrible death I'm sure you've heard about.

His idea was to gather together young people who'd been specially trained in the sciences, and he created the Izu Research Center for them.

"While living there communally, these young people continued research in their special fields, and as they began reflecting on their own faith they started debating the entire direction the church was taking. In the end they came up with their own unique course of action, which could be summarized like this: Their faith tells them the end of the world is near, which allows them to repent and prepare themselves as righteous people. As the righteous, then, they call on all mankind to repent. But how exactly do you go about preach- ing repentance to the masses? The church was pretty vague on this point, and the young people needed a clear-cut model, so they began concentrating on a concrete direction their ideas could take. In the end they went past the point of no return.

"At the time I was at the Tokyo headquarters, my role that of spiritual leader for the ordinary followers in their walk of faith. Guide was in charge of keeping contact with the Izu Research Institute. Which isn't to say he was in charge of the movement that was starting there-he wasn't. The institute was self-governing.

"Guide would take the funding that the Tokyo headquarters had allotted to the institute and hand it over to their accountant. But he refused to exert any direct influence on the management of the institute. He was more like their sponsor. When things were pretty much all set up the way they wanted, he took me there to deliver a sermon, but I'm sure he never spoke to them on his own about faith. The self-governing board of the institute selected board members whose job it was to oversee everything-from all the various re- search projects to matters of faith.

"Guide wanted to make a research facility free of the archaic structures of universities, and by word of mouth he gathered together a group of re- searchers who felt stifled in their former institutions. Naturally, he also chose people who were already members of the church-people who'd graduated from college or graduate school and were already working, but suffered set- backs, either through illness or car accidents or the like. People who went through rehabilitation and then entered the church. One of those people was Dr. Koga, who'll be in charge of the clinic in the Old Town.

"Some of these people were hoping to use their research at the institute as a stepping-stone, a way to circumvent Japanese academia and obtain a position in an American or European university. If anything, Guide was happy with this sort of ambition. He often stayed over at the Izu Institute, and when he returned he couldn't stop telling me, despite my complete igno- rance of all these cuttingedge scientific fields, about how well these young researchers were progressing."

3

"The people at the institute," Patron continued, "were dyed-in-the-wool scientists. Also, as I've said, there were people who, in university, graduate school, or at work, had suffered various disappointments and frustrations. But thanks to the wonderful facilities, experimental lab apparatus, and the free system of research at the institute, these people once again came face-to-face with the crisis they thought they'd solved--a more fundamental crisis, one they began to see included spiritual questions.

"They also began to take a good hard look at the religious aspect of the church. Some of the members sent me a list of requests, which made me ap- preciate how tense the situation was there. The members who wanted to see me were ones I had personal memories of, who after renouncing the world had joined the church before being selected as members of the research insti- tute. And this is what they told me: "Our souls have been aroused, and we've drawn close to your religious ideas. Through Guide's good offices we've been selected for something that's almost too good to be true, to be able to live together with other church members and at the same time carry on our individual research.

"For some time we've been meeting after work, holding discussions about the happiness and peace that come from the visions of the other side you've provided. As you preached, our prayers were based not on some outside source but on our inner selves as a source of energy, and we began to hold joint prayer sessions, with prayers that welled up sponta- neously from within. Guide told us our prayer group was the best and most natural group in the whole church.

"With this prayer group as a foothold, one after another of the mem- bers of the research team who weren't church members came to faith.

As we met more often, we began to have doubts that our prayers would really reach the other side, just by continuing our lives as they were- supported by the church to conduct research, and praying as we did.

Through our prayers we stood ready, like a sprinter bent over at the start- ing line. Both body and spirit expectant, waiting with bated breath for the sound of the starting gun. But was this really enough?

"As we prayerfully await the starting signal, our bodies and minds tense, it's painful. That pain does not come from the feebleness of our prayers. We talked about it at our meeting, and one person said it's the pain of our thirsting souls, and surprisingly everyone said they felt the same way. Which brings us to our requests to you.

"Patron, you give us a vision of the end of the world, of the end time.

And you call for repentance. From the bottom of our hearts we feel this as we pray. You bring back words that are given to you directly on the other side, which Guide then helps convey to this side. Those words strike us deeply and urge us on to ever more devotion to prayer.

"So this is what we ask of you, Patron: What does God want us to do?

Tell us straight out. Why are we at the starting blocks? For what pur- pose are we training our bodies and our spirits? Use your trances to find out for us, we beg of you. Perhaps you have already seen this. Is this vi- sion so frightening you shrink away from it, not even revealing it to Guide, and claim that God has not yet spoken?

"We are waiting for you, Patron, to transmit the words of God. Prayer teaches us this-that the only thing we have to accomplish in this world is to receive these words of God and use them as our basis for action. We are scientists, which means that more than other people we can clearly hear the approaching steps of the end of the world. And we are zealously await- ing your words. Didn't you receive us into the church, and didn't Guide select us as members of the research institute because of this? Because we listen to these words? Are we really so fragile that we can't bear the bur- den of those terrible words? We beg of you, please accept our petition."

"When Guide brought this petition to me from Izu, it was still sealed.

My eyesight is bad, so when I opened it I had Guide read it aloud. When he finished reading it Guide averted his eyes with a noncommittal look, a look that bored into me nonetheless. It troubled me that Guide, who had created the research institute and who'd spoken of the trust he felt for these young people and how much he was looking forward to their future, would be so noncommittal when he transmitted this ardent petition. These young people were pressing me to come to a decision, yet Guide kept a cool distance from things, waiting for me to speak. It felt worse than being isolated and alone- it was like I'd been completely abandoned.

"Okay! I thought, coming to a decision. There wasn't any solid basis for my decision, just a voice deep inside me saying that now was not the time to let the chance slip by, that I had to take the leap if I didn't want to be lackadaisical for the rest of my life. And I followed this voice. I said this to Guide: 'Isn't the One who summons me each time to my trances waiting to hear from me about the appeals in this petition? Up till now I've never posed any questions on the other side about what our church should be doing, the reason being that, as the church grew, so did my sense of responsibility toward the lives of the members on this side. Also it was my personal re- sponsibility to follow the call that I hear on the other side, no matter how far beyond our ordinary logic it goes. Listening to that call made me start this religious movement in the first place. But with so many followers now, in order to lead the church I have to give priority to the logic of our world.

I have a responsibility to do that.

'"But one of the things I always awaken to on the other side is the fact that the logic of this world is meaningless. As the leader of the church-and as mediator between this side and the other-I have to carry out this role to the full, not letting the pipeline between the two sides clog up.

'"Next time I have a deep trance, though,' I told Guide, 'I'm going to grab this petition by the neck, drag it along with me, and ask that very question: What does God want us to do? No matter how terrible the reply is, I'm going to bring that vision back with me. And you'd better steel yourself to translate it. I won't be controlled by the logic of our world. The next time a sign is gouged out in my soul as a fresh wound in my trance, I'm not going to equivocate. That's got to be the only way out of the split I've suffered for so long.'

"Guide took me seriously, but there was still something opaque about his reactions. Blast it all! I thought. This is the first delusion I have to over- come through my own decision. As long as this delusion remains within me, my comrade who supports me in the faith will never be free. I have to over- come this for Guide's sake too, I told myself.

"And so I waited for a deep trance to take hold of me. At the time, I went into a trance about once a month. Once I started to wait, though, four weeks passed, then five, and finally eight weeks. Nothing. This brought home to me once more that the trances came to me from the other side, they weren't something I could initiate.

"I was frantic. Irritated that so much time had passed without a reply, the members of the research institute who'd written the petition said they wanted to send a representative to headquarters. Before that, Guide said he needed to talk with them and went off to Izu. That night I pretended that a major trance had taken hold of me. I managed such an enthusiastic perfor- mance that the person taking care of me reported to Guide that my trance this time was so deep and violent that afterward he was afraid I'd be weaker than I had ever been before. The next day Guide hurried back to be by my side. And as I always did, I began to speak, so that Guide would be able to translate the visions I had on the other side.

"At the time I didn't think about how I was deceiving Guide. I just thought I was having the same kind of trance I'd had for years, only now I'd been able to make it happen on my own. And actually I exhausted my spiri- tual strength doing that. I spent the time during my false trance thinking I was standing in front of the Almighty I faced whenever I went over to the other side, asking a question and listening carefully to the response. And I was convinced I could hear the answer.

"I'd always received messages from the other side, so I was all set to lis- ten. What I heard was a response I'd made up myself, but as I listened to it I didn't consider it different from my usual visions. Wasn't this the very first response from the other side that I'd consciously extracted? If the vision I re- ceived in this way ran counter to the will of the other side, I thought, surely I would be properly punished.

"If I'm transmitting as Your word my own vision that runs counter to Your will, I prayed, then kill me. Separate me from the pain of being torn apart and turn me into a handful of dust. I can't continue as the leader of over a thousand people in such a lackadaisical state. It's easy for You, isn't it, to make my weakened heart have an attack? I am creating Your vision with my own will, but I am doing it believing in You, heart and soul. Have pity on me! No matter how it may turn out, please give me Your power.

"As I prayed like this, I pretended to have a vision and mumbled some things, which Guide translated as this: "I am standing at a point where I can see the "oneness" overflowing from the Beginning. I'm seeing this together with the young Izu researchers. Once more the entire world is flowing back to that original 'Oneness.' Thinly of it as the oppo- site of the Big Bang. As the "implosion " of the whole world on this "oneness. " Help us with this infinitely huge, infinitely swift movement. God awaits a truly spon- taneous call, one in response to His own call. Your call has reached God, and God's answer has come back. Now is the time-the time for the battle of repentance at the end of the world.

"'If you fear you won't be able to hear God's answer, concentrate on your own question. Every single perception you have within yourselves is already within God. Our calls to God are already within Him, the way we receive His message, the way each of us reacts to it-they too are already within Him. Hallelujah!'

"Guide transmitted this to the Izu Research Institute as the answer that God gave me, and the expectant young people there abandoned their various projects and flung themselves into preparation for the end time. In this world where the unrepentant oppress the repentant, they arrayed themselves for the final battle."

4

"This is how the group of young people, later clubbed the radical fac- tion by the press, took over the leadership of the Izu Research Institute," Pa- tron continued. "Guide reported to me on their activities, but I never tried to alter their course or force them to slow down. If what the radical faction was doing was wrong, I imagined I would have another vision, like the ones I always had-a real vision-telling me to put a stop to them. But that never happened.

"So what kind of preparations did these young scientists and techni- cians make for the battle for repentance? They were generally divided into those working on physics and those working on chemistry. My vision en- couraged the ones on the physics side. The term implosion coincided with the concept of the manipulation of nuclear materials to create a chain reac- tion. Led by a specialist named Mr. Omuro, they turned their attention to building a device, capable of being transported by a small number of people, that would transform a nuclear power plant into a nuclear bomb. The chem- istry researchers were to give logistical backup. Of course, all of this was aborted by the Somersault.

"At this point I was busy with religious affairs in our Tokyo headquar- ters, while Guide spent all his time at the Izu Research Institute. He returned to our headquarters three times in two months. He made one trip on his own to get approval for a new research budget. They were gradually needing more and more funding for their activities. In other words, he came to withdraw some money from headquarters.

"The other times he came were to take care of me when I'd gone into a major trance and to work with me to put the vision I had into words. Through these trances the sense of mutual trust, the basic need we had for each other, was renewed. However, the days we spent together gradually produced an awkward atmosphere between us.

"Whenever he heard that I'd fallen into a trance, Guide would race back from the Izu Research Institute. Each time he'd bring the hopes and fears of his scientists with him: their burning desire to know when the order would come to take action, the hope that I would provide the vision that would make this clear. Each working at their own tasks, the physicists and the chemists were uneasy about the struggle that lay ahead.

"Once a certain amount of preparation is laid, it's hard to have to wait forever. They'd taken the first step and were fearful that the long arm of the law might reach out to seize them. Until their plan was put into action, they were anxious, too, about whether their faith would hold out. Guide reported to me that some of the female researchers had appealed to him about this.

"But when I was on the other side, I received no instructions. Guide pressed me, and when I was about to enter a trance I would pray to be given an order to give them, so they could take action. I wanted this so much, and I prayed as I went into a trance, and it was all quite painful and trying. In the end when I returned, completely spent, the message that Guide heard from me and reworked into ordinary language told them neither to take action nor to desist.

"After one of these deep trances, when I was exhausted and recovering in bed, Guide became terribly irritated and spoke to me more gruffly than he ever had before.

"Stop fabricating things, he told me, just because you say you can't get any orders from the other side. I'm your Prophet, you know-and also for those serious, outstanding young people who want repentance more than anything, I'm their Prophet as well!

"As I looked back at Guide, who was glaring at me as he sat in a low chair beside me, folding his long legs, I realized he'd seen through my phony vision, and I felt ashamed.

"Knowing full well that I was lying, Guide had still gone ahead and interpreted it as I wanted him to, transmitting it to the young people who'd sent me the petition. Not only that, he'd done everything in his power to aid the researchers who, encouraged by my words, had begun making concrete plans to put them into practice. He'd been so earnest about restructuring the research institute, doing all he could to accomplish this and passing along the questions the researchers had for me. And yet he knew I was lying! How did he know that?

"After all these years with me, had Guide lost confidence in the one who pointed toward the end of the world? And in desperation had he made a gamble? While fabricating a vision, I was trying to convince myself that as long as there was not a second vision that denied the first one, that meant it was con- firmed. Most likely Guide, my longtime spiritual companion, felt the same way.

"After having invited the young people to take action, and having done his utmost to aid their preparations, wasn't he afraid-just at the stage when they would be putting their plans into action-to admit that whatever they did from now on had nothing to do with the will of the other side? Weren't his misgivings the same exact things I was afraid of? The thought made me shudder.

"Events quickly moved toward the Somersault. I assume you saw the farce on television. Here I'll just touch on the how it came about and the plan we put together with the authorities.

"The idea for the Somersault was quite sudden. Already the relation- ship between Guide and me was strained. One evening he arrived unan- nounced. He stormed into my bedroom and yelled at me that the young people had decided to implement their own insurrection. They were going to occupy several nuclear power plants. This would mean not only their own deaths but the annihilation of the church. 'They have to be stoppedV Guide shouted. I don't have the power to do it, and neither do you, but we have to do something drastic!'

"I hesitated to hear the plan Guide had already formulated. I blamed him and asked him why the young people in the research institute decided to take action unilaterally. Guide said that since yesterday they'd been insisting they also could hear-all on their own-a voice from the other side.

"I was frantic. I'd fabricated a message to the young people to the effect that God was ordering them to start in a new direction. But hadn't this been God tricking me into an unconscious self-defensive maneuver because I didn't want to hear His actual frightening voice?

"And now, carrying things one step further, when both my conscious and unconscious were doing their utmost to reject this, wasn't I being tricked again by a different strategy-the young radical faction's own collective illu- sion-that made all resistance futile?

"Guide could see how shaken I was. He glared at me; he said, 'I won't let either you or the young people in Izu destroy our church. If I have to drag you around with a rope around your neck, I'm going to make sure you take responsibility for this! Those folks in Izu will learn their lesson!'

"As all of you saw on television, I had to do some things that were far more shameful than being dragged around with a rope around my neck. The ones who suffered even more directly because of the Somersault, though, were those members of the shock corps of the radical faction, especially those re- sponsible for the Threshold Crosser device. A hurried meeting was held between us and the police, the federal authorities, and executives of the power company. We decided that my Somersault announcement would avoid any mention of this device. Mr. Omuro, though taken into custody, not only avoided going to trial but vanished altogether. There are rumors he escaped to an American military base on Okinawa. Some say he was given a series of electroshock treatments and completely lost his memory. Others say they've seen him wandering among the homeless on the streets. Another rumor has it he was stabbed to death by the yakuza. This worried Guide most of all. This was the most base and cruel outcome that Guide feared would happen because of the Somersault.

"During that period I felt a great joy and at the same time a deep fear.

Because I was convinced that God existed, in a realm beyond my arbitrari- ness. Even if it was a useless bit of resistance, I wanted to betray and deny that God. I was resolved to do that."

1

Patron's talk was serving as an inaugural sermon for their new chapel.

Sitting nearby, Ogi could tell how deeply moved Ikuo was by what he heard, though he himself had a hard time following it all. At this point Dancer raised up her pale face and spoke.

"I'd like to hear from Ikuo too," she said. "You're a new member who had nothing to do with the church before the Somersault. But you'd been interested in Patron for a long time and got close to him very quickly."

"You'll have to take my background into consideration," Ikuo answered briefly, still under the spell of Patron's magnetism.

"Why don't you start there," Dancer said. "I don't fully understand the reasons why you were so attracted by Patron that you became an ardent mem- ber of the church almost immediately. I know you said you came to the office originally to see me, someone you'd come into contact with a long time ago who was now working for the founder of the church, but that's not the whole story. You knew quite a lot about the Somersault already, didn't you?"

Ikuo looked like he'd finally made up his mind to speak.

"It's true I was interested in Patron and Guide's Somersault," he began.

"I was interested, as well, in the fall of Aum Shinrikyo. When their headquar- ters at the foot of Mount Fuji was surrounded by the police, I was glued to the TV. It looked like a gunfight might erupt at any moment. I was on pins and needles, wondering whether Aum, with all those chemical weapons, was going to counterattack and start a real revolt. At the time there was another show on TV, a special retrospective on the Somersault. I remember seeing the actual broadcasts, though I was just a child then. Watching these old video- tapes they were showing as a kind of adjunct to the massive coverage of Aum made me interested in Patron and his church all over again.

"With Aum, of course, in the end nothing happened. Asahara, who should have given the order to attack, was arrested, discovered asleep next to a trunk full of money. I can't tell you how disappointed I was when I heard this!

"To tell the truth, when I saw Patron on TV, he looked insincere and aroused my antipathy. Guide, on the other hand, didn't say much and seemed more trustworthy.

"Patron explained in this singsong voice how the visions he'd had on the other side were all so much nonsense. 'The church's planned actions are just a joke,' he said. 'So I call on all members of the church throughout Japan to stop this farce!'

"What Guide said was a little different. He was asked whether the re- lationship between the two of them, Guide believing in Patron as the savior, Patron seeing him as the prophet, was also just a joke they'd come up with.

'It might very well be,' he said. 'I believe that the visions from the other side I've interpreted have, through our own mistakes, changed into something they shouldn't be. I hereby declare that all I've said till now is null and void. And I want each and every follower to accept this immediately.

"As for Patron, I thought that if a savior were to announce himself in this day and age he might very well be like this-a pitiful comic figure."

"I think your view of me applies before the Somersault too, Ikuo,"

Patron said. "Even after Guide forced me into the role of savior I didn't really have a strong sense of what it meant. At the time of the Somersault, I had to deny this idea completely, so this was probably the first time I ever really ex- amined the notion of myself as savior.

"Until I met Guide I was more of a mystical hermit. For a long time I had my trances but couldn't put my visions into words. And that's how things would have stayed if I hadn't met Guide. Not only would I have spent the rest of my life without calling on the world to repent, I might very well have died without ever noticing all those words stored up inside me. Even now all over this planet there must be lots of hermit mystics like that.

"But once this chubby little middle-aged man was told he was the sav- ior Guide was seeking, he was forcibly dragged out of his dark cave, redolent with his own odors. You're the savior I've been seeking, Guide told me, which may have been just a thought that occurred to him on the spur of the mo- ment. Once he voiced it, though, and once he added that he was my prophet, Guide really began to work actively on my behalf.

"We established a set relationship after this, that of speaker and listener.

I'd always treated my visions like a bout of fever, wanting only, after it was over, to escape from the aftereffects. But Guide took my random mutterings and returned them to me in the form of logically consistent statements. The words I'd mumbled, still dizzy from my trance, now came back to me, via Guide, in a very realistic outline. And reflected in the mirror of Guide's words I saw an image of myself bathed from head to foot in the light from the other side.

"That's how I came to think it was all right for me, the intermediary along with my prophet for these visions from the other side, to be called a sav- ior… Since the day I first thought that, Ikuo, I no longer had qualms about being called savior-real or fake."

Ikuo raised his massive head to look at Patron, and though his words were polite enough he spoke quite firmly.

"What I'd like to ask Patron is this: When you come back to this side, you speak about the visions you had. And Guide retells them. But in that process, aren't there some things that can't be expressed in language, certain things that get omitted in the process? When I still hadn't known you very long, Guide challenged me to ask you an important question. I think he wanted a young person to take over where he had unexpectedly been defeated.

"While Guide was raising you up he was afraid you'd run wild and be out of his control. Ten years ago, if you had enthusiastically supported the faction's plans, before Guide discarded his scientists he would first have had to figure out what to do with you."

Patron listened carefully to what Ikuo said and was silent for a while before he replied.

"One of Guide's goals in founding the research institute was to select young people who would stimulate me. But when the institute was complete, the young people all assembled, he felt he had to train them himself the way he wanted to, as a church elite. But he went too far.

"As a result, when the young people forged ahead on their own, he had to cut them off, coldly, without a moment's hesitation. That's what brought on the Somersault."

"Guide was a born teacher, I think," Dancer said. "When I first got to know him, he wasn't interpreting Patron's visions, but he did help bring Patron and us closer together through words we could all understand.

"Professor Kizu told me that people who are able to experience a rela- tionship with God directly are called mystics. And that people like Guide who can clearly expound what the mystic is trying to convey have a completely different type of gift.

"A weekly news magazine once ran a special edition titled BIOGRAPHIES OF DUBIOUS POSTWAR JAPANESE MESSIAHS. I was secretly reading the magazine in the office when all of a sudden Guide grabbed it away from me. 'In my night school classes,' he told me, 'I was quite adept at confiscating comic books the students were stealthily reading.'" Dancer grew teary at this, but soon recovered. "And after he looked at it he made me laugh when he said how surprised he was at the number of saviors there've been in Japan. And he asked me this: 'If Patron isn't the true savior, would that bother you?

'"Real saviors are few and far between,' Guide told me. 'For people who feel the need for a savior deeply, on a personal and societal level, isn't even a phony savior better than none? And who's to say if a savior is real or fake?

Though of course it's best for people who feel the need for a savior and fol- low him, repenting as we head toward the end of the world, if he turns out to be real.'

"I agreed with him," Dancer went on. "I think Guide educated me not to be some amateurish mystical type but someone who could serve as a con- duit to society at large. This was the exact opposite of the challenge he threw up for Ikuo."

"Guide was a true teacher, for Ikuo and for you," Patron responded. "I too was taught by him."

Dancer waited for Patron to continue, but since he didn't, she let out everything she'd been holding inside.

"I don't know if I really understand Guide's way of thinking," she said, "but you might recall, in one of the myths Socrates discusses, how there are people who are like spheres, before people are differentiated into male and female? Guide told me once that he and Patron used to be connected like that, their bodies and spirits with one big artery-like pipe running through them.

'Our hearts are one,' he said, 'pumping blood into that pipe.

'"For Patron,' Guide went on, 'the conversion of his visions into words is like synthesis or hormone production within a living organism. At that stage the materials or hormones aren't yet complete. Those flow into the pipe in my direction. And I return this to Patron,' Guide said, 'as something solid, as hormones without anything extraneous.' The relationship between Patron and Guide, then, was as seamless as a dream.

"When I heard this, I thought that though Patron and Guide had suf- fered a lot, if they continued to live quietly like this until they died these would be their happy golden years. Like an acolyte in a monastery, I was happy to serve them and I completely forgot about dancing."

Ikuo was irritated at Dancer's romantic way of speaking. "But even before the Somersault," he asked, "wasn't there an attempt to sever the pipe- line between Patron and Guide? I can understand the radical faction want- ing to be directly connected with Patron, without Guide as a go-between. They must have dreamed of becoming mystics themselves, having the same kind of trance visions that Patron did, and then realizing them in the real world."

Kizu spoke up. "Just as with Ikuo, I had nothing to do with the church at that time. I'm basing this on church documents I've read. But didn't the church teach that believers following Patron would also have trances?"

"You have to understand there are two aspects to trances," Dancer answered. "One aspect is as part of the daily prayers of the followers who've accepted Patron as their savior; the other came about when the radical fac- tion went off on their own and committed the mistakes they did. In a normal situation, where the church was healthy, Guide should have been able to keep the radical faction under control."

"So the radical faction short-circuited the process, lumping themselves and Patron together," Kizu said. "Guide felt he had to restore this circuit between himself and Patron, that he had to strengthen his control over their followers, right? So it was unavoidable that he cut off the radical faction-in other words, do the Somersault."

"It's a little strange to be speculating about these things with Dr. Koga and Mr. Hanawa here with us," Dancer said, "but I'd have to say I agree en- tirely. And in making sure that happened, wasn't Guide doing the right thing?

"The radical members who killed Guide were people who held a par- ticular grudge toward the Somersault. They're different from the members who've moved here with us. I hope the local people will appreciate the dis- tinction. The first group held Guide prisoner and roughed him up to the point where he died, so the whole thing had to be referred to the Tokyo DA's of- fice. It's unbelievable how cruel they were, pushing him to the point where the aneurysm in his brain burst.

"One thing's for sure," Dacner went on. "When he was being mistreated by them, Guide maintained his dignity to the very last. Toward the end of the tape recording you can sense he has resigned himself to being killed. He stood up to them. 'Why,' he asked, 'are you using professional equipment to record all this? Are you planning to provide the courts with proof of your crime? ' The radicals said, 'We're doing it so we can send it to Patron and make him suffer and die.' They loathed Patron too. They had a great deal of anger toward both men."

"But didn't Guide, who created the institute in the first place, have a pretty intimate relationship with them?" Kizu wondered. "They shelved that relationship and tried to connect directly with Patron. After the Somersault, though, the press claimed that Patron and Guide got some devilish thrill out of letting the radical faction climb to the top of the roof and then yanking away the ladder."

"That's completely wrong," Dancer insisted. "Guide translated Patron's visions back to him in understandable language, and then he transmitted them to the followers. That was Guide's role. Guide wanted to insert the reactions of this group of sensitive, intelligent young people into the pipeline between himself and Patron."

Kizu pressed on. "If anyone got a devilish thrill out of this, wasn't it those who tortured and killed Guide while recording the whole thing? But what was their goal? What possible significance was there in making Guide suffer, physically and emotionally, to the point where he died?"

"I don't think they acted without a purpose," Dancer said. "I think they were trying to be proactive, trying to figure out why the Somersault had to take place. Guide told me about some of those young radicals. What I got out of it was that these were young people who were trying to fill in what was missing in their own lives. They were searching for spiritual peace. They wanted the wisdom that would allow them to live in the trying times to come.

"They were bright and serious, which makes them all the more sad.

These lonely, suffering young people had, for the first time in their lives, cre- ated their very own community at the Izu Research Institute. But Patron and Guide just couldn't handle them. If the control of the church was turned over to the radical faction, the ship of the church, so to speak, would have rammed into an iceberg. So Patron and Guide scurried away to safer ground. You can't deny that, right?"

"You're pretty outspoken for a young woman, aren't you?" Kizu said regretfully.

Patron, who'd let it all slide by, spoke up. "But she's exactly right, " he said, standing up for Dancer. "We not only abandoned ship, we denied that the ship ever had any use to begin with-either back in the beginning or in the future. That's what the Somersault was all about."

3

When Dancer saw that his little pronouncement was over, she spoke again, before Kizu had a chance to comment.

"Apart from their special fields," she said, "Guide was the main teacher for those young people, showing them how to live a life of faith. As everyone admits, he was a born educator. The young people's group in Izu should have been Guide's masterpiece. I don't see it as a group of sadists. These were the best and brightest of the elite university system, people used to the seminar system of training, right? They weren't about to dig themselves holes in which to ponder things alone; they were best at getting together to study and debate as a group.

"Their last seminar-with the guest speaker being held against his wishes, a dangerous thing to do-revolved around learning what, ten years after the fact, the Somersault meant to Patron and Guide.

"If you listen to the tape, you'll hear that in the beginning they were divided into two groups. One group vehemently denied Patron, saying the church was totally meaningless. They were the ones who felt abandoned and wanted revenge. The other group insisted that Patron and Guide were vic- tims. TV had made them into laughingstocks all over Japan. Thanks to this, the underground shock troops didn't get a chance to leap into action.

"This second group viewed the Somersault as Patron's clear warning that the end of the world was near. Just as Jesus was crucified along with two criminals, letting oneself fall into the most wretched place possible meant the final stage had been reached, where the end time is announced.

'We should believe in the sullied and insulted Patron and Guide and await the Day of Wrath,' they said. 'If Guide, who suffered the worst pain in the most wretched of places, tells you to believe in him, all trials can be trans- formed into something positive.' That's the kind of appeal these people made.

"The two groups didn't just debate each other, they also talked about their individual experiences, the trying times they had had because of the Somersault-not just the obvious abandonment and loss of spiritual support but their need to take responsibility for the plans of the whole group, be in- vestigated by the authorities-all of this must have been horrible.

"In the face of this horror, Guide didn't try to make excuses or explain away his true intentions. As long as the questions were straightforward, he answered them concisely and sincerely. The only time he got emotional was when he heard they'd poisoned his Saint Bernard. 'Why did you have to do that?' he rebuked them. This brought on laughter from those who were de- taining him, from the first group, at least.

"Because of what they'd gone through, all the kidnappers demanded a complete explanation. I've listened to the tape many times and would sum up Guide's response as follows." At this point Dancer took out a paper she'd had ready and began to read.

'"Some people say that Patron and I did the Somersault in order to use the media to deceive the public. That's not true. We might have done something like that if the Somersault had been entirely our own arbitrary decision.

'"With a great deal of fanfare we confessed to the public that all our beliefs until then were a sham. The highlight of the whole Somersault was when Patron said that the written records of his visions-the account, for instance, of an anthropomorphic God-were completely laughable and our gospel was worse than some stupid Hollywood spectacular. But what this showed was that there is a faith that isn't mistaken. After the Somersault, Patron and I fell into the pit of hell. Our faith may have been in error, but this was an unmistakable sign that over the two of us and our errors towers a living God.

'"Right now Patron and I, believing in that sign, are crawling up out of hell. But the way you're acting now disqualifies you from being part of Patron's new movement. Ten years ago, like a crystal extracted from a solution, it was you, rather than our gospel, who substantiated our re- ligious movement's errors. Our book has been trampled on and disap- peared, yet still you haven't repented.'

"As Guide said this, the first group laughed in his face again. Laughing about the dog was bad enough, but this time it was even more cruel. At this point, according to what Dr. Koga told me, the only thing the second group felt it could do was get away, it being obvious that Guide was only going to be tormented further. I cried as I listened to this tape, knowing that all that was left for Guide was to be killed. Such a meaningless death. And just when he was climbing out of hell with Patron!"

Dancer turned her face toward the hemispherical light on the ceiling, her pink mouth open, and cried. Teardrops rolled down both sides of the slim bridge of her nose. Despite her tears, Ikuo zeroed in on her. "I'd say that Dancer's long tale has done what it set out to do. You've kept with the intentions of the town authorities who are accepting us into their midst, cried tears over Guide's death, all very natural as a response, making it hard for Patron to oppose this. Your goal is to have everyone arrive at a consensus to deny one party of the former radical faction-in order to accept Dr. Koga and his more 'sensible' colleagues. But is this fair? Is it right for Dancer's tears to make us agree that the former radical faction's burst of laughter was cruel and outrageous? Is this really appropriate for a new church with Patron at its center?

"According to Ogi, when he was listening to the tape with Dancer, she did indeed stop the tape and cry for a while after the second burst of laugh- ter. But Ogi said that after this she plugged in some headphones and listened to the rest of the tape by herself.

"I don't believe Dancer is just an emotional person, let alone a sentimen- tal one. This morning she called me over to talk with her. 'We've already de- cided the conditions under which the town would accept us,' she told me, 'yet you're trying to wreck it all. And even if you weren't, the antichurch movement is smoldering in the town,' she said, 'criticizing me and any plan to allow former radical-faction members who want to be accepted back into the fold.'

"Though we've only heard the church's side so far in our discussion today, we're seeing a consensus forming between the leaders of the church- apart from me-and the town. The reason you haven't heard from Dr. Koga today is that Dancer negotiated with him beforehand, as she did with me.

Unlike with me, however, with him she was successful.

"After the accident with Guide, I met with Dr. Koga, leader of the former radical faction, and we spoke after this from time to time. I promised to try to persuade Patron and the other staff members to allow as many as possible of the former young radicals to participate in the new church.

"With the Somersault, Patron and Guide had broken off their relation- ship with the church. Ten years later they returned from hell and wanted to start a new movement. Patron's first concept of the new movement was to include only people who had had nothing to do with the first church. Until he was kidnapped, that was Guide's idea as well. But that just shouldn't be done, in my opinion.

"The former radical faction may have been split over the meaning of the Somersault, but after they were forced out of the church by official and police pressure, they continued to keep their promises. They're also a group that has the power to actually get things moving, so I don't think it's very bright to exclude them when you're trying to start over.

"Of course I wish they'd never done something as awful as kill Guide.

They knew Patron had risen from hell and was starting a new movement, so in order to get a handle on what was going on, wasn't it only natural for them to want to speak to the person they had had the deepest relationship with- Guide? Dancer hinted that one part of the former radical faction was plan- ning from the very start to get revenge on him and had no thought of reconciling. But is that really true?

"If they were just after revenge, why did they wait ten years? And why target Guide instead of Patron, the one really responsible for the Somersault?

Didn't the cruel laughter we heard when Guide refused to let members of the former radical faction participate in Patron's new movement ring with the sound of their despair?

"I beg of you, Patron. Please give the people who killed Guide-who felt driven into a corner, full of despair, and who never intended to kill him- a chance to repent. Only one person can do that: you."

Ikuo stood up, walked over to Patron, and knelt before him. He spoke in a sorrowful, youthful voice.

"Patron, please. Tell me and those people what God says. No matter what it is, tell us what God really wants. I've talked with them, and I know they're hoping for the same thing I am."

Ogi watched as Patron reached out a hand, as if to lay it on Ikuo's head or shoulder, but halted in midair. In this noncommittal stance, Patron spoke to Ikuo.

"In order to do that, I first have to regain the power to hear God's voice.

And without Guide's help! Only if I'm able to do that will I be able to trans- mit anything of any consequence. At present all I can do is seek to have all the members of the former radical faction, the ones you were in touch with at the time of the memorial service, join our church here in its new home. And to have this communicated to them. I think Dr. Koga would agree with this."

Ikuo looked moved by Patron's words, but Dancer was indignant. Be- fore either of them could say anything, though, Kizu spoke up.

"Patron, among this group you're thinking of having join the movement are the people who held Guide prisoner and tortured him, the ones who made him collapse and die. The main two perpetrators are in custody, but the ones who surrounded them and Guide didn't lift a finger to stop it, did they? I find what Dancer says very convincing."

"I want even the two who are in jail to return to the church as soon as they're released," Patron said. "That's what I hope for. Isn't it precisely be- cause they're the ones who killed Guide that they must return to us?" Patron opened his dark eyes wide, looking even more like a bird as he fixed them on Kizu.

"Guide didn't deserve what they did to him. The power of the state is judging their guilt on one level, and revealed in the light of the new church we are creating, they are covered in the vile and abominable sin of their actions.

But we couldn't be happier, could we, if, as these souls lift their faces from the dark abyss, the light reflected in their eyes is the light of our church?"

Patron stood up and bid the kneeling Ikuo to stand up as well. Ogi watched with a softened heart as Patron grew calm and gentle as he turned to Dancer. As everyone else rose, the woman named Satchan, widow of the founder of the church that had arisen here only to disappear, addressed Patron.

"I feel I understand what you mean when you keep saying you've been in hell for the last decade," she said. "I think about how wonderful it would be if my husband, who created the Church of the Flaming Green Tree, could have returned once more-as you have done. Ever since our church broke up, a handful of friends and I have kept running the Farm, and since most of the land and equipment has been dormant it would make me very happy if you could find a use for it."

Patron didn't respond aloud, but he bowed his head respectfully to her.

Morio, though, who had been sitting beside Ms. Tachibana and paying close attention to the conversation, walked over to stand between Patron and Satchan and began applauding, as enthusiastically as if applauding a violin soloist and her piano accompanist on an outstanding performance. That sound, with its gentle feeling of oneness, washed over everyone and rever- berated throughout the chapel.

1

After the meeting, Kizu was still worried about how the people of Maki Town would receive the church members. When he went to the teachers' office of the junior high school to consult with them about the art school he wanted to open, he couldn't help but raise these concerns after the prelimi- nary pleasantries were over.

"It's strange for me to try to speak objectively about this, since I'm one of those who moved here with the new church, but I'm quite surprised at how readily the townspeople have accepted the idea of our followers-including the former so-called radical faction-coming here. I would have anticipated a stubborn conservative opposition, but everyone seems quite flexible."

The junior high art teacher was cautiously silent, but Asa-san, who'd accompanied Kizu, spoke up confidently.

"The people here don't have the generosity to debate with those who oppose them in order to arrive at a compromise. But don't you find the same thing happening in cities? The reason the town authorities and the group op- posing you have basically consented is because Ogi was so efficient in passing around a list of names and explaining about the people who'll be coming here.

If I'm correct, there'll be one men's group and one women's group. The men's group is the one you speak of. There are twenty-five people altogether, and though it's true they're members of the former radical faction, its core will be a level-headed group led by Dr. Koga. Dancer said that after Guide's death the more proactive group washed its hands of the church and wouldn't respond even if Patron invited them to join. The other group coming is a woman's group called the Quiet Women, as I recall. Why would anybody oppose them?

"Even so, after our meeting in the chapel the head of the town council told me that once this initial move is complete he wants to hold on-the-spot inspections. I told him in no uncertain terms that inspections would violate human rights. Just yesterday in the Old Town, the antichurch faction pasted up new handbills and announced excitedly how they'd won a victory by ex- cluding the more extreme elements in the church from moving in, but that they mustn't let down their guard."

Kizu questioned Ikuo once more about this and was told that with Patron's lenient policy they expected a variety of people to join them. But when they sent out inquiries, many people turned them down.

"Maybe this is a good-sized group to start out with," Kizu said, encour- aging the depressed Ikuo. "Even if it stays small, it's important to have the more moderate people involved."

"The local authorities say they want to keep a watch over any radical elements in the church," Ikuo said, "but I'm more worried about the oppo- site-that now we've finally started to get things rolling the church will turn into an old ladies' club."

Ikuo's sarcastic remarks may have been a bit exaggerated, but they weren't unfounded. Though they might be hiding some militant attitudes, the first former radical members that were coming were, it was fair to say, a group that was completely into repentance at the end of the world. Rather than theoretical researchers, they were made up of the older experimental scientists who, even at the Izu Research Institute, had dubbed themselves the Technicians.

As for the old ladies' club, as Ikuo called them, actually he wasn't too far off the mark. It was made up of about half of the women Kizu had visited in their commune along the Odakyu Line, and though they had lived together with their children there, only the women would be moving to this new loca- tion. When he heard that the women would be occupying the monastery that surrounded the inner garden, Kizu had naively assumed that this was a tem- porary arrangement until the children joined them. But that wasn't the case.

Kizu had a chance to talk directly with the women in the church's new office, set up in the annex to the chapel, built outside the cylindrical building itself but separate from the monastery. That afternoon, after he'd finished having an early lunch in the cafeteria-which they'd constructed by tearing down the walls between three smaller rooms-Kizu popped his head into the office, expecting to find Ikuo but finding Ogi and Dancer instead, welcom- ing some women Kizu remembered seeing before.

Among them was Mrs. Shigeno, the widow of the hospital director and donor of the property, who greeted Kizu very pleasantly. "How was your lunch in the cafeteria? I'm sure it wasn't anything like the faculty dining room in your U. S. university, though I daresay it compared favorably to student cafeterias over there."

"It was very nice," Kizu said. "There isn't much difference between the faculty dining room and the student cafeteria in America."

"I'm happy to hear you liked it. We'll be the ones in charge of the church's cafeteria from now on."

As he talked with her, memories came back to Kizu of the greenhouse where they had been packing lilies into boxes and of the memorial service in his apartment's basement. A vivid memory came to him of Mrs. Shigeno speaking at the service, and he clearly remembered the other two women with her from the greenhouse. One of them was Ms. Takada, the young woman with the skin covering one of her eyes; the other was one of the leaders dur- ing the prayer time at the greenhouse, a Ms. Oyama.

Vaguely aware that Kizu might already know them, Dancer still went ahead and introduced each woman in turn. She explained that Kizu had been a longtime art educator in the United States, despite the fact that when he had visited their commune he'd given them his business card, and Mrs. Shigeno, in the way she had addressed him now, was obviously aware of his background.

"I'm really happy to hear that you'll be in charge of the cafeteria," Kizu said. "I've been fixing my own meals for far too long."

Mrs. Shigeno, explaining what they'd been discussing with Dancer, said, "It seems, however, that some people have raised objections about our faith.

Though they're happy we'll be running the cafeteria, they wonder why we emphasize our own sort of exclusive group prayer."

"To the point that they've even dubbed us the Quiet Women," Ms. Oyama added in a bemused way; a small woman, her build and expression suggested she was stalwart and dependable. "In political and religious movements alike, these factional nicknames usually start as a kind of insult, which then get fixed permanently. Like the names Anarchists and Quakers. The name Quiet Women, too, is somewhat negative, suggesting women who maintain a weird silence and aren't entirely to be trusted."

"When Ikuo-who's come with me here-and I visited you on that snowy day," Kizu said, "we were very impressed by your lifestyle. Your chil- dren were so quiet, it was like some nostalgic scene from the past… When they join you, I imagine things will get much more lively around here."

Kizu had addressed this to Mrs. Shigeno, who looked at her two col- leagues and then urged Ms. Oyama to reply.

"For the time being we're not planning to have the children join us.

Maybe we will just accept the name that's been given to us and carry on as the Quiet Women."

Kizu couldn't quite follow this, but he hesitated to ask further questions.

"We've been living communally for the last ten years, deepening our faith along with the children. And after these ten years, Patron has, on Guide's martrydom, started up a new religious movement and called us to join him.

This is extremely important. Being allowed to live together once again with Patron means accepting his teachings. Which means we have a lot of learn- ing to do to connect his denial of our doctrine and faith with the activities of his new church. We have come here with great hopes and resolve.

"We've lived together for ten years, but when this change in direction came about, differences of opinion started to surface in our group. Some women were opposed to an unconditional return. They felt that since we'd been abandoned by Patron and Guide we should continue down our own spiritual path and that remaining in the church Patron created was not the honorable thing to do. They wanted Patron first of all to give a thorough self-critique of his actions at the time of the Somersault. I can understand their reaction. This sort of opposition arose even in regard to whether or not we should partici- pate in the memorial service, and we came to Tokyo at that time without coming to any sort of agreement. At the service the adults from our commune sat in two separate groups. Ogi kept the former Izu research group from saying anything, and we kept our opposing faction from speaking up, let- ting Mrs. Shigeno speak for us from the floor. This allowed the service to take place without incident.

"When we returned to our commune, nearly half the women said Patron hadn't criticized himself enough and they were against returning to the church.

So we ended up leaving them behind. But we'll be sending faxes to them every day regarding the teachings of Patron's new church. We're hoping this will convince some of them, who could then form a second group and move here… That brings you up to date on what's been happening with us."

"You've given it a lot of thought, obviously, and I think your response is unique-and very logical, too," Kizu said, reevaluating this Quiet Women's group, who were unlike any Japanese women he'd ever known. "But why aren't any of the children participating? Are you afraid the church will try to take over their education?"

"We listened to the children's opinion," Mrs. Shigeno answered.

"Through our communal life together the children have grown very close.

Most of them said they didn't want to be separated, so we decided to let the children in the two groups be entrusted to whichever side the majority of them voted for, which would then take responsibility for their education. I'm an optimistic person and I was sure the children would want to come with us.

But when the votes were counted they'd decided to stay."

"But you were quite decisive about it, weren't you," Kizu said, his defenses down in the face of the elegant Mrs. Shigeno's smile.

Ms. Takada didn't let this go by. Her right eye wide open, she turned it and her blank left side toward Kizu and said, quite resolutely, "We may have been decisive, but that meant we gave our lives over to faith only to be aban- doned by our leaders. From our perspective, that's what the Somersault was.

Pondering this over the past ten years, our initial hatred and resentment dis- appeared, but to be truthful, right now we're not sure how the faith we've kept for the past decade can merge with this new movement.

"Knowing this meant risking everything, we split into two groups. If we had had more confidence in Patron's new movement, we should have been able to convince the others and bring the children along with us. We are most definitely aware of the feelings of those who had to leave their children behind to come here. We didn't do this because we wanted to. Moving here and being with Patron again represents the last chance for our faith. If Patron had been murdered instead of Guide, I don't know how things would have turned out.

Is it so strange to have such desperate thoughts?"

Neither Mrs. Shigeno-her earlier smile now replaced by a look of con- centration-nor the intrepid Ms. Oyama-head bowed and fingers moving ceaselessly-spoke up to help Kizu. To break the momentary tension, Dancer spoke instead.

"Professor Kizu hasn't just come here as a lark. He's suffering from a severe case of cancer, and yet he's been doing all he can. He'd been plan- ning to teach an art class, for both the local children and the church's chil- dren, and I imagine he finds the fact that your children aren't coming a great disappointment."

"Well, then, maybe he should consider taking in older students,"

Mrs. Shigeno suggested, and the gentle mood of the discussion was restored.

2

Dr. Koga had asked Kizu for a painting for his clinic, based on a sketch he liked, and after it was finished, Kizu took it over himself to the riverside.

He had had the frame made in the woodworking shop that, he was told, had originally been set up by the former Base Movement, a workshop that had for a time been absorbed into the Church of the Flaming Green Tree and afterward continued as an independent operation. Kizu was quite impressed that the cultural movement begun in this mountainous region by young people some forty years ago had been so carefully maintained. Apply a little stimu- lus, he mused, and in a short time it could easily be revived on a larger scale.

One of the Technicians who had been helping outfit the clinic fixed a nail on the freshly painted wooden wall, and Dr. Koza and Kizu hung the painting on it. Dr. Koga looked steadily at the work, a portrait of Ikuo, naked from the waist up.

"Is this work a study for a tableau?"

"I did the sketch with that in mind," Kizu replied. "I haven't done any real painting for a long time, and I haven't formed any particular plan. In my own defense I should say that I'm searching as I draw."

"As long as you continue in this vein," Dr. Koga said, "I have no doubt you'll end up with a magnificent painting… Since models all have a unique shape, character, and movement, is your main focus then the outer surface?

Or are you influenced by the inner world of the model?"

"I'm not sure I make a distinction between the two. Especially with this model. It's as if as I drew his shape I gradually came to a greater under- standing of his inner being, which leads me to confirm how very appealing he is."

"Now that you've settled here, why not use it as an opportunity to begin a large-scale painting? There's a lot of space to hang such a work in the chapel."

"That's a thought," Kizu replied. He appeared to be considering the suggestion seriously. "A series of events happened in Tokyo, but well before that I was planning to paint a tableau based on a biblical theme. The first time I met Ikuo, in fact, he told me he was interested in the illustrations of the Bible I'd done for a children's picture book."

Although the walls and ceiling were freshly painted, the desks and chairs neat and tidy, the clinic overall had an old-fashioned look to it. Dr. Koga was seated beside the window looking out on the road, but since the Technicians had taken all the chairs for patients out to the courtyard to repair them, the only place for Kizu to sit was on the examination bed. Dr. Koga looked at him with invigorated eyes. All of a sudden, as if finally getting to the heart of the matter, he said, "How about using Ikuo as your model for Jonah? He seems to have an unusual interest in that book."

"We've discussed the book of Jonah before. He's talked about it with you too?"

"There seems to be some reason behind his interest," Dr. Koga said, suppressing a faint smile but not adding any details.

Kizu changed the topic. "Were you aware that the women's group that's moved into the Hollow does not include all the women who were living along the Odakyu Line?"

"I'd heard something about that. One of the fellows in my group is a friend of one of the women, and after they moved here they had a lot to talk about."

"It must have taken a great deal of resolve for them to break up the group they'd lived with for ten years, leave the children behind, and come here."

"It's the same with the Technicians-only half of those remaining from the former radical faction at Izu have moved here. There's another thing I've been thinking about, Professor Kizu. According to the mayor, there used to be a movement to change people's lifestyles here called the Base Movement."

"As a matter of fact," Kizu responded, "the frame for this painting came from the woodworking shop that was started by them and was later absorbed by the Church of the Flaming Green Tree."

"Don't you think what we're trying to do here is to build a kind of base ourselves-for a new church? There will be lots of people who don't move here but who come on a pilgrimage to this holy site to hear Patron's sermons, so in that sense this place will function as a kind of home base."

"Patron told me he's going to be busy with some sort of project here for the next six months or a year," Kizu said. "I don't think he said this just to encourage a sick person like myself."

Dr. Koga examined Kizu with the conscientious eyes of a veteran phy- sician and then turned his gaze outside, to the peeling wall of the now-unused sake warehouse across the narrow road, a wall that had a quiet antique look.

"Ikuo has the same idea," Dr. Koga said. "He was interested in the house we had after we were forced to leave the Izu facility, less a secret hid- ing place than a kind of liaison office, and dropped by to see us. He negoti- ated a lot of things between us and Patron's office. It seemed clear enough at the last meeting that his goal was to connect up with the more radical members of the faction.

"I was surprised to find that the members who moved here as a group are all intent on working at the Farm. But that sort of thing happens, I sup- pose. I don't expect that'll mean they'll be going the way of the Quiet Women, praying all the time. They have a plan of action, though they're not insisting on any outward, daring type of thing. They're like a bunch of bored dilet- tantes, hard to get worked up about anything.

"The gathering where they debated Guide aggravated the opposition within the group and forced them to split in two. They all agreed to the debate, and even members who had never shown their faces at our liaison office showed up for it. But once the meeting started it was the more radical group that took over. The moderate faction's motivation for attending, to hear about Patron's recent religious activities, went out the window. In the recording of the brutalizing that Dancer spoke of, there was a proposal made to let Guide go. I sided with the moderate faction on this. But a dispute arose and we were kept from further participation, after which the tragedy unfolded.

"With the interrogation of Guide still continuing at that point, it's no wonder people say it was irresponsible for the moderates to withdraw. Espe- cially for me, as a doctor. But Guide really wanted us to leave. I think deep down his attitude was similar to that of the moderate faction, myself included, who wanted somehow to express ourselves after Patron's ten years of silence.

I think he let them interrogate and torment him at will because he wanted, if worse came to worst, to let them find shelter in a place where the authorities wouldn't pursue them.

"Guide accepted the invitation for the meeting, after all, but was less concerned about me and the moderate faction than in searching out some accommodation, some third way, with a group that even after ten years was still pretty radical. Wasn't it precisely because those radical members would be there that he accepted the invitation at such short notice? But Guide's third way and the expectations of the radical group were completely at odds, which explains what took place."

"The more I listen to you," Kizu said, "the more I feel the reason Ikuo got close to you all was because he was attracted to these more extreme rem- nants of the radical faction."

"To me," Dr. Koga said, "Ikuo is a Jonah-type personality, which leads me to hope you'd express this in your painting. I guess I'm hoping your paint- ing will help me grasp who he really is. He's going to play an important role in Patron's new church, but there's one thing about him I don't quite under- stand that I'd like to-"

The two calm men at the open entrance door next to the reception area had finished their preparations for bringing in the chairs from outside.

Dr. Koga's expression became brisk and businesslike as he turned his atten- tion to the practical matters at hand, and Kizu bid him a swift farewell and withdrew from the clinic.

3

Kizu, painting in hand, had gotten a ride to the clinic from Ogi, who was on his way to the Old Town, but on the way back he had no choice but to walk home along the river. Groups of two or three junior high school stu- dents were coming toward him, the boys in matching smocks, the girls in navy blue uniforms and wine-colored mufflers. Their clothes struck Kizu as shabby.

On the heights on the other side of the Kame River was the cross- Shikoku highway bypass, with a ceaseless flow of huge trucks racing down the road. On the road on Kizu's side of the river, in contrast, there was only a scattering of cars and light trucks. With its view of the lush greenery be- hind the homes on the mountainside, the road was pleasant enough to walk down, but the children's rough and violent ways wiped the area's unique qualities away.

After he'd passed the T-shaped intersection that led to the bridge, Kizu located a general store that, while its frontage was the same as the stores to both sides of it, extended, as he could see through the glass door, much far- ther back. Thinking to buy something for the next day's breakfast, he went inside. Dancer had told him that this little market carried ham and bacon, as well as vegetables and eggs, produced by the Flaming Green Tree Farm.

To the right of the entrance was a cash register of the kind Kizu remem- bered seeing at the entrance to the public bath he frequented as a student, next to which squatted a person facing the interior of the store. This white-haired old woman showed no interest in Kizu as he entered. He was hit by a wave of nostalgia as he gazed at the simple displays. The shelves had the usual items- snacks, instant noodles, meats, fish, and pickled vegetables-but instead of appealing to the shopper, the products seemed shoved back in the shadows.

The fresh produce section was especially cramped, as was the meat sec- tion, with only packages of pork cut into bite-size chunks, slices of salted salmon, and half-dried, darkly glistening sardines. Every time Kizu returned to Japan he felt something akin to car sickness when confronted with the overflow of goods in Tokyo supermarkets. Used to life in America, he always found him- self stirred up by the vitality of Japanese consumerism. The vast gulf between that and this village market made Old Town look like a ghost town.

However, as he made one circuit of the chilly, dusty aisles, he came across a shelf and stand set apart in one corner, the only display that seemed alive.

On the shelf were packs of hams and bacon, butter in glass jars, eggs, and mounds of cabbages, carrots, onions, and other vegetables, as well as still warm-to-the-touch freshly baked bread, the kind sold in the supermarket in Aoyama as French Country Bread.

Kizu picked up a jar of butter; the label on it had a colored woodblock print ot a tree and the logo FRUIT OF THE RAIN TREE. Kizu selected some meat, butter, eggs, and vegetables from that display shelf, and when he took his shopping basket over to the register the old woman lifted her gray head, her wizened face still lively, and said proudly, "You won't find roast ham better than this in the city!"

"It does look good. Why do you keep it shoved back in the corner?" Kizu asked.

"It's not shoved in a corner; it's just that only certain people buy it. Since new people are moving here from the city now, I was going to increase my order, but Satchan from the Farm-not a very friendly type, I can tell you- said she's going to negotiate directly with the new church's cafeteria!"

Kizu paid for his purchases. As he was about to collect his paper bag of groceries, the old woman lifted rheumy eyes that seemed to cling to him and said, "You're the painting teacher, aren't you? I understand you're famous! The junior high is very happy such an important person's come to town, but they also say to keep the door open when they're alone with you, Professor. The as- sistant principal said this, and to the boys, no less! What a distressing thing!"

Kizu was taken aback by the old woman's sudden comment. But with the good grace of a man his age, he was able to roll with the punches.

"Well, it's only natural," he said, "that people who've lived here for a long time want to keep an eye on people from the city bringing in their own religion."

The old woman suppressed a faint smile, but went with the tack Kizu was taking.

"If you go upriver from here and over the pass, just before the Hollow, where you all are, there's a house above a tall stone wall, right? We call it the Mansion to distinguish it from the other houses. A lot of unusual people have come out of that line, including one man who went on to college and became a diplomat, and then his son came back here to start a church! The ham and butter you just bought were made by people related to that diplomat's son.

Their church isn't around anymore, so if you build this new church you can expect people to say things for a while."

"I suppose it's only to be expected that we wouldn't be very welcome,"

Kizu said, trying to put an end to the conversation. He was finding her a bit too much, but the old woman wasn't about to let him get away so easily.

"No, no. We're not that kind of people! People in Maki Town came here with handbills. I put them up for a day but then took them down. I buy goods from them, so I had to post them, but I'm not opposed to a new church being started here! All the food you bought-and you bought a lot, didn't you?- was made by former church people; this woman named Satchan who runs the Farm, they say her son got his power from his father, the one who built the old church here!"

Just then something happened that truly startled Kizu. When he'd entered the store, walked past the register, and looked around, there hadn't been any other customers visible in the three aisles. But just then, in the aisle next to the one he'd been in, from out of the shadows of the shelves of deter- gent and toilet paper a thin-as-a-rail middle-aged woman suddenly popped up, pointed at Kizu, and began prattling.

"They call that son of hers New Brother Gii, but where he came from is anyone's guess! The woman who gave birth to him fourteen years ago? When I used to teach at the new junior high she was a boy student. A womanish man!

"Is it really possible she became a mannish woman and had a child?

You're from Tokyo-an educated man, I gather-but don't let her coax you into anything. She made my husband donate his whole estate to their church.

That's one scary woman, I tell you!"

"My, my, Mrs. Kamei," the woman at the register said. "And here I was thinking you'd recovered from your hysteria. I don't believe someone from out of town would understand what you're talking about, even when you go into such detail."

The woman customer's hair was pulled back, affording a clear view ot her face. Her skin had the strange look of a shriveled apple someone had for- gotten in a refrigerator. She shrank back at the words of the old woman at the register but still looked up at Kizu as she continued her warning.

"You've got to watch out for that woman. She's going to be running that Farm she inherited, together with your church, isn't she? That woman is what I'm saying! I went to the Hollow to warn you people not to be deceived by her, but with those men guarding the buildings I couldn't get close. So I lay in wait beside the river until you came out of the clinic. I don't have any ill feelings toward you and the others. All I want is to warn you how frighten- ing that mannish woman is!"

The old woman came out from behind the register and struck Mrs. Kamei-who was leaning against the shelf of detergent, saliva wet- ting her chin-on her back. When Kizu left the market he was afraid the woman might follow him, so he hurried up the slope that led to the Hollow.

4

The arrival of the first wave of new residents was finally over, the room assignments all taken care of, and it was decided to hold an evening meeting, with Patron in attendance, so everyone could hear the reports from those in charge of the various aspects of the move.

Kizu, though, hadn't heard about the meeting, since Ikuo had gone off after breakfast to take care of some matter at the Church of the Flaming Green Tree Farm without mentioning it. The first time he heard about the gather- ing was when he joined Ogi and Dancer, who as they were wont to do came an hour after the peak time for lunch in the monastery cafeteria. Dancer asked Kizu to report at the meeting on how his plan for a children's art school was coming along.

"If Ikuo had only told me there was a meeting, I could have finalized things with the teachers this morning," Kizu said. "For some reason they seem a little slow in responding."

Dancer found it strange that Ikuo hadn't said anything about the meet- ing, even though the two of them were living together.

"Ikuo's been talking about the Farm with Satchan, and they've just about reached an agreement," she said. "I expect he'll report on it tonight… Pro- fessor, you bought some of the Farm's ham, butter, and vegetables, didn't you?

Isn't it great? They've hired some of the local young people and have been able to continue farming the fields and running the meat plant on a small scale.

The original investment to set it all up came from their church.

"Satchan told us that wages have gone up this year and they might not be able to turn a profit. They weren't thinking of scaling back to the point where the work would be done in individual homes, but she was worried whether she'd be able to pass on the factory to the children going to the jun- ior high now and to her adopted daughters.

"When he heard this, Ikuo proposed that the Technicians be allowed to use the facilities for their own work and help run the factory with them, so it could get back to the size it was when the church was operating it. It was a perfect match. So they drew up a plan to have several people from the Tech- nicians spend their time at the Farm."

"He hasn't told me any of these details," Kizu said, clearly full of mis- givings, "but even if it's for the church could Ikuo really be so interested in the production of meats and other food? I find that hard to believe."

"He's very enthusiastic about it," Ogi said, in Dancer's stead. "He's also quite interested in the communal life the church's young people used to live at the Farm. Not long ago, Asa-san held a workshop on how they've been running the Farm, and Ikuo showed a lot of interest in something that came up; namely, that a sect in that church, people who were involved in the manu- facturing process, had engaged in weapons practice in order to defend the church."

Ogi went on to explain that Ikuo's plan was to have the Technicians take over work at the Farm on an experimental basis and make it into an economic base for a second and third wave of believers. Ogi also mentioned that Ikuo had been holding talks with a group of students from the junior high in the valley and the high school in Old Town.

"After we spent our first night in the house on the north shore of the Hollow," Dancer added, "we went back to the chapel the next morning. There were human bones laid out on the floor, and though Ogi was pretty calm about it, I can tell you I was shocked. After I talked with Asa-san, I understood that those bones were a written challenge to us from this group of boys and their little detective-novel secret society. Ogi, remember how they spelled out the name of their group in the bones?"

"YOUNG FIREFLIES. According to Asa-san it's the name given to a local custom-"

"That group, then, was threatening us because we're encroaching on their territory," Dancer said. "We knew the people in Maki Town were divided into two factions, those who accept us and those who want us out.

What worried me was whether those children sneaking into the chapel to play a prank were a vanguard of the group opposed to us and whether this meant a serious clash with the church was imminent.

"When he heard this, however, Ikuo went to meet with this secret soci- ety and arranged things with them by himself. I think the former junior high principal was also involved. We found out that the leader of this group is Satchan's son."

"Ikuo never said a thing to me about it," Kizu admitted.

"I'm sure the two of you have more important things to talk about,"

Dancer said encouragingly.

"Ikuo should be giving a report at the meeting today," Ogi said. "I think he's the person in the church who's been working the hardest, what with forg- ing a relationship with the Farm and trying to get to know the young men in the area."

The podium had been put away to clear a space in the middle of the chapel for the meeting, with several rows of chairs set up around this space. Light filtering in from the high windows on the cylindrical walls and down from the skylight made a play of light and shadow in the empty space that Kizu found beautiful.

Whenever they had meetings in the conference room of his university and there were more people than chairs, the students and staff would sponta- neously squeeze more chairs into each row, with an efficiency that always im- pressed Kizu, and the way the chairs were lined up here revealed an intimate knowledge of the interior of this building. Obviously it wasn't the first time they'd used the chapel for these purposes.

When Kizu mentioned this to Dancer, she told him that setting up the chapel had become part of the Technicians' day-to-day duties, just as the Quiet Women had taken on meal preparation and the daily cleaning of the inside of the chapel and its grounds.

Kizu recognized the sort of dynamic manpower that those trained in intellectual endeavors could demonstrate. It was different, though, from what he'd known at his own institute, something he realized for the first time since joining this organization of believers.

Now that he thought of it, the way the Quiet Women prepared the daily meals also ran so smoothly it was as if they'd been doing it all their lives. Every day at noon, when he went from the north shore of the Hollow along the weir to the dining hall, he found the chapel, the monastery, and the courtyard, as well, all clean and neat as a pin.

After eating lunch in the dining hall he usually went back home to the north shore. When he stopped by the office or went through the courtyard, almost every church member he ran across were people he'd seen before. Kizu got the impression that in the rooms in the monastery they were leading an equally well-ordered communal life. It also occurred to him that the lifestyles of each of these two groups, the Quiet Women and the Technicians, couldn't help but affect others who were to move here.

On this day, too, both groups took efficient charge of the meeting. Every- one found seats without any congestion, in so orderly a way you would have thought individual names were carved on the backs of the chairs. Patron, accompanied by Morio-Ms. Tachibana taking an inconspicuous spot di- agonally behind them-sat down in the first row of seats on the lake side of the building. Dancer and Ogi, who sat on either side of Patron, urged Kizu to sit in the same row with them. Beside him sat Dr. Koga and, next to him, Ikuo.

Directly across from Kizu sat Mrs. Shigeno of the Quiet Women- together with their leader, Ms. Oyama-who gave Kizu a friendly nod of greeting. Among the group of Quiet Women clustered around these two were women Kizu remembered seeing in the greenhouse along the Odakyu Line.

He caught a glimpse of Ms. Takada, the one with the scar on her face, her body angled off to one side, seated in the second row.

This was the first time Kizu had seen all the former radical faction, the Technicians, who were among the first to move here. Clustered in their own little group like the Quiet Women, these men in the prime of life gave the impression of being an intelligent elite group. Kizu was frankly pained by the thought that these welleducated researchers had left their fields of spe- cialization and were now doing manual labor as members of a religious organization.

What a terrible loss to Japanese academia and industry! Kizu thought, the idea itself the product of his long years in America and an American uni- versity. He wondered if the church office had prepared a program to make good use of these men who-both as people and as highly skilled specialists- were so far above average.

Patron opened the meeting with remarks that were unexpectedly care- free.

"Well, everybody, I'm hoping, with the land and the buildings that are still being readied and through the facilities at the farm, that you've been getting an upbeat feeling about our future here. How do you feel about it?

I don't think the character of our life here will be changing all that much, so if any one of you feels uncomfortable with our communal life, I'm not recommending that you just grin and bear it. There's a great number of people who've already announced their intention to move here. Please feel free to discuss this in informal groups or come individually to the office if you'd like to talk about it, but feel free to move in and out as you please.

Normally you'd be hearing this sort of thing from representatives of our office, but since I don't have anything else to say today, I decided to announce this in their place."

Morio seemed so taken by Patron's casual way of speaking that he could barely restrain himself from applauding. Instead, he merely nodded, and Pa- tron gave him a serious nod in return. Kizu was favorably impressed by their completely natural rapport. Those who lived with Patron in his detached house on the mountain side of the eastern edge of the monastery didn't take their meals in the dining hall, so it was the first time in quite a while that Kizu had seen Morio.

Soon after they'd moved to the Hollow, Patron had invited Kizu and Ikuo for dinner at his residence, but Kizu was busy with his large-scale paint- ing-he'd finished the sketches he'd begun in Tokyo and though the main theme wasn't settled, the hint Dr. Koga had dropped was swirling around in his mind-and couldn't spare the time. The explanation the office staff had given convinced Kizu that Ikuo was busy, but day after day he'd return late at night, well after dinner was over, and Kizu, finding it too troublesome to walk alone over the weir to the dining hall, would more often than not make do with groceries he picked up at the market.

In this casual intimacy between Patron and Morio, Kizu could sense a positive mood surrounding Patron's daily life in this new location, where he now seemed to be getting back on track.

Mrs. Shigeno spoke next.

"The Quiet Women would like to get everyone's opinion about the cafe- teria. Have the meals we've prepared up till now been all right? Starting this week we'll be using ham, bacon, and fresh chicken from the Flaming Green Tree Farm. We're also negotiating with a company we've done business with for a long time to buy some very fresh pork as well. As for fish, a church truck will be going to the sea to lay in a stock. The only remaining question is find- ing a reliable provider of beef.

"We're not doing this for all of you in the church so much as in the hope that it will help improve people's diets here in this region. Soon after we arrived, I was quite shocked at how poor the selection of goods is in the mar- kets here, and when I went to the Old Town I found it much the same. The Era of Rapid Growth and the Bubble Economy have passed this place by with barely a ripple.

"Still, it's interesting to look at the schoolchildren here, because they're as big and strong as any kids you'd find in the city. I hope we can get the Farm completely up and running soon so we can provide these children with deli- cious, healthful food. According to Ikuo, the Farm has a variety of equipment so as long as we can reestablish connections to some reliable suppliers, we can leave the rest up to the Technicians."

Seated beside Ms. Tachibana and behind Patron, Asa-san hesitantly replied to Mrs. Shigeno. "In its heyday, the Flaming Green Tree Farm had a good connection with a major meat wholesaler for ham and bacon, as well as with retailers to sell the finished products. Satchan had her reasons for scal- ing back the Farm's operations, but maybe you could revive this connection with the supplier again. Anyhow, besides the negotiations to turn over the management of the Farm to the church, she has been putting out feelers in a few other directions."

"Thank you very much for your explanation," Mrs. Shigeno said po- litely. "That being the case, there's not much cause for concern. The only thing I'm trying to do is find out whether you've liked the food so far. I don't imag- ine you want to come right out and say you don't like it. Should we talk about whether to go along with a supplier who wants us to put in a vending ma- chine with beer and alcoholic drinks? The Technicians, though, since they're in a field that involves calculations with equations, don't seem to drink alco- hol much."

Dr. Koga spoke up briskly. "Some of them do drink, so when they want something they buy it from the vending machine in front of the general store down by the river. Can't they just continue to do that? That's the least we can do to help out the local economy! Speaking as a doctor, it's healthiest if the vending machines selling alcoholic drinks are as far away as possible. Good exercise, after all. Also, and the Technicians are all in agreement on this, we have no complaints about how the Quiet Women are running the dining hall.

Compared to the research institute's dining hall ten years ago, Japanese food has become quite gourmet."

The calm former radical members followed Dr. Koga's pronouncement with a serious, almost solemn attitude.

Dancer spoke next.

"We've already come up with a proposal for Patron to give sermons in the chapel. We've posted the first announcement on the bulletin board in the dining hall, but this doesn't mean we'll follow the same schedule every week.

Some people have gotten in touch with us at the office requesting that a regu- lar program of sermons be set up as soon as possible. The main question is Patron's health. Patron has been mentally preparing so that the church can have a clean start. We've come this far. I ask that you be patient until he's physically and mentally ready to begin. At the beginning Patron told you some things that Ogi or I should have reported, and now I guess I've said some things that are more properly in Patron's purview."

Kizu was sure that calls-if not protests-for Patron to address them directly would arise from the assembled group, but instead a warm reaction welled up from the circle of participants. The feeling that we've come this far was clearly not confined to Dancer.

At this point Ikuo spoke up. To Kizu at least, his forceful words seemed aimed from the beginning at intentionally introducing something completely at odds with the congenial, homey atmosphere they'd built up.

"I think we've heard enough about the transfer of the Farm to our church," he said. "There's something else I'd like to talk about. I'm hoping Patron's new church will begin here, in this building-on this piece of land, I suppose I should say-at the earliest possible date. I can't imagine what direction the church will take, but like everyone else I trust in Patron and am looking forward to a new beginning.

"As we're waiting for the launch of the new church, all of us new resi- dents-individually or in groups-each have our own approach to things.

There's no need for us to criticize the way others are standing by, waiting for things to develop. As Patron's conception of the church takes shape, disagree- ments and agreements will naturally come to the surface, and we can cross that bridge when we come to it. At this stage, each group and individual must examine their relationship with the local people and ask how this might bene- fit the church. I'd like to mention what I'm doing myself. As this progresses, I hope you'll let me continue to act on my own.

"Right now, through the good offices of the former junior high princi- pal and the head priest of the Fushoku temple, I've begun to meet with the local youth group. At first they were rather antagonistic to our church, think- ing we just barged in here without consulting anyone. But the other side of this coin is their curiosity about us. The reason I'm interested in them is that they're still young-high school and junior high students, the age when people still treat them as children-but there are some real individuals among them, and as a group they're quite outgoing. About twenty or so well-disciplined members get together regularly with their leader, who himself is a unique guy. As I meet with them I'd like to consult with them and report any new developments in our church. May I have your approval to do this?"

Ikuo came to a resolute halt. Nobody said a thing. The Technicians' faces didn't show whether they approved or not, but Kizu could sense that they and Ikuo had long since come to an understanding.

"I'd like to hear Patron and the office staff's opinion, but from what I've heard here I have no problem with what Ikuo's been doing," Dr. Koga replied generously. "Nothing's more important than building good relationships with the local people. This may sound like I'm blowing my own horn, but that's why I took over the clinic. We can't give the local people the impression that we're just shut up in our buildings concentrating on our own affairs, no mat- ter how spiritual they may be. You only have to consider what happened with the Aum Shinrikyo satyans to understand this.

"On the other hand, though, it was quite a lot of trouble for the Quiet Women and the Technicians to come to the decision to move here, and actu- ally to carry it out. After finally settling in with their new church, do we really expect them all to be open to the local people right off the bat? I think we want to get deeper into ourselves and into our faith. That's how very great our expectations are of this new path Patron's taking. Which doesn't contra- dict Dancer's understandable call for us not to rush him.

"Our honest thoughts on this might disappoint you, Ikuo, but what I want to say is that we've only begun. I find your dealings with the next gen- eration here intriguing. And I promise you that every one of the Technicians will spare no effort to help you make the Farm a success. That's all I want to say. Do exactly as you wish."

# * *

The next day at lunch Kizu heard from Dancer that Patron, who except for his first announcement had remained silent throughout, was quite pleased with the results of the meeting. Patron had also said something else. Dancer lowered her voice so the Technicians seated nearby, who had returned for a late lunch from working to restart the facilities on the Farm, couldn't hear.

"Patron asked me, 'What's with the former radical faction? Why is such a formerly outgoing, active group now living like a bunch of monks?'"

1

Since his plan to run a children's art class would be using a room in the junior high school, Kizu needed to look into how this would fit in with the second-semester curriculum-and though he had considerable time to con- sider this, with the summer vacation between now and then, he went again with Asa-san, the wife of the former junior high principal, to visit the school's staff room. While they were there he asked Asa-san about the group called the Young Fireflies that Ikuo had mentioned during the meeting in the chapel.

Asa-san began by explaining the local custom of the same name. She was nearing sixty and had first heard about it as a ceremony her mother had participated in as a child. When someone died in the valley, children ages seven to ten would light torches and climb up the surrounding slopes. The children were divided into pairs, and each pair climbed to a designated tree at the top of the forest. One of the pairs carried an object, representing the soul of the departed, to bury under the roots of a tree. Several pairs would go up at the same time in order to keep the chosen tree a secret.

"My mother said her first memory of this was when she was three or four," Asa-san went on, "still too little to be a Young Firefly herself. She said that when she looked up at the forest from the back sitting room of her house she could see countless torches ascending the slopes. The number was greater than the number of seven- to ten-year-olds who lived there, somebody told her later, because they were allowing smaller children to join them.

"One other thing you should hear concerns a child named Doji, who led the second of two rebellions around the time of the Meiji Restoration. After the rebellion was a success, they say Doji returned to the forest. The name Young Fireflies might have grown out of this, since Doji is a homonym for the Japanese word translated as young.

"The present Young Fireflies group that local junior and senior high school children have formed is connected with this history but has nothing to do with the defunct custom. They do, however, assemble at dawn and practice climbing up the forest, so at least they're maintaining the form of the ceremony.

"They're children, so they may very well be drawn to the figure of Doji, the child leader of the insurrection. Satchan told me they debate among them- selves how to live in this land and how to improve the environment. Her son Gii is the leader of the Young Fireflies. When he was little he used to come to our house to talk with my husband. An odd child, I'd say, to want to spend time talking with the principal."

"Don't they say his father is the one who founded the Church of the Flaming Green Tree?" Kizu asked. "When I was buying ham and eggs at the market by the river, another odd person, a woman, told me the boy isn't Satchan's."

"Oh, that's the former music teacher at the junior high. She's been be- having herself these days, but I did hear she got worked up and caused a ruckus. A man by the name of Kamei in the former church gave his entire estate in order to build the chapel, and his wife tried so hard to dissuade him that something snapped in her and they were divorced. That's the woman you met. She still carries a grudge against the church and directs her anger against Satchan."

Not long after this, Kizu heard from Ikuo about this leader of the Young Fireflies he'd been seeing. One evening at twilight, a week after the meeting in the chapel, after a calm, sunny, though unseasonably cold day, Kizu fin- ished putting in order all the drawings and supplies he'd sent from Tokyo and was resting on his bed, which did double duty as a chaise longue, his head propped up high, when Ikuo returned. Youthfully flushed like some formi- dably featured young woman, Ikuo had come back to ask Kizu to dine with him at the monastery. His voice was excited.

"The Gii of the Fireflies, who's regarded as the new Gii, is an amazing guy, a genius, in fact. Because of this, he's quite a confident young fellow. He's so young it's hard to say he has much experience, I guess, but there's a deep connection here between this land and the history of his clan.

"Gii knows everything there is to know about this area's legends and its past, recent events included. You know how we look back on things in our lives and say certain experiences were good and regret others? That's how he has considered historical events that have taken place here. He also has a good idea of what he plans to do in future; he's set on spending the rest of his life here.

"When I suggested that at least he go to college, he shot down that idea with a scornful laugh. He has a strong conviction based on the history of his family as to the path his life should take. His father got a degree in ag- riculture from Tokyo University and started that church here that failed.

His grandfather also graduated from Tokyo University, in education, be- came a diplomat, and retired to the Hollow, where he died of cancer. The things he learned at school didn't help him reform anything in this small lo- cal society, let alone the nation. It didn't amount to anything. So Gii says that living here in this anti-Center valley in the woods he can really do something important. The legends and history of this place will be his textbook. If he needs to know anything else, he said, he'll read some books."

Kizu felt a twinge of childish jealousy, for Ikuo was full of a cheerful enthusiasm that had been missing at the meeting in the chapel.

"When I saw you last time I thought I hadn't yet met Gii," Ikuo went on. "I planned to talk to you and the church only after I'd actually met him.

But now I realize I had met him. Whenever I went to talk with the young people at the Farm there was always one young man who, though he never looked directly at me, was unforgettable. That's Gii. They start their train- ing every day while it's still dark, and after they're done the high school boys ride their bikes to the high school a half hour away. Today's a holiday, Founder's Day at school, so they could take their time practicing, and I was able to join them and finally talk to Gii.

"After we crossed the bridge and entered the woods, I could sense he was the leader, even though he wasn't obviously calling the shots. He has this very fetching way of walking. We followed a kind of animal path beaten down through the woods as we scaled the hill in a clockwise direction. Twice we crossed a river and a road, which they hurried over on tiptoe as if they didn't want to sully their feet with profane ground. As I tried to keep up with them, Gii told me more details about the group. Steadily climbing the steep slope, he told me all this in a very thoughtful, precise way. He's a splendid young man."

Kizu couldn't help smiling when he heard this. His jealousy had van- ished, replaced by a pleasant sense of how excited Ikuo was.

When he saw Kizu's reaction, Ikuo stopped speaking, and Kizu took advantage of the pause. "Let me make a suggestion," he said. "You haven't told any of this to the office staff yet, have you? Let's invite Ogi and Dancer, and we'll all have dinner together while you tell us about it. It's a shame to not share this report with the others."

Kizu called Mrs. Shigeno in the dining hall to ask about the menu for that night-ham steak sandwiches made of ham the Technicians had helped to cure, as well as vegetable soup made of the ham bones. That sort of food was simple to transport, so it was easy enough for all of them to eat together at the office. Kizu asked Mrs. Shigeno to phone the office about his plan, and then he and Ikuo left their house on the north shore.

Mrs. Shigeno enjoyed impulsive ideas, and she packed their dinners into the cardboard boxes with the logo the Church of the Flaming Green Tree used when they sold box lunches in the hotel in Matsuyama and the shops in the airport, the one Kizu had seen in the market. When Kizu and the others heard that Patron and Ms. Tachibana and her brother had received the same dinners packed the same way, they pretended that they were all on a picnic and settled down in the room next to the office, looking out over the moonlit lake. While they were waiting for their food to be brought over, Ikuo drove over to the general store and procured some cans of beer from the vending machine. Feeling he was on the same wavelength as the Fireflies now, Ikuo continued to be in a buoyant mood.

Gii had asked Ikuo whether he thought they were all free to choose their own fate. Ikuo agreed in principle, and Gii went on to tell him how he'd sur- veyed the people in Kame Village, before it merged into Maki Town, to find the different paths people had chosen in their lives. When they had their school festival in the second year of junior high, Gii had made a display presenta- tion of his findings in the social studies corner. Teachers and parents ignored it, but his display had turned out to be the impetus to forming the Fireflies.

Gii had taken a copy of his findings out of the back pocket of his jacket to give to show Ikuo, clearly having prepared in advance for their talk. His list read as follows: a. People who live in the village who have some role to play in the social system. Those who control and who are controlled. Each side views the other critically. b. People who live in the village but have fallen out of the social system.

People without any abilities: the elderly, those with severe handicaps, those who have committed crimes, children. c. People who live in the village who tried to create their own subsystem but failed. Leaders and followers in various movements. On the surface they have no influence, but behind the scenes it is a different story. a. ' People who've left the valley to live in urban areas and have found a role to play there. These people are greatly respected in the village society, but since they live in cities they have no role to play in the village. Even if they return to the village, they aren't given a role, either up front or behind the scenes. b. ' People who've left the village for urban areas and have fallen out of the social system there. Generally they've vanished, with no reports about them. Occasionally reports surface of some of them becoming criminals. c. ' People who have left the village to live in urban areas and are attempt- ing to create an independent subsystem. Though the possibility exists, no one has yet been victorious or been defeated in these endeavors. One example from the distant past of this would be Fujiwara Junyu from the lower reaches of the Maki River.

"Gii certainly has the ability to think abstractly," Ogi said, in innocent admiration, as he read Gii's notebook page. "If you took this to its logical conclusion, wouldn't there also be a classification in c and c' of people who were successful?"

"That's probably because there weren't any specific examples in c as there were in c'," Ikuo said. "When Gii was dividing these into groups, I under- stand he did have some examples in mind. It's kind of a typical junior high school way of doing things, but that doesn't mean he's incapable of abstract thought. In fact, as you say, it's quite the opposite. In this classification sys- tem, I think Gii himself wants to be a successful example of c. In other words, one of Ogi's missing pieces-someone who's created a successful subsystem.

That's why he founded the Fireflies. Pretty bold fellow, I'd say."

As Ikuo was bragging about them, Kizu thought that if it were up to him he would have called them nice kids-and he would have included Ikuo in this category.

"Gii knows that in this region there are examples in the c category who've failed. First of all there's the man said to be his father, Satchan's husband, the Brother Gii who made this lunch box." Ikuo showed them the lunch box rest- ing in his hand, the contents of which had been devoured, a box with trees painted on it with detailed green leaves. "There were still a lot of these lunch boxes left over at the farm. And Former Brother Gii, who led the so-called Base Movement. Also there are the leaders of the various insurrections and the legendary figures he's uncovered.

"Gii told me, with a laugh, that he's thoroughly investigated all these figures from the past in order not to follow their examples and has come up with his own idea: a plan-through his own subsystem of the Fireflies-to conquer this land. The children have pledged themselves to create this as their program for the future. This isn't to say that all the members of the Fireflies have to remain here. Most of them would go to be educated in cities. But they would never forget their pact and would return here as soon as they could.

Those unable to return would support the Fireflies from the outside. It's that sort of flexible pledge.

"What I find most intriguing is Gii's notion that this land is the cen- ter of the world, and that creating his own subsystem here is equivalent to creating a subsystem in category c' in the entire society. He grew up listen- ing to legends of this land from old people here, who in turn had learned them from their own grandparents, and that's where he came up with his worldview."

Ikuo leaned forward to pop open a can of beer, and Dancer took the opportunity to ask a question.

"Ogi and I first thought the incident we experienced was a bit of harassment on the part of adults opposed to the church taking over the chapel, but later we learned it wasn't the antichurch faction in Old Town at all but the work of these young boys. Do you get the sense that they have special feel- ings toward the Hollow?"

"As I mentioned," Ikuo said, "the Fireflies have gone around collecting the legends of this region, and as they've done so they've started to believe that the Base Movement and the Church of the Flaming Green Tree are his- torically important. The Hollow for them is a kind of sacred ground that links all these groups. That being the case, when a bunch of outsiders from an unrelated church comes in and occupies this historic building, they can't help but express how upset they are."

"It's like the Palestinians and the Israelis," Kizu added, "though natu- rally there are more differences than similarities."

"Actually," Ikuo said, "Gii told me that with the sacred Hollow snatched away from them by our church they do feel like Palestinians."

"But surely there are brighter prospects for coexistence here than in the Middle East," Dancer said.

"First of all I'd like to get them to consider our position," Ikuo said.

"Also, as one member of the church, I'd like to consider what we have to offer to this land. Instead of cooperating with the village authorities to sup- press the Fireflies, I think it would be much smarter to get to know them better. At any rate, Patron has agreed to my negotiating. And I want to. After all, Gii's the son of the owner of the Farm, with whom we'll be working closely."

"The more connections we have with the local people the better, I think,"

Ogi said. "I haven't told Professor Kizu this yet, but Asa-san phoned a while ago about the art school and said the local schools can't help. According to her, the Old Town faction opposing the church staged a comeback."

"Is that right? I suppose it's to be expected," Kizu said disappointedly.

"If Aum Shinrikyo had had an artist among them who wanted to open a painting class in the village at the foot of Mount Fuji where they had their headquarters, I don't suppose the locals would have welcomed the idea."

"I thought it was going to work out, having the former junior high principal's wife pulling for you," Dancer said, a note of dissatisfaction in her voice, though Kizu was already resigned to it.

After dinner, Ogi and Dancer still had work left to do, so Ikuo and Kizu left them at the office, leaving behind a few cans of beer. When they'd left their house on the north shore of the Hollow the wind had made them shiver, and now while they'd eaten dinner the wind whipping down the north slope had gotten even colder and was accompanied by a thick fog, unseasonable even for these woods. The only light was set up where the path through the court- yard ran downhill, so the rest of the time they walked in darkness.

Kizu called out to Ikuo, who was shining his flashlight on the fog- shrouded dam as they walked along.

"They say the dam was made to collect water from the river and from natural springs, but it's really an amazing amount of water-even in the dark you can sense that. One older person who used to act as electrician at the former Izu Institute proposes to redo the lighting around the chapel and the monastery. He says he'll also put a light that will burn all night at the corner where we turn to go up to our house. Can't have anyone falling in the lake, now, can we."

"The Technicians who've moved here have really been working hard.

I imagine they think that if they do, this place can become a good foothold for them. Things have gotten pretty lively at the farm since they started work- ing there, that's for sure."

Very considerately Ikuo moved behind Kizu so as to light up the path ahead for him. With this young man so immersed in his work, though, Kizu felt more and more left behind.

2

The next Sunday, Ikuo left near dawn to join the Young Fireflies in their training as they made one complete circuit of the forest. Despite his physical condition, Kizu didn't find it hard to get up early, so he joined Ikuo for break- fast before he set off. Afterward, afraid of the dull pain that sometimes hit him right after he awoke, Kizu wrapped himself in his blanket, opened the window on the lake, and sat looking at the swirl of thin fog outside. The birds weren't yet chirping, and bees buzzed halfheartedly around the leaves of the oak trees, dripping with the fog.

Before long-from the woods that ran behind the monastery on the heights of the opposite shore, where the fog was lifting-he could sense a line of people cutting through across the woods. He could hear the sound of trees being struck and lush branches snapping-all to the accompaniment of the sound of soft-soled sneakers, so this wasn't some herd of animals. Was it re- ally natural for people used to walking through the woods to make so much noise? Perhaps, Kizu considered, Gii was deliberately having his boys cause a commotion to advertise their presence.

Two hours later Ikuo was back, redolent of fresh foliage and grasses, and he asked Kizu if he'd noticed them passing by in the woods. Racing through the forest with a group of young men seemed much better able to revive him than spending time shut up indoors with an older man. Kizu just listened as Ikuo enthusiastically talked about what he'd found out about Gii.

"He seems to be about fourteen, though his mother has never disclosed his birth date, so even on his family record it's not clear how old he is. This is why Gii says there are people here who insist he's adopted or even stolen. Did you know that until she graduated from high school, Satchan lived as a man?

"Anyhow, Gii's only about fourteen, but he lives with a woman, if you can believe it, an old friend of Satchan's who came back here awhile back; she does dyeing. Gii helped her collect the tree branches she needed for her plant dyes and that's how they became friends. Gii says he finds it amusing how, no matter what he says, the older woman always replies, 'No way!'"

That afternoon, Kizu and Ikuo happened to run across that same woman at the crossroads at the main bridge. At first Kizu thought she was bald. The head on top of her well-balanced muscular body had sparse red- dish hair wrapped around it.

Just as it had upgraded to having vending machines, the general store at the crossroads had begun to accept parcel post deliveries, and Kizu wanted to check on the art materials donated to him by the store in Tokyo. Accord- ing to the owner of this local shop, a thin, gloomy man who never looked you straight in the eye, several boxes had indeed been delivered, but this was before anyone from the church had moved into the Hollow, so he'd returned them to the main office in Matsuyama, where they were in storage.

After some tiresome haggling with the owner, they agreed that he would go pick them up, provided Kizu paid for it, the owner finally coming out from the entrance of the old wooden building to accept their documents. A woman who had been in the back of the dirt-floored entrance preparing a long box for shipping ran after him.

"Hello, Professor! It is Professor Kizu, isn't it? I'm Mayumi, the one you helped arrange an exhibit of Japanese dyed cloth in New Jersey. I'd heard from Gii that you were here."

Kizu searched his memory as he gazed at the woman, clad in a white – and indigo-dyed dress, her face with its taut tanned leathery skin smiling at him.

"I must look very different to you, I'm sure. I used to have quite luxu- riant hair, but this spring I developed a rash from the dyes, and look what's happened. I'm sorry if I startled you."

Kizu's memory was still a little hazy, but Mayumi was sure he remem- bered her and continued, bashful at her own recollections.

"Would you mind talking for a while? There's no coffee shop along the river, but there is a nice little place just right for having a talk."

Kizu and Ikuo agreed, and Mayumi led them on, a basket woven from arrowroot swinging at her side.

"Just up the river from the main bridge there's an old bridge at the next curve in the road. No one drives on it anymore, and it's perfect to sit there and have a chat or to cool off. In fact that's how the local people have been using it."

The bridge had a weathered railing made of coarse granite, with a line of logs set up to keep cars out and thick knobby stumps and short logs ar- ranged for people to sit on, making the bridge into a small park. Mayumi led them to the center.

On the opposite shore a grove of zelkovas formed a screen with their still, soft, light-green leaves. Seeing Kizu observing the trees so closely, Mayumi explained about the zelkovas and the broad-leafed woods on both sides of them.

When she moved into the small house next to the farm, construction on the cross-Shikoku highway bypass was in full swing, and the cypress and cedar woods had all been mercilessly leveled. Cracks and holes appeared all through the broad-leafed woods that ran down to the riverside. But in the years since, the forest had recovered, and looking from below, at least, greenery covered the remaining wall of the bypass that ran though it-so much so that if a major economic downturn came and the bypass were to close, trees and vines would soon cover the slope completely, returning it to the state it was in before human beings inhabited the valley.

"It's past the season for it, but when the new leaves are sprouting and the flowers are in bloom it's a remarkable sight. Over there are beeches and oaks. And just up the river a little way when the kpjii flowers are in full bloom, a shiny golden light-green, they're absolutely magnificent. Behind the chapel it's all one line of dark green, right? Those are Chinese hawthorns, and the place where they come together with the kpjii is beautiful. The temperature's cooler than by the river, and it's in the shade for a long time, so the flowers were in full bloom until a short while ago."

As Kizu obediently listened to her, he looked around the expanse of broad-leafed trees, and up at the cypress and cedars beginning to be shaded with an indigo that, to him, was as pleasant as the throng of young leaves.

From the bright cloudy sky a layer descended-snow or fog, it was hard to tell-the tips of the pillars of fog at the top of the forest rising to touch the darker layer, the tops of this lower layer visibly blending with the cloudy sky and forming a contrast with the forest below.

"Gii formed the Fireflies in order to work out his concept of creating a community independent of the outside world, didn't he?" Ikuo ventured.

"Yes, but these long-distance trucks run day and night down that high- way, with no connection whatsoever to production and consumption in this valley. And as long as that continues, the bypass to the highway won't be closed to traffic like this old bridge was. Gii's not the sort to amuse himself with the impossible. 'My daydreams aren't real,' he told me once."

Feeling snubbed, Ikuo turned his dark face toward the river's surface, from which fog was also rising. For her part, sensing distrust of what she'd just said in his attitude, Mayumi continued seriously.

"Still, Gii has a concept of what the future holds and insists that there is a sense of reality to it. When he says that, the only thing I can say is No way! to put a damper on it.

"The kind of future Gii envisions is one in which the outside world has died out and the world constructed by the Fireflies is all that survives. This goes way beyond the notion of closing down the highway, but I can tell you he's dead serious about it!

"Gii's mother, Satchan, and I go way back. When she and Gii's father were running the Church of the Flaming Green Tree, one of their support- ers was a woman pianist who also worked in international exchanges of vari- ous sorts. In a storage shed at the Farm, Gii ran across a Bach CD of a Russian pianist whom the woman had invited to Japan at one time.

"Gii was moved by the performance, but he got a hint for his concept from a poem the pianist wrote. Particularly the line Perhaps the world has already passed away. Listen to the Italian concerto, Gii said, the second move- ment, the andante, and that's how he began conceiving his unique vision of the future.

"Since the world has died, the people living in it are, of course, dead themselves. They're just pretending to be alive, Gii says. But sometimes, very rarely, you'll run across someone who is truly alive, like this Russian pianist, who stands opposed to the already dead world. Gii decided that in the future he wants to act the same way-as someone alive in an already dead world."

"I've felt the same thing," Kizu said, "that there are two coexisting worlds, one already dead, the other living. The two worlds overlap, and the world we know is a mix of the living and the dead."

"I don't really understand it myself," Mayumi said, "but when you con- sider the way the future might turn out, it's not good for the dead to have too much influence on those who should be living in the future. I heard from Gii that tomorrow the Fireflies will be meeting with the leader of your church. That's had me a bit concerned, which is why I wanted to talk with you.

Mayumi stopped speaking, rested her arms against the white mica- flecked railing of the bridge, and then spoke in a changed tone of voice.

"When the fog rises from the forest and merges with the descending clouds like that, it means rain's on the way. You may not be able to walk back to the Hollow in time. I apologize for having kept you."

3

The rain continued until the next morning. Ikuo got up early with Kizu, seemingly concerned about the Fireflies' dawn march through the forest.

During breakfast, undeterred by the chilly damp air coming in from outside, he opened the window facing the lake, trying to catch the moment when the shift in wind direction would carry the sound of the Fireflies' movements their way.

After they cleared away the breakfast dishes, Ikuo came over to Kizu, who was back in bed reading, and told him he wanted to meet up with the Fireflies when they emerged out of the forest at the crossroads and give them a ride to the monastery.

"Patron's going to hold a meeting with the Fireflies today while they all eat lunch. I'm sure they'll be soaked after being in the woods and if they go back home to change they'll keep Patron waiting. I'd like to have them clean up in the monastery's communal bath and dry their clothes in the dryer there. Then they can start right at noon."

"There aren't many opportunities to hear Patron directly," Kizu said, "so I suppose there'll be a lot of people, won't there? I think I'm going to go a little early."

"Everyone's planning to take their lunch trays over to the chapel. Thanks in advance for helping out."

When Kizu followed Ikuo's directions and took his tray over to the chapel it was still a while before the meeting was to start, but everyone had already taken their seats. The chairs were set in two facing rows. Seated in the row on the lake side of the chapel were Patron, Dancer, and Ogi, Ms. Tachibana and her brother, and Dr. Koga, who was able to get away from the clinic only during the noon hour. The seat beside Ikuo was left vacant for Kizu. Twenty of the Fireflies were in the other row, already eating lunch, their carefree upbringing reflected in their physiques. Surrounding them all were the Technicians, as well as all the Quiet Women who weren't on kitchen duty. The whole scene was quite lively.

Ikuo, seated beside Kizu, had already devoured his lunch and didn't introduce Kizu to the Fireflies, but Kizu could tell they already knew who he was. The Fireflies looked very different from young boys Kizu had seen in Tokyo. These boys were all dressed alike, in jeans or soft cotton trou- sers and T-shirts, and they all looked well scrubbed after their communal bath.

The Fireflies kept their movements and conversation to a minimum as they wolfed down their meals. They weren't the only ones making short work of their food; the people in Kizu's row of seats were nearly done with theirs, and as the Quiet Women in charge of the meal went around handing out tea in disposable cups, Kizu had just about figured out which of the young men was Gii. He was seated in the middle of their group, and in the way he moved his shoulders and hands and in the timing of his little inclinations of the head, Kizu could understand the charm Ikuo had described.

Soon the church members, too, had finished their meals, and everyone waited for Morio and Kizu to finish. Meanwhile, several of the Quiet Women gathered all the dishes of the church office staff and the Technicians onto trays and carried them out to the dining hall. Ikuo motioned to the young men not to take their trays out but to stack them instead in a corner of the church. Time was of the essence, and he wanted to get the meeting under way as soon as possible.

"We planned on having a private meeting today between Patron and the Young Fireflies," Ikuo said, "but since there were so many in the church who wanted to attend, and there's no need to keep any of this a secret, the meeting has grown to include all these other folks too. I discussed with Pa- tron how we should proceed, and he said he'd like the Fireflies to ask him whatever they want. I think it would be best to have Gii represent the Fire- flies in asking questions. First Patron has a few words he'd like to say, and if he asks any questions I'd like Gii to be the one to answer them, fust follow the same procedures we've used in our own meetings."

As Ikuo sat down, Gii stood up, the eyes of all the boys suddenly riv- eted on him. Gii had a high forehead but not the type of hairline you'd expect to recede when he got older, dark eyebrows, and a sharply etched nose. Apart from a slightly pronounced jaw, his tanned face overall had a classic look. With hardly an ounce of extra flesh on him, he had the sharp yet lovable look of a dog just out of puppyhood. But as he stood there, tensely waiting Patron's words, the whites of his eyes glistening like porcelain, there was a childish, fragile feel to him.

"Ikuo wants me to answer questions from the Fireflies, but first I hope you'll indulge me by letting me ask some questions of my own," Patron said, still seated, returning Gii's gaze. "How did you come to make the Fireflies?

You might very well want to ask us why we came here to make a church, but first I'd like you to answer me."

Gii's face showed a boyish bashfulness and a bit of pluck, for what both he and his companions wanted was straight talk, not beating around the bush.

"It might be a little unexpected to start off answering this way, but the basic reason we made the Fireflies and the reason you have this building are the same-the declining birthrate in Maki Town.

"The Church of the Flaming Green Tree built this chapel, and right afterward the church was dissolved and the building was supposed to be donated to the junior high. The town council decided that the land where the monastery is now was to be made into new classrooms. But foreseeing that the number of children going on to junior high would decrease, the council abandoned the plan. Your church expressed an interest, and it was a conve- nient out.

"Since long ago in this region, second and third sons went off to the cit- ies to find work. Because the birthrate is now low, most of us are only chil- dren and have ended up living at home. That being the case, we decided to find a positive reason for staying here. Every one of us agrees with that. And that's how the Fireflies began. Could we ask some questions now?"

Patron nodded silently.

"While we were out training this morning, we discussed what we should ask you. Most of the requests were along the lines of having you tell us in simple terms what it means to believe in God. We hope you won't yell at us and just say that's a childish question-something you can't explain in simple terms-but we'd still like to hear what you have to say."

Dancer, mouth characteristically ajar, turned her gaze to the space above the Fireflies. The overlapping new green leaves in the oblong window on the forest side of the concrete wall were, until a moment ago, clearly visible, but now they were darkly shaded, meaning that the treetops were gleaming brightly. A faint smile came to her lips. Kizu wondered whether she found Gii's innocence amusing but decided that wasn't the case. As one might ex- pect of Patron, he neither made light of Gii's question nor did he try to side- step it.

"As you all know," Patron said, "I'm a person who's done a Somersault.

I'm not the kind of person, then, who can very well use God and belief in the same sentence. However, based on long experience I can say that even if God is completely out of the picture, one can still speak of belief. This gets a little tricky, but belief involves viewing oneself vertically, not just thinking along a horizontal axis.

"You've seen satellites being launched on TV, right? Just as the rocket goes whoosh! up into the sky, your thoughts rise to be the central axis around which you live. Climbing straight down a deep root is another way of look- ing at it. They're both the same thing."

Patron was silent and bent forward slowly, as if pondering his own remarks.

In contrast to the ruddy faces of the young men, the skin around Patron's eyes flushed in his otherwise round white face, a sign that he was excitedly concentrating, as well as irritated that he wasn't able to explain things as simply as they wanted. Kizu was fascinated by Patron's words, something he shared with the Quiet Women, at least the ones in his field of vision.

"Before the Somersault they say you often went into deep trances," Gii said, "and that you'd have these terrible visions. But that once you woke up and tried to tell what you saw, you couldn't do it alone."

"That's correct. As I'm sure Ikuo has told you, that's exactly right,"

Patron replied.

"We understand that your helper was Guide."

"Yes. It was like two people running a three-legged race. But now he's dead."

"So do you plan to train a new interpreter?"

"If only I could, that would be wonderful," Patron said with a frank sadness, his tone appealing, but different from before. "Problem is, since the Somersault I haven't had any deep trances."

"They say that by doing the Somersault you made a fool out of God."

Patron knit his brows together in a rather feminine way at this and took a deep breath. Kizu could feel the tension, not only in the Quiet Women but in the Technicians as well.

"That's right. My Somersault made a fool of the God I'd been connected to through my trances. It's quite okay to say that. Afterward Guide and I fell into the pit of hell, and that's where Guide died. It's not entirely clear to me whether I've managed to rise up out of there myself."

"So you mean this is hell?" Gii asked. The Fireflies let go with a burst of laughter to release the tension.

Kizu listened to Gii's typical adolescent laugh. Patron, a blank look on his face, gazed around at the laughing young men, for all the world like some plump dull pigeon.

4

"Patron's been very honest in what he's been saying," Dancer said, tak- ing it on herself to break the silence that followed the laughter. This was directed less at Patron than at the others, her voice loud enough for the Quiet Women and all the Technicians to hear. "But maybe this is something hard for young people to understand."

"Patron has been saying what the Fireflies wanted to hear," Ikuo an- swered back.

"What we don't understand right now, we'll review when we go home.

Just like they always taught us at school," Gii said, in a frank yet reserved way, and his friends burst out laughing again.

"Hard to tell which are the adults here," Dr. Koga whispered to Ikuo, in an amused tone.

"I'd like to continue with our questions, since we didn't come here to study how to enter Patron's church," Gii went on. "Our plan is to take over what He Who Destroys-in other words, the first Gii-began in these woods so long ago. The Base Movement aimed at following his ideas in improving production in the village and in improving young people's attitudes toward their own lives, while the Church of the Flaming Green Tree concentrated on prayer.

"In one sense this man was a kind of god, so people tried to do what they did out of a belief in him. I think both movements did only half of what they should have done. Our plan's to carry out both aspects. What you've said here about prayer is very helpful. Assuming, of course, that I under- stood it… "So now you've come to this sort of place and are going to make your church here. Right now the Fireflies are just a group of people. Once we establish our own headquarters, we might very well have to fight you, but at present if we can join together to do something to shake up the old folks in this region, that'd make us pretty happy. Well, those are our ideas."

As Gii finished speaking and plunked himself down, there was applause.

Kizu looked up and saw that it wasn't just the Fireflies who were clapping but some of the Technicians, too.

The next day Ikuo, who'd gone to ask Patron what he thought of the meeting, reported to Kizu that Patron had found these "new men" quite intriguing.

1

Everyone agreed that, apart from Dr. Koga's activities in his clinic, Ikuo was the one who'd been working the hardest since the move to the Hollow.

The meeting he'd arranged between the Fireflies and Patron and the other church members was not an isolated event but part and parcel of his overall activities. During the meeting it never came up that the leader of the Fireflies was the son of the owner of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree Farm. However, Ikuo was enthusiastic about restoring the farm operations, especially by getting meat production back to its previous level. Several of the Technicians were interested in this and, with Ikuo as their leader, were on the verge of mastering the necessary skills. The office agreed to the plan and to having most of the Technicians spend their time at the farm.

Laying the groundwork for this business meant that Ikuo was on duty at the farm every day. He returned to the house on the north shore of the Hollow only every second or third evening. Seeing that the abandoned build- ings that used to house the farm workers would be of use when the second and third waves of church members moved to the village, he expanded his team of Technicians engaged in carpentry to fix them up.

Ikuo hadn't forgotten about Kizu's health, however. Once the Farm's housing took shape, Ikuo brought his team, now looking like full-fledged carpenters, over to their house to remodel the interior. Kizu was using the living room, where he also had his dining table, as a work space, and the car- penters removed the wall separating this from the short hallway leading to the bedroom next door. This completed, the interior became one airy, spa- cious room.

The Technicians rearranged the east side of the room as an art studio and set up a box with wheels containing the easels and painting sets Kizu had sent from Tokyo. Ikuo promised Kizu that once he began painting his oil tableau, he would make time to model for him no matter how busy he got with the farm.

Ikuo brought up another point, one that had been bothering him for some time. This had to do with the conversation Kizu had had with the owner of the store beside the river that handled package deliveries. Ikuo had decided that on one of his trips to Matsuyama on business, he would pick up the stored art supplies, even though the art class wasn't about to happen. Kizu was aware that, in line with the new relationship between the church and the farm, Ikuo was shuttling back and forth in trucks and vans between the town and Matsuyama, but he'd never pressed him to pick up the supplies.

Ikuo described one of his recent trips. "Last week when I went to Matsuyama I took three of the Fireflies with me. I planned to pick up the art supplies on the way back. Since we were driving a van, I knew I couldn't just load up the supplies the way they were boxed, so I brought them along to help. Once we unpacked the boxes, and the boys were loading them into the van, they were fascinated by all the paint sets and sketchbooks, like you'd expect kids to be.

"They started talking about how lucky people in an art class would be to use all these wonderful supplies and how the town didn't show any inter- est in opening a class. Finally someone said that these supplies would just end up stored away in some shed in the monastery, and Isamu, a high school senior who's Gii's right-hand man, proposed that all of them who'd helped load the art supplies get a free sketchbook.

"When he heard this, Gii smacked Isamu as hard as he could, so hard the man from the delivery company who was helping us was stunned. Gii is shorter than Isamu so he almost had to leap up when he hit Isamu right above his temple.

"Still worked up, Gii turned on me. It was kind of comical, like some typical juvenile delinquent shakedown; he asked if there wasn't a plan to use the art supplies would I let the Fireflies have them.

"I asked him what he planned to do with them, and he said he'd take them to the art shop on the main street and negotiate a deal. If we showed them the form with my signature I had to sign when we picked them up, and show my driver's license, he added, they wouldn't think they were stolen goods.

'"How do you plan to use the money?' I asked him. 'You just smacked one of your friends who wanted to skim a little off the top, right?' Gii said, 'Don't worry, I have a plan all right.' He wanted to set aside the money for something he had in mind for the Fireflies. So I said okay. I know I should have got your permission first…"

"So did his negotiations work out all right?"

"They only managed to get a small amount of cash," Ikuo replied, clearly relieved.

2

That weekend Kizu began officially to work on his tableau. Ikuo or Dr. Koga no doubt laying the groundwork, Patron had asked Kizu to paint a triptych for the wall of the chapel.

Kizu had already decided to use the book of Jonah as his theme for the tableau, and when Ikuo came to convey Patron's request, Kizu explained his plan for the painting.

"If it's a triptych I'd like the first panel to show Jonah inside the belly of the whale. Jonah hears the call from God and is told to proclaim the wicked- ness of the people of Nineveh. But he runs away. The part where he's on board the Gentile boat and the captain and the sailors berate him and throw him into the sea would be good too. But it's the three days and three nights Jonah spends inside the whale that show how the rest of the story will develop. All of Jonah's thoughts are summed up in his prayer to God while he's in the belly of the whale. There's my copy of the Bible on the shelf above the trunk. Would you read that part for me?"

'"In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me.

From the depths of the grave I called for help, and you listened to my cry.

You hurled me into the deep, into the very heart of the seas, and the currents swirled about me; all your waves and breakers swept over me.

I said, "I have been banished from your sight; yet I will look again toward your holy temple."

The engulfing waters threatened me, the deep surrounded me; seaweed was wrapped around my head.

To the roots of the mountains I sank down; the earth beneath barred me in forever.

But you brought my life up from the pit, O Lord my God.

'"When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, Lord, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy temple.

'"Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.

But I, with a song of thanksgiving, will sacrifice to you.

What I have vowed I will make good.

Salvation comes from the Lord.'"

"I can tell from the way you read it that you've been studying the book of Jonah," Kizu said, impressed.

"Yes, I have read it a lot," Ikuo replied, "but I don't know where the Lord is or what he's like. And the same holds true for salvation."

"How do you envision the second panel of the triptych?"

"How about a picture of Jonah, furious as he confronts God?"

"Would you read that part, too?" Kizu asked.

" 'O Lord, is this not what I said when I was still at home? That is why I was so quick to flee to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and com- passionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity. Now, O Lord, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.'

"But the Lord replied, 'Have you any right to be angry?'

"Jonah went out and sat down at a place east of the city. There he made himself a shelter, sat in its shade and waited to see what would happen to the city. Then the Lord God provided a vine and made it grow up over Jonah to give shade for his head to ease his discomfort, and Jonah was very happy about the vine. But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the vine so that it withered. When the sun rose, God provided a scorching east wind, and the sun blazed on Jonah's head so that he grew faint. He wanted to die, and said, 'It would be better for me to die than to live.'

"But God said to Jonah, 'Do you have a right to be angry about the vine?'

"Í do,' he said. 'I am angry enough to die.'"

Ikuo closed the compact Bible. "I'm interested in the book of Jonah up to this point," he said, "but I don't like what God says after this. It's strangely human."

"The part where Jonah, angry, is sitting under the vine would make a clear theme for the second panel. What about the final panel? I'd planned for it to be the centerpiece of the triptych."

"I'm really interested in how you visualize that," Ikuo said seriously.

"It's important to me too."

"Well, what sort of mental picture do you have?"

Standing beside the window with the lake behind him reflecting the setting sun, the edges of Ikuo's bull head were tinged a reddish black. Look- ing down, it seemed as if he were holding his breath, gathering his thoughts before he spoke.

"What I always imagine is the huge city of Nineveh burning up, the scene of more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, children and countless cattle, all burned up. Not that Jonah's resisting God and asserting himself would lead to God's necessarily changing his mind and going ahead with the destruction he'd canceled."

"At any rate, with your help I'd like to begin painting the first panel,"

Kizu said, sounding like he hadn't really grasped the direction Ikuo's thoughts were heading. "When I start on the second, I think the concept for the third one will develop. Who knows? Maybe our lile in the church from now on will show me the way."

"Yeah, it might," Ikuo said, making Kizu think that his own words had flown right over Ikuo's head in the direction of the man-made lake. "Just reading the book of Jonah might not give you an idea for the third panel. I've mentioned this to you before, but ever since I was a child I've wondered if the book of Jonah in the Bible is really the way the story ended. You remember how Guide urged me to appeal to Patron, and you wrote that letter for me?

One of the questions I wanted to ask someone like Patron, who's suffered in reality and for his faith, was exactly that-about what happened afterward."

"How would the Technicians respond, do you think?" Kizu asked.

"Aren't they themselves like uncompromising Jonahs?"

"They've been trained by experience to be men of few words, which means that once they do decide to speak you can bet they'll say something worth listening to."

3

So Kizu began his painting. First he set up two easels in the studio next to the lake, a studio bright with the reflected light of the sky and water; then he laid out so many drawings and watercolors of Ikuo on the floor that there was barely space to walk to the part of the room used as a bedroom. As he worked on the painting he felt that, although the number of days left to him was clearly few, he'd never experienced the moment-to-moment reality of time as intensely as he did right now. Not once did he feel time hanging heavy on his hands, certainly not when Ikuo was modeling for him and not even when he was away at the farm.

In spite of a deep-seated sharp pain and a sense of wasted effort and anguish that had settled inside him, Kizu discovered that once he began his tableau his attitude toward his cancer started to change. The first panel, the depiction of the walls of the whale's stomach that surrounded Jonah, he painted to reflect an endoscopic view of the path from the esophagus to the stomach and from the anus to the colon.

Sketching with crayon or pencil the figure of Jonah lying down, sitting, standing in front of this backdrop, he experienced the feeling that the draw- ings and watercolors he'd drawn up till then were less studies for a painting- to-be than indexes of a completed work. Up till then he was used to his sketches not being bound by any overall concept, only connected by the fact that they were done at one particular point in his life. But now he felt a conceptual connection binding them all, something totally new and unexpected.

As Kizu quoted from these studies as he worked, he also came to sense the inner world of this young man Ikuo, yearning, as if writhing in pain, to be understood. An inner world that-just like Patron after a trance without Guide-he could grasp artistically but that refused to coalesce into words.

While his fundamental grasp of Ikuo was still imperfect, just being able to spend the rest of his life alongside the young man made him feel deeply privi- leged. Just the thought made him blush.

But would painting this picture of Ikuo be enough to let him inside the young man's inner being? For over ten years he'd abandoned the achievements he had diligently attained. Kizu felt a helplessness come over him, and once again this brought on a deep sadness, an emotion not unconnected to his can- cer. Even though he might slump dejectedly in his chair before his painting, when Ikuo returned to model for him Kizu got so energetic it made him a little self-conscious.

In addition to Ikuo there was one other person who didn't hesitate to come into his studio to talk with him while he was working-Mayumi, the dyer, who was living with Gii. Kizu saw her as an artistic colleague, not a competi- tor, and welcomed her visits.

Mayumi came about once every three days and told him, among other things, how she came to be a friend of Gii's mother. When she was still living with her husband, a photographer and instructor in dyeing, Mayumi got to know Satchan, who at the time had some problems with the activities of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree and had temporarily left. Mayumi soon had troubles of her own and went abroad to escape from her husband. Dye- ing, though, was something she couldn't abandon.

Before long Mayumi heard that the Church of the Flaming Green Tree was dissolved, Satchan had a child and was taking care of other children too, as she took over the management of the Farm, and Mayumi decided to help.

She turned out to be more of a burden than a help, though, and settled into a house on the outskirts of the Farm that she converted into her dyeing studio.

She got to know Gii as he helped her collect materials to use in her dyeing, and before very long they formed a relationship.

Mayumi had Ikuo pick up some coffee beans and a drip filter coffeemaker, which pleased Kizu no end. Sensing he was in a good mood for the first time, Mayumi broached the real purpose for her coming to visit the studio, her concerns about Gii. While he was painting, Kizu couldn't face her as she spoke, but when he took a break he sat down at the dining table across from her; she did all the talking, a worried look and a tiredness befitting her age etched on her dark face.

"Gii often talks about what he heard from his mother, a line from the sermon given by one of the followers of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree at the time it broke up. Something said by the head priest of the Fushoku temple, a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow. Wherever each of you ends up, aim to be like a drop of water soaked up by the ground is what he said. Another line is something the Former Gii said: Become a flash flood of concentrated hate.

"The Former Gii started the Base Movement here and worked to improve production and living standards in this region. He's the one who built this dam and gathered all the water to make the lake. But he didn't get along with the local people, and the people from the Old Town at the lower reaches of the river were directly opposed to him.

"What happened was, in the rainy season when the lake was full of water, he claimed the water was blackish and smelled bad and announced that he was going to blow up the dam and ride the ensuing flash flood him- self. The Former Gii was an amateur expert on Dante, believer in a love that would change the world, yet in the end he became the exact opposite, a flash flood of concentrated hate.

"The local people thought this was getting too dangerous, so on a night when it was raining hard and the dam looked about to split open and flood the Old Town, they murdered him and dumped his body in the Hollow.

"If Gii formed his band of Fireflies here based on that first line, I find it a little too mysterious. These days, though, when the Fireflies gather in my house it's the second line that he brings up. This worries me. Since Ikuo is a Fireflies sympathizer and particularly favors Gii, I wonder if he's been tell- ing you the truth about those kids. That's why I wanted to talk with you. I hope you'll make it clear to Ikuo in no uncertain terms that he has to avoid getting the Fireflies too worked up."

"Young Gii is really quite a leader in his own right," Kizu replied, "so even if they do include Ikuo in their activities I don't think they'd be incited by anything he did."

"Gii may not be the type who's easily flattered, but you have to realize that a boy that age is bound to look up to Ikuo, since he's older and open to their ideas."

"I have to admit Ikuo seems more youthful after being with the Fire- flies," Kizu said. "Today, for instance, he's having them help out at the Farm.

The Technicians are moving things along there so they can use the facilities as part of their future plans, but I imagine that for Ikuo it's more fun to work with the Fireflies than those older guys."

"I've met a few of the Technicians myself," Mayumi said, "and find them a bit eccentric. They're usually much quieter than Ikuo and just concentrate on the work at hand. They could be doing something really significant, but here they are doing these little piddling jobs in the middle of nowhere."

"Some people insist there's a special power in this place," Kizu said. "I have to tell you I find it a bit eccentric, too, that a young city woman like your- self would come to live way out here in the country."

"Maybe," Mayumi said, "but ever since I arrived here I've been excited, as if something amazing is about to happen. Which makes it a bit contradic- tory for me, I realize, to tell you church members not to respond if Gii throws up a challenge."

4

Once the design for the picture of Jonah in the belly of the whale was finished, Ikuo brought around Gii, Isamu, and five or six of the older mem- bers of the Fireflies, ones who were attending high school. Kizu had called ahead to the dining hall to order a lunch of sandwiches and milk for the young- sters. They stopped by the dining hall to pick up their lunch boxes before climbing the northern slope of the Hollow.

The boys were quite boisterous until they entered Kizu's studio, but once inside they were quieter than any students Kizu had had in an art classroom on either side of the Pacific; they stood behind him, silently gazing at the easel, their eyes fixed on his palette, shining like a mirror in its center where Kizu had mixed in turpentine and, using his own special technique, resin as well.

The first one to break the silence was, naturally, Gii, the boss who held the kids in order. Gii seemed to find the model for the painting, Ikuo, much more important than the painting itself.

"This really is Ikuo all right! It makes me want to call him Yonah."

"You're right about that," Kizu agreed, approving his use of the Japa- nese pronunciation.

"Ikuo told us that you were still wondering how to depict Jonah in the third panel of the triptych, Professor," Isamu said, "but from the looks of it I'd say you've already reached a conclusion."

"What kind of conclusion?"

"The one that Ikuo's had from the beginning."

"Ikuo hasn't said anything to me about it," Kizu said.

"But Ikuo as Jonah wouldn't obey God's suggestion that the people of Nineveh be spared," Isamu said. "Didn't Ikuo tell us it's possible Jonah wasn't convinced by the parable of the vine?"

"If he's already reached a conclusion, he wouldn't have brought us here,"

Gii said. "Didn't he tell us he wanted us to take a good look at the first and second panels and give our opinion about how the third one should go? He wants us kids to help figure out the conclusion he's been pondering."

"Which is why I just gave my opinion about the first panel," Isamu said.

"Oh, I see. You do have the right to say that, don't you, Isamu."

"There's no need to jump to conclusions," Ikuo broke in. "Just look at this painting in progress and tell us what you think. Professor Kizu plans to take his time to decide on how to do the third panel."

Having wrapped that up, they passed around the boxes of sandwiches.

The farm had just started milk production, and cups of milk were poured out for everyone from a large glass bottle.

As soon as they all began to eat, Ikuo turned to the Fireflies and brought the topic back to Jonah.

"Ever since I was a little boy, every time I thought about my life my thoughts would invariably converge on Jonah. You might laugh to hear this, but before that my model was Gusukonbudori."

"The Kenji Miyazawa story, you mean?" Gii asked.

"Right. The story where they come up with this idea to use an appara- tus to make a volcano on an island erupt and raise the temperature of the entire earth by five degrees. The kind of project that environmentalists would defi- nitely have problems with, for sure, but Gusukonbudori helps out. In order for the plan to succeed one person has to sacrifice himself, and that's the role he volunteers for.

"When I was a child that's exactly what I wanted to do. I was crazy about the part where he volunteers, is told that he shouldn't do it, and explains him- self very calmly to the professor: There will many more people like me from now on, and people who can do much more, whose work^, whose laughter, and lives are more outstanding, more beautiful than mine.

"When I ran across the book of Jonah the object of my youthful enthu- siasm changed. When I first read it I thought there were connections between it and "The Life of Gusukonbudori." Specifically, the part where the Lord announces to Jonah that the city of Nineveh will be destroyed in forty days.

This reminded me of the time when Gusukonbudori's teacher predicts that Samutori volcano will erupt in a month (though this isn't the volcano that he makes erupt).

"At any rate, I recommend that you read Kenji Miyazawa along with the book of Jonah."

Kizu was amused by how Ikuo took on the role of teacher. After quickly downing their sandwiches and milk, the boys gathered together all the un- done paper boxes and paper cups and were preparing to take them all back with them.

"Your new friends have certainly done a bit of training as a team, haven't they," Kizu noted.

"You should see them in the woods," Ikuo replied. "Their level of or- ganization is amazing. They keep a strict, almost military discipline."

"Is all that training done for a purpose?"

"Better to let the Fireflies speak for themselves," Ikuo said, turning to Gii. "You told me your training is to simulate how you'd protect the order found in this valley if it were under siege, right?"

Gii and two oí his fellows were relaxing on the wooden frame with a mattress that was Ikuo's bed when he returned from the farm, but he was attentively following their conversation and responded right away.

"We're just goofing around. If guys our age say that's what we're doing, then it's nothing worth discussing, really."

"It might be play, but even to an outside observer something intriguing is going on. Why don't you tell us about it?"

"There are these legends," Gii said, "stories handed down in these parts. A force came from over the mountains and occupied the village. And a farmers' revolt took place here, and when they marched out every last man joined them. We made a mobile unit that can move freely through the for- est-just like those groups in the old days."

"Do kids these days use the term mobile unit when they play?" Kizu asked.

"It's more your generation, Professor, that avoids using military ter- minology, isn't it?" Ikuo said.

Letting that little collision between Kizu and Ikuo pass, Gii picked up where he left off.

"There's one other element in our game," he said. "This is from a French play that Asa-san's older brother the novelist told me. In this play, at harvest time for a couple of days the young people in the village, who are usually belittled, grab power from the local lord. If young people were to do that, to take power, in the end they'd be hunted down and terrible things would hap- pen to them, right?

"So this is what we thought. How about if the young people, who are always treated like idiots, train themselves so when they grab power at the festival they can attack the establishment and continue to fight on even after the festival is over? That's the starting point for our game, and we go on to simulate what would happen if all the authority in the village, from the local government to the police, fell into the hands of the Fireflies."

"You actually had some predecessors in this village, didn't you, people who started reform movements, churches, and the like?" Ikuo said. "There's Former Gii with his Base Movement, Brother Gii and the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. But both those Giis were killed before they could ac- complish anything. The newest Gii, then, is trying to learn from the past and not copy their bad examples. And this simulated training you're into is based on that."

"Adults don't take the Fireflies seriously," Gii said. "They think it's just some childish things the kids are doing. And we've been in existence for two years now. After Patron's church came here, Ikuo was the first person to treat us decently. He listened seriously to what we had to say and even helped us out financially. I know this is also thanks to you, Professor… Now the Young Fireflies movement has a real future ahead of it."

5

As the Fireflies began to leave, arms full of empty sandwich boxes and paper cups, Ikuo asked Gii to stay behind. Isamu, next to Gii, gave him a look, but he brushed this aside and settled back down on the bed. Isamu appeared hurt, but Gii looked so proud that Kizu found it delightful.

"Three days ago Patron asked to meet Gii again, and they had a nice long chat," Ikuo began, as soon as the three of them were alone. "Morio was sprawled out beside him. It sounds like you had a productive talk. Patron started out asking you about the Church of the Flaming Green Tree, didn't he?"

"My father founded the church," Gii said, "but since I was born after the church was gone, all I know is what I've heard from my mother."

"What was Patron interested in about your father's church?" Kizu asked.

"Anti and ante," Gii answered seriously.

"Patron's talking about the antichrist," Ikuo explained. "Patron is clearly an antichrist, while the leader of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree, whom his followers called savior, insisted that he was an antechrist. He preached that before the real Christ returns there will be countless «^christs, ante in the sense of coming before, and that he was one of them. After he graduated from high school in America, he went to Tokyo University, so he had some ground- ing in classical languages. Maybe he came across the term antechrist in some reference work? I don't know. Patron was quite interested when he heard this story from Asa-san, and he asked Gii to tell him more."

"But I don't know anything more than that," Gii insisted. "When Pa- tron asked me whether it was possible for him to be both an antichrist and an antechrist in the sense that my father used the term, I remembered something my mother had said and told him that that didn't jibe with what my father taught. And Patron said, 'I guess that's right,' in a such a moving way I was quite surprised."

"I think that was a very valuable meeting for Patron," Kizu remarked.

Ikuo, too, considered this, and the three of them were silent for a while until Gii, youngster that he was, couldn't stand the silence anymore and raised a new topic.

"Patron asked me why my mother and I hadn't kept the Church of the Flaming Green Tree going," Gii said. " 'Don't they even call you the new Gii? ' he asked. I was kind of annoyed. I felt almost like picking a quarrel with him, coming back with something like, What if I am? If I asked you to return Brother Gii's chapel to me, would you do it? But I kept my cool and talked about what's always been on my mind. You're asking me why I distanced myself from both the Church of the Flaming Green Tree and the Base Movement and why I had to create the Young Fireflies? Well, the reason is that I have some prob- lems with the leaders of both those movements. I may not be using the term correctly, but I think both leaders were defeatists. That's what I told Patron."

Gii stopped speaking, his pale face quite excited. Ikuo, too, was silent, pondering all this.

"What do you mean by defeatists?" Kizu asked.

Gii's pale cheeks suddenly revived. He'd been afraid they'd point out he'd used the word incorrectly.

"What I mean is from the very beginning neither Former Gii of the Base Movement nor Brother Gii of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree thought their movements would be successful."

Gii pursed his lips tight and turned pale again, so Ikuo explained things to Kizu.

"You know how the Former Gii threatened the people who lived down- stream, saying he was going to blow up the dam and flood them? If he'd re- ally wanted to, he could have done it, but he didn't. When he was murdered and his body dumped in the Hollow, his own tale was finished. Hadn't he known this? He created his movement resigned from the start that it would end up this way, which is why he's a defeatist.

"Brother Gii attracted a lot of followers and got production up and run- ning at the farm, and things would have gone well if only he'd stuck it out.

But suddenly he announced that the church was over, and a handful of fol- lowers would go out as missionaries, and that's when he was killed. I suspect he had a premonition at the beginning of his missionary trip that his story was over too. Gii thinks this is defeatist, and that putting that kind of person in charge is a big mistake."

As Ikuo spoke, Gii looked at him again with trusting eyes, blushing. But a moment later Ikuo turned on him.

"I haven't asked this before, but do you think that Patron, who did the Somersault, is a defeatist too? Are you saying that Patron, without doing a proper self-critique, has come here to this region to restart his church, but he's still a defeatist? And that before anything concrete gets done he's going to be murdered or something? In other words, you guys aren't taking him seriously; you think that if you just bide your time the Fireflies will come out on top?"

Far from flinching, Gii held Ikuo's gaze calmly. To Kizu, Gii's fea- tures-the outline of his ears and nostrils, as well as his clear eyes-looked fresh and soft, like some newly budding plant. Gii chose his words carefully as he replied.

"I haven't given the term defeatist a lot of thought, so there may be con- tradictions in what I said. But I find it interesting that Patron would start his own church and religious movement and then, at a certain point, do a Somer- sault and announce that everything he's preached till then was nonsense. The defeatists I'm talking about never had the guts to do that.

"No, I'm not some optimist sitting just around waiting for Patron's church to self-destruct. We Young Fireflies are planning to make this re- gion independent, and now a formidable opponent has entered the picture- your church. I don't think either Patron or Ikuo are defeatists. The Hollow's legally occupied, as are these large buildings; that's a given. What we have to do is build up our forces so we can compete with you. Anyway, that's the sec- ond thing I wanted to tell you."

Later that day, Kizu recalled their conversation and felt quite keenly that Gii was, as Ikuo had told him, an outstanding young man, the main rea- son being the skillful way he'd wrapped up their conversation.

"Patron told me you have cancer, Professor," Gii had said suddenly, throwing Kizu a challenging look. "The church hasn't begun any new ac- tivities, he said, but he'd like to concentrate his spiritual strength in trying to control your disease."

Looking over Kizu from top to bottom, Ikuo asked, "So has Patron's spiritual concentration had any effect?"

"The exhaustion I felt when I lived in Tokyo doesn't seem to be as bad as it was before," Kizu replied. "And I'm not as depressed."

"Yeah, but having a person's spirit soar when the founder of his reli- gion concentrates his spiritual power for his sake does seem a bit predictable, doesn't it?" Ikuo said, as Gii let out a happy laugh.

1

"I heard from Gii," Dr. Koga said, "that Patron's trying to use his spiri- tual powers to control your cancer. Who knows but what it might be slowing down the spread of the disease."

He said this as he handed over two weeks' worth of the various medi- cines Kizu was taking.

Putting the question of how he was feeling on hold, Kizu looked at the painting he'd done that was hanging in a frame on the wall of the clinic, the one showing Ikuo from behind, naked down to below his waist. Ikuo's broad back was so muscular it looked like he was carrying a soft shell on his back.

His overall build, with its bulging muscles, looked entirely natural, not like the localized protuberances one expects from weight trainers. Dr. Koga, put- ting all the medications in a paper bag, followed Kizu's gaze.

"Ikuo seems to fit right in with the kids here," he said. "The parents who use my clinic used to consider the Young Fireflies as some reserve youth corps of the yakuza, but with Ikuo in the picture they changed their tune."

"The art class project was turned down, though, thanks to my affilia- tion with the church," Kizu said. "Well, with Ikuo and the Fireflies doing so well, Dancer and Ogi wanted me to ask you something, an internal matter of the church actually."

"About the Technicians?"

"That's right. Ikuo seems to have a good relationship with them too, but there doesn't seem to be much communication between them and Patron."

Dr. Koga fixed his dark deep-set eyes on Kizu and then gave a practi- cal suggestion, hoping to lighten the mood.

"The clinic's closed today, and it's raining a little, so what do you say we take a drive and talk? Patron's spiritual concentration aside, a drive shouldn't be bad for you. In the afternoon I'll drive over down below the dam and honk my horn."

Every two weeks, on days when the clinic was closed in the morning, Kizu went to get a thorough examination from Dr. Koga and refill his pre- scriptions. He'd heard that Dr. Koga had been taking drives here and there in the area, using copies of maps from the town hall, since with all the new logging roads that had been built the standard maps were of little use.

Dr. Koga showed up after lunch, early, and Kizu climbed into his car.

The rain had ended but, instead of a uniformly overcast sky, clumps of dark- gray clouds scuttled across overhead. They drove up the slope toward the forest, which was chockful of lustrous leaves after the morning's rain. The slope was steep, but as long as one paid attention to the shoulder it wasn't dangerous. When they passed the T-shaped intersection below the farm that Ikuo and the Technicians had taken over, they saw a small truck that was going to pick up some materials that had come down and was waiting for them to pass when the rain had let up; some of the Technicians were aboard.

Mr. Hanawa, seated at the wheel, bowed politely to them as they went by.

"As Dancer says, it's true the Technicians haven't made an opportunity to talk with Patron," Dr. Koga said, "but you have to remember their work has kept them busy. That kind of hard physical labor is good for their out- look on things, I'm sure.

"After Patron and Guide's Somersault-and this is actually something they brought on themselves, since as members of the Izu Research Institute they made it all inevitable-the Technicians suffered a lot, though not as much as their colleagues who were dragged off by the police and not taken to court.

"I was able to resume my medical practice, but the other Technicians had to hide their research and use their technical skills somehow to earn a living. With automation taking over factories, these skills were less in demand, but once they took a job at some small subcontracting factory they quickly rose to the top and could show what they were capable of.

"Some of them worked in university and business research labs, doing experiments under the supervision of people who used to be their colleagues, making one-micron incisions in the brain and so on. Universities and indus- tries on the cutting edge needed high-caliber technicians like them.

"I think my colleagues are valuable in that they're hard workers who don't have any academic ambition. Working for ten years at the bottom of the heap has made them tougher. After I met them again, I thought that the self-ridiculing name Technicians they'd given themselves was actually a good choice."

Dr. Koga wound his blue Saab, a car that suited him perfectly, through the sprinkle of hamlets in the area that went by the overall name of the out- skirts-an area along the river that stood in contrast to the highway on the opposite shore. As they drove up the rough ancient-looking road, he explained that the name outskirts wasn't a proper noun.

Kizu was impressed by Dr. Koga's explanation about the Technicians.

Somewhat inadvertently, he said, "Doctor, I guess after all you're the Tech- nicians' highest adviser, aren't you?"

"I'm not even a Aw-level adviser," Dr. Koga said. "Rather, I feel they've cut me off. They don't even let me into the rooms they share in the dormitory."

Kizu was surprised to hear this, though it did fit with what he'd heard from Dancer.

"Ogi and Dancer told me," he said, "that the Technicians won't let them into the five rooms they've taken over either. Of course Ogi doesn't go into the Quiet Women's rooms, but Dancer, too, has refrained from doing so.

Ms. Tachibana and her brother are the only ones from outside whom the Quiet Women allow in, and sometimes they participate in their prayer sessions.

"So the problem the office staff has at present is this: After the first wave of people have settled in here, they have to help out the second and third waves.

It wasn't the original plan to have these two sects be the first groups here; Patron was hoping that people who'd gotten in touch with him individually would make up the first group, which is why he had Ogi contact all of them.

The two sects that made up the first group keep to themselves and have no interest in other followers who've moved here. The Technicians especially are like that. What can be done? Dancer asked me about this."

Eyes on the seething water rushing down the edge of the ditch beside the road, Dr. Koga managed a warm smile.

"I imagine the office staff wants the Quiet Women to open up their quarters to others-women only, of course-and want to assign beds in the housing at the Farm on an individual basis. In the beginning, though, there's nothing we can do but accept these two subgroups as the first residents.

"After this base is settled, and the second and third waves of individual believers move in, hopefully these subgroups will eventually disappear of their own accord. But this can't be done overnight, Professor. Patron has finally publicly begun his new church movement, and we can expect his influence will be felt on each and every individual here. As this starts to happen-or as it happens once more, I should say-won't it be possible to keep the Techni- cians from becoming a fixed sect within the church? The Technicians have returned to Patron's church and found a new raison d'être, so to speak, so it's not a good idea to fall over oneself trying to control them.

"This might not be the answer you're looking for, and you might be upset that you're being treated like some kid running an errand, but that's all I can say right now. I'd appreciate it if you'd convey my thoughts to Dancer."

They drove up over the ridge of the mountain chain, coming out on a gentle slope of neat harvested fields. Dr. Koga parked the car at a spot where there was a pull-off that protruded from the low point of the slope. A farm- house sat above the stone wall high on the opposite slope, and an old man who had come out to the edge of the garden bowed politely to them. Dr. Koga gave a friendly bow back.

"Let's walk along the path through the fields to a place where you can see the entire valley. That's Isamu's grandfather by the way, the boy in the Fireflies."

Below where the path petered out was a neat little chestnut-tree orchard, and looking down through the soft green leaves they could see the modest line of buildings in the jug-shaped hollow along the river. The road leading up from the eastern edge that ran along the river valley was cut off from view by a small pass rising up like a bump, cutting off the view of the Hollow be- yond. The cross-Shikoku highway bypass, too, was hidden in the shadow of a mixed cedar and cypress forest jutting out from the edge of the chestnut grove.

"It was called Jug Village for a long time, apparently," Kizu said, "and looking down at it from here it's easy to understand the legend that grew up that for hundreds of years the village was shut away inside a jug."

"I'm sure the topography does account for many legends," Dr. Koga responded. "But if you drive twenty minutes over to the Old Town district they're opening up a Denny's Restaurant, so it's not hard to understand why the Young Fireflies march through forests at dawn, trying to shore up their collective illusion."

Dr. Koga laid a plastic sheet over each of two black natural boundary- marker stones. As they sat down side by side, facing the valley, Kizu had the feeling that he was about to hear something more detailed than any of their earlier brief conversations. And indeed that's how it turned out.

"While we traveled here by train I confessed a lot of personal things to you, Professor," Dr. Koga began, "and I'd like to take up where I left off. I can understand why Guide had such drawing power over the researchers at the Izu workshop, but why did Patron? For one simple reason: We quite naturally believed that when he went over to the other side he communicated directly with God. Listening to Patron's sermons after his trances, one couldn't help but believe-the kind of belief that brings on a deep feeling of content- ment. In his trances Patron and God had a genuine rapport. After returning from the other side, Guide's painful efforts would allow the vision Patron experienced to be transmitted in words we could understand. And this whole vision was powerfully real.

"The radical faction's action program was created as an extension of that reality. Especially as events sped up, as we began to swing into action, as we listened to secret reports coming in from the sites on our strategy list, we felt that we were a part of Patron's trance. And then-out of the blue-the Somer- sault came crashing down on us.

"Now we wondered what the Somersault was all about. Along with Guide, Patron led us, his advance guard, urging us to hurry and make his message from God come true. Is that what the Somersault was-the two of them standing at the head of the troops but losing their nerve at the last minute? We wondered what God would say to the apostate Patron the next time he had one of his trances: a frightful thing, if it actually took place. But an even more frightening thing happened: For ten years Patron was out of touch with God. I find the term somewhat vague myself, though the Quiet Women evaluate it quite highly, but I think this is what they mean when they say that Patron fell into hell. From the beginning, Guide's torture and death came about because of reports that Patron was starting a new religious move- ment. They drove us into a terrible predicament and left us there, with just the two of them starting something new.

"On the other hand, we thought that if only there was a convincing explanation-in other words, if Patron was able once more to have a vision and reveal what he'd seen-we could have taken the lead in the new move- ment. So the ones doing the interrogating asked Guide: what Patron's latest vision was. But Guide didn't answer. We thought he was hiding something, but now that I look back on it I realize there was nothing he could say. Why did Guide remain silent? I believe it's because of this: He couldn't bring him- self to tell these former radical followers that Patron had been abandoned by God. Guide had an admirable reticence in him, when you come right down to it."

2

Kizu felt led to take their talk a step further.

"I've been talking about it in vague terms, and you might have guessed already-and people might think me crazy at my age-but my desire to spend my remaining days with a certain young man is why I'm here. Honestly speak- ing, I don't think I'm qualified to hear anything very substantial.

"My remaining days-a pretty accurate way of putting it, as you know, Dr. Koga, since I could be struck down by the cancer at any time. Cancer's calling the shots, in other words. You don't seem to think all that highly of Patron's using his spiritual power to effect a cure, but I'm not entirely dis- missing it. Not that I'm clinging to it, either, as my last hope.

"Living together with Ikuo, seeing my neither-here-nor-there life as a painter to its conclusion with him, I'm doing what you suggested and start- ing to paint again. Painting as the Fireflies would have it, Yonah-Ikuo, this real young man, as the biblical Jonah, as the final creative work of my life. I don't have any particular dissatisfactions about life in the Hollow and my painting, but what about Ikuo? I do know he's got some plan he wants to carry out through Patron's new church, but what it is I haven't the foggiest. He's not the type of person to live a quiet life of faith, though, that's for sure. Be that as it may, I'm prepared to help him with whatever plans he has, but I don't have the courage to grill him about them. Or, more accurately, I don't feel like doing it. So, awaiting new developments from his end, I spend my days painting my final work.

"Seeing how much energy Ikuo is putting into his work every day, I realize that he's waiting, too, for Patron's activities to take shape. That's quite clear. On the surface, he's creating an economic base for the first wave of fol- lowers who moved here and for later waves to follow. Ikuo consults closely with Dancer and Ogi as he plans out his work, he's got the Technicians using their technical skills in starting up production again at the farm, and he's guiding Gii's Fireflies in a way that maintains the boys' independence. All well and good. Ikuo's an unexpectedly able person, and so far he's had good results. But is that enough for him? I don't think so. Since he was a young boy, he hasn't been able to live a normal life. He's become exactly what the Fireflies, with their children's intuition, call him: Yonah. And he's leaving the basic issues up to Patron, hoping through him to arrive at a clear-cut solution.

"In that respect I think he's a lot like you, Dr. Koga, and the Techni- cians. Why was Ikuo like that as a child, and what sort of hope does he en- trust now to his relationship with Patron? I haven't questioned him past a certain point, but especially seeing him after we moved here I can understand that. I feel like I was listening to what you said in Ikuo's stead."

Dr. Koga paid rapt attention to Kizu's words. It had been a long time since Kizu had been able to talk so forthrightly with an intelligent person his own age, Japanese or foreign.

Kizu wasn't the only one who felt this way, for even after he stopped speaking Dr. Koga didn't respond; instead, he gazed at the far-off scenery.

Kizu looked in the same direction.

The high sky was still white, tinged with gray, but the quick-moving low clouds had disappeared. In the unimpeded view that stretched out before them, beyond the mountain range that surrounded this land, lustrous light- purple trees continued off to the horizon.

Kizu considered the people long ago who'd followed one forest glen after another to arrive, and then live in, this dead-end valley. And their de- scendants. And those who trooped off in the opposite direction to find work in the Kansai area, in Tokyo, or in Yokohama, and how they might still be in the grip of vague ideas about their connection with the founding fathers of this forest village. The Fireflies made a pact that even if they went off to the cities they would still view this valley as their base and would someday re- turn to it-a childish pledge, perhaps, but weren't they supplementing, albeit many years later, the notions that brought settlers pushing their way into this land in the first place?

"When I see the faces of the Technicians, I think the same thing you think about Ikuo, Professor," Dr. Koga said finally. "When they were given the chance in Izu to do their own research they basically followed a proper path, but once they started to get soaked in Patron's aura, they all began to view their research in a different perspective. Eventually things turned com- pletely around, and they threw themselves into situating the church as a force to be reckoned with, one that could actually change society.

"Just at this point they were abandoned by Patron and Guide. Ten years pass and here they are, once again gathered around Patron. Which makes me wonder: Does Patron really have a new plan that will fit all they've accumulated over this painful decade? I don't have any desire to ask him whether he has any plans for action, plans that will surface in the near future to fit what the Tech- nicians are doing. Some people might call me-to use an old union term-a corrupt trade boss for thinking this, but I think we should just let him be himself.

"The Quiet Women seem fully content just to be living in the same place as Patron and to spend their days near him in prayer. One time Morio had swollen tonsils and came to the clinic, and Ms. Tachibana told me about the way the Quiet Women pray in their rooms. It's extremely intense, apparently.

The Technicians also have a quiet time of reflection after each day's work that's so intense it's guaranteed to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Both groups have moved here and settled in, and we need them both to support the activities of the church. Dancer thinks this, too-of course, all under the leadership of Patron."

"This contradicts what I said before," Kizu said, "but the Technicians and the Quiet Women are clearly different types of groups, and it'll surely be a test of Patron's leadership skills to get them to cooperate."

"I can imagine a scenario," Dr. Koga said, "where things turn hostile, with both groups surrounding Patron insisting that they be allowed to show what they're capable of."

"I don't think it's just the Quiet Women and the Technicians who'd do that," Kizu said. "You'd have to include Ikuo and those under Patron's direct supervision-Ogi and Dancer-as well. And let's not forget the Kansai headquarters, which is lying low at the moment. I wonder if Patron isn't waiting for the energy of all these people to get compressed and then he's going to leap into action all at once. If Guide were here I'm sure that's what he'd do."

Kizu and Dr. Koga looked intently at each other. Kizu felt all over again the closeness he'd begun to feel toward this other man. Dr. Koga was visibly exhausted but, with his characteristic magnanimity, was trying to follow his colleagues in their new activities. Wasn't this exactly what Kizu was trying to do with Ikuo? As was his habit after many years in America, Kizu spoke aloud what he'd already convinced himself of, to make sure of his thoughts.

"Dr. Koga, you consider the Technicians kindred spirits, but at the same time you feel apart from them enough to keep an eye on them. You want to participate with them yet keep your distance."

"That's correct," Dr. Koga replied, his eyes at once both slightly wor- ried and fdled with a sharp intelligence. "When you said you were moving to Shikoku despite your cancer, I can tell you I was envious. This is a person, I thought, who is truly free.

"I've trained with the Technicians, and as long as I can I want to help them out. The thought occurred to me that it wouldn't be so bad to end my days as a small-town doctor here in this valley, but if Patron and the Techni- cians get in a confrontation, I imagine I'd leave here with them.

"When I think about the future, I have the distinct feeling that some- day soon I'm going to be in a difficult fix because of the Technicians: lament- ing that we should justget on with it and ending up in some desperate struggle.

Still-like you and Ikuo-the fact is, I accompanied them here. Maybe I in- vited you out today because of this simple yet subtle feeling of empathy? I don't know."

"I'm not saying this to you as patient-to-doctor," Kizu said, "but my intuition tells me I have a lot of time left to be with you before cancer makes me withdraw from the front lines."

Dr. Koga gave him a happy, sympathetic smile, but, veteran physician that he was, he wasn't about to give any hasty words of encouragement. He urged Kizu to stand up, and when they both did he briskly folded up the plastic sheets they'd been sitting on, stuffed them in his pocket, and made a new suggestion.

"Why don't we drive upstream a little? You came into this region by going up the Kame River from the Old Town area, right? If you go up- stream a bit more you'll feel you're in the middle of the main mountain range in Shikoku. It's quite interesting from a geopolitical standpoint because it's the crossroads leading to Kochi on the one hand and Matsuyama on the other.

"In medieval days the Tosa armies advanced up to that point. Asa-san told me when she was little and didn't obey her parents they'd scare her by saying, 'General Chosokabe's coming to get you!"

Dr. Koga wasn't just knowledgeable about local history, he was well acquainted with the local topography too, and he took them down a differ- ent road through the woods, one that brought them down to the prefectural road that ran along the river. Kizu was sure the road was a dead end shut off by the mountains, but after passing several hamlets that dotted the roadside they came out onto the road along the valley that ascended to the northeast.

The tree branches overhanging the road, with their green leaves freshened by a recent rain, had an animalistic power, and it struck Kizu that he really was living in deep mountain recesses.

The crossroads leading to the two local cities Dr. Koga had spoken of was a broad basin, the field there much more extensive than in anything in Maki Town, let alone Kame Village before it was incorporated. Dr. Koga avoided the road leading to the hollow where there were rows of old tradesmen's houses, and did a U-turn at one corner of the road the bus ran along. Dr. Koga hadn't said a word nearly the whole hour they'd been driving, but as they arrived at the road that went back home he finally spoke.

"What with their shrine with a huge gingko tree and their old noodle shops, you can really see the region's cultural differences here. It suddenly popped into my mind that this might lead to a bit of rivalry. Ikuo and the Technicians are coming here with a light truck today. Did you know that?"

"No," Kizu said.

"The wife of the town barber had a religious awakening and decided to move in with the church. Her little daughter has a terrible disease they've been able to control with a cortisone-like medicine, but the side effects are terrible. A doctor at the Red Cross Hospital recommended me to her, and she's been coming to my clinic every week.

"The girl's mother was quite moved by the Quiet Women's prayer meetings. Before long she said she wanted to renounce the world and move to the Hollow with her daughter. There wasn't any precedent for it-we have yet to welcome the second and third waves of followers, after all-so it's proved to be a sticky problem.

"Still, Dancer said it was better to have her there than to have to en- trust Patron to some barber they didn't know anything about, so the woman was allowed in as a onetime exception. Seeing how things stood, the woman decided to work as a barber in the Hollow. The barbershop had two spe- cial barber chairs. She claimed one was hers and wanted to bring it with her, but her husband refused point-blank. Ikuo and the others are coming today to pick up that precious barber chair. They'll also bring the mother and her daughter back with them. The husband has rallied a few of his relatives and longtime customers, who are ready to stop them by force if necessary."

Dr. Koga finished his story, and some time passed. When they arrived at a spot where they could see the buildings of the elementary school on the other side of the bridge spanning the deep valley, a light truck passed them from behind. They didn't see who was driving, but in the truck bed they saw a large barber chair wrapped in quilts and tied down with rope. Kizu and Dr. Koga could see the backs of two cold-looking men huddled together; they watched until the truck and the men disappeared into the growth of trees overhanging the road.

3

Ikuo was back in the house on the north shore for the first time in quite a while and had been modeling all morning. The third panel of the triptych, the central piece, was still blank, but Kizu was working on the first and sec- ond panels simultaneously.

The day before, according to Ms. Tachibana, Ikuo and Dancer had quarreled in the office over Kizu's painting, and Kizu was concerned. He didn't mention this, though, as he painted, continuing to work silently on details until, before long, Ikuo broached the subject.

"You don't need to feel responsible, Professor, but I sounded Dancer out about having Patron model for you nude from the waist up. For what- ever reason she blew a gasket. It was quite a mess."

"Patron nude from the waist up? Hmmm," Kizu mused, his brush poised in midair. "What sort of scene are you imagining?"

"Nothing definite. But if the third panel of the triptych is going to show Jonah debating God, don't you need a model for God?"

"So you're envisioning Patron as the God Jonah complains to?" Kizu asked. "But Patron raised a banner of revolt against God, said everything he'd done was a joke, and denied his relationship with God!

"Just as the Fireflies see you as Jonah, I've been viewing you as a Jonah- like person in my work here. But as you've expressed your doubts about it, for the sake of argument let's say that what's written in the book of Jonah isn't the end of the story, that Jonah rejects God's sermon to him, laughs in his face, and leaves. Isn't that close to what Patron did with his Somersault?"

Kizu laid his brush and palette aside and sat down. The reflected light from the lake was so intense he'd moved his easel farther back in the room, and Ikuo was posing near the kitchen. He went over to the leaf-framed win- dow to retrieve his robe. As he walked in front of Kizu, the strong reflection from outside etched his profile from his nose to his chin as distinctly as if they had been made from neon tubing.

Ikuo put on his robe and turned around, his entire face one dark mass.

From out of that came a voice dripping with a childish youthfulness.

"When I argued with Dancer I didn't have any definite idea in mind.

But after what you said, I was thinking it made sense to have Patron in the painting as God, showing him persuaded by Jonah's protest.

"God's given up on it once but has now completely consigned Nineveh to the flames and is standing there with Jonah gazing down at the burning city. That was the vision of God I had."

"If that's the case," Kizu said, "it certainly makes sense to have Patron model for the painting. I'd say the theme for the third panel of the triptych is starting to gell."

That night, after Kizu woke up once and then fell asleep again, he had a dream. Dr. Koga always gave him a great variety and amount of medi- cine, and though he was diligent about keeping up the dosage of the anal- gesic suppositories, he wasn't very conscientious about taking the other medicines, picking and choosing the ones he wanted and taking less than the prescribed dose. Even so, he started to run a slight fever, which he put down to the side effects of the drugs. Whenever he had a fever he'd wake up in the middle of the night, confused about where he was and why he was there.

He switched on the light beside his bed, went to the bathroom, and on the way back, still doubtful of his surroundings, looked into the part of his studio where the canvases weren't covered; and as he drew back the curtain and gazed out at the far-off buildings bathed in moonlight, things became clear to him and his fear and confusion disappeared. But the feelings he had until that moment-the sense of being cut off from this scene and his sur- roundings-remained strong within him. He went back to bed and, after he turned off the light, was struck by the thought that what he'd just witnessed was a scene from after his death.

I'll leave behind this half-finished work, and in less than a year I'll be dead, he thought, and what will remain is that scene. These thoughts led him to consider how pointless his life had been. No, he thought, it can't be that meaningless. He struggled to conjure up significant incidents from his life but couldn't think of a single one; his chest tightened with sadness, and he turned on the light once more and gulped down a sleeping pill.

After all this, he was finally at the threshold of sleep, in the dangerous place neither on this side or the other side of wakefulness, when he saw Patron seated in the precious barber's chair, Ikuo standing beside him, and the two of them gazing down at a city engulfed in flames. Kizu felt relief wash over him. This was the long-pending theme of the third panel of the triptych.

Kizu got up late the next morning, no doubt due to the aftereffects of the sleeping pill. His house on the north shore of the Hollow was surrounded on every side except where it fronted the lake by a thick growth of beeches, Japanese oaks, and other deciduous trees. Kizu had heard that the diplomat who formerly occupied the house had planted the tangerine, citron, and lime trees in order to make a fruit orchard, but that was now overrun by the thick greenery of the camphor trees. Farther back, a layer of oaks formed a sound- proof wall.

As the greenery grew more luxuriant, the several-times-a-week march of the Firefies through the woods grew harder to catch. Instead, every morn- ing, not too early, Kizu heard a flock of Japanese tits, sounding like a fall rain, fly over in search of food. On this particular day the sound was like a ripple through his fitful sleep.

The strangely realistic chair he'd seen in his dream was the one he'd seen being carefully transported in the light truck on his way back from the drive with Dr. Koga. He'd seen it later on, after it was installed, so all the details had been accurate.

The chair that Mrs. Tagawa, the barber's wife and the church's first new member after moving to this place, had brought along with her grade-school daughter was set up inside the chapel. In that makeshift barbershop she started off cutting Patron's hair and shaving him. For many years Patron had had all his tonsorial needs taken care of at a shop in Seijo, and he was pleased with the results at Mrs. Tagawa's hands. Patron found the barber chair comfort- able, even saying that when the church officially restarted that's where he wanted to sit to give his sermons.

Designated as the church's official barber, then, Mrs. Tagawa offered her services to all the male followers and, if they wished, to the female fol- lowers as well. So whenever the chapel wasn't in use, it did double duty as a barbershop.

The day after Kizu had the dream of the barber chair, he went over after lunch to check out how well the barbershop was doing. Mrs. Tagawa-Hisayo was her first name-was probably around her mid-thirties, and dressed in the mannish way you often saw women barbers dressed in the countryside.

A large old sofa set up between the piano and the barber chair was occupied by three gloomy-looking Technicians. In the next stall the daughter sat with a Hello Kitty notebook on her lap, perhaps noting down the order of those waiting for haircuts.

Kizu stopped by the office, where Dancer was working alone at her computer. Thinking he'd like to get a haircut, since he hadn't had one in a while, he asked her if he'd have to wait long for his turn. Dancer looked up at him, mouth open, no trace of a smile on her lusterless face.

"I'll check the appointment schedule. The Technicians are all well edu- cated, but there's a bit of a herd mentality at work. Once one of them gets a haircut they all follow suit."

Dancer's eyes gazed at Kizu from her yellow-ivory face. Kizu was si- lent, so once more she slowly began to speak.

"Did you know that Ikuo and I had a quarrel over his idea of having Patron model half nude for the triptych?"

Kizu found it strange that Dancer would be preoccupied all this time about her argument with Ikuo.

"Yes, I heard. I still don't have a definite plan about the third panel, but I had this fleeting vision in a dream that told me not to worry, it's all settled."

"I always thought Ikuo was more the type to stay quiet when he has an idea," Dancer said. "I imagine you've heard about the wound in Patron's body from Ikuo. I figured Ogi told Ikuo, which piqued his interest, and that's why he came up with this notion of Patron modeling nude. I couldn't say this in front of everybody, which is why our argument didn't go any- where. If Patron models as Ikuo wants him to, naturally it would be stupid to try to hide the wound anymore. It seems like, with the new church about to be launched, Ikuo wants to put Patron in a position where he can't retreat."

Kizu knew that lashing out at him was her way of getting rid of her gloomy feelings, but he couldn't imagine what she meant by a wound in Patron. He brought a chair over, sat down across from her, and urged her to tell him more. Realizing suddenly that Kizu didn't know anything, Dancer balked. Still, she mustered up a determined look. He was reminded of the dauntlessness she'd shown when he'd first seen her as a young dancing girl so many years ago.

"Ogi hasn't told you anything about it because he promised me not to. Still, if Ikuo knows about it he'd use the painting as pretext for break- ing that promise. In that case, I think it's better to speak of it myself.

"For a long time only Guide and I knew about the wound, but one day I got careless, and Ogi found out about it. Ogi must have let it slip to Ikuo, which led to his idea of having Patron model nude. If Patron agrees, there's nothing I can do about it. From the start he didn't plan to keep this a secret."

Irritated by how this was all coming out, Dancer closed her mouth, bit- ing down on her thin lips. Kizu found it pitiful to watch and turned toward the lake, the surface reflecting the white cloudy sky.

"They call it a Sacred Wound, don't they? The kind Saint Francis of Assisi had, just like Jesus' wounds when he was crucified."

Kizu remembered the word stigma, the word he often, for some strange reason, thought of, and the way he'd connected it with the stigma of the deli- cate dark red flower of the slippery elm… Watching the absentminded-looking Kizu, Dancer ignored her own rhetorical question and went on.

"On Patron's left side he has a gaping wound as if he's been pierced with a spear. Technically speaking it's not a wound but more like a hole in his side that never closes up, and at the bottom you can see the color of blood. When he's not feeling well, pus oozes out and dries in yellow strands. Right now, actually, pus is coming out. In the past his doctor would always prescribe antibiotics for him without his having to go to the hospital, and he was able to tough it out that way.

"But when we moved here I didn't think about it, and the day before yesterday I asked Dr. Koga to give us some antibiotics. But he told me that if Patron needed them he'd better examine him. That's what was bothering me and why I was so cross with Ikuo."

"So Dr. Koga doesn't know about Patron's wound?" Kizu asked.

"Guide and I were the only ones who knew. And then Ogi happened to see Patron in the bath once."

"Until the Somersault, though, Dr. Koga took care of Patron, so wouldn't he have noticed this wound?"

"If it's something that appeared after the Somersault, Dr. Koga wouldn't know about it, would he? Guide never told me when the wound first ap- peared, and I couldn't bring myself to ask Patron directly. But now with the church starting up again, pus is coming out and it scares me. The wound shouldn't have appeared after the Somersault, should it? When Patron was relating his visions and calling on people to repent there was no wound, but now, after the Somersault, there it is… Or maybe the wound is God's pun- ishment for the Somersault. That scares me, too."

Her skin flushed, the color so different from before, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Her eyes, glistening with tears, clung to Kizu. Kizu didn't feel like going where the overwrought Dancer's question led. He had to shift to a different question, one with a different answer.

From his experience running seminars, Kizu knew he had to divert Dancer from the question she'd raised. Instead, using some down-to-earth language he knew would sound dubious to this young woman, he said; "Let me ask Dr. Koga about getting some antibiotics. At my age I can't claim it's gonorrhea, but if I say I have some pus coming out of my urethra, I think he should give me the medicine to help Patron without insisting on examining me first."

Dancer looked blank for a moment, but was soon her old self again.

1

Kizu, however, didn't find the time to negotiate with Dr. Koga, for the day after he talked with Dancer the situation changed abruptly. Ogi was tak- ing care of things at the office, and Dancer had gone out to the dining hall for a late lunch when an anxious phone call came from Ms. Tachibana.

It was warm that day, almost summery, and Ms. Tachibana's call was not unconnected with this rise in temperature. Patron had had a fever since morning and couldn't get up, so Ms. Tachibana had brought him breakfast in bed. When she fetched his lunch, he had thrown off his covers because of his fever and the hot weather, and the upper half of his body lay exposed. But what threw her into a panic was Morio, curled up at the side of the bed at Patron's legs, with yellow pus covering both eyes, one ear, and his nose and mouth.

Ms. Tachibana had screamed, and Morio flopped his arms and legs around like a baby turtle but was panicked, unable to open his eyes. Patron was awake and sat up in bed. That's when Ms. Tachibana saw the red hole in his chubby left side, pus oozing out.

By the time Ogi ran over, Patron had fallen asleep again, and Morio's head and face had been wiped clean. Ms. Tachibana, though, was still strug- gling with panic, her shoulders trembling as she insisted that Patron had a wound in his left side. Apparently wanting to take care of Patron, Morio had pressed his face against it and had gotten covered with pus. Ms. Tachibana insisted that Dr. Koga take care of Morio's eyes and his precious ears so that no bacteria invaded them, but insisted even more loudly that he come over right away and treat Patron's wound.

Dr. Koga was in his clinic. Making his excuses to his patients, he promptly boarded the car Ogi had brought around. Ogi reported to him that the wound in Patron's side was festering, and learned that Dr. Koga, Patron's longtime doctor, had no knowledge of this wound, which had not closed up for years.

"So what you're saying is that, since you first saw it, the hole in his side has remained open?" Dr. Koga asked. "And that it's festering and causing the fever? Have you taken his temperature?… Well, that's okay. Dancer's not there. I can imagine how flustered you were and why you raced right over."

When he entered the bedroom where Patron lay, Dancer was back from lunch. Dr. Koga handed her his medical bag and told her to open the win- dow on the forest side to let in some cool air. Morio was up, changed into a fresh shirt and trousers, but still looking thunderstruck. After checking his eyes and ears, Dr. Koga ordered Ms. Tachibana and Ogi, as well as Kizu, who'd been summoned, to escort Morio out to the living room.

For whatever reason, Ms. Tachibana had kept the rooms shut tight while Patron was in bed with his fever, but now they threw all the living room windows wide open. Morio sat directly on the floor, choosing an FM station on the stereo, the sound of a string quartet, or perhaps a sextet, filtering out for a moment before he slipped on the headphones and went into his own little world.

Ogi leaned forward near Kizu and Ms. Tachibana, and they spoke in low voices.

"I had no idea he had that hole in him," Ms. Tachibana explained, "which is why I was so shaken. Dancer just told me about it. I can imagine how unpleasant it must be to have had that for so long! Mrs. Shigeno said that Patron's being in hell was no metaphor, and Fd have to agree."

"I just happened to hear about the wound yesterday from Dancer," Kizu said. "It's much worse than I imagined."

As you'd expect of a craftsman whose eyes are the tools of his trade, Kizu's expression showed that the afterimage of what he'd seen was still fresh in his mind.

The two of them were silent, so Ogi felt obliged to tell his own im- pression of the wound in Patron's side-something that was actually more Dancer's idea than his own. "Well," he said, "I certainly consider his wound rather extraordinary, though I'm not at the point of thinking of it, as Dancer does, as a Sacred Wound. Patron is certainly a man of special gifts, someone who's had great hurdles to overcome in his life. I never imagined I'd be work- ing for a person like him.

"Even so," Ogi went on, "I don't think my devotion to him has any mystical coloring to it. Nothing of Dancer's insistence that the wound in Patron's side is a condition of his sanctification. That's been my attitude toward Patron, and I don't think it's put me at a disadvantage. Dancer, though, has a lot invested emotionally. She feels it's her responsibility that the wound in Patron's side she's been taking care of when she bathes him and so on should have started to fester; this has really upset her."

"Dancer thinks Patron's wound getting worse like this after we've moved to the Hollow might be a premonition that something's going to occur with the new church movement," Ms. Tachibana added.

Kizu looked as if he'd heard this before, but Ogi gave it some thought and, though he hadn't figured it all out himself, told them what was bother- ing him.

"Dancer hasn't confirmed this herself, but according to what Dr. Koga told her, that wound apparently appeared after the Somersault. When I hap- pened to learn of this wound by chance," Ogi went on, "I didn't have any proof, but I was sure it must have been there ever since he started his church. You know-since people who start religious movements must be different, it was a sign that he's chosen. Following this logic, even after abandoning his doctrine and his church, Patron must still be an extraordinary person since he still has the wound. Maybe this way of thinking only goes to show why people call me an innocent. But don't people who are outside a religion tend to sanctify the people within it, even though they're not necessarily influenced by them?

"Once I heard that the wound appeared after the Somersault, though, my simplistic way of interpreting it was as God's punishment, as a sign of disgrace. Isn't that why he called himself an antichrist? But whether it's a holy sign or sign of disgrace, one thing's for sure-I can't view this Sacred Wound from a neutral standpoint anymore, as if it has nothing to do with me."

Ogi, though concerned about what was going on in the next room, had become more and more absorbed in his own impressions. He could feel Kizu's eyes on him, a leisurely look that reacted positively to what he was saying.

Ogi felt embarrassed by his final, excited words, but Kizu took up where he left off.

"About this Sacred Wound," Kizu said, "to use the term you seem to have settled on: I wonder how Ikuo will react to having had this kept secret from him by his fellows in the church. That might be a problem. Just as you say, Ogi, I can't imagine Ikuo being unmoved by it. Two days ago, I think it was, Ikuo and Dancer debated whether or not to have Patron pose naked in my triptych. Dancer let Ikuo have his way without revealing a thing about an injury."

Just then Dancer and Dr. Koga emerged from the bedroom. Dancer turned to Kizu and spoke in a decisive voice.

"There's something I'd like to say. I'm the one who confused the situa- tion, so first of all I'm going to go over to talk with the Quiet Women. I assume they've all heard the details of what Ms. Tachibana saw, and I'd like to apolo- gize for keeping it a secret.

"Dr. Koga says the key thing is how the Technicians react. They shared a life of faith with Patron until the Somersault and believe they're somehow privileged, so we really have to put our heads together to come up with a con- vincing way of explaining things to them. To them, Ogi and I are just some assistants who started working during Patron's period of inactivity, so it might be better if Patron spoke to them himself."

Dr. Koga went over to take a look at Morio, who was still absorbed in his music, his head turned completely away from them; then he turned to- ward Dancer.

"Aren't you're being a little too emotional about this?" he said. "I can understand how seeing Patron suffer with this fever might make you react.

But being overwrought and attacking the church organization is only going to lead to trouble."

"So being overly calm about it is better?" Dancer asked. "You said we need to wait until his wound is cleaned up and his fever is down, and we shouldn't let the news about the Sacred Wound spread beyond those who've actually seen it. But I don't think that's what's important."

"What is important?"

"How the church moves forward. After Patron suffered for ten years, he's restarting his movement-which is the whole reason why he moved here.

And right afterward something happened to the Sacred Wound he's been concealing. Isn't that significant? I'd like to apologize to Professor Kizu too,"

Dancer went on. "I opposed his plan to use Patron as a model to help com- plete the painting for the chapel. But seeing how things are, I realize I was wrong. Please feel free to go into the bedroom and sketch him as he is, suffer- ing from the wound in his side. Dr. Koga can wait a while before bandaging it up."

2

At dinner that evening, Ogi didn't run across either Ikuo or Kizu in the dining hall. Dancer went off to discuss the Sacred Wound with the Quiet Women at the Hollow and with the Technicians at the Farm, but she didn't show up later at the office. Ms. Tachibana and her brother were staying with Patron.

As Ogi ate his solitary late supper, one of the Quiet Women, Ms. Oyama, came up to him. She'd already heard from Ms. Tachibana and Dancer about Patron's fever and all the attendant happenings. She didn't, however, express any concerns about Patron's health. Instead she invited Ogi to attend the prayer meeting the Quiet Women would be holding that evening at eight in the chapel to pray for Patron's recovery.

After dinner, in the interval before the meeting, Ogi stopped by Patron's residence. According to Ms. Tachibana, the antibiotics hadn't started work- ing yet, but Dr. Koga had been able to alleviate the pain so Patron was able to sleep. Fortunately, Morio's eyes and ears were unaffected. Dr. Koga had told her that when she found her brother by Patron's bedside, his eyes unable to see, his inert form was a sort of empathetic response to the feverish Patron.

When Ogi entered the chapel he found the piano pushed toward the front and the barber chair set in front of the rows of chairs, with Mrs. Shigeno and Ms. Takada and several of the other Quiet Women surrounding a young girl with short dark hair cut in straight bangs, deep in conversation. In the half circle of chairs sat some of the other Quiet Women and, behind them, ten or so middle-aged Technicians.

Ogi sat down in a vacant aisle chair. From there he could see the bowl- cut girl was holding a large frame that hid nearly half of her. It was Kizu's pencil sketch of Patron he'd done that afternoon, the wound colored in with pastels.

The time for the meeting to begin came, and the young girl, at Mrs.

Shigeno's direction, went to sit in the high barber chair, setting the picture frame on her lap. The drawing was more visible than the girl, for only the shiny top half of her head showed above the frame.

Mrs. Shigeno went to stand by the chair, rested a hand against the high armrest, and turned to face the audience. Ogi opened his red-covered note- book. Mrs. Shigeno, aware of the fine acoustics, spoke in a subdued tone.

"We have maintained our life of faith through Patron," she said, "who connects us with the Almighty. Still, we knew nothing about the Sacred Wound. Now, though, all of us are aware of what has been happening to him physically. According to the details Ms. Tachibana and Dancer have given us, Patron has had this unhealed wound for a long while. His condition wors- ened recently, leading to a terrible fever. Today Patron is not yet fully con- scious, so we'd like to hold this prayer vigil to pray for his speedy recovery.

"First of all I'd like all of us to consider deeply the drawing Professor Kizu did of Patron in his sickbed. We've asked Mai-chan, who's come with her mother, Mrs. Tagawa, as a new member of our church, to hold the paint- ing in the chair her mother uses in her work."

Having taken care of the mother and daughter's official change of resi- dence forms and the girl's school transfer papers, Ogi had heard the girl's name before. It had struck him as urban and contemporary, and Asa-san, who'd helped with the paperwork, had said, somewhat contemptuously, that nowa- days in Japan the most popular names for children were Daiki for boys and Mai for girls.

"As I said at the outset, it is through Patron that we've been able to lead our lives of faith, both when we were in the church and afterward, and now in his new church. Still, until these recent events, the only ones who knew about the Sacred Wound were those who took care of Patron after he and Guide did their Somersault.

"Having this ever-open wound in one's side must be very unpleasant, especially for a man. Right now bloody pus is oozing out, which led to the fever.

Patron's temperature this evening is just over 101 degrees Fahrenheit. When he was found with Morio, unconscious in bed, I'm sure it was much higher.

One item on our prayer list, then, should be a prayer for his fever to go away.

"When Ms. Tachibana discovered the two of them, Morio's eyes and ears were covered with the matter coming out of Patron's wound; his head seemed to be made of yellow clay. Apparently Morio was trying to respond to Patron's suffering. Let us also pray that Morio stays well.

"As we pray, we'll be hearing some music Morio composed depicting a sister and brother being led to heaven by Patron." (This evening, instead of Ikuo playing, one of the Quiet Women sat very seriously at the piano and played the piece over and over for about ten minutes.) "Since Patron hasn't said anything about when he first had the Sacred Wound, Dancer doesn't know anything definite, but according to Dr. Koga, when he gave Patron a physical before the Somersault it was not present.

"This means the wound came about during the ten-year interval be- tween the Somersault and the restarting of the church. Undoubtedly Patron has had it during the entire period in which he fell into hell. We recognize this hole in his side as a sign of a holy person, as a Sacred Wound, and we recognize his suffering with great joy.

"We joined this church hoping to be led to heaven by Patron. Instead, we had to go through the trials and tribulations of the Somersault. But our faith in what awaits us in heaven has never wavered. We knew in our hearts that someday Patron would appear again on the path to lead us.

"With a sense of nostalgia, and also sadness, we wonder what sort of painful place Patron is wandering in now. When we met him again and he told us about the hell he and Guide had fallen into, we could visualize this hell right before us. We have learned further that this descent into hell carved the Sacred Wound into his side. For what he has revealed to us, we are all grateful to God in heaven. Hallelujah! The wound is a sacred sign that links the Patron before the Somersault with the Patron afterward. God made him shoulder this painful wound so he might survive the hell into which he'd de- scended.

"Guide, who fell into hell along with Patron, did not have a Sacred Wound. If he had, the police would have made it public after his death, an- nouncing it as resulting from the rough treatment he received. Instead of suffering from a wound, Guide's fate was-at this final stage of the descent into hell-to die. All this was God's will, just as Saint Peter was crucified upside down and the disciple John lived to a ripe old age "Through the darkness Patron passed through, and through this wound that was a part of his suffering, Patron shouldered a mission, one we need to reflect on deeply. The day is near when Patron will fulfill this in his church of light. Isn't that exactly the message we should get from the suffering he's going through?

"Last week at our early morning prayer service, Asa-san told us about Former Brother Gii, who lived here, researching Dante, and how he was killed after starting a reform movement. After she spoke we had breakfast together, and she asked how the names Patron and Guide came about. We weren't able to give a complete answer. Asa-san told us what she'd picked up from Former Brother Gii concerning Dante's Divine Comedy. In Dante, Virgil is the one who appears soon after Dante falls into hell, who accompanies him to the highest point of purgatory, where he says goodbye to his disciples who are continuing on to heaven, only to remain behind himself. As Dante called him the first time he met him, Virgil is both a poet who is a patron, a teacher for all mankind, and a guide for people who are ascending from hell. Weren't the roles that Virgil undertook alone the ones your leaders undertook as a team? she asked.

"What Asa-san said made me think very deeply. After the martyrdom of Patron's indispensable colleague, like Virgil he undertook both roles-that of Patron and of Guide-when he returned to be in our midst. Did he do this to lead us to the highest point of purgatory and then say farewell and return alone once more to hell?"

Mrs. Shigeno stopped at this point and turned around to see what the audience was gazing at; the drawing of the recumbent Patron with the wound on his side on top of the barber's chair shook ever so slightly, startling her. Mai, a sensitive girl, was weeping. As if to soothe the poor young girl, Mrs. Shigeno signaled to Ms. Tagawa, today dressed quite fashionably, her hair in a mannish Takarazuka dance-troupe cut, and ended her sermon.

As if waiting for this opportunity, one of the Technicians who had been sitting behind Ogi-a scientist who, it was said, was an expert in astrodynamics and who'd done orbital calculations for NASA satellite launches-signaled that he wanted to speak. Mrs. Shigeno nodded to him, and he made the sort of comment one might expect from a rocket scientist.

"I'm sure many of you have seen, when a rocket launched toward the moon reaches a certain altitude, that the propulsion device separates and in- scribes a track like-a burning leaf. I can picture Patron/Guide as a rocket in- scribing a huge arc as it strays away."

Mrs. Shigeno picked up where she left off, tying her sermon together with what had just been said.

"I think that's exactly right," she said. "I believe Patron is resolved to help us to the very end to reach our apogee, even if it means he'll descend to hell once again, burning up as he reenters. Doesn't this explain what he meant when, after the Somersault and losing Guide, he returned to be with us and announced he's an antichrist?

"After the Somersault, the Quiet Women resisted a host of tempta- tions that befell them. We maintained our faith in heaven, with Patron as our mediator. And now we know, more than ever before, that this was the right thing to do! Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!"

Answering Mrs. Shigeno's almost pleading cry, the Quiet Women took up the same prayer, and then all at once switched to silent worship. Mrs.

Shigeno turned toward the drawing of Patron and bowed her head.

Desperately emotional again, Mai seemed about to drop the drawing on the footstool. She grasped the upper edge of the frame as hard as she could in her little red hands and, unable to cover her face, sobbed. The Quiet Women gathered around her, heads bowed, and continued to pray.

Ogi and the Technicians around him were overwhelmed.

3

Ogi had lunch the next day in the office, during which he had a good talk with Dancer. Having been out of the office for a day, he had a lot of e-mails, faxes, and phone messages to take care of. The idea to have a meet- ing that summer in Shikoku to commemorate the founding of the new church was in full swing. Believers from before the Somersault who had clung to Mr.

Soda's Kansai headquarters were urging Patron on now, and one of Ogi's tasks was to gather together all these communications and deliver them to Patron.

There was something else that he urgently needed to talk with Dancer about, but she didn't show up at the office until just before noon. As soon as she could, she told him that the concentration of antibiotics had reached the optimum level and Patron's fever had broken. The wound wasn't as inflamed as before. And Dancer had reported to Patron that all the believers who'd moved to the Hollow were now aware of the Sacred Wound.

"Patron didn't seem concerned about how his followers were taking the news. He did remember, though, that Kizu sat next to him and sketched him when he was half conscious, and he wanted to see the drawing. After the Quiet Women's prayer meeting, the drawing was taken over to the farm and the Technicians apparently held their own meeting in front of it. I imagine Ikuo saw it there too," Ogi concluded. "I wonder what he said about the wound being kept secret all this time."

"I haven't seen him since this uproar began," Dancer said worriedly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd sound him out about it. They're going to bring the paint- ing back from the farm to the studio this afternoon, and of course Ikuo will accompany it. Would you stop by then? I don't think Ikuo needs to know every last detail concerning Patron, but I'm sure he will have his own take on things."

Ogi was surprised that Dancer could be so nervous when it came to Ikuo.

As for himself, except for that comical and pathetic incident in the bathroom, Dancer probably would never have mentioned the wound to him, either.

"I attended the Quiet Women's meeting, and they have a pretty set way of thinking about the Sacred Wound," Ogi commented.

"Ms. Tachibana told me all about it," Dancer said. "She also talked with Patron, and said he seemed depressed. She wondered if he was feeling that his efforts all these years were wasted."

"Meaning…?"

Showing her tongue, as lusterless as her skin, she returned Ogi's gaze.

"Since I only starting working for them after the Somersault, I don't have the right to say anything about that, and I don't want to either," said Dancer. "But I did read the articles in the weekly magazines about the Som- ersault, and they bothered me, so I asked Guide about it. The media had a field day reporting the Somersault: How Patron sat down in front of the cam- eras and announced that their religious activities weren't for real and it was all an elaborate joke. When I asked Guide why he did that kind of perfor- manee, he said Patron wanted to avoid having the kind of situation you have in America with fundamentalists, when overwrought followers protest the pressure brought to bear on their leader or grow too pessimistic because they were hung out to dry. Seeing Patron play the fool before all of Japan, anyone could see it was pointless to take it seriously.

"But doesn't it put Patron in an awkward position to have people who empathize with him so much thrust aside and then, as he's rebuilding his church, to find them still offering their pathetic prayers to him?"

"The Technicians at the meeting seemed to be deeply sympathetic to the Quiet Women's position," Ogi said, "but I wonder how they'd react to what you just said."

"What I'd rather do is have you sound out Ikuo about the Technicians' ideas," Dancer said. "What concerns me most is how he's taking the fact that the Sacred Wound was hidden all this time."

When Ogi went up the road to the north shore of the Hollow and arrived at the studio, Kizu and Ikuo were looking at the sketch that Ikuo had just brought back from the farm. Ogi stood next to them, concerned about Ikuo's reaction, but Ikuo soon cleared away his anxiety.

"When we looked at the drawing of the Sacred Wound," Ikuo said, his use of the term already revealing his reaction, "we spoke of how terrible it must have been for Patron to have had it all this time. For Dancer, too, it must have been tough. It was bound to come out-it was just a question of timing.

All in all, I think this was the right moment."

The three of them turned their gaze to the framed drawing on the floor.

There was the reddish-black hole that Ogi had inadvertently seen in the bath.

He remembered the contrast between this hole and Dancer's protruding pudenda.

"I talked with Professor Kizu about this recently," Ogi said. "I think I'd like you to go ahead with Ikuo's plan to have Patron pose for you. There's no reason to hide this anymore, what with the Quiet Women en masse claim- ing it's a Sacred Wound. If this sketch helps you complete the triptych, this little affair will have done some good by having helped boot up our new church in the Hollow."

Kizu raised his eyebrows in surprise at the computer term boot up. "When you and Ikuo reach my age, you'll discover that not everything has to be meaningful," Kizu said, pondering the triptych anew.

"I understand Ikuo as the model for Jonah, but what theme would Patron express, with the wound showing in his side?" Ogi asked.

Ikuo was silent.

"The Sacred Wound fits in nicely with the person who acts as mediator between us and God," Kizu said. "But instead of having this wounded mediator trying to persuade Jonah, I'm beginning to see him more on Jonah's side, protesting with him, refusing to surrender to God."

"I like the ambiguity involved-having Patron model for a figure that can be interpreted in more than one way," Ikuo said. "The followers praying in the chapel can read it any way they want."

"It also gives me a certain freedom as the artist," Kizu said.

He picked up the framed sketch and returned it to the dining table as Ikuo brought over a chilled bottle of mineral water and cups, and the three of them sat down and quenched their thirst.

"Dancer said that when she went to explain to the Technicians about having kept the wound a secret, she didn't quite understand their reaction,"

Ogi said to Ikuo. "How do you see it?"

"Because of all that went on in the last ten years, the Technicians have become quite cautious," Ikuo replied. "It's hard to read their reactions. But they do have a definite response. Mind you, I'm still an outsider, but I get the impression that they've been able to overcome the split that began with Guide's interrogation and 'trial.' One thing the Technicians always agreed on was not accepting the meaning of Patron's Somersault, agreeing that it was the wrong way to go. But beyond that there's a difference of opinion concerning Patron and Guide's lifestyle that surfaced when Guide was put on trial and died.

"On the one hand, you have those who wanted to execute Guide for betraying the Technicians. On the other, you have those who regret that this unfortunate accident happened just as a repentant Guide was opening up a dialogue. Seen from a different angle, you have those who've come here hop- ing that Patron's restarting of the church will link the time pre-Somersault with the time after-as if the Somersault never took place. And you have those who want Patron to somehow make a comeback and are struggling to find a new direction, different from the way they did things before the Somersault.

"And while all this was going on, Patron's Sacred Wound became pub- lic knowledge. It shows the direction the new church will take, I think, the real nature of Patron's appeal to society and the world. Patron is always call- ing for those who've sinned to repent, and the wound has opened up as a sign, a constant reminder of this. If you think about it, Patron could be a suitable leader for either faction of the Technicians to rally around. I've also heard some of them saying that they'd like to raise up the banner of Patron's Sacred Wound and become the strike force of the new church. I haven't seen them this excited in a long time."

When Ogi returned to the office he reported Ikuo's words to Dancer, allay- ing her concerns by telling her that Ikuo had not dwelled on her secrecy re- garding the Sacred Wound.

Dancer was silent for a while. "I'm really happy that the Quiet Women and the Technicians are taking the Sacred Wound so seriously," she said finally, "but I don't think Patron would be too pleased, either with the Quiet Women's excessive emotionalism or the way the Technicians are already lay- ing plans for action."

"Professor Kizu spoke with Dr. Koga," Ogi said, "who told him how surprised he was to see the intensity with which the Technicians are dealing with the wound. He also said he's concerned that they might ignore Patron's will and use this as a pretext for reviving their radical activities."

"But what about Ikuo himself?" Dancer asked. "Didn't he join this church in order to hear Patron relay the order God wants him to carry out?

Ikuo's close to the Technicians in a different way from Dr. Koga. I wonder sometimes if he might join them and rush headlong into something rash. If Ikuo and the Technicians joined forces, Patron might not be able to resist them."

"Professor Kizu kids him about how training the Young Fireflies is his main thing now," Ogi said.

The wet interior of her mouth had a much healthier hue to it than it had earlier in the day, as Dancer sat there contemplatively. "Since Ikuo's child- hood was so unusual," she said, "he can't restrain himself when it comes to dealing with children. Don't you think he would have made a good school- teacher, instead of making a half-baked effort to carve out a life for himself in normal society? Not that I have any right to say that."

Ogi felt it was he, more than Dancer, who had no right to criticize Ikuo in that way.

5

Late that night another unexpected event took place, which made this the busiest week since the church had moved to the Hollow. Kizu suffered a massive bloody discharge and sharper pain than ever before and was carried to Dr. Koga's clinic.

There were portents that this might be coming, especially when Kizu told Ikuo, as he left the studio, that he was too exhausted to go out to dinner and asked Mrs. Shigeno to prepare a light meal to be sent over to his residence.

Ms. Tachibana, along with Morio, had yet to see the sketch of Patron's Sacred Wound, so she brought over Kizu's meal, which consisted of the same menu as everyone else's, minus the meat.

Ms. Tachibana's face was almost frighteningly pale, but Kizu was happy to see that there was an understanding between her and Ikuo and the office staff. Kizu was also impressed at how intensely Morio studied the sketch, the same intensity he usually applied only to listening to music. It was also nice to see that his eyes and ears were perfectly fine. Ms. Tachibana was worried, though, because Kizu didn't touch his meal while they were there, and on the way home she found herself also concerned when Morio, with his perfect pitch, told her that Kizu's voice had been one note flatter than usual.

Also, in the middle of the night, as she got Morio up to use the toilet- he'd been wetting his bed since he was a teenager-she noticed a light on in the house on the north shore, reflected on the surface of the lake. She woke Dancer up, and they talked things over with Ogi. Kizu's place didn't have a phone, so they decided to go over to check for themselves. As soon as Ogi entered the unlocked house, he found Kizu collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet.

Ogi raced back to their house on the south shore, phoned Dr. Koga, and went back to help Dancer take care of Kizu. Kizu was conscious as they car- ried him to his bed, though he couldn't respond and just groaned. All they could do while waiting for Dr. Koga was to stand watch at Kizu's bedside.

At the same time they noticed that their palms were dappled dark red, like the painting of the wound in Patron's side.

Ikuo drove Dr. Koga over. The doctor seemed more energetic than ever as he bustled around. Ikuo, in contrast, was tearful and helpless, yet some- how he blurted out that he'd like them to take Kizu by ambulance to the Red Cross Hospital in Matsuyama. Dr. Koga scolded him, however, saying that a patient in such pain might very well have a heart attack and that transport- ing him such a long way would be signing his death warrant. He would treat Kizu at the clinic.

The next day the Quiet Women held another prayer vigil, this time for Kizu's swift recovery. The Young Fireflies, profoundly grateful for the donations Kizu had made to them and wanting to cheer up Ikuo, put back the partition they had taken out in Kizu's house to make the studio, to partition off a living room, again, on the east side, and a bedroom on the west for Kizu to convalesce in.

Kizu came home from the clinic one week later and was carried up to his house from the car they parked below the dam. As he was carried inside on a stretcher, Kizu noticed Morio among those lined up to welcome him back and said a word of greeting to him. Morio, solemn and serious, paused a beat before replying.

"Your voice is small, but it's the right pitch now!"

The people gathered there had heard how Morio had related Kizu's physical condition to the pitch of his voice, and an animated stir rippled through the group. Ogi realized how indispensable a person Kizu had already become to those who'd moved here.

Asa-san was among the local residents who were happy that Kizu was back home. Ogi learned that, even though she was among those who smiled peacefully at Morio's words, she was also a realist unmoved by the upbeat mood of those around her.

Watching as Kizu was carried up the slope, gazing steadily at the green- ery, which had deepened in color in the week of his absence, Asa-san spoke to Ogi, who stood beside her.

"I'm not saying that Professor Kizu needs to return to America, but wouldn't it be best if he chose a real hospital in Matsuyama or Tokyo and settled in there? I think coming back to the Hollow means he's resigned him- self to the inevitable."

Ogi went over to the home on the east side of the monastery occupied by Patron to report to him that Kizu was back from the clinic. Patron asked about Kizu's condition and about any new symptoms and was dissatisfied that Ogi wasn't able to give more details. Before long Patron announced he'd be paying Kizu a visit. Ogi returned to the office to consult with Dancer, and in the evening, with Dr. Koga joining them, they discussed how to carry out this request.

The sky was dark and threatening rain as Ogi and Dancer walked single file through the dark silent woods to Kizu's house, shining their flashlights at Patron's feet. Contrary to the usual feeling one got that the darkness was pushing down to the lowest reaches of the woods, the chapel and the monas- tery across the lake seemed to recede and somehow it felt entirely natural that-despite the large number of people living there-there wasn't a sound.

Kizu was sitting in his angled bed, propped up by cushions, and in front of him were three dining room chairs. Dr. Koga was already ensconced on one of them. Patron and Dancer sat down on the other two, while Ikuo and Ogi stood at the foot of the bed, their backs to the dark window.

"I'm sorry to have caused all this trouble with such dramatic events,"

Kizu said, in a voice that, as Morio had pointed out, was small but lively.

"If anyone's been acting melodramatically, it's me" Patron said. "Once my fever came down I was back to normal, but I've stayed in my room be- cause I was embarrassed to see all of you. Are you in pain?"

"No, not right now."

"It must have been quite painful when you collapsed."

"I didn't even have time to think about it, the pain was so bad-more than I had thought a person could endure… Physical pain can make your whole world collapse. It made me think how extraordinary your Somersault must have been, as a shock to your whole person. I realized I'd taken advan- tage of our closeness in age and said some pretty stupid things. It's made me think about a lot of things…"

Patron didn't respond directly, and everyone else was silent. Just say- ing that much had left Kizu gasping for breath.

"You've just been allowed to come home," Dancer said, "and I'm sure the trip has worn you out, so it's best not to talk too much."

"Don't worry," Dr. Koga countered. "Professor Kizu isn't your run-of- the-mill invalid. He's the kind of person who can take physical pain, shift it over Xospiritual pain, and use it to bolster his creativity. I've never had a patient like him before."

"I've only been away a week," Kizu said, "but I feel uplifted to be back with all my friends again. This really has become my home. I got a little car- ried away just now and said that after all the pain I experienced I reflected deeply on things, but I can't get Patron's wound out of my mind. I had just sketched it, too… For ten years, you said, you were in hell, and I was think- ing about what you endured… To borrow Dr. Koga's words, along with the spiritual pain, imagine such a persistent physical pain on top of it… It's the kind of pain that hits you all at once, but no matter how overwhelming it is you know it will pass. If the body is killed, the pain will disappear. But that's not true of spiritual pain, is it?"

Patron was silent. Dancer said to him, "When you were in the midst of your fever you didn't get a chance to see Professor Kizu's sketch. Could we all look together at it now?"

She went to the room next door, closed off by a wide sliding door, and brought over the framed sketch. Kizu asked Ikuo to fetch the preliminary sketchbook he'd used for the final panel of the triptych. As the latter was opened onto the floor, Kizu stretched out his neck toward it like a turtle.

"The one in the frame is the sketch I did of your wound, which I col- ored with watercolors. The next one, and the page in the sketchbook, are sketches I did the night I was hit by that sharp pain, while I was thinking about the tableau. Both of them center on the Sacred Wound, and I did them to try to clarify my feelings about Patron's injury.

"My pain was entirely physical, but while I was racked by it, and after a week when its aftershocks continued, when I look at these earlier sketches I feel my way of thinking about the tableau has changed. Seeing as how I've come up with a new concept, I thought I'd ask Patron to come here to pose for me."

"Well, there's no need to hide my wound anymore, so why not?" Pa- tron replied. "Somehow your painting captures a side of me that now, even at my age, I'd never noticed before."

1

In his house on the north shore of the Hollow, Kizu still felt a quiet sense of excitement after Patron's visit and lay awake far into the night. Even with- out the medicine Dr. Koga had prescribed, he was able to control the pain deep in his abdomen; he was beginning, in fact, to feel a kind of symbiotic relationship with it.

Kizu realized again how hard it is to call up a memory of pain once it's passed. Still, after such overwhelming agony, he was able to put the lesser pain he felt at present, and any anxiety about the future, into perspective.

The pain that had assaulted him in the middle of that night he could certainly feel for what it was, yet it went way beyond what anything within him could actively resist. He'd felt driven, spiritually and physically, into a gigantic dark tunnel of pain, violated, with no hope of escape. During the intermittent periods when the pain receded, he was surprised that an insig- nificant being like himself was able to put up with so much. And then the pain would flare up again and he'd be driven back, deep into that dark tun- nel. What frightened him most was the fact that there was no downtime, no letup from this abnormal power. Every time he was once again spit out, alive, from the depths, only to be handed over to a different form of pain-one that was within the realm of comprehension.

The pain that Kizu felt deep in his gut was somehow now accompa- nied by a sense of nostalgia. Not a nostalgia based on some past event, but more like a sense of déjà vu.

Ever so slowly the pain reached its peak, and Kizu suppressed a groan.

The dregs of pain floated up on his expelled breath; his feverish body began to smell.

The second or third day, when all his organs felt stiff and hard, he couldn't understand where the pain was coming from, what the dynamics of the pain and his body movements were, and how they were related. Kizu was both afraid of this unknown opponent and roused himself to resist it, shifting positions in bed to test it. He tried this even more efficiently now and was finally able to pinpoint the pain's exact locus. This time, in place of a groan, he exhaled deeply.

The sound came back to him as a sigh, a composed expression of his inner being.

"Can't you sleep?" Ikuo called out to him. He had apparently been awake all the time. "Is the pain really bad?" As this familiar voice rose up like dampness from the foot of his bed, Kizu felt a childish exhilaration.

"It does hurt, but it's not the kind of pain I usually feel inside… more like an imaginary pain. Like soldiers who get their legs blown off in war and still complain that their knees hurt."

"Would you like me to prepare a suppository?" Ikuo asked.

"I'd rather not."

"How about a sleeping pill?"

"It's not the pain that's keeping me up. I'm just absorbing the fact that I'm actually back here."

"Shall I open the curtain?"

"That'd be nice. But let's keep the lights off so the people across the lake won't start worrying."

A large dark object roused itself and slowly drew the curtain back. In the moonlight that filtered in, Kizu was happy to see a brusque smile on Ikuo's deeply shadowed profile. Drawn by Ikuo's gaze outside, Kizu slid himself up so he, too, could see out.

The moon was in the west, hidden behind the huge cypress that filled the whole right side of the window. The shadow of the tree cut across the surface of the lake, where fog was swirling low and beginning to thicken, all the way to the forest on the east bank. The moon shone on the fog on the surface of the lake, illuminating the concrete walls of the chapel on the south shore.

Even the needles of the cedars and the tips of the leaves of the bushes in the forest behind were shining, yet the whole was pitch black. The night sky was clear, with a purity Kizu hadn't seen in some time, with thin clouds sweep- ing briskly and steadily across the sky like sheets of ice.

Kizu had been quiet, concentrating on the moonlit scene for a while, when he noticed that Ikuo wanted to say something but had been hesitating.

"One of my colleagues in America has traced the American sublime in Romantic landscapes of the United States," Kizu said, in a hoarse voice. "I see there's a sublime in the Japanese landscape too."

"The Young Fireflies talk of the Hollow as a special place," Ikuo said.

"During the insurrections at the end of the Tokugawa period and the begin- ning of the Meiji, people dragged down bamboo to use as weapons from the huge bamboo grove. Right here, which used to be a basin, was where they stripped the leaves off, the ground completely covered in green and the farmers drunk. The Base Movement started here as well, as did the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. I believe there really is what everyone calls the power of the land, what Asa-san calls the power of the place."

"Will Patron's church be able to rely on this power?" Kizu asked.

"It's like a stage where something's going to take place, where some- thing sacred will manifest itself… I've felt the same thing once before, in another place… Two days ago, when the moon was full, I came back here, to see how the Fireflies had rearranged the rooms, and spent the night. I couldn't get to sleep either, and as I looked out at the bright moonlit scenery outside I remembered that other time and place."

Kizu waited for Ikuo to continue his reminiscences, but after a moment of silence the young man brought up another subject.

"At noon the next day everyone was asking me, very concerned, about how you were. With what happened with Patron's Sacred Wound, things change so fast. The Quiet Women have started to formulate some plans of their own in addition to their group prayers, while the inner circle of Tech- nicians, who've been wavering a bit since Guide's death, are now much more focused again-as Dancer, for whatever reason, had predicted.

"I came here following Patron rather than his church, hoping he was going to take some action. So I'd like to consider these things going on among the church members as a kind of forewarning of things to come. If the internal pressure building up in the Quiet Women and the Technicians blows, I don't think Patron can just sit around twiddling his thumbs. I'm like Dancer-I much prefer to see signs that something is about to happen.

Two days ago I was convinced that something important is about to take place on the stage before me now, this moonlit Hollow. People say any con- victions you have late at night are illusory, but tonight I'm getting the exact same feelings. I think the reason you're back here, Professor, is so you can observe whatever it is that's going to happen on this stage.

"Whatever it is," Ikuo went on, "I don't want the Young Fireflies to fall victim to it. I bring this up because they consider these grounds in the Hol- low a special place, the site where they're planning to construct their new lives.

So whatever happens, they'll be involved."

Something occurred to Kizu. "Every time I talk with you about the book of Jonah, I see you standing on Jonah's side, grumbling about what the Lord wants you to do. But your attitude right now isn't just that of a Jonah."

"What do you mean?" Ikuo asked, caught off guard.

"It's a simple thing, really. Not long ago I put it this way: Jonah stands up to God, insisting that he destroy Nineveh the way he originally planned.

But God, lamenting the loss of over 120,000 children plus countless head of cattle, doesn't burn the city. And the people repent. And now you're worried about children not becoming victims, right?"

Ikuo turned his forehead, lumpy like the surface of a pumpkin, toward the moonlight, while below his deep eye sockets all was dark and hardened.

"I'm not making fun of you," Kizu said, "merely pointing out this con- tradiction. A contradiction you've never had before in your life, never thought about, but one that's significant nonetheless. If you hadn't come to this place and gotten to know the Fireflies, this contradiction never would have entered your world… never would have grazed you conceptually.

"I began to think about this when you were staying with me in the clinic,"

Kizu said. "In the middle of the night when I looked out at the backyard I saw a group of Fireflies huddled together, all gazing up despondently at my win- dow. Soon after I laid my head back on my pillow, you got up from your sofa and, thinking I was asleep, crept out of the room. Pretty soon I heard an irre- pressible stir. Just seeing you made the children in the backyard so happy. You're very close to these kids, and you have a premonition that something is going to take place here. Whatever it turns out to be, you'll be a part of it, and they can't help but get dragged in. You can't shut out such devoted admirers.

"No matter what sort of amoral activity you get involved with, it's not going to shock me into retreating. This is the stage where I'll spend my final days, and no matter what takes place I'm ready for it. But I must say I don't mind seeing you agonize over how to keep the Fireflies from getting hurt."

2

Ikuo looked lost in thought. The fog that covered the lake rose up in eddies. At first Kizu thought the wind was making it swirl, but looking closely at the outline of the giant cypress he noticed the fog was still. Was it a change in humidity that made the fog form at night? Still feverish, Kizu was sensi- tive enough to smell the cold coming through the bare window.

"Why don't we close the curtains, Ikuo."

Silently, with unfaltering steps, the young man moved over to the win- dow. After closing the curtains, he walked around the bed to straighten the curtains on the opposite side, through which vertical shafts of moonlight fil- tered in. His eyes were used to the dark, so he moved quickly and surely. Kizu could just make him out as he climbed back in bed and pulled up the covers.

Drawing back slightly, he sat up, clasping his knees together.

"There is something I really wanted to tell you tonight," Ikuo said. "It's connected with what you talked about earlier. It's the most important expe- rience I've had up till now. I was going to tell you about it once-the time that Guide urged me to appeal to Patron, when I had you write that letter for me. But I didn't have the guts.

"I told you about how I heard a voice from above?-the voice of God, I called it, telling me, Do it!-though I didn't tell you what I did in response to that voice, just that I was waiting to hear the voice again. I know you're tired, but I wonder if you would mind listening to me?"

Ikuo spoke politely, though clearly not expecting a negative reply.

"I feel a premonition, I guess you'd call it, that something important will occur here very soon. The Technicians are making preparations; even the Quiet Women are active. The buildings here in the Hollow belong to the Kansai headquarters, so of course they have every right to do this, but they're planning to hold a gathering here in the Hollow with Patron and a large number of their followers. After people found out about the Sacred Wound, Patron became very upbeat about this plan and told Ogi to take charge. Most likely it'll be held in the summer.

"With all these things happening and me involved, I have to come up with a plan. But what kind of plan I still have to figure out. One thing I need to decide is how far I should involve the Fireflies. I've been thinking about this all week. For several days running, Gii's brought the Fireflies over to stand guard over me, as it were, since seeing me just sitting silently and thinking has him worried.

"The Fireflies are kids, after all, so they're self-centered. They're en- thusiastic about doing whatever it takes to establish Gii's ideology. If an emergency arises with you, Professor-or even if it's not an emergency- and you're put in a hospital in Tokyo or New York, I probably won't be coming back to the Hollow. And that's a worry for them too, from their ideological standpoint.

"So there's this basic egotism involved, but you should know that every one of the Fireflies participated in the silent prayer meeting the Quiet Women held for your recovery. Two hours without a break. It must have been pretty hard on them, don't you think? That's an incredibly long time for young kids to sit still and keep their eyes closed, but Gii made sure every single one of them took part.

"Two hours… Yes, that must have been hard on them," Kizu said.

"Their goal was to keep you here and to keep me tied to this region. They came up with other plans too, including one to threaten us. This was connected with something I told Gii about my past. I thought you might not be getting back to sleep soon, so I wanted to tell you this story now.

"When I was fourteen years old I hit my tutor, an American named Schmidt, with a poker and hurt him quite seriously. And then when I was sixteen I hit him again with a poker and killed him. Behind both attacks was the homosexual relationship we had. If you and I decided to cut our ties with the Hollow and move to Tokyo or America, Gii planned to blackmail us by sending letters to the newspapers accusing us of creating a ring in which we sexually abused young boys.

"I haven't told you before about my early life, but now I'd like to. My father was a banker who was stationed abroad for many years, and my mother was a piano teacher. Through my parents' professions we got to be friends with the family of an American who ran a music publishing firm that oper- ated in the United States and Japan.

"I was the youngest child in my family and ended up becoming closest to this family-the Schmidts. My parents were particularly keen on having me remain bilingual, since we had lived in England, Canada, and the States until I was ten, and I was fluent in English. I wasn't a particularly studious child, but I loved making models, and when I wasn't doing that I played all day outside our house in the suburbs, where the natural surroundings were still quite beautiful, so physically at least I grew up strong.

"Every weekend I was sent to stay over at the Schmidts'. His wife was Japanese, and they had a grown daughter, and Mr. Schmidt did his work at home, in a separate cottage, and that's where I slept on an army cot they set up for me. It was during this period that you and I had our near miss at that plastic model competition. What you saw there was an indication of the vio- lence I was capable of. My sexual relationship with Mr. Schmidt started when I was ten and a half and continued until I was fourteen, when I took that poker in the cottage-the poker he used to show me how to build a fire and keep it going; he was my teacher in many ways-and I hit him in the back and thighs.

He suffered compound fractures and was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

"My parents and Mr. Schmidt came to an understanding, though, and I wasn't hauled off to court. Mr. Schmidt was quite generous to me, and after he returned to working in his house he restarted our English conversation lessons. I can't believe my parents weren't aware of the sexual element in the background to all this. But my father was a self-centered, closed-in person, and he was relieved to let Mr. Schmidt's generosity and good intentions settle matters.

"So I kept going over for my lessons, though I didn't spend the night, and two years later Mr. Schmidt was going on a business trip to Vienna and Salzburg in the musical off-season-his job then involving reissuing a series of old LPs-and asked me to go with him to push his wheelchair. I think Mr. Schmidt sort of put the screws to my father to get his consent. I could tell because when we were leaving my father looked kind of depressed. Anyway, after a busy week in Vienna, on the day after we went to Salzburg, I clubbed Mr. Schmidt to death.

"I wasn't taken into custody by the police but taken to a hospital in Vienna, where one of the counselors was a Japanese specialist who was a pro- fessor appointed to the staff there and the other counselor was a professor who'd taken his degree at Stanford. I spoke a lot, both in English and Japa- nese. I tried my hardest to give them the impression that I'd been forced into killing Mr. Schmidt because I'd been victimized. They believed me. Later on I heard that one of the counselors had been quoted in the newspapers to the effect that the real criminal in this case was the murdered man himself!

"Police investigators dispatched to Japan unearthed another young man who'd been sexually molested by Schmidt, which was a plus for me. Natu- rally they asked me why I hadn't told anyone, but one commentator also noted how Japan isn't the kind of country where sexual victimization is part of ordinary discourse.

"At least I was able to lead the hospital and the police investigation in a direction that was advantageous to me, convincing them that the physical and emotional wounds I'd been carrying around for so long finally exploded, and that not only was the process whereby I was injured completely overlooked, but that no one-neither my parents nor my doctors-had detected the calls for help I'd been sending out since the first incident. In other words, I put myself forward as the tragic victim in this whole affair.

"This was the spin I put on Schmidt's death for adult consumption, but inside I had a different understanding of it-not that I was aware of it at the time-and this has been a major issue for me ever since. When Mr. Schmidt was in Tokyo he had no compunction about walking around town accompa- nied by a young boy playing the role of page. This turned out to be very try- ing for me when we were in Europe. In front of the hotel staff he treated me as he would in Japan, but when he was in a formal situation with his social betters he treated me like some Oriental valet.

"The day the murder took place there was to be a dinner with a famous conductor who would be presenting a limited-engagement series of concerts in Japan, and though someone was needed to push Mr. Schmidt's wheelchair, they assigned that job to a member of the hotel owner's family. I was ordered to stay behind in our hotel room and be content with a room-service supper.

"Mr. Schmidt was decked out in formal wear, waiting for them to come get him, and I was watching Japanese cartoons on TV when he called me to come over to the terrace of our suite's sitting room. It was still some time be- fore sunset, and because the hotel was situated on a hillside, you could see a broad vista, including the dark sky threatening thunder.

"Mr. Schmidt asked me if I recalled the sketch of the Alpine valleys in the copy of Leonardo da Vinci's Madrid notebook he'd told me to look at before we left Japan. The place where we were headed next was the area where his parents had been born and raised, from which they set off when they moved to America.

He said that place resembled the drawing, which is why he'd wanted me to see it.

"Like the view from our veranda, the drawing showed, beyond gentle hills and thickets, a sunken plain with clumps of houses and groves of trees.

And beyond that a dark, rainy ravine between two mountains, with a cap of clouds like a heavy lid on top. Farther up you could see the sunlit peaks of the clouds and the Alps ranging off into the distance.

"Recalling this, what I saw before me was something with a broader façade than the drawing, a wide-angled version, with a large castle on the mountain in the middle, light on one side, darkness on the other. To the right, farther back, range upon range of the Alps sparkled in the evening sun.

"After making sure that I did recall Leonardo's drawing and that I was mentally comparing it to the scenery outside the glass doors, Mr. Schmidt said, 'My parents were born on the slopes of the mountain far back in that ravine and were raised feeling the electricity that swells up there running through their whole bodies. Every time I look at da Vinci's notebook, that electricity my parents felt shoots right through me. For the people who crossed over to the New World from here, that's what this land meant to them. And in the art that European geniuses have created lies the same effect.'

"Twilight seemed to last forever that day, and as I ate my lonely hamburger and cucumber pickle, served on the same china as in the hotel restaurant but somehow tasting different, I looked at the scene outside for the longest time and thought. It wasn't long before I came up with the idea of beating Mr. Schmidt to death. I was enraged at him for making me study that heavy book of paint- ings, bringing me here to see the real thing, and then implying that-with no European blood flowing in me-neither one had anything to do with me.

"As young as I was, though, I knew getting angry like that was point- less. Instead, I was taken with the idea of feeling the electricity he'd mentioned.

I couldn't get this out of my head. Now I realize it was like I was aware that my soul was being charged with electricity. It was thrilling. I could see my- self from outside my body, high-voltage current running through me, my body emitting a phosphorescent glow. When Mr. Schmidt returned late that night and saw me seated in front of the large fireplace (though I didn't yet have the poker in my hand), he gave a start. But he didn't say a word, just had the blond young man with him push his wheelchair into the bathroom.

"It was my job to help Mr. Schmidt out of his clothes and bathe him.

But on my way there I spied a long, solid-looking poker leaning up against the high side of the fireplace.

"At the same instant, I remembered the voice I'd heard two years be- fore, a voice from outside of me insisting, Do it! Why had I forgotten that up till now? At the time I heard that voice I lacked the courage to carry out to the bitter end what it badgered me to do, and I tried to escape.

"But I knew it was okay now, I remembered it clearly. I wouldn't for- get. There was no need to hurry. Just take your time and carry it out. I left the poker in front of the fireplace where I could reach it in the dark and set off for the bathroom, passing the glum-looking young man on his way out.

"One of the questions I was asked by those professors at the Viennese hospital was whether or not I'd soiled my pants when I hit Mr. Schmidt on the back of the head with the poker. The Austrian professor who'd lived in the United States a long time was the one who asked me this, and seeing that I hesitated to answer, the other professor, the Japanese one, translated the ques- tion into Japanese. His face was red, whether from anger or embarrassment I don't know, but he made sure I understood that by soiling my pants I was being asked not whether I'd lost control of my bowels but whether I'd ejaculated.

"The two adults standing there together asking me this looked to me like a pair of fools. I felt this way because I was filled with that high-voltage electricity, something I now know is connected to the spiritual, and I was cunning enough to take them by surprise with my response. I managed an answer that took the wind out of their sails and made them look silly to boot.

'"Since Mr. Schmidt didn't have his hand inside my pants when I clubbed him,' I said, 'no-I didn't soil my underwear.'

"I said this directly in English, and it was the Austrian professor's turn to blush."

3

"I undressed Mr. Schmidt and carried him to the bathtub-no big deal, considering how I was built at sixteen-helped him control his limbs as he bathed, dressed him in a gown, and carried him to the bedroom. I helped him change into pajamas. Then, as I hung up his dressing gown in the closet I took the belt and tied it around my head like a Japanese hachimakj, something I'd never done before. I went back to the darkened sitting room and picked up the poker, which was three feet long, longer than the one I'd used before.

"I shook my head to clear it of the excess electricity buzzing around inside and awaited the sound of that voice. Do it! Could I hear it? My head buzzed even more, like the echo of a far-off memory. Do it, do it! I rubbed my sweaty palm against the hachimakj, adjusted my grip on the poker, and went into the bedroom.

"I wasn't sure, but I thought that maybe if I started to do it the buzzing would stop, and everything would become that one voice I'd heard before.

But as I swung the poker I wasn't listening. The next time I thought about that voice was when the two professors were quizzing me. Since this time I really had done it, I felt like I'd become that voice. At the same time, though, I suppressed the thought that maybe I hadn't actually heard anything at all.

"Years passed, and I was in my third year in the university architecture department. In order to graduate I had to either present my own original design or write a thesis on an existing structure. I never had any problems with math or architecture theory, but when I arrived at this stage I realized I didn't know the first thing about critiquing buildings.

"I racked my brain, trying to understand why I was basically empty inside, when the events of Salzburg and Vienna popped into my head-not the murder itself so much as the way I lied to the doctors in the hospital and how they bought it so easily. Little by little, I felt this was canceling out the incident that had preceded it.

"Glibly lying day after day had turned me into a poor little youth, a vic- tim of sexual harassment who had lashed out in self-defense. Setting myself up as a passive child who normally would not have done what he did, I was let off the hook legally. But to arrive at this point I had to set aside everything I'd experi- enced up till then, meager as it was. Helped along by the adults, who were try- ing to make everything consistent, I fit myself right into the ad hoc mold they'd created. And that's how I've lived ever since. Now I have to bring forth what is uniquely mine. But is it any wonder I'm stifled, unable to do anything?

"Once I realized this, it bothered me that I wasn't able to screw up my courage and face things head-on. And each time I felt about to do that I couldn't help but be conscious of what it was that was holding me back.

"When I was fourteen I'd heard it loud and clear, no mistake about it, a voice urging me to act; the same voice had me commit murder at sixteen. But this deception I'd pulled in Vienna made me lose sight of the source of that voice. When I started to think about it, I understood that it wasn't at four- teen that I first heard that voice, but as an infant. This was a voice I knew before I was even born.

"I used this as an opportunity to drop out of college. I gave my profes- sors and parents some hackneyed yet honest excuse that there were things I needed to do in order to recover. What I needed to recover though, was that voice, one more time.

"Wandering all over Japan, putting everything I had into a search for the source of that voice, I ended up getting nowhere. But during this long journey I happened to meet you, Professor. I knew right away that you were the illustrator of The Book of Jonah for children. I'd read that book before I was fourteen. I was entranced by Jonah's features and his hair, but it wasn't just that he was handsome. At fourteen and sixteen I convinced myself that I was like Jonah, hearing a voice telling me to act.

"One other thing connected with my meeting you I find very signifi- cant-the fact that after I started modeling for you we began a homosexual relationship. After the affair with Mr. Schmidt I never did that sort of thing again. It's quite extraordinary to run across a person like you, Professor, someone willing to spend the rest of his life so that eventually I can do what it is I want to do, even though I haven't revealed to you what that is.

"Other things sprang out of our relationship too. You helped me recall the way I'd crushed that plastic city model I'd made as a child. I was able to remember how even at that time I'd heard that voice. And I could meet up again with one other player in this incident-Dancer-and through her a path opened up that led me straight to Patron.

"Patron is important to me because his trances put him face-to-face with God. He didn't willfully open up this pipeline to God. This relationship appears when he falls into a trance that's more like a horrible attack. And Patron was driven to shut off that pipeline to God himself.

"Patron announced that the visions of the other side he'd so long trans- mitted were all just a prank. I think it's true what they say of him, that he made a fool of God. But he still continued to suffer, so much that his inner spiritual wounds became physical ones. Guide was tortured to death by his former comrades, but Patron continues to suffer, with no relief in sight.

"As long as I follow Patron, I know that someday that voice-the one I answered only vaguely, the mere memory of which made me do something totally irreversible and from which, afterward, I ran away as fast as I could- will come to me again.

"Patron has moved to this region now in order to start a new church movement, and his followers have prepared buildings, waiting with bated breath for his next move. I was fortunate enough to come here with you, Pro- fessor. Knowing that your cancer is back, you've chosen this as your place to die. And something has taken place to reinforce the truth of that idea.

"Patron's wound has come out in the open, and all the groups of believ- ers are excited about it. And for the first time in my life I have real friends with whom to do things. And all of a sudden this vivid memory's hit me of when I stayed in that hotel in Austria, how it was so rainy that the manager lamented how un-Salzburg-like the weather was. I remember how the elec- tricity built up until it had to explode. I feel the same electricity here as the power of the land, the power of the place.

"Professor, are you still awake?"

Kizu wasn't asleep. He just couldn't find the words to respond to such a confession.

"Guess he is asleep."

From out of his summer covers, Ikuo reached out a soft palm and rested it on Kizu's lower abdomen, careful to not put too much weight on it. He stayed like that for a long time. Warmth from his palm seeped into Kizu's abdomen. Kizu could sense Ikuo's tongue moving around inside his closed mouth. Finally Ikuo withdrew his arm, drew nearer to him in the darkness, and went out into the narrow space separating the two rooms. He left the lights off, but Kizu could sense him crawling into his boxlike bed.

As Kizu listened to Ikuo's monologue he'd learned one surprising thing after another. Yet somehow, as if he'd already known all this, it didn't shock him. From the first time he'd laid eyes on the boy with the beautiful doglike eyes, hadn't he felt both a connection with something higher and yet, unpara- doxically, something mysteriously low and mean? Even after they'd started to live together, that sense that they were not really close continued, something Kizu had put down to Ikuo's basic personality.

After Kizu had him model for the painting of Jonah, he discovered something special in Ikuo. Kizu discovered a person who responded to God's call at the same time that heprotested to God, a person who had a brutal streak, even. Putting together all these pieces, he didn't find it strange that Ikuo had heard a voice from heaven as a child and took a life because of it.

Kizu knew Ikuo was his better in one area-the fact that in their sexual relationship he was the novice, not Ikuo. Soon after they started to sleep together Ikuo had mentioned he'd had some experience playing the man, but despite this Kizu had carried around with him for a long time a mix- ture of pride and guilt at having initiated a young man into this abnormal form of sex.

After he finally fell asleep, Kizu once again dreamt of himself as nearly completing the triptych. Though he found it strange that he could do this, since his weakened condition should make working on the tableau too tir- ing, in the dream he overcame this obstacle and was overjoyed at being able to progress with his work on the third panel-whose composition in reality he still hadn't decided on.

In his dream, the details of the first panel, too, the one showing the in- side of the whale's belly, were crystal clear. Before a backdrop of a scene from a Salzburg hillside hotel, beyond the city streets, beyond the river and a castle- topped mountain, and beyond a ravine at the entrance to the Alps, Ikuo-as- Jonah was in the process of murdering a middle-aged man. Every nook and cranny of the background-which Kizu had painted merely as the dark laby- rinth of the whale's innards-was now entirely clear, and he felt a sense of artistic completion.

In the middle of the third panel he was in reality now working on, Patron, the wound showing on his side, stood next to Ikuo/Jonah. Patron was a preliminary sketch done from memory, distinguishable by the Sacred Wound, while Ikuo/Jonah was no longer an innocent youth. Surrounding the two of them was the Hollow as an abstract opera set: the huge cypress tower- ing darkly, with the cylindrical chapel and the fortresslike monastery bor- dered, top and bottom, by the moonlit surface of the lake reflecting the forest and the fog.

The next morning Kizu woke up late, and as he went out into the corridor from the still-dark bedroom he saw, in a corner of the atelier, smaller now because of the new partition, Ikuo sitting on top of his boxlike bed, unmov- ing as a stone statue. Kizu thought he might be asleep, but when he returned from urinating, the stone statue looked up and greeted him in a gentle voice.

"Good morning! Did you sleep well? Why don't you have breakfast in bed? I'll go get it."

Kizu drew back the curtains-the sun was high in a whitish sky, yet fog and dew still clung to the lake and the huge cypress-got into bed, and pulled the wooden tray toward him as Ikuo brought in canned grapefruit juice, tea, and toast. The young man stood watching him eat, his expression more cheerful than it had been in quite some time, with no traces of the pre- vious night's confessions.

"Individual believers have been arriving since last week," Ikuo told him, "and they'll be assigned to stay in the closed elementary school in the outskirts or in some unoccupied private homes. Ms. Asuka is among them, and she'll be taking turns helping me here. You're able to use the toilet yourself, so you don't mind having a woman take care of you, do you?"

"I suppose not," Kizu said. "I'm thinking of starting work again today on the triptych. Have you eaten?"

"I'll bring my food in here." Ikuo started out toward the kitchen, stopped, and turned around. "I got a little carried away in the moonlight last night, and I apologize for talking for so long. It was stupid of me to do that with you just out of your sickbed. It's just that when you were staying at the clinic I decided I had to tell you."

He seemed to be trying to sound out Kizu as to how far he'd managed to stay awake and what he'd heard, but Kizu gave nothing away, and they began to eat a mostly silent meal. Ikuo lined up on the tray the various medi- cines Kizu had to take, along with a clean cup of water, and then went off to make some coffee. Ms. Asuka had already been given a key, which she used now to open the door and stick her head in the bedroom.

"How have you been, Professor? It must have been very hard on you," she said, in her usually diffident way. "I'll be taking care of you starting to- day. Ikuo-san has so many other places he needs to be. Everybody on the south shore is quite energized. Quite a stir, I can tell you. The Sacred Wound has had a remarkable effect on everyone."

1

It was a bit too much for Ms. Asuka, after she started taking care of Kizu, to carry food for them both from the dining hall, so she would go down as soon as it opened and, after finishing her own meal, bring back a tray for Kizu.

The days were getting longer so she didn't need a flashlight even after dinner.

Ms. Asuka and the other individual followers who'd moved there had been assigned rooms temporarily, in the monastery along with the Techni- cians or with the Quiet Women, until their own lodgings were decided, but even so she didn't run across Ikuo in the dining hall. The three of them met in Kizu's bedroom, however. When she collected Kizu's dinner tray and sat down at a window seat facing the lake, there across from her sat Ikuo.

The first thing Ikuo said was that since tonight would be her first night staying over with Kizu, if she wanted he would stay over as well. Since she'd worked in the trade, Ms. Asuka replied, sharing a room overnight with a man certainly didn't faze her.

Kizu felt sorry for Ikuo and how flustered this must have made him.

Ikuo's face turned red as a devil's, and he got a little overbearing, telling her that lots of different people would be calling on Kizu to see how he was do- ing, and they were bound to talk about all sorts of things, so she had to prom- ise to keep whatever she heard strictly confidential.

Ms. Asuka couldn't figure out exactly what he was getting at. Gazing back at the clearly irritated Ikuo in silence for a while, she said that video cameras had become even smaller and easier to use than the stories you used to hear about French fountain-pen cameras and the like. "When I use them," she said, "I find I don't have any particular feelings one way or another about the person I'm videotaping. So I've ended up with reels of unedited material.

I might overhear what visitors say when they come to pay a visit to Professor Kizu, but that'll just mean I've got one more unedited videotape in my memory."

What Ms. Asuka said struck Kizu as logical. Ikuo seemed to think so too. Ms. Asuka's words meant that whenever she was in the house taking care of Kizu, any guests should feel free to say what they wanted. She wasn't going to abuse her position.

Indeed, as Kizu continued his painting during his recuperation, one visitor after another came to see him. When he told them how Ms. Asuka, who was waiting in the next room, had come up with this metaphor about people being unedited videos, everyone had a good laugh, which loosened them up.

The first visitor was Dr. Koga, who questioned his patient and checked his vital signs and then pulled the desk chair over near the bed and sat himself down far enough away that he and Kizu could study each other as they spoke.

"Were you aware that Ikuo's been visiting the Technicians and the Quiet Women a lot," Dr. Koga began, "and carrying out an ideological inquiry of sorts?"

"I know the Young Fireflies have been questioning him," Kizu replied, "and he said he'd have to explain to them about the various sects in the church.

Most of all I think he wants to clarify things for himself."

"I can see that. There are things about the Technicians that even some- body like me who's known them for years can't understand, and that goes double for the Quiet Women.

"When I went to the monastery to have lunch, Ikuo cornered me to ask me about the Technicians. 'Why are they deemphasizing religious matters?' he asked. Not that they seem to be pushing forward with some social agenda like they did in the old days, but he doesn't think the repentant radical fac- tion-the men responsible for killing Guide-will remain in the shadows forever. He wanted to know what direction I see them trying to nudge Patron in.

"I told him that since he was so close to them I'd like to hear his opin- ion. I wasn't trying to sidestep his question but just to let him know he's much more aware than I am of what the Technicians are up to."

"What about the Quiet Women?" Kizu asked.

"Ikuo and I view them in about the same way," Dr. Koga said. "The Technicians are certainly sly old foxes as far as faith is concerned, but the really formidable ones are the Quiet Women. The Technicians are trying to incor- porate Patron in their own strategies, but there the Quiet Women beat them hands down. They've always been using Patron for their own purposes- before the Somersault and afterward.

"This idea of falling into hell is something Patron originally came up with, but the Quiet Women made it out as Patron's atonement for every- one, and they've repositioned Patron and Guide at the center of their faith.

Depending on how you look at it, it's been the Quiet Women who've kept Patron and Guide tied down. I would imagine that these past ten years it's the Quiet Women who were their heaviest burden."

"I think Ikuo's sensed this too," Kizu said. "He's formed ties with the Technicians-cooperating with them is another way of putting it, I suppose- to keep an eye on them so they don't go off on their own. But he's also been attending the Quiet Women's prayer meetings along with the Fireflies.

"Dancer went so far as to ask him whether he's been spying on the Quiet Women for the Technicians, but what he's really trying to pin down is what the Quiet Women are all about. Where they're coming from, so to speak.

Patron is very important to Ikuo. And he figures that the Quiet Women's faith may be the path that will lead him to Patron."

"I agree with you there," Dr. Koga said. "Ikuo has his own individual feelings about the transcendental, as you've said. As someone who's been driven by inevitable circumstances to be with Patron, I can certainly under- stand that.

"But a part of Ikuo still hasn't decided whether Patron's the one he seeks.

As things stand now, parading Patron around all over the place may not get you anywhere. Ikuo's keeping an eye on both the Technicians and the Quiet Women to make sure they don't try something like that. Favoring the Young Fireflies may be his way of introducing a third force into the equation."

"I have no doubt that Ikuo views Patron as the person who can mediate for him with the Almighty," Kizu said, "and he has an urgent reason for doing so, something I didn't know about until recently."

Dr. Koga looked questioningly at Kizu, who didn't go on. Sensing his reluctance, Dr. Koga changed the subject, though to something still related to Ikuo. "Ikuo told me once that Patron's teachings before the Somersault had a strong Christian element, especially in the personalized view of the divine- though now the notion of the antichrist has appeared. Ikuo said that when he attended the Quiet Women's prayer meeting there was an even stronger feeling of Christianity present. He wondered what that meant.

"The Quiet Women were able to make it on their own for ten years because they got deeper into their own special doctrine of faith. After the Somersault, people from Protestant churches who specialize in deprogram- ming mind-controlled cult members approached them, but the women held firm. In other words, the doctrine they'd been taught by Patron was stronger than mainstream Christianity.

"And now they've joined forces with the church Patron's going to found here. They have no particular problems with Patron, even though he hasn't withdrawn his Somersault, but I'm left wondering whether at some point in the near future they might not try to drag him back into this faith-minus- the-Somersault. To truly save Patron from hell."

"Do you think this upcoming summer conference Ikuo's involved in will bring about any great changes?" Kizu asked.

"I'm sure the Technicians, the Quiet Women, and the Fireflies all have their agendas," Dr. Koga said, "which means that the office staff, too, who are at Patron's beck and call, aren't just sitting on their hands either… And among the followers coming for the summer conference, the people from the Kansai headquarters already have a clear-cut idea of what they want: namely, that this first-ever national conference will clarify what direction the new church will be moving in."

Ms. Asuka appeared at the door of Kizu's bedroom, dressed in a jersey dress with a broad neckline. A set of headphones hung on her bare shoulder blades as if to underscore to Kizu and Dr. Koga that she'd been listening to classical music on the radio while they were talking, instead of eavesdropping.

Dr. Koga welcomed her cheerfully, for all the world like some still-youthful urban boy. As usual, Ms. Asuka had a faint neutral smile on her face, and her words were brusque.

"I know I shouldn't be saying this to a doctor," she said, "but maybe visiting hours are about over?"

"You're very lucky, Professor Kizu," Dr. Koga said, "to have such inde- pendent, thoughtful people helping you. I include Ikuo in this as well. Who is this?"

"This is Ms. Asuka. She usually works in film production," Kizu said, "and is going to be videotaping the summer conference."

2

The next person to visit was Asa-san, wife of the former junior high school principal, who had helped Kizu with the aborted art school project.

In the meanwhile they'd grown close.

When Kizu had moved into the house, the leaves on the maple trees jutting out on the west side were still reddish purple but had now turned a light green. In the fall the leaves would no doubt change again. Faint drops had gathered on the small leaves and were now full-sized raindrops. A gentle drizzle had been falling intermittently from morning. Ikuo had dropped by between lunch and his afternoon appointments and was sitting with Kizu, both of them gazing out at the chilly blurred surface of the lake, when Asa-san showed up. They could hear her at the entrance passing over the presents she'd brought to Ms. Asuka, explaining how her husband had raised this and caught that-vegetables, Chinese citrons, freshwater trout. Ever since the former owner of this house passed away, she went on, they'd let the vegetation around it just grow, but she'd noticed that the boundary between the trees in the gar- den around the house and the trees and shrubs pushing down from the lower reaches of the forest was blurring and she couldn't stand it, so she'd have her husband come over to do some serious pruning.

When she entered the bedroom, Asa-san spoke the sort of old-fashioned greetings one paid to an ailing person. She told Ikuo how adults were quite pleased with the work that the Fireflies had done in restoring the grove of low bamboo bushes and the group of red pussy willows along the original shoreline inside the dam at the Yabe River. She then turned to the matter that had brought her here.

"Since I have some connections with the church," she said, "I'm some- what worried about where it's headed. I'd like to ask the opinion of Professor Kizu-someone living here who isn't a church member. I'm particularly wor- ried about the direction the Quiet Women are taking. It's such a level-headed group, with highly educated people at the core, that I don't feel it's my place to say anything. But being the kind of women they are, if they do take action you can be sure they'll be quite fanatic about it. That's what worries me."

Kizu was immediately curious. Propped up in bed he noticed that Ikuo, too, sitting beyond the foot of the bed, wanted to hear more. Kizu had heard beforehand from Ms. Asuka of Asa-san's visit. Perhaps Ikuo had also heard she was coming and had been standing by.

"This is something I've been holding inside for quite a while," Asa-san went on, "but the day before you returned from the clinic, when I attended the prayer vigil with Patron, I became even more concerned. I found the prayer itself at the meeting deeply moving. Ikuo and the Fireflies attended, so you may have already heard this, but I wanted you to hear my reaction.

"Mrs. Shigeno gave the prayer preceding the sermon. Patron sat in his favorite barber's chair while we all listened, Quiet Women and non-church members alike. It was all very nice and democratic. Then it was time for a performance of Morio's music, so Ikuo got up and walked over to the piano, set up in front of where Patron was sitting. Morio went over with him, but after Ikuo had decided which pieces to play, Morio withdrew and sat down on the mechanical footrest of Patron's chair.

"I thought it was strange that Morio didn't sit beside Ikuo to turn pages-don't they do that in most concerts?-but pretty soon I realized why.

When the music started, Morio buried his face in Patron's shins, which were stretched out on the footrest. Ms. Tachibana, afraid maybe that her brother was having an attack, crouched down beside him. Before long Patron rested his hands on the tops of their two heads, both of which had the same round shape when you looked at them from behind.

"When the music was over, before they went into the silent prayer time, Patron gave a short sermon from where he sat. He said that Morio had said the music they'd just heard 'captured on paper the sound that echoes in the ears of one's soul when it ascends to heaven at the end time.' He said he heard this from Ms. Tachibana, 'but as we listen to this music aren't we all sharing the experience right here and now of ascending to heaven? This is a wonder- ful prelude to our prayers.

'"It's meaningless,' he went on, 'to ask which is more real, the experi- ence of ascending to heaven at the end of the world or what we've experienced through this music. Ms. Tachibana has taught me that the end time is both experienced countless times, and as a onetime event. I'd like you to really feel this, think deeply about it, live it.'

"After Patron said this, a rustle of agreement rose up, especially from the Quiet Women, and the meeting moved into the prayer portion. But you know what? I couldn't stand it!"

Kizu and Ikuo were both startled and stared at her. Undeterred, every- thing about Asa-san revealed the unyielding stance of an old woman deter- mined not to compromise. Despite the rainy-season cold blowing down from the forest, the skin around her eyes was flushed. Clearly struggling to sup- press her emotions, though, a different sort of expression came over Asa-san's sunburnt, freckled face.

"I've worked hard to get you all accepted here, so I think I have the right to oppose something I don't like that's about to happen. And as some- one who convinced the faction that opposed your move here, I'd say I have the duty to do so too. No doubt my husband would say that if something bad happens it's due to my hastiness, but before it does I have to speak out.

Professor, you keep your distance from the various groups within the church, so I thought you're the best one to talk to about this. I'm sure Ikuo has a different way of looking at the situation, but I'm happy at least that you heard me out."

She was already getting to her feet. She didn't seem to be expecting any quick and easy answers.

A moment earlier they had heard Ms. Asuka welcoming a new visitor at the door. Kizu soon realized it was Gii. Ms. Asuka seemed to be holding the young man back until Asa-san stopped speaking.

Asa-san turned to Gii, who was still standing in the entrance. (He had driven himself up, and Asa-san, as the wife of the former principal of the junior high, was about to give him some candid advice).

"My, you certainly got up to the Hollow quickly!" she said. "Didn't you just finish school? No matter how much you might want to see Ikuo, you young people are our future, you know, so you'd better be careful!" Then she left.

3

It was obvious that Gii wasn't old enough to have a license, but every- one who mattered, from the authorities along the riverside to the patrol- men in the police station, turned a blind eye to the young man's driving.

Coming from the city, Ms. Asuka found it amusing that this little local com- munity made an exception for Gii, though she was also, naturally enough, worried. As Gii walked into the room, her voice could be heard from be- hind him.

"Don't forget what Asa-san told you. Remember that council member who said if he gets on the bad side of you and your friends, the adults who have a weakness for children won't support him in the election? It scares me to imagine what you'll be like when you grow up."

"If I do grow up," Gii said pointedly. "My mother apparently told Asa-san not to let me become too attached to Ikuo," he went on to tell Kizu and the others as he came into the bedroom. "But she isn't very logical most of the time."

"Asa-san's logic is fine," Ikuo scolded.

Despite the scolding, Ikuo motioned Gii over to the seat vacated by Asa-san and turned to speak with Kizu, ignoring Gii in a relaxed guys-only way.

"Early this morning," Ikuo began, "I went to check out the extension to the piggery they're building at the Farm. They've had to build it in the high- est spot around because of the foul odor, and with the rain I wasn't sure our little truck would make it up the slope. Right after I got there, one of their leaders, Mr. Hanawa, who accompanied those of us who came by train, asked me a question. I was impressed then by how attentive he seemed, but he also is a bit uncompromising, the way he won't say a word to the Fireflies, for instance, even when he has them help out."

Gii nodded in agreement.

"What he asked me," Ikuo went on, "was this: 'Why is Patron so spe- cial to you? Here you are, building a barn for pigs up on the top of a ridge, but is he really worth all this?'

'How about you?' I shot back, and he said that they've long seen Patron as their intermediary with God and they don't rec- ognize the Somersault as valid.

" 'The first time you met Patron,' he said, 'was after the Somersault, when he wasn't having any deep trances and was just an ordinary person, and even after you moved here with him all he's done is give these evasive, fuzzy ser- mons. So where is the charisma to rouse people to a new faith? Except for the Sacred Wound…'

"As I listened to Mr. Hanawa's questions," Ikuo said, "it struck me that maybe he thinks I'm a spy. All I could do, I figured, was tell him the truth.

'"When I was a child,' I told him, 'I heard a voice that had to be that of God. And when I was fourteen I definitely heard God's voice, though my reaction to it left something to be desired. And when I was sixteen I thought now I would respond to it, and I did something that couldn't be undone.

"'But now I don't think I really heard God's voice when I was sixteen; I've never heard it since. Perhaps this was for the best, since I was able to go on without it, but with graduation from college at hand, and my life's work set out in front of me, I sensed that I couldn't go on any more. If I didn't return to the call I heard at fourteen, my life would be a sham.

'"When I awakened to this, I struggled with the idea, but I had no way of making the voice of God appear again. Established churches and cults were no help to me in my quest. Either they kicked me out or laughed at me, or else I was the one to wash my hands of them.

'"Just by chance, I ran across Patron and Guide, and here I am. I came here because I have the hope that Patron-connected to God until the Som- ersault-will be, to borrow your words, the intermediary for me with God.

If it doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to be. But for me there's no other choice.

'"I'm particularly drawn to the way Patron-all by himself-cut off the pipeline connecting him and God. For the past ten years all he's done is suf- fer, as much as it's humanly possible to suffer. Sometimes I think maybe this suffering has taken shape as his Sacred Wound.'

"Once I'd finished saying all this, Mr. Hanawa asked me another ques- tion. 'After the so-called Somersault, Patron apparently didn't have any deep trances that brought him face-to-face with God. But from the beginning we didn't accept the Somersault. We're confident that before long Patron will become the mediator for God once more. We base this on our long experi- ence living in the church. But how do you know,' he asked me, 'that the voice of God that Patron might transmit to you, and the voice of God you heard when you were a child telling you to do something that couldn't be undone, are really one and the same?'

'"I learned that from all of you,' I answered. 'When you pray, you Tech- nicians always have religious texts from a lot of different religions with you; sometimes you even quote from books by scientists-in your case, Mr. Hanawa, it was a mathematics book, wasn't it? Dr. Koga told me that this stems from your conviction that, quite simply, God is one.

"'I feel exactly the same way. They're all one and the same: the God whose call messed me up as a child, Patron and Guide's God whom they made a fool of and yet clung to as they suffered. And the God that Jonah debated thousands of years ago.'"

"How did Mr. Hanawa react? And the Technicians?" Kizu asked.

"They just laughed."

"Damn them!" Gii said angrily.

Ignoring this, Ikuo went on. "If they don't kick me out as a spy, the preparations for the summer conference should go smoothly. I just hope the Quiet Women see things the same way."

That evening, as she served dinner, Ms. Asuka butted in, something she rarely did. "I think Ikuo went into such detail about his conversation with the Tech- nicians because he wanted to educate Gii," she said. "I think he's quite con- siderate in that way. Mr. Hanawa might be too, for all we know."

"When Ikuo came to work for Patron at the Tokyo office," Kizu said, "and even when he moved here, I don't think he knew what it was he sought from Patron. It was still taking shape within him. He gets worked up; that's why he talks so much."

"But if you go to the dining hall," Ms. Asuka said, "you'll find out it's not just Ikuo who's excited. It's like everyone's a smoldering fire. Patron's wound was what started it all, though your symptoms, too, Professor, were a factor. There's a palpable urgency in the air.

"Asa-san seemed tense too, today, when she came to see me. She had told me that the first thing she wanted to talk to you about, Professor, was her worries over the Quiet Women. I think you need to talk one-on-one with Patron about this excitement that's taken hold of the Hollow. I've just moved here, so everything is quite strange to me, but I agree with Asa-san. There's something about it I just don't like."

Ms. Asuka looked down as she refilled Kizu's coffee cup on the tray, and as she did so her profile, now cleansed of the greasepaintlike make-up she used in her former life, looked graceful. Her usual smile was missing as well, the smile that downplayed whatever she'd just said.

"I'm afraid I don't have the strength to make it over to the south shore,"

Kizu said.

"Then let's have Patron come over here. When I pressed Dancer about when Patron would be posing for you again, she said it all depended on your condition."

"Have you been able to meet with Patron directly?" Kizu asked.

"I'm sure people will think I'm a hopelessly pushy woman, but I asked permission through Dancer and was allowed to videotape Patron's Sacred Wound. It was my first job since I came here. On the tape, Patron is naked from the waist up and Morio is wiping the wound with gauze that has a peni- cillin ointment on it. The outlines of the Sacred Wound are quite distinct, kind of a kitschy color, and the whole thing's quite wonderful. As I filmed I was able to talk with Patron and learned something surprising. I thought he'd already started the new church, but he said he hasn't yet."

"Since we moved to the Hollow, Patron's said quite a lot about the new church, though," Kizu said. "The Technicians are busy with their own work, the Quiet Women are getting deeper into the sort of prayer meetings that have Asa-san worried, and I must admit I interpreted all this activity in the same way as you-that the new church had already been established."

"Patron seems to want to use the summer conference as the venue for officially launching the new church," Ms. Asuka said. "The office has the same idea, and Ikuo has talked with me about recording the whole conference on video. Though we'd have to budget for people to handle the sound and the lights."

"There aren't many days left, but maybe Patron's planning something really remarkable for the summer conference," Kizu said. "Maybe all the ex- citement that's swirled up since people found out about the Sacred Wound has had an influence on him. I guess I'd better hurry up and finish my triptych."

"I'll go talk with the office staff, then, about having him come over to your studio to model. This Sacred Wound fever even seems to be getting to me, doesn't it?"

4

If tomorrow there's a breaks in the rainy season and it's warm and sunny, I'll come to your studio to model for you. Patron had entrusted this message to Ms. Asuka, on her way home after lunch the next day, much to Kizu's surprise. The weather was fine the next day, and though the surface of the lake, bloated by the rains, was a dirty brown, it clearly reflected the cylindri- cal chapel and the long walls of the monastery.

Early that morning a large ruddy-faced man with cropped white hair showed up on the north shore and with steady strides made a circuit of the grounds around the house. He seemed to be appraising the trees, washed to a brilliant green by the rains that had only ended two days before, and when his gaze met that of Kizu, who was reading in bed, they nodded a greeting to each other. The man was Asa-san's husband, the former principal of the jun- ior high school, who'd come to trim around the house. He looked a little chilly in his long-sleeved high-collared shirt, but once he started working he had to wipe the sweat away with the towel draped around his neck.

He started by pruning the trees visible from the window that faced the lake. As he trimmed, the rich white flowers of the camellia and the pome- granate, the latter a faded light purple due to lack of sunshine, emerged from the overgrown clump of greenery. Next year, Kizu thought, I won't be around to see these flowers. He turned his gaze outside from time to time, to find the petals of the camellias, wrapped in pods and now exposed to the sun, trimmed in a neat horizontal line that was attractive enough, but lacking its previous otherworldly feeling.

In the afternoon Ms. Asuka threw open the window facing the lake to see how warm it had gotten, and the room was filled with the volatile fra- grance of newly cut branches. For the first time since his most recent illness, Kizu had on the jeans and loose cotton shirt he favored when doing some serious drawing.

Patron arrived at Kizu's house at two-twenty. It had taken exactly twenty minutes for him to go from the south shore along the weir and up the slope on the north shore. Patron had been less concerned, it appeared, about his own physical condition than that of Morio, whose legs were slightly impaired.

Patron was in the best shape he'd been in in quite some time, and emo- tionally upbeat as well. Kizu had always thought of himself and Patron as virtual contemporaries, but now he had to admit that he was no match for Patron when it came to vitality. Patron had changed into summer clothing, which also added to this impression. Below the stiff collar a deep U-shaped depression was visible, and his maroon shirt stood out under his ice blue jacket.

Morio wore an identical set of clothes.

"I've really been looking forward to modeling for you," Patron said, by way of greeting. "Now that I see you I realize you're fit enough to go back to painting. Shall I sit down here? The sun was so warm I'll be glad to get out of this jacket and shirt. You don't want me completely nude, do you?"

Morio smiled happily as if he'd just heard an amusing joke. Ms. Asuka took Patron's jacket to the bedroom and then adjusted the chair and footstool for him. As he checked the reflected light off the lake, Kizu adjusted the cush- ion at Patron's back, while Ms. Asuka brought in another chair for Morio.

Preparations went smoothly, but when they reached the point where Patron was about to remove his shirt and tank top, Kizu couldn't help but tense up. Patron, though, cheerfully stripped down, removed the palm-sized gauze covering his wound, wrapped it up in fluttering strips of surgical tape, and tossed it on Morio's lap. Morio took out a plastic bag from his pocket and stuffed the gauze inside.

"This is the first time I've been able to get a good look all the way to the bottom of the wound," Patron remarked. "The antibiotic Dr. Koga gave me seems to be working. Before, I just had this vague notion of the hole being a certain size, wider than it is deep, but now I can see it's heading straight for the heart. I asked Dr. Koga about this and he said it's only to be expected- seeing as how it's a sacred wound.

"Well, how would you like me to pose? I understand I'm supposed to supplement Ikuo's Jonah."

"Just sit facing me is fine," Kizu replied, and began sketching. Ms. Asuka stood behind Kizu, videotaping the proceedings. The video camera was com- pletely silent and didn't bother Kizu. After some twenty minutes Patron spoke up.

"Modeling's hard if you don't talk. The last time you sketched me I was only half conscious. Is it all right to talk?"

"That'd be fine," Kizu said. "Though I'll mostly listen, if you don't mind."

"Seeing you after such a long time reminded me of something I'd wanted to tell you," Patron said. "It's delightful to have such a diligent listener."

Patron spoke smoothly and cheerily, though his topic was quite serious.

Kizu had somehow sensed that it would be.

"At the memorial service for Guide, I announced I was starting a new church. You'll recall how I also said that I'm one of the countless antichrists who will appear at the end of the world and vowed to oversee this new church as one of these antichrists. I didn't just blurt this out. It's something I've been pondering for the past decade. It's not surprising that I restart my church as an antichrist, but I was pretty worked up when I said it, and it's placed me in quite a predicament. It would be a lot easier if I'd kept this idea of being an antichrist to myself.

"So I had to think and think about the best way to rebuild the church.

The process of moving here alter the memorial service, getting everything ready, is very likely the final obstacle in my ten years of being in hell. Guide isn't with me, yet things are moving forward. I felt driven into a corner."

Listening to all this as he sketched, Kizu noticed Morio, seated diago- nally in front of him, begin to stir. His whole body, not just his legs, was im- paired, but his movements were always natural. Kizu was a moment late in sensing that something was wrong, but Patron responded immediately.

"I'm afraid I've said something to worry you, Morio. I'm just remember- ing the suffering I've had and am telling Professor Kizu about it, that's all."

"You've posed long enough-that's plenty," Kizu said, for the sake of Morio, who still looked up worriedly at the half-naked Patron. "I'd be happy if we could discuss how this sketch might be incorporated into the triptych."

As Patron slipped down from the high chair, Ms. Asuka passed him a freshly laundered dressing gown, helped Morio up, and led them to the din- ing table, which had been set up in the bedroom. Tea and pound cake awaited them. As the guests settled into their seats, Ms. Asuka brought the hot water for tea, while Kizu took the triptych panels down from the easel and lined them up in front of the partition. As he did so, Ms. Asuka said, "Why don't you lie down on the bed and talk? Painting wears you out. You look pale."

Looking back on it later, Kizu realized it was at this point that some- thing strange was starting to take place in his body. He reluctantly did as she said, though he wasn't about to let go of the excitement he'd felt since morn- ing or this chance to talk with Patron.

"The foreground of the middle panel shows Ikuo as Jonah. Are you planning to use my image in the open part on the left?" Patron asked.

"That's right."

"In other words, I'll be depicted as the Lord?"

"Since that's who Jonah quarrels with, yes, it would be the Lord, though my conception has changed a little since I first started. It doesn't have to be the Lord, exactly, though it does have to be someone who transmits God's will to Jonah."

"And he goes to all the trouble of showing this wound in his side to convince Jonah?"

"Rather than the biblical Jonah, I'm starting to see it more as the Ikuo- as-Jonah image the Young Fireflies have, Ikuo as the young man awaiting God's intermediary to give him the word to act."

"Since I'm less a model for God than for an antichrist," Patron said, "even if I tell him to act it makes it a complicated sort of instruction, doesn't it? If you show the antichrist here with a wound in his side debating with Jonah, it's like you're depicting this young man as seeing beyond the antichrist to God. This Jonah gives you the feeling that's entirely possible, what with that inscrutable look on his face."

"You're very perceptive," Kizu said, his comment heartfelt.

"This is changing the subject," Patron said, "but when Dr. Koga came to check on me, Asa-san came with him to see how I was doing. This was when you were in the clinic, Professor. I mentioned earlier about the depth and width of the wound, but Dr. Koga said this: There are still reports of women and children in Mexico and the Philippines having these kinds of spontaneous wounds, but they're always superficial. In my case, though, less than half an inch deeper and it might have been fatal.

"And then Asa-san told me this: Brother Gii was an amateur scholar of Dante's Divine Comedy, and he told her there were all sorts of issues involved when the heretic Cato the African committed suicide and was then appointed gatekeeper of the island of Purgatory. According to Plutarch, Cato cut open his own belly and then had a doctor friend sew it back up, only to cut it again himself and commit suicide.

'"I can't explain it well,' she went on, 'but for Patron to make his own wound worse in order to die-it's doubly, triply wrong. You can't let that happen! ' Once she decides to say something, Asa-san's the kind of person who can get pretty adamant."

Patron laughed out loud. Unable to join him, Kizu turned a confused smile toward Ms. Asuka. He couldn't even give a forced laugh, for he was already feeling the rumblings of something uncontrollable happening inside him.

Finding it impossible to follow Patron's loquaciousness, and so that Patron wouldn't misinterpret his tense expression, Kizu turned to look out the window. The white camellia flowers were in full bloom, but with the yellow pistils jutting out, as if seeking something, the flowers struck him as disagreeable. He could no longer deal pleasantly with people and things outside him; his entire world was measured solely by the tension rising up in his gut… Memories of his recent bout with disease let him know what to expect next, though he knew this time the pain would be even fiercer. Kizu turned his restless eyes back to the room and saw that only Morio, silently, was watch- ing him closely. Patron was deep in conversation with Ms. Asuka, but to Kizu their voices blended into one.

Feeling desolate and isolated, already in the throes of nausea, he thrust his throat out in anticipation of the groan the first wave of pain would drag out of him. It's almost here. Yellow liquid dribbled down his lips. Kizu saw Morio reach out a hand to Patron's thigh.

It had come.

1

Ogi learned about the awful pain Kizu was suffering when Ms. Asuka called him on the cell phone she'd brought from Tokyo. She'd phoned Dr. Koga as well and asked Ogi to take the car to his clinic. There's apparently no dan- ger of heart blockage, Dr. Koga had told her, adding that this time he wanted to admit Kizu into the Red Cross Hospital. I'll have Ikuo arrange for the ambulance, Ms. Asuka replied.

When Dr. Koga and Ogi arrived at the home on the north bank of the Hollow, they found the patient curled up diagonally on the raised bed, half his body draped over the edge. Ms. Asuka was kneeling on the floor, clearly drained of energy, while Patron was seated at the desk in the rear of the room, patting Morio, who knelt at his feet, on the back.

"Except for Ms. Asuka, I'd like everyone to leave the room, including Patron," Dr. Koga said firmly.

Retreating dejectedly to the studio, Ogi couldn't help but notice that Patron, and even Morio, looked terribly worn out. Patron had Morio lie down on the sofa but was unable to calm himself; instead of taking a seat in the arm- chair, he looked through a few of Kizu's books and picked up and examined the sketches that lay scattered about. Soon he went up to Ogi.

"Would you mind going into the bedroom for me and bringing back the middle painting of the triptych?" he whispered. "Without disturbing Dr. Koga, of course. Bring the drawing he made of me a while ago, too. I think it might give me a hint I've been needing."

Ogi peeked into the room, fearful of disturbing Dr. Koga's examina- tion, but neither the doctor, looming over the nearly naked patient, nor Ms. Asuka turned around. Ogi lifted up the middle painting, which was lean- ing against a divider-the drawing Patron spoke of was taped to it-and when Ms. Asuka finally turned to face him, Ogi nodded to her and withdrew.

Patron took a seat in the backless chair Kizu had set before his easel and gazed at the painting. Morio, too, got up from the sofa, sat down at Patron's feet, his knees up, and examined the painting. Elbows out, he plugged up his ears with his fingers, perhaps disturbed by the voices coming from the ad- joining room.

Ogi himself concentrated on the painting, the largest of the triptych. In the right foreground was a nude, which Ikuo had posed for. On the space to the left was a large sheet of sketchbook paper, a rough sketch Kizu had drawn of Patron from the waist up, the wound on his side clearly visible.

The painting was a painstakingly done portrait of Jonah, and a rough sketch, on the same scale, of a figure facing him. Ogi surmised the two per- sons were confronting each other.

Ikuo and Ms. Tachibana arrived, and when Ogi went out to the foyer to greet them he experienced a mild disorientation gazing at the real Ikuo so soon after seeing the painting. Tell Dr. Koga the ambulance is here, Ikuo told Ogi. He continued, in a voice audible to Patron, who was looking in their direction from a corner of the studio, "The last time, Kizu put up with the pain alone for so long it affected his heart, but with Dr. Koga coming over so soon they can take him to the Red Cross Hospital this time, don't you think?"

Dr. Koga stuck his tense face out of the bedroom. "Yes, we should get him to a specialist," he said. "I'd like Ikuo to come along. Everyone else just wait here until we get in touch."

Patron's response seemed a bit of a non sequitur. "We'll leave it up to you. Professor Kizu is going through a major transformation now, which may very well be a transformation for the good."

This made Dr. Koga so upset he thrust his gloomy face toward Patron, but he swallowed whatever he was about to say, turned to Ikuo, and asked him to have the stretcher brought in. After Ikuo left, since Dr. Koga didn't give Patron, Ogi, or Morio permission to come in the bedroom, they could only return to the studio. Ms. Tachibana, though, went along with Dr. Koga and made preparations for moving the patient.

Ikuo led the emergency personnel inside, the work proceeded apace, and the group soon set off for Matsuyama. All the while, Patron and Morio stayed glued to the painting. Ogi saw off the stretcher as far as the ambulance, parked below the weir, his mind filled with what Patron had said. A major transfor- mation… possibly a transformation for the good. What did he mean? That Kizu was undergoing the inevitable as he faced death, his body racked by the agony of cancer? When Ogi got back to the house, Patron was just as he'd left him.

Patron stayed that way for a while and then turned, as if awakening, and opened his mouth. He said nothing about the departed Kizu; instead, he asked everyone to assemble in the studio.

"What I'm going to say is something I should tell all the members of the church, but first I'll say it to you. I'd like you to pretend this is the chapel and I'm delivering a sermon."

Each of the four people picked out spots in the studio, redolent of oil paint, sitting on the boxlike bed or pulling chairs from the bedroom, settling down to listen to Patron's words.

"Since moving to the Hollow," Patron began, "everyone here, includ- ing the Technicians and the Quiet Women, has been steadily making prepa- rations for the future. As I watched all this, I felt it was urgent for me to settle on a schedule for officially rebuilding the church. As I said to Professor Kizu just before he fell ill, quite honestly I've felt, at times, driven into a corner.

"This is not just a spiritual question; it has surfaced in a physical way as well. The wound in my side-the one you call the Sacred Wound-has re- mained unchanged for the past ten years, but recently it took a turn for the worse. I came down with a terrible fever and felt the kind of pain I haven't experienced in a long time.

"I'd never thought of comparing the two, but the notion occurred to me not long ago that the physical pain I suffered was similar to the agony I felt when I used to fall into a trance. The question is, This time did I bring back a vision from the other side, as in the old days? And if I did, with Guide dead, who was going to interpret it?

"My thoughts hit the usual dead end, but suddenly an idea struck me: No, things are different this time. I not only brought back a vision but was able to translate it into the language of our side. The one who played the role of Guide this time was Morio. I'd like to thank him for all his efforts while I was suffering.

"I'll get to the details of how this came about in a moment, but what I brought back to this side, and was able to put into words with Morio's aid, is something I didn't comprehend until quite recently. I wasn't able to see it for what it is: a message directed at the founding of our new church.

"As recently as this afternoon, while Professor Kizu was sketching me, I told him the problems I've had restarting the church after declaring that I'm an antichrist. Professor Kizu captured that aspect perfectly in the trip- tych. It's still a rough sketch, but he's done a wonderful job of depicting me as the Old Man confronting Jonah, the New Man, and the world they are about to create. The painting helped me envision how my revelation would take shape, a revelation, as I said, that Morio helped me interpret.

"The painting portrays the confrontation between the antichrist spon- soring the church, the Old Man, and Jonah, representing the New Man, and the two of them facing the body of believers. The painting boldly depicts the basic misconception I had up till now about the difficulties I've been facing.

My mistake lay in thinking that I should be the one to build the new church.

But now I know that's wrong.

"Right after Guide's death, I asked Professor Kizu to assume the role of Guide for me. And as an artist, he has fulfilled those duties admirably. Just as Morio, in his own way, has done the same.

"Getting back to where I started: The night before my wound started to ooze, I came down with a fever; the pain hadn't yet made itself fully known but was beginning. I woke up in the darkness and felt an excitement in my chest-whether from pain or joy I wasn't sure. I don't drink, but I wondered if that was what being drunk felt like. Very soon, I became obsessed with this thought-that for the first time in ten years I was about to fall into a deep trance. But Guide wasn't here. I would suffer, and after all that pain there would't be anyone to interpret the vision I brought back from the other side.

It would be lost forever.

"I was desperate. I remembered the story Guide told me of the drowning child grasping at a straw. I reached out my hand in the darkness and my fin- gers brushed the Bible by my bedside, Guide's old Bible. Morio noticed some- thing amiss in the dark, and I passed the Bible to him. I don't care where, I told him, just open the Bible and mark a passage with your fingernail. Morio took the Bible and did as I said, but it was dark; he fumbled with it and dropped it under the bed. This bothered him, so he picked it up again and marked a sec- ond passage. I was already coming down with a fever, and could only sense Morio moving about in the dark. The next morning the fever was worse and I couldn't get up; later that day there was all that fuss about my Sacred Wound, so I couldn't very well check out what I'd asked Morio to do the night before.

"Time passed. I noticed that Morio seemed concerned about the Bible, and finally I remembered the exchange we had had the night my fever began.

I immediately looked through Guide's Bible. There were two passages Morio had marked, and as I carefully read through them, I discovered that they both contained the expression new man. I had Mrs. Shigeno check into it for me, and can you imagine-in the entire Bible, Old and New Testaments, those are the only places where that expression appears!

"Ever since my Somersault, what I've been thinking about is something along the following lines, not exactly verbatim from the Bible, but something like this: As this world approaches its end, a savior must appear who will make one the two that stand opposed, destroying in his flesh the dividing wall of hostil- ity, abolishing the law with its commandments and regulations. And I believe that such a savior will surely come.

He will create in himself one new man out of the two, making peace, and in this one body reconcile both of them to God through the cross, putting to death their hostility. This too, I believe, will come to pass.

"That being the case, what role will an antichrist play? Precisely this: He is the Old Man who acts as herald for the savior. All sorts of antichrists will appear-strange, comical types of heralds who clown around and make fun of God. All antichrists, though, are united in the role they play as Old Man and all that term implies. They are the ones who pave the way for the savior. I am firmly convinced of this, which is precisely why I want to con- struct my new church as an antichrist.

"I also appeal to you through the second passage Morio marked in the scriptures: Put off your old self which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; be made new in the attitudes of your minds; put on the new self created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. I appeal to you as an antichrist, as one who will forever remain an Old Man. Even though I'm such an Old Man, one thing I can do is challenge each of you to become New Men! As the paint- ing shows us, the time is ripe for our new church. Morio handled the Bible in the dark and fulfilled the role of Guide, and Professor Kizu, through his own pain, has done the same.

"To commemorate the start of our Church of the New Man, let us pray for Professor Kizu's speedy recovery!"

2

Ogi found it too difficult to ask Patron directly about the two quotes, so he searched the Bible himself. He pored over scripture, searching in vain, until Mrs. Shigeno pointed out the passages. Some of her fellow Quiet Women, and some of the Technicians, had come to her with the same question, so she went over to the main office to make copies of the selections and distribute them. There, Ogi along with Dancer, learned about the passages.

Mrs. Shigeno gave Ogi and the others their own copies of the passages, which turned out to be from Paul's letter to the Ephesians. She couldn't under- stand, though, she told them, why Patron chose the term New Man from this letter of the apostle Paul. When she used to attend meetings of the Non- Church Movement and there were talks on Ephesians, they always dealt with such topics as predestination and the role of the church, never anything to do with the expression New Man.

The lecturer in her former church, a famous economist, began his talk with the question of why Paul, who was imprisoned at the time, would write a letter to the Ephesians in the first place. He explained that the reason lay in the fact that among the Christian believers in this Gentile land there were those known as Judaizers, who wanted to maintain the Jewish nature of Christianity. There was even some influence from the East, from Persia.

Gnostic heretical beliefs arose about the nature of the soul and the body, as well as heretical opinions about angels.

"Now that I think of it," Mrs. Shigeno said, "it does make sense for people like Patron and Guide, who basically have a syncretic view of religion, to be interested in the letter to the Ephesians. Patron can insist that Morio marked these spots in the dark, but that Bible was the one Guide was con- stantly reading, so I suspect these pages, ones he came back to over and over, naturally fell open. I have a feeling Patron senses that too, which is why he places such emphasis on them."

Ogi merely listened in silence, but Dancer voiced her opinion in no uncertain terms.

"Unless I have some time to read these passages carefully and digest them," she said, "Ogi and Ikuo are going to be miles ahead of me. Still, I feel energized somehow, knowing that Patron is taking positive steps to rebuild the church. No matter what, I've decided to follow him, but I am a little worried about how we're going to build the church in this new setting. I'm really happy, though, that the day is approaching when he'll reveal our fu- ture plan of action."

"If that turns out to be the day you find true faith, it'll be a happy day indeed," Mrs. Shigeno said. "The first happy event of Patron's Church of the New Man."

After Mrs. Shigeno left the office, Dancer turned to Ogi.

"Mrs. Shigeno is shrewd enough to see that my working in the office here and following Patron like some groupie doesn't add up to real faith. She might look like some sweet old lady, but don't let looks deceive you-with all the struggles she's weathered before she became a member of Patron's church, and after his Somersault-there's a lot more to her than meets the eye."

Mrs. Shigeno had rather casually used the term Church of the New Man, and Dancer and Ogi soon realized that she'd wanted to test their reaction to the name, already the Quiet Women's expression of choice.

With this pronouncement of Patron's, the meetings of the Quiet Women began to take on a different character. They'd always allowed the Techni- cians and the Young Fireflies to participate freely and join in their prayers, but now they limited attendance to their own members. Still, Ikuo and Morio and Ms. Tachibana, who was close to the Quiet Women, were also permitted to attend.

The rainy season had once again set in when Ms. Tachibana showed up in the chilly dim office to report on one of the meetings. At the morning prayer meeting, she said, Mrs. Shigeno had repeatedly used the term Church of the New Man in her sermon. Ms. Tachibana was unclear whether this was a new idea Patron was pushing or was something limited to the Quiet Women; at any rate, she took copious notes.

First, she reported, Mrs. Shigeno read aloud one of the passages from Ephesians that Patron had discovered with Morio's help: "Is this way Christ's purpose was to create in himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace, and in this one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility.

"As a member of the Church of the New Man," Mrs. Shigeno had said, "I've begun to see this passage in a new light. It's so simple I don't need to interpret it, but it's saying that on the cross Christ created a new man out of the two. In building his Church of the New Man, Patron must be consider- ing the cross as the place where he is heading too. Now that the end of the age is approaching, he has decided to take up his own cross. That's the idea he's building on, the cornerstone of his new church. He will mount the cross as an antichrist and in so doing will show us how to confront the end of the world. After his Somersault-a trying time for all of us-Patron de- scended into hell and returned to move forward. Now it's up to us to define the roles we should play in the new church and move forward ourselves.

Hallelujah!"

Ms. Tachibana's thin-skinned oval face had lost its luster, as if she were suddenly preoccupied by some gloomy thought. She didn't put her thoughts directly into words but circled around what really bothered her.

"Mrs. Shigeno also told Morio she'd like Ikuo to perform his composi- tion, and he did. Morio and I were quite moved. But afterward, during prayer time, Mai was sitting right beside me and I couldn't concentrate. I was con- cerned about all the talk about the children we'd left behind when we moved here joining us during the summer conference… I worked for many years at a girls' school affiliated with a university, which might account for how I feel when I think of the children like Mai I saw at Guide's memorial service.

I can't help but fear that something terrible is going to happen. Will the chil- dren get caught up in some disaster? I have no idea what kind of disaster, but all the same I worry about it."

Ms. Tachibana looked at Dancer and Ogi, her normally pale cheeks turning a livid rose red with her violent emotions; she said nothing more and abruptly left the office.

Dancer tried to go back to her work, but she was too upset to continue.

Before long she turned to Ogi, himself unable to concentrate, and said angrily, "Ogi, don't you think Ms. Tachibana contradicted herself? She said she was moved by Morio's music after Mrs. Shigeno's sermon, the theme of which is the ascension to heaven at the end of the world. Yet she saw the children's participation in this heavenly ascent as unhappy, as being caught up in a disaster."

"How is that unnatural?" Ogi replied. "Even if what she says seems contradictory, if somebody sees children getting caught up in mass suicide as a disaster, to me that's a healthy attitude. Though she never put it in such bald terms. People like Ms. Tachibana have their feet on the ground. If things ever get out of hand, you can count on her to put a halt to it."

"You really think Ms. Tachibana would stand up like that?" Dancer asked. "Morio might be mentally handicapped, a child, really, but he's already quite grown up. He wouldn't get involved in anything dangerous connected with the children. Mrs. Shigeno is certainly a sophisticated woman, but don't underestimate Ms. Tachibana and Morio-they're more complex than meets the eye. Personally, on an emotional level I can't relate to either Mrs. Shigeno or Ms. Tachibana. So until Patron defines the role of the Church of the New Man, at least while you're in this office I'll thank you not to use such careless terms as mass suicide. "

3

The next day that the rain let up, the temperature, rising since morn- ing, had such energy to it that the soft leaves of the oaks and camellias- pruned under the direction of the former junior high school principal-wilted in the sunlight.

That day Ogi led a group around the chapel and the monastery. The group consisted of local sake and pickle makers, as well as an environmen- tal group organized to protect the confluence of the Kame and Maki rivers.

The group also included the editor of a local magazine produced in Tokyo- a woman who was writing a piece on the former residences of a Meiji literary figure-as well as the editor of a magazine in Ehime.

Dancer took care of all the arrangements through the town hall, part of her plan to forge a good relationship with the next generation of civic lead- ers, the pro-growth faction. Many activities the church was involved in had helped lessen the suspicions of the townspeople: the fact that the church did not proselytize locally, the starting up of production at the Farm again after a long period of dormancy, the leadership role the church was taking with the Young Fireflies, and, most of all, Dr. Koga's medical practice. None of this escaped Dancer's attention.

What most interested the local authorities and businessmen was the upcoming summer conference, with church members scheduled to come from all over the country. The business leaders saw it as an excellent chance to advertise local goods and sell their farm products.

Ogi met the study group as they alighted from their minivan to view the chapel and the monastery. It surprised him that, for the short distance between the Farm and the Hollow, Ikuo volunteered to drive. The group, talking merrily among themselves, apparently mistook Ikuo for the church's full-time driver.

As the group listened to Ogi's explanations, the woman intellectual, the leader of the group, sounded as if she were familiar with other buildings de- signed by the architect of the chapel and monastery; the rest of the group seemed somehow proud of what she said. I'm not speaking about these build- ings, the journalist from Matsuyama began transparently, his remarks directed at the woman, but you remember how last night at the party at the sake fac- tory we were talking about the imbalance between the poverty of ordinary people's homes in the provinces and the ultramodern government buildings in the same locales? The two of them chuckled to each other and exchanged knowing winks.

Ogi rode back with the group to the Farm, where they boarded cars brought up from Old Town and left; Ikuo, seated next to Ogi in the driver's seat of the van, had been silent all along but now spoke up.

"That skinny Olive Oyl woman and those guys from Matsuyama made me want to puke! Man, am I glad I dropped out of architecture school. If the Young Fireflies had heard them there would have been hell to pay. But it does seem that after Mr. Hanawa and the other leaders of the Techni- cians explained to the locals how they were using the Farm's land and equip- ment to revive production the Church of the Flaming Green Tree had begun, they got high marks for their efforts. With the success of food pro- duction at the Farm, people are expecting they can work with growers in Old Town and sell their products-not just in Matsuyama but in the whole Osaka-Kobe district. When people come to the summer conference from all over Japan, it'll be a good opportunity for the locals to gauge their reac- tions too."

Ogi set out some folding chairs in the clearing where the Church of the Flaming Green Tree once erected tents and held meetings, and he and Mr. Hanawa and Ikuo sat down and talked. Ogi had only seen Mr. Hanawa in the dining hall and around, but it was obvious how close he and Ikuo had become.

"Right now in Maki Town," Mr. Hanawa said, "one of the more expen- sive products is the sake the sake maker says you can freeze for ten years, thaw out, and it'll start fermenting again-that'll run about ten thousand yen a bottle.

If you use refrigerated trucks you can deliver anywhere in Japan, so they're thinking ahead to make this kind of product. Though I don't imagine it'll be easy to sell in bulk a brand of sake produced in the backwoods of Shikoku.

"What do you think about making up a gift set combining the sake with the best ham we make at the Farm and some fresh pickled vegetables? Charge maybe fifteen thousand yen a box? We could start by having Mr. Soda's com- pany buy them as New Year's gifts. According to what I've heard, there're quite a few manufacturers around here producing quality goods. You've got to connect with the right distribution system if you want to survive. We re- ally should hook up with them."

"The group that toured here today," Ikuo said, "will learn about our church's abilities at the summer conference. Come fall, and they'll get seri- ous about working with us."

"I may be naive, or they wouldn't have nicknamed me Innocent Youth,"

Ogi said hesitantly, "but are you saying the local people will start cooperat- ing with us more actively starting in the fall? So the summer conference is the first step toward opening those doors for us?"

Instead of a typical of course, what else? look, Ikuo turned deeply suspi- cious eyes toward Ogi. Ogi felt an instinctive defensive reaction welling up, but before anything developed, Mr. Hanawa intervened.

"I know you're concerned about what the Quiet Women might be pre- paring to do. After the Technicians were barred from their meetings, you went there to play the piano, didn't you, Ikuo? And you said things were pretty tense. The summer conference is the top priority for the Quiet Women.

They're not thinking about fall or anything beyond.

"A little self-criticism here, but in the final days of their activities in Izu the Technicians drove Patron into a corner as he agonized over how to keep the church from self-destructing-which resulted in the Somersault. The Technicians didn't learn a thing; they went ahead and killed Guide. So I can't just sit back idly in regards to what the Quiet Women are up to.

"Now that Patron's awakened from his long hibernation, for our part, we have to work steadily, starting in the fall, to build his new church: the Church of the New Man."

Ikuo studied Ogi as he listened to Mr. Hanawa. Thin clouds covered the sky, and the pale light brought out Ikuo's high cheekbones and deep eye sockets in stark comic-book fashion.

Once he opened his mouth, Ikuo's words were measured. "The Quiet Women are on fire after Patron's announcement, but I don't think they've settled on a definite program. According to Dancer, Asa-san and Ms. Tachibana have misgivings. Since the Quiet Women lived so long in an isolated environment, it's understandable that their sermons tend to be narrow and obsessive. But we've also got to give them credit, as a group of women who've gone through a lot."

"Well, if you put it that way," Mr. Hanawa said, "the Technicians are a closed-off, self-righteous sect too. That's something they'll have to be aware of as they participate in the construction of the new church. They'll have to let Patron's intentions seep into their consciousness and get feedback from the entire body of the church; otherwise it'll have been pointless for Patron and all of us to have come to live in this place… At any rate, until Patron points us in the right direction in his sermon at the summer conference, we need to concentrate on building up the farm as our economic base. I'd appre- ciate it if you'd let the office staff know this."

"The Quiet Women aren't here right now to defend themselves," Ikuo said, "so let's be fair when we discuss them. I'd like the office staff and the Technicians not to be too eager to interfere as they formulate their program.

I really hope all the groups gathered here will do their own thing. Otherwise, the summer conference will be a complete bore."

"Not that you're Napoleon at Moscow or anything, Ikuo, but you do tend to set up camp on the high ground and watch the battle develop-with your private little army. Is that how you consolidate an overall strategy?"

"That's what Patron wants me to do," Ikuo replied.

"But you're the one who someday will protest against Patron, right?

You're Jonah, as the Young Fireflies call you."

"If I can make a request about your strategy, Mr. Hanawa, I'd just like you not to lynch Patron at the summer meeting. That's all I ask."

"That would be totally boring!" Mr. Hanawa answered.

In the west corner of the broad rectangular grounds, a refrigerated meat truck pulled up in front of the processing plant next to the dorm where the majority of the Technicians lived. Mr. Hanawa looked over at the truck and, with an easy dignity, brought their conversation to a halt.

"The only thing we're interested in is Patron's plan for the Church of the New Man," he said. "Some of the Technicians are laying everything on the line for that." And giving Ogi a short wave of the hand, Mr. Hanawa rushed off to join his fellows in white work clothes at the processing plant.

4

"Would you come with me now to see the Young Fireflies?" Ikuo asked Ogi. "Some of the leaders among them-I don't want you to hear what they have to say secondhand, from me, but have them talk directly to you, as a member of the office staff."

Ikuo strode ahead, not waiting for a reply. The two of them cut south across the clearing, toward the Farm, which jutted out among the trees on what looked like a peninsula, the slopes steadily getting steeper. Huge pop- lars and equally large weeping willows lined the path as they descended. On a rise far away, thin poplar branches jostled one another and angled inward, and the leaves of the willows sparkled like gold leaf in the sunlight. The pop- lars and willows were no doubt leftovers of a windbreak for the Farm set up near the ridge line.

Following the road as it twisted down through the wet broad-leafed forest, they came upon a stand of natural oaks and headed toward a house with a brick-colored slate roof where Mayumi, the dyer, lived and worked.

Along the way Ikuo told Ogi how the Fireflies were planning a performance at the summer conference, with Mayumi in charge of the costumes.

In this region's folklore, the legendary figures were unique characters.

Among the area's traditional events was what was called the Spirit Festival, performed for souls that had not yet reached their final resting place. The participants dressed as spirits, slightly larger than life size, and formed a pro- cession that wended its way from the woods down into the valley. Except for some small props, the special dolls and costumes they used would be burned on the shores of the Kame River and created anew the next year. As with the Young Fireflies, the Spirit Festival had been discontinued, but the young people were planning to revive the custom as an attraction at the upcoming summer conference.

At Mayumi's pine-log-and-earthen-mortar entrance, a dyeing kettle lay beside the door on the narrow landing. Just as Ikuo and Ogi arrived, the grass- colored front door opened up as if waiting for them, and a woman with an egg-shaped head and a halo of hair leaned out.

"Gii and the others haven't come back yet. Would you mind coming in through the veranda?" she asked.

Ikuo, shoes on, climbed up onto the narrow veranda that jutted out to- ward the steep slope down to the mountain stream, and Ogi followed after.

The veranda stretched to the southwest corner of the house; below it was an uncut lawn and, far below a sheer cliff, a branch of the Kame River.

Ikuo and Ogi went inside. The house was small, but the room facing the veranda had the generous feeling of a craftsman's workshop. A loom was set up in the back, with a bolt of indigo cloth in the process of being woven.

In the corner opposite the loom, Mayumi stood at her sink and stove, preparing tea, wearing a T-shirt and long canvas apron, a thoughtful look in her round eyes. Ogi noticed some photos behind Plexiglass that dotted the pine board walls. One sepia photo, when he took a good look at it, showed a house next to a round bayberry tree and the open interior of a second-floor room where two naked women-one of whom looked like a young boy, her breasts small-lay on a blanket sunning themselves.

Mayumi brought over a tray with herb tea to Ikuo, who was sitting at a low table leafing through a sketchbook that lay there.

"These sketches look like they're for the Spirit Festival," Ikuo said to her. "I like this one-is he the spirit of the trees or of the forests? I can't tell.

The one covered with twigs and leaves."

"They're not finished yet," Mayumi replied. "The one that looks like he should have been born a tree is the spirit called Gii. In this region a person who is equally eccentric is given the name Gii. Right now it's our tender young leader who goes by that name."

Ogi had Ikuo pass the sketches over to him. One of them was of a very unusual-looking person, part old man and part toddler taking his first steps; the cocoon-shaped figure was covered from head to toe in twigs and small branches.

"Gii likes the idea of dressing up like that. I'm sure he'll play the role of the spirit."

"I was imagining he'd play the role of the founder of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree," Ogi said. "When Asa-san came to the office to explain about the Spirit Festival, I heard that that spirit was the very newest one."

Mayumi looked at Ogi for the first time with any interest.

"Do you see on the next page the spirit with wounds on his head and chest and blood flowing down?" she asked. "In a wheelchair? That's the founder, Brother Gii, who closed the church and was about to go out on a world missionary trip when he was stoned to death. Gii feels it's too simplis- tic, too cartoony."

"Gii must view his father as a very complex figure," Ikuo said. "Most people in this region don't seem to believe that Gii's mother is Satchan and that his father is Brother Gii."

Noticing that Ogi wasn't quite following them, Ikuo pointed to the photo Ogi had been wondering about. "Those women in that voyeuristic photo are Satchan, when she was younger, and Mayumi. You see that thing between Satchan's legs? She has male genitals, as well as a woman's, and is able to give birth. Actually, when she was young she was raised as a boy."

Hesitating, Ogi looked again at the photograph, and Mayumi immedi- ately lost interest in him, turning her attention back to Ikuo.

"Gii's unwillingness to see his father reduced to some simplistic image is the same way he feels about the faith of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. He doesn't want to trivialize the doubts the local people have about his mother. Whenever I read the transcripts of Brother Gii's sermons, he starts out with the Old Testament, the New Testament, or early Buddhist scripture, and so on, but he always takes off from there in his own direc- tion and ends up emphasizing God and mystical experience. Don't you think Brother Gii and Patron have something in common? After his Somersault didn't you hate how the weekly magazines reduced Patron to a comic-book figure?"

Footsteps sounded outside, rushing down the slope with firm sure strides. Mayumi went out to greet the teenagers, who piled in the front door, not the veranda, and could be heard cleaning up in the bathroom and sink.

Ogi looked around again. The ceiling was cheaply painted and start- ing to show sooty cracks, but the room's contents-from the panel photos on the wall to the hanging calico curtain, the nostalgic colors of the bind- ing of the books on the narrow bookshelf, and the heap of cloths of differ- ent sizes and materials-all gave the interior a special atmosphere. It was an atelier that obviously belonged to a mature woman engaged in creative, artistic work.

Now the youthful bodies of all the Young Fireflies entered the room, bringing with them a sense of unrestrained roughness. Ogi and Ikuo, both young men themselves, were part of the scene as well. Ikuo's reserved atti- tude from when he was driving the minivan with the guests from Old Town vanished now as he talked freely with Gii and the others.

In Mayumi's expression and movements, too, as she bustled around, one could detect a different kind of happiness from moments before. Ogi could see she treated Gii as a special person. For some reason, fleeting, intimate images of Mrs. Tsugane flashed through his mind.

"We've been going around collecting material for the Spirit Festival, and it took a long time," Gii said, impetuously greeting them before his older colleague, Isamu, could say a word.

"It's definitely a good idea to study how they used to perform the festi- val," Ikuo replied, "but since you'll be doing it at the church's summer con- ference, if you try to stick too close to local customs the whole point of what you're after will vanish."

"You're right about that," Gii answered docilely. "We only have faint memories of seeing the festival ourselves, so we're a bit jittery about it."

"What's important for you isn't the superficial aspect of the festival but what it stands for. The adults have stopped thinking about what the festival really means, which is why you took it upon yourselves to revive it, right? I think you should just go ahead and put on a performance that's different from the festivals of the past."

"We think so too."

"I've been looking at the photo collection that Asa-san lent me," Mayumi said, "but instead of trying to reproduce what's in there, I've done sketches of images that came to me as I listened to the legends Gii told me."

"Are all the children here raised on these stories?" Ogi asked. "It's strange for me, because I'm from a place where we don't have those sorts of legends."

The young men ignored his question.

"In order to perform the Spirit Festival," Ikuo answered in their stead, "the Young Fireflies compared all their personal memories of the festival.

There were several places where Gii's memory was different."

"That's right." Isamu nodded.

"I saw your house over in the outskirts, and it seemed like an old home with a long history," Ogi ventured, but Isamu didn't reply.

"Gii's case is a bit special," Mayumi said. "Satchan was taken in as an orphan at the Mansion and was raised by Granny, who was something of a kataribe, a storyteller, though Satchan says she didn't hear all that many leg- ends growing up. Granny taught Brother Gii all the legends. Satchan was his successor and passed them on to Gii. That's the line of descent here."

"We can just go ahead and use the dolls, clothes, and props of the spir- its that are stored in the shrines and temples," Gii said. "Those'll do fine.

Though I imagine Mayumi will think that's boring. Talking to people who were alive when the new spirits lived and trying to put all that together and create spirits isn't easy. If you oversimplify them, they'll turn into caricatures."

"You don't want to be the Spirit of Brother Gii?" Ikuo asked Gii.

"I just told you, didn't I? It might turn out as a caricature."

"Would you rather be the Spirit of the Hermit Gii, who refused mili- tary service and hid in the forest?"

"Yes, everybody thinks he should be He Who Destroys," Isamu said, but Gii ignored him.

Ikuo explained all this to Ogi. "He means the pioneer who came in when this region was a wilderness surrounded by forest and opened it up for set- tlers. The cliffs and rock-hard soil had dammed up stagnant water, and gas had collected. He blew it all up with explosives, so he was both a creator and a destroyer."

"If I do play He Who Destroys, one of my friends asked if I'll do it dressed up as a giant who opened up the land here," Gii said, in a calm voice surprising in someone so young. "I was born at the Farm after my father died an unnatu- ral death, and for a long time they wouldn't let me play with the other kids. All I heard was stories about my father that my mother told me, so when I started going to school I was so far behind I had a tough time keeping up.

"People at school treated me like I was a freak, and neighbors used to taunt me as I walked home to the Farm along the river. Must have been tough to squeeze out of your mom's cock when you were born, huh? Things like that.

Anyway, having heard all the stories from my mother, ever since I was little I've viewed the local people as doubled. I got this vision of a world where the living and the dead coexist from a poem by the pianist Afanassiev. And I believed that as a child I'd actually experienced it.

"I'd pass by people along the river, adults and children, and realize that some of them-people who looked just like everybody else-were people who had come back. The souls of the dead would go up to the forest, rest for a long time at the roots of trees, and be reborn in the bodies of newborn babies. Those are the people who've come back. My mother said that, in principle, all the people in the valley have come back, but some people stood out more than others.

"I found it terribly exciting to see the people who'd come bacl{living together with ordinary people. That doesn't happen to me anymore, so what I hope is that the Spirit Festival can re-create that feeling: the people who've come back descending into the midst of a group of ordinary people."

"So as a child you felt the mythic heroes of this land being reborn? " Ikuo asked. "That's pretty amazing. Growing up like that must have given you a more objective view of special figures like He Who Destroys-and your father too. I can understand now why the character covered with branches and leaves has so much appeal."

"The way you put it, Ikuo-san, does sort of capture the way I felt," Gii said. "But even though I had those fantasies as a child, to look at me you wouldn't have thought I was anything out of the ordinary. I was just a little neighborhood brat with a blank look on his face."

"But that blank-looking little urchin was something special," Mayumi insisted. "And the fact that you have such a clear recollection of the way you felt then makes you pretty special even now, Gii."

For Ogi, this unabashed admiration from an older woman once again called up disjointed memories of Mrs. Tsugane.

1

In the Red Cross Hospital, Kizu asked Dr. Koga about something that had been bothering him for quite some time.

"When I was taken from the reception desk at the outpatient part of the hospital and up in the elevator I was fully conscious, though it felt like every- thing was taking place in a dream. It was like I was a shallow bay in which the tide was receding. It had a strange physicality. The thought struck me that soon I would be empty-in other words, I was going to die-and I was scared and confused. I couldn't move, and I'm sure I looked quite ugly."

"Not from the outside you didn't," Dr. Koga replied. "Though Ikuo told me that when you started looking around so nervously he wanted to do some- thing for you but had no idea what to do."

"I was struck by the feeling," Kizu went on, "that my body was about to rise up horizontally, and I was flustered, thinking I was headed straight for the coffin. There was only one thing I could cling to-the thought that before long the pain would hit me with a thud. And then I would crash and die and life would come to an end. Besides the fear and confusion, I had a cynical premoni- tion that if someone told me now I was under the wrong impression and things weren't as they seemed, I wouldn't have had any objections.

"Yesterday, when Ikuo came to visit me, he told me what young Gii told him about having often seen people who've returned living together with nor- mal people. Right now I really feel, talking to you like this, that I am one of those people."

"I think that if the next thud, as you put it, had come, you really would have died," Dr. Koga said. "As your doctor I was trying to forestall this, but it was risky to take you all the way to Matsuyama. I took the risk partly be- cause Ikuo insisted but also because I believed you were going to pass away from cancer anyway before much longer. I was anxious, thinking we had to take you to Matsuyama, otherwise you'd die the way you were, though I know this isn't exactly logical… If you had died on the way-well, I figured that would be unfortunate but not the worst sort of death. I did still feel respon- sible, though, even if you'd passed away after we took you out of the ambu- lance and turned you over to the intensive care unit."

The sense of fear and confusion Kizu felt at that time was no longer near, though it was bound to overwhelm him again. He didn't feel like complain- ing to Dr. Koga, though, and confined himself to a sigh.

"It was all pretty strange the way it worked out," Kizu said.

"It was a miracle!" Dr. Koga exclaimed. "As your attending physician I've made one mistake after another. When you had your first bout of pain and bloody stool, I just went on the assumption that you had terminal cancer and should be given medication to alleviate the pain. But you recovered quickly, so I designed a program both to control your pain with medication and to allow you to recuperate at home. People your age are wary of being overly dependent on drugs, not to mention being pretty stoic, so you were a model patient.

"The thought didn't occur to me of trying to locate the origin of your pain. A complete cure was out of the question. That's the situation when you had this recurrence and all the terrible pain involved. I imagine Ikuo's told you all about this, but on the day you went into the hospital Patron used that as the impetus for launching this notion of the Church of the New Man. It had a tremendous impact on everybody-from those in the Hollow to those out at the farm.

"Patron says that the concept of the Church of the New Man is ex- pressed in the painting you were doing at the time of your collapse, so I went over to your studio to check it out. If only I'd seen it beforehand I would have definitely taken another look at the source of your pain. There's a power in that painting. I don't care how much technique and experience an artist might have, there's no way a person taking drugs to suppress the pain of terminal cancer could draw something with the kind of power I saw in that painting.

"In actual fact, it turns out you don't have terminal cancer at all. So where was the pain coming from? Well, now we know. Eight years ago you had the viscous matter they discovered in an X-ray cleaned out. The material that collected once again in your gallbladder was rather tenacious, and the gall- bladder was just about ready to burst. The young doctor at the Red Cross Hospital opened you up, removed it, and that was that.

'"The pain he had before was accompanied by jaundice, right?' the doctor asked me, 'so why didn't you suspect gallstones?' He treated me like some ignorant intern. I'd heard it was untreatable intestinal cancer. I asked the young doctor what he thought of the bloody stool. He said it's no longer a concern. And he was exactly right. The fiberscope showed no bleeding in your intestines and of course no sign of cancer. As far as we could see during the gallbladder operation, no cancer had spread to any other organs. 'Which isn't strange because there wasn't any cancer to begin with!' the young doc- tor said, in high spirits."

"So there really wasn't any cancer?" Kizu asked.

"The doctor who examined you in Tokyo is an outstanding physician with a great deal of experience. Terminal intestinal cancer isn't that hard to diagnose. It is a bit strange, though, that he didn't do a biopsy."

"Maybe that's because the physician who introduced me to him is a re- nowned diagnostician," Kizu said. "Patron once said he'd do something for my cancer. Do you think he really did what he said he would?"

"All my belief rests on him," Dr. Koga said. "Which doesn't hold true for you, Professor. I can't deny what you say, but it makes me wonder. Natu- rally, I'm happy that things have turned out as they have. Something both- ers me, though, about that high-spirited young doctor. 'The cancer identified by the former attending physician has completely disappeared-yet the pa- tient didn't follow up with any standard anticancer treatment. And he's liv- ing with the leader of a religious life. Can we ignore these facts?' That's what he said.

"Ambition might get the best of him and make him talk to the media, and then Patron will be drawn into the spotlight all over again. It's an un- pleasant thought, especially when we're in such a critical time for the church."

2

Over and over Kizu kept thinking about what it meant that the cancer he'd been aware of having invaded his entire body-though if asked how he was aware of this he could only give an uncertain, vague reply-had com- pletely vanished. The conclusion he arrived at was pure nonsense.

A fluid life force inside me, he thought, something I've never felt before, arose, moved through me, eradicated the focal point of the cancer deep in- side, gathered it all at a spot where it could be expelled from my body, and then discharged it very painfully as that bloody stool!

Before the first wave of pain hit, while he was sketching the feverish Patron, Kizu had felt a tremendous force poured into his body. He recalled this when he was in the hospital. And while he had been sketching Patron naked from the waist up, this came back even more forcefully, which is when he started feeling bad and this latest episode had occurred.

When the next wave of pain hit him, the cancer had gathered in one place and came out in the bloody stool! Kizu knew this was an audacious fantasy, yet his insides retained a firm memory that this fantasy had actually happened.

Kizu proceeded to tell his story to the "high-spirited young doctor," as Dr. Koga called him, who was named Dr. Ino.

"I'm not saying this is how it happened," Kizu said. "But if you think about it, the relationship between what happened to my body and the power I received from Patron can explain it."

The doctor's face was round and fat, but the skin looked dirty. A nasty- little-boy smile came to his lips and he rejected this suggestion out of hand.

"If the doctor tells you it's colon or rectal cancer, well, if you're going to have cancer those are good places to have it… At any rate, that's a sweet fan- tasy for a terminal cancer patient. I suggest you confirm this with Dr. Koga."

Kizu felt the smile of pity was directed toward him because of his chronic immaturity, and he accepted the doctor's designation of it as a fantasy. Still, he had to raise a mild protest at the way the young doctor treated Dr. Koga as an accomplice in the misdiagnosis.

"I'm overjoyed, of course, that I don't have cancer," Kizu said, "but my doctor in Tokyo was quite sure he'd discovered cancer, and Dr. Koga based his treatment on what the doctor passed along to him. Not noticing that the cancer has disappeared, though, perhaps is a slipup on his part as my attend- ing physician-"

"What? Cancer doesn't just disappear!" Dr. Ino said, his expression even more spirited. "If a sample of a person's cells are taken to a diagnostic lab and they discover cancer, then he's a cancer patient pure and simple. You'd re- signed yourself to being killed by those cancerous cells, and now, finding out that you aren't going to die, of course you feel great. But aren't you forget- ting how you suffered when you were told you had incurable cancer?"

Every time Dr. Ino visited Kizu-as follow-up care after his routine gallbladder operation-he asked him when and how he'd started to suspect that his cancer was recurring. Kizu told him he'd grown aware that his physi- cal condition was getting worse over the past three or four years but had put it down to his body's slowing down as it aged. After he'd talked with a re- nowned diagnostician he no longer doubted-on an emotional level-that his cancer was back, and so he'd returned to his native land.

As if this weren't enough, Dr. Ino prepared a questionnaire for Kizu.

What tests did the doctor in Tokyo run before he concluded it was cancer?

What words did he use to explain his findings, and how did you react?

After you were told you had cancer, didn't you refuse not just an opera- tion but also radiation treatment and anticancer medicine because, in the back of your mind, you had doubts about whether you really had cancer or not?

If you did have doubts, what prompted them?

Or, on a more positive note, did you think maybe the diagnosis of cancer was a misdiagnosis?

If so, what did you base this on?

Why didn't you discuss these doubts with your present attending physi- cian, who also happens to be a friend of yours?

Most of the questions were irrelevant because Kizu had never had any doubts. Still, Dr. Ino read the entire list of questions aloud. Some of them were relevant, however. When asked: Thinking that you had cancer and that death was not far off, did you put your affairs in order? Kizu just answered truthfully.

The final questions were different from the others, which made them all the more interesting: When you told your friends and colleagues that you had cancer, was there a change in their attitude toward you and in your attitude to- ward them? Did your attitude change toward yourself.

Kizu had done his best to respond honestly. And afterward, as he lay alone in bed, he mentally reviewed his responses.

What kind of examinations had the doctor in Tokyo done to arrive at the conclusion that he had terminal cancer? What Kizu remembered-it was only six months ago but the details were so fuzzy it seemed a lifetime, which only irritated Dr. Ino, and the more Kizu tried to recall the vaguer it all be- came-was that when the doctor in Tokyo questioned him about his condi- tion before examining him, Kizu reported his bloody stool, but this didn't cause the doctor's mood to sour. They'd taken X-rays in Tokyo and done a CT scan and ultrasound. And drew blood. With the bad experience he had before with a fiberscope, Kizu didn't feel much like having it done again. But he couldn't recall whether the doctor asked him if he wanted to go through that procedure. Perhaps by this time the doctor wasn't under any illusions?

Whether you're talking about the stomach or the intestines, if the patient's the type who doesn't like examinations, what's the point of making him suf- fer only to discover cancer in yet another part of his body?

After he was told he had cancer, the most important person he talked to about it had to be Ikuo, and this had been the spark that led to a deepening of their sexual relationship, a private preserve he wasn't about to get into.

Instead he had told Dr. Ino how Patron had told him that as long as Kizu had life within him he would clarify his own mission as a religious leader, and how after Kizu accepted his role Dr. Koga began to show greater inter- est in him. Further, he talked about how everyone here in this area knew he was a terminal cancer patient, but it didn't seem to make people any more or less interested in him and he was able to lead a happy life and get along well with others.

After all these questions, Dr. Ino had asked him this: In weekly maga- zines and on TV shows you often see reports of how patients everyone has given up on were cured by such folk medicine as Chinese chi therapy or eat- ing mushrooms from South America, right? Do you understand your own cure as the effects of Patron's mystical powers?

"When Patron's longtime companion fell ill," Kizu had replied, "not just Patron but everyone around him hoped he could save him through some mystical forces. But it didn't happen. So I don't believe Patron has mystical healing powers. However, while I was drawing the wound in Patron's side, what members of the church call the Sacred Wound, I felt a tremendous life force welling up within me, so powerful I wondered whether I'd be able to get through the session all right. The second time I was drawing was when I collapsed, but the terrible pain I felt came from that tremendous life force.

"As I usually do when I'm drawing, and as I sketched Patron with his side exposed, my eyes and hands functioned to connect up the inner and outer worlds of my model, and it was as if I suddenly got plugged into Patron's soul.

This touched off a kind of uncontrollable life force that welled up in me, a force was so overwhelming that I thought, If this is a display of Patron's mystical healing power, it might very well lead to that thud I was talking about and kill me. But I accepted that.

"After my first operation, my cancer-assuming for the moment that what I don't have now I did have then-having lain dormant until then, started to be active again, and who knows but maybe this too was due to the stimulus I got from encountering Patron. At least that's the way I'd like to think of it.

"When it was discovered I had a relapse of my cancer-and I was told there was no chance of recovery-I surprised myself by how industrious I became. I got deeply into things I'd never done before, gave up the teaching position I'd held for years in America, and moved here to the woods of Shikoku. Understand that I wasn't thinking of my relapse of cancer as a nega- tive thing. I knew I'd die before too long, but that didn't frighten me or make me feel regretful. I recognized that the basis tor my life had changed. Isn't that what happens? I didn't see it as a terrible end to my life."

"Now that you know youdon't have terminal cancer, " Dr. Ino ventured, "do things seem new to you in any way?"

"The symptoms I noticed myself haven't changed," Kizu said, "except that the dull pain I had for a long while is gone. I don't feel the overflowing life force that filled me while I was drawing Patron. I don't think this is just postoperation weakness.

"If there is something new, it's a sense of anxiety. I came here with Ikuo, who wanted to be with Patron. To me, Patron is a special person, of course, but so is Ikuo. Wasn't it the knowledge that I had cancer and didn't have long to live that led me to be with them without worrying in the slightest? On an unconscious level, wasn't I hoping I'd spend the short time left to me for their sake, without thinking about anything else? With my crisis past, how can an unexceptional person like me possibly associate with the likes of them? Frankly speaking, it frightens me."

Once more a faint smile came to Dr. Ino's face, and Kizu was left feel- ing there was something he didn't get, something that had nothing to do with the young physician's usual high spirits but reflected an ulterior motive at work.

A week after this conversation, on the day before Kizu was to be released from the hospital, a special scoop appeared in a weekly magazine-the maga- zine itself wasn't to be found in Matsuyama so they were relying only on the ads in the newspapers-that was based on the exclusive account of his attend- ing physician. The headline ran: RELIGIOUS LEADER WITH SACRED WOUND CURES TERMINAL CANCER WITH HIS HEALING POWER! CANCER THROUGHOUT THE BODY EXPELLED IN ONE LUMP!

3

Kizu left the hospital accompanied by Ms. Asuka, with Ikuo doing the driving. A minivan was to follow them with his belongings, with Mayumi at the wheel until they reached the mountain pass, after which Gii was to take over driving. Several members of the Fireflies were with them.

Escorted by Ms. Asuka, Kizu walked out to the carport at the front of the hospital and waited for Ikuo to bring the car around. As they passed by the elevator hall and front desk, Kizu sensed a flurry of activity around him, but Ms. Asuka didn't slacken her pace. As they walked by they heard a woman call out "Mr. Kizu!" in a thicker dialect that that used by the residents of the Old Town in Maki Township, but before he could respond, Ms. Asuka gently pushed him out the door and they were outside in the summery sunshine.

The car pulled right up, Ikuo opened the door from the inside, and Kizu and Ms. Asuka climbed in.

Nobody mentioned the woman calling out to them, but after they'd wended their way through heavy city traffic for forty or fifty minutes and had begun to climb the slope up to the pass that formed a major crossroads for all of Shikoku, Ikuo turned to glance at the minivan following them and said, "I'm glad we could get rid of those pests. It would have been more trouble than it's worth if the Fireflies had come to blows with them right there in front of everybody."

"I was more worried that those boys would get in a quarrel after you and the TV reporter clashed," Ms. Asuka said to Ikuo. "Seems all those marches through the woods have made them respect your physical prowess."

"Was all that something to do with me?" Kizu asked.

"The TV and newspaper reporters have been trying to get near you since last night, and the Fireflies have been standing guard."

"Ikuo's role in the summer conference is crucial," Ms. Asuka said, "so we can't have him getting detained for disturbing the peace."

"It's not the weekend, and summer vacation hasn't begun yet, so is it really okay to have the Fireflies helping out like this?" Kizu asked.

"The boys in Gii's van are new members, older than the others," Ikuo said, "young men who are going to take over their families' businesses in shops along the river in the Old Town. One of them has a job in Matsuyama and took time off from work. Once the Fireflies started getting noticed more they asked if they could join. At first Gii hesitated, but since one was the older brother of a guy who was already a Firefly he gave in."

"The Fireflies is an association with a plan for the future, correct?" Kizu asked. "Which should make it especially meaningful to include boys in this age group, I would think."

"They'll all work together," Ikuo said, "to help prepare for the summer conference. I imagine Gii will consider afterward whether or not to reorga- nize them… First the news got out about Patron's Sacred Wound, plus a sense that the Church of the New Man was finally organized. And now come reports that your cancer, Professor, has disappeared. People way beyond our little valley are starting to show an interest in our church."

Their car headed up the increasingly treacherous and windy slope, the foliage on the hillside across the deep valley now a luxuriant dark hazy green.

The large greenhouses on the slope, as well as the remains of the local con- struction projects, all had a calm, antique look to them. Kizu felt he was re- turning to an imposing and stable land.

"The news that my cancer, or what all the doctors thought was cancer, has disappeared was in a weekly magazine, apparently. Have people also been talking about it in the Hollow and in Maki Town?"

"There's nothing we can do about that," Ikuo said.

"While we were checking you out of the hospital, Ikuo went over to a large stationery store to have a copy of the magazine article faxed from a friend in Tokyo," Ms. Asuka said, turning around in the passenger seat. She'd put a pillow and blanket on the backseat and told Kizu to lie down if he felt tired.

"I ate alone in the hospital cafeteria," she went on. "At the next table was a group from one of the afternoon talk shows who'd come to do a story on you, Professor. I couldn't believe some of the things they were saying. They were even talking about how Ikuo had hit Gii."

Ikuo shifted in the driver's seat, his body language sending out a mes- sage to cease and desist, but strong-willed Ms. Asuka, not about to be deterred by any man trying to restrain her, brushed this aside.

"When Dr. Koga called us," she said, "to tell us that after your gallblad- der operation they had started to think you didn't have cancer after all-they'd be running some tests, but it didn't look like cancer-Ikuo and Gii were both in the office. Everybody was overjoyed, until Gii made some flippant remark about how he found it disappointing. 'Why's that?' Ikuo shot back, the situ- ation already getting tense because Gii is still, after all, a child. 'When some- one who's dying from cancer shortens his life even further to work for our upcoming conference,' Gii remarked, 'it's a much more interesting story.' Ikuo walloped him but good on the back of his neck; the poor boy got quite a bruise.

That's why Mayumi didn't even say hello to Ikuo today.

"The TV people must have heard about this from somewhere. One man suggested that if they got on the good side of this boy he might give them a tasty interview. Another man, a real hardliner with this affected made-for- TV voice, said that considering all the families in the country who have rela- tives with cancer they could really crank up the ratings. A guy from another group, a cameraman, said he wished he could get a shot of the toilet with that lump of cancer in it, and a woman reporter, a sort of geisha-with-a-brain type, knit her brow and laughed."

"We got rid of them once, but I'll bet they'll be back, this time at the Hollow."

Kizu looked concerned when Ikuo said this, so Ikuo continued.

"We're setting up tents we borrowed from the farm down below the dam that we'll use to register people during the summer conference. I found out from the town office that Satchan owns that land. Someday Gii will inherit it. We've arranged to park our car and the minivan not in the parking lot but on land that's already been cleared. So if those reporters follow us and try to corner you, Professor, we'll have the right to get them to leave since it's pri- vate property. Gii came up with this strategy."

"So you have a faxed copy of the magazine article?" Kizu asked.

"Shall I read it? I'll skip the boring first part," Ms. Asuka said, wasting no time.

"The doctor who performed the gallbladder operation on Professor Kizu stated that this is nothing short of a miracle, if the patient indeed had had terminal cancer as his personal physician said. He went on to say he ex- pects to receive faxes of the CT scan and X-rays of the affected parts from the doctor who made the original diagnosis of cancer, after which he plans to make a presentation at a medical conference.

"The church leader who performed the miracle refused to make any comment. This leader, who now goes by the name of Patron, is one of the men who did a Somersault eleven years ago in the face of violence on the part of a radical faction within their church. His confidant, known as Guide, was subjected to a kangaroo trial earlier this year and ended up dead, news still fresh in our minds.

"The way a politicized radical faction planned indiscriminate terror- ist acts foreshadowed what happened with Aum Shinrikyo. And now with the founder apparently able to cure terminal cancer, are we again seeing a harbinger of things to come?

"The local authorities declared that there were many opinions regard- ing this group of believers moving in, but from the standpoint of pro- tecting religious freedom they had no fundamental opposition to the church… Just as many former radicals have turned to running natural foods cooperatives and leading local environmental groups, several of these radical religious groups have switched to emphasizing healing."

Ms. Asuka stopped reading and returned the sheaf of faxes to her lap.

"It's better than what I expected from the headlines," Kizu said. "Though I know you've only read the choicest parts. But I can't see that Patron has changed his doctrine to emphasize healing. As he builds his Church of the New Man, I imagine that along the way he'll heal some incurable diseases, but that's not central to what he's doing."

Kizu suddenly felt exhausted, so he placed Ms. Asuka's pillow in one corner, pulled the blanket up over his stomach, and lay down. His cancer might be gone, but his energy level was still low.

Kizu closed his eyes. Instead of relief at having avoided death, a pal- pable unease rolled over him as to what he was supposed to do once he re- turned to the Hollow. All sorts of movements were afoot now that they were moving toward the launch of the Church of the New Man. Was there a role for him to play?

Completing the triptych to be hung in the chapel: That was the main thing. After his stay in the hospital, he was again assailed by doubts that he really understood the relationship between the two figures facing each other in the middle panel. In the midst of doing preliminary drawings, something about Patron's body-his wound exposed to view-struck him, though he hadn't had the leisure to reflect on what it all meant.

A new personal issue had also been raised. The excitingly charged sexual relationship between Ikuo and himself-a man who didn't have long to live- was now reduced to nothing more than a senile old man, who might hang around forever, infatuated by a young man's charms… The car bounced over a rough spot of road, which roused Kizu from his gloomy thoughts. He had a bitter taste in his mouth. After rattling around for a while, he was fully awake and he gazed out the window of the car, as it rolled to a stop at the clearing below the dam, at a huge wing jutting up above the man- made lake, blotting out the summer sky. This was the reviewing stand for the summer conference, a symmetrical structure projecting out to the edge of the lake. Something in the scene brought back memories of long ago.

4

That evening, at twilight, Kizu had an early dinner, a habit acquired in the hospital, sat down in an armchair by the window to enjoy the cool breeze, and gazed out at the Hollow, with its expectant air of activity as the summer conference approached.

One level below the stone wall surrounding the chapel and monastery on the south shore, the path leading to the edge of the lake had been trimmed clear of bushes and summer grasses and now lay exposed. Identical wooden stands had been constructed there and on the east and north shores of the lake-the bleachers for the summer conference. Even the path that led to Kizu's residence, running straight east from the point where it narrowed and went uphill, was under construction.

Now, though, as Kizu gazed out at the scene there was no heavy con- struction going on, just a placid view of men putting the final touches to the work. The sun was already down, but a line of cirrocumulus clouds had begun to spread quickly over the clear sky, their thin folds aglow in the gentle evening light and reflected in the perfectly still surface of the lake.

Hearing that Kizu was to be on the six o'clock Matsuyama evening news, Ms. Asuka had brought over a TV set for them to watch. Earlier, while Kizu had been watching the grandstands with their fragrant scent of freshly cut timber as they made their way up to the dam from the open space set up for the tents, Gii and his minivan had done their best to keep back the taxi that had been tailing them. So the TV crews hadn't been able to interview Kizu directly and had to content themselves with scenes of Kizu at the dam, ap- parently taken out of the taxi window.

From the way the announcer spoke, it appeared that this coverage of the "miracle man" whose cancer had completely disappeared had already been broadcast a few times. Kizu was shocked at how unsteady he appeared, stand- ing there. He was also surprised by the film of him making his way through the crowds at the hospital, how very sad his slack, lined face and neck looked.

He remembered how, as a child, he'd thought it one of the mysteries of life how the faces of old people normally had a sad, depressed expression. Now that face was his, and he couldn't bear to look.

Ms. Asuka's dinner schedule was reversed now; she took her own meal at the dining hall after returning Kizu's dishes. This evening as she ate she was told that Patron would be paying Kizu a visit that evening between seven and eight.

Though a deep exhaustion still had Kizu in its grip, he had slept soundly all afternoon, thanks to the dry air of the woods, and now stayed in bed to await Patron's visit.

When Kizu had arrived back at his house on the north shore he sensed the same woody fragrance he'd smelled at the dam. He thought at first this was because the window facing the Hollow was open, but actually the wood smell came from a newly constructed additional room just off the kitchen.

The canvas partition that had separated the sickroom from the studio was gone. Ms. Asuka didn't stride into the kitchen as briskly as she had before, but after she changed her clothes she reported the news about the visit.

"The doctor who performed the gallbladder operation didn't hesitate to say that there wasn't any cancer," Kizu said, "and did these thorough tests.

It's only been a week since the construction started? It's amazing they could add on this extra room by the time I came home."

"The day after you went into the hospital, the Technicians' carpentry team came over. Patron had them start work because he was expecting great things of you, Professor, in the Church of the New Man. Some people say Patron fore- saw all of this. Still, though, when we heard the news that you didn't have can- cer, Patron was the only one with a strangely pained look on his face."

Kizu was listening to the voices of the cicadas and, interspersed, the calls of birds as they echoed, a split second later, off the surface of the lake-all part of something vast that converged on the forest and spilled down from it.

Soon he heard the sound of music, amplified through a speaker though still subdued: two or three short piano pieces; he wasn't familiar with the melody, though the chords and accompaniment were pleasant enough.

While the foothills surrounding the Hollow still echoed with the music, Ms. Asuka gracefully appeared from the kitchen to explain.

"Every time Patron leaves his residence, they use piano music to let people in the church know. It's one of Morio's compositions. When they hear that music, people who have things they want to ask Patron leave their work or meditation and come out looking for him. He's left his residence now and I imagine, since someone has stopped to talk with him in the courtyard of the monastery, it'll be another thirty minutes before he arrives. Shall I turn on the light?"

"He can see this window as he comes here, so if we turn on the light it might appear we're rushing him," Kizu said. "Let's leave it off until he ar- rives. Patron seems to be really enthused about the activities of his Church of the New Man, doesn't he?"

"He's leading a more formal lifestyle now, as befits the leader of a church," Ms. Asuka replied. "You'll see soon enough when they get to the top of the dam. Morio waits on Patron like a page-or a court jester, if you will- and Gii has organized a squad to guard him."

A clump of people moved out of the monastery courtyard, went up to the dam, and passed through the reviewing stands, their faces unclear in the gathering gloom as they approached. Morio fluttered around next to Patron, who looked a bit unsteady on his feet, and they were both surrounded by young men walking with measured, determined steps.

Keeping up with these trained strides must have been difficult, but the bodyguards looked fairly relaxed, and Kizu imagined that if, for instance, Morio were to fall into the lake, they'd be able to effect a well-organized rescue.

Watching the little band until it turned into the newly reconditioned path leading to the north shore, Kizu retreated from the window. How should he best greet Patron? Should he thank him for using his spiritual powers to rid him of cancer?

Honestly, though, Kizu didn't feel he could attribute the disappearance of his cancer to anything Patron did. Once it was gone, even the pain that had held his entire being in its crushing grip was hard to remember as something real. Similarly, though the doctor who declared he didn't have cancer didn't say it had disappeared, right now that seemed like a reasonable way to think about it.

As they heard Patron and his group approaching up the slope, Ms. Asuka opened the window to catch the cool breeze, switched on the light, and went to the front door, taking care that mosquitoes and other flying insects didn't invade the house through cracks in the shutters.

Patron and Morio came in and Ms. Asuka called to the young body- guards to do likewise, but they were determined to remain outside. As Kizu greeted them from where he sat in an armchair from the bedroom in the large room, now one big studio, Morio called out "Ah!" in a loud voice.

"What's the matter, Morio? Don't be rude, now," Patron said reprovingly.

From behind Patron, Morio put his right arm on Patron's shoulder and half hid behind him, held his left hand in front of his face, and said in a piti- ful voice, "Ah! Ah! He's supposed to be dead!"

With Morio leaning on him, Patron swayed a bit and turned his now somewhat thinner and less conspicuous double chin toward Kizu. His eyes, with their heavy folds at the outer corners, might look weak at first, but Kizu could detect a thorough egocentrism at work in them that was calm and yet concealed deeper currents of emotion.

"In the sermon I gave telling how you recovered and returned to the Hollow," Patron said, "I said you'd died once and been reborn. I also said that because of this, in your body with its new life dwelling in it, it was only natu- ral for the cancer of your old life to disappear without a trace. Morio was quite moved by this. He likes to paint mental pictures of what life is like in heaven, and he came up with the vision of the soul first taking the form of a simple grouping of sounds. I think that led to the notion of a more concrete vision of something-not a person exactly-that's walking the earth."

Patron removed Morio's arm from his shoulder. Then, holding his quaking companion, he turned to Ms. Asuka.

"Bring a chair and place it beside the desk next to the wall on the north side. Do that and he'll calm down. Morio, you need to pull yourself together, okay? So be brave." He watched Morio carefully.

After Ms. Asuka made the space for Morio, Patron asked Kizu to stand up and adjust his chair too, so it faced the studio part of the room. Ms. Asuka brought over a chair for Patron from the studio and set it down on the lake side. Kizu and Patron settled down, sitting diagonally across from each other, about three yards apart. After regaining his cool, Morio was able to lift his face from his arms to discover Patron straight across from him.

"I'm happy to see you looking so well," Patron said, in a renewed greeting.

"You look well too," Kizu said fervently. "You seem to have gotten slim- mer. The line of your chin is different from when I drew you."

Patron fixed his gaze on the drawing Kizu had attached to the middle panel of the triptych. "I feel like my face has gotten thinner, though I haven't been moving about any more than usual, even with starting the Church of the New Man. I'm expecting great things from you now in our church, but at the same time I feel a bit sheepish saying this. After all, you'll be going through rehabilitation for some time."

"Morio's reaction was quite honest," Kizu said, "saying he thought I was dead. That really struck me. I'm sure your sermon convinced all the mem- bers of the church. I do feel like I died and was reborn, though I didn't notice my rebirth when it was happening."

"That's a pretty common reaction, I think-the way most people deal with death," Patron said. "We don't have the strength to go through the dra- matic kinds of death and rebirth you find in the Gospels… but it certainly is excellent news that all your symptoms of cancer are gone."

"I'm very thankful."

As if to let Kizu's words, unexpected, and entirely natural, pass by, Patron turned to gaze at his portrait. He remained silent, as if waiting for Kizu to continue in another direction. But Kizu had nothing left to say. When the young doctor at the Red Cross Hospital told him it was strange he didn't make absolutely sure about the existence of his cancer, he'd replied that he never doubted that he did have cancer, though he had to admit that his actions had been ambiguous. Even now, he couldn't wipe that ambiguity away.

"With the rehabilitation you need to go through, I know this will seem like I'm rushing you," Patron said, "but when will you be able to start work again on this large oil painting? I know it must be physically tiring to paint a large tableau."

"Admittedly, the operation has taken something out of me, but I should be back on my feet soon," Kizu replied, although he knew this was pushing things. "I should be able to start again before long."

"Can you finish it before the summer conference?"

Kizu nodded.

"One of the reasons I came over tonight was to ask you that, even though I know you're very tired," Patron said. "Ikuo very much wants to show the triptych to people who will be new members of the Church of the New Man who come to the conference from all over the country. He's also thinking of opening the chapel to local people and tourists who want to see it. There are a lot of people interested in the miracle that took place in your body, which they connect up with my wound. Nothing could satisfy them more than see- ing the painting you did of my bare torso.

"Ikuo sees the summer conference as the national debut of our Church of the New Man. He's been working with the Fireflies on a plan to help make it a success and says he'd like to make viewing the triptych part of the orien- tation for the participants. I have one more related request: Before you begin work on your painting again, would you take a look at my body one more time? Right now. I know it's sudden-"

"No, not at all," Kizu said, trying to compensate for his surprised expression. "If anything was sudden, it was me collapsing when you were modeling."

Still seated, Patron very carefully began to unbutton his brand-new shirt from the top. The fact that he wore no undershirt struck Kizu as odd, since men of their age usually did. Patron sat up in his chair, and when he finished removing his shirt completely this feeling of oddness grew even greater. Kizu gazed at Patron's side and got the same impression one gets looking at the face of someone with thick glasses who's just removed them.

"Ah," Kizu sighed. The Sacred Wound was gone! He stared hard at Patron's flank. Patron twisted his shoulder in response, slightly rotating his chest. There was a round rose-colored spot on his side. It was a smooth mark, as if left by a heated cup pressed against the skin and not released until the air inside had cooled.

"I'd like you to complete the triptych as you've done in the drawings,"

Patron said, "with the hole still open. I know you're still trying to get used to the idea that your cancer has disappeared, and likewise I'm still unsure what my wound's closing up means. Though in the part of the triptych where I'm confronting Ikuo, I think it makes more sense for the wound to be open." He rubbed the now-healed smooth skin where the wound had been, as if he were massaging his tired eyes.

"I should be able to complete the painting based on the sketches I made when the wound was oozing and you were feverish," Kizu said. "The ones I did before I collapsed. But there'll be a lot of people coming to the chapel who've been moved by the legend of the Sacred Wound. If by chance they find out the wound has healed, won't there be trouble?"

Because he was thin and drawn, Patron's profile as he gazed at the painting had a sober coldness to it. "The only trouble I can think of is when those veteran journalists trumpet their scoop. I learned a lot about report- ers during the Somersault. But I'm too old to worry about what they think.

Within the church itself, the Quiet Women see the wound in my side as a sign of the sin of having done the Somersault. Having the wound disappear right now, at the point where I've decided to build the Church of the New Man, would fit right in with their doctrine. However, I'm not building up the Church of the New Man in order to directly praise the power of the tran- scendent. I'm doing it as one of many antichrists. So I'm certainly not plan- ning to reverse the Somersault.

"Having said that, the transcendent has, as I inaugurate my church, chosen this time to heal the wound that has troubled me over the past decade.

Considered in that light, the significance of your cancer suddenly disappear- ing becomes clear. You're painting what will be the central icon of our new movement. As you neared completion of it you were overwhelmed by pain.

And once you recovered, your cancer was gone. The transcendent smiles down on your work, Professor, and in order to lift you up so you could complete the painting, it took away your cancer. That makes eminent sense. In the building of the Church of the New Man we'll be engaged in from now on, the transcendent is indifferent about whether I'm a faithful follower or whether, as an antichrist, I'm trying to regain the will I had in the Somer- sault. The transcendent is absolutely self-centered. It doesn't stand on the side of those who are trying to do good.

"Just like the journalists I mentioned, the Almighty is bereft of imagi- nation. Spinoza's completely right on this point. If you call the transcendent God, then you're saying God has no imagination. Every time I read the sec- tion of the Gospels where Jesus is crucified, I find myself thinking that God's son has no imagination. For Christ, there is only this world God made-that is, God itself and His designs. 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'

Jesus cries out, but he accepts everything that happens to him.

"The antichrist, in contrast, does have imagination. Imagination, in fact, is all he has. And my Church of the New Man will be built in this way-as the church of the antichrist. Once you've grown used to the cancer's having left your body, Professor, I ask that you do your utmost for our new church."

Morio stood up from his chair over by the wall and with small steps slowly made his way past Kizu to stand in front of Patron. Then he sat down at Patron's feet and laid one hand reverently on Patron's left knee. Patron gently brought his fingers together and tousled Morio's hair. Patron turned his gaze from the portrait of himself to the still incomplete full tableau.

"But there's no need for me to preach to you about the transcendent,"

Patron went on. "You've gotten close to us through Ikuo. And I suspect you'll continue working for his sake. That being the case, I don't need to be too concerned about this. To tell the truth, Ikuo's still something of a mys- tery to me. But I do know he's putting everything he has into our church, doing all he can to pave the way for the summer conference that will de- cide our future.

"And in your triptych, won't you be showing the relationship between Ikuo and myself, the antichrist of the Church of the New Man?"

1

The Technicians' carpentry team was up on stepladders, pounding thick red concrete nails into the wall of the chapel. It was something any amateur could do, and Kizu found it amusing that they approached the task as some specialized, highly complicated assignment. No matter what was going on these days, you could count on a Technician to be there.

The completed triptych was being mounted on the narrow wall near the piano. There were two chairs beside the piano, one the performer's seat occupied by Ikuo, the other by Morio, as they sat there expectantly. At some distance away from them, in the front row of the chairs used for meetings, sat Gii and Isamu, as well as a third Firefly, who'd helped Ikuo transport the painting from the studio, all of them watching the Technicians go about their job.

For the time being bereft of work, Kizu sat there looking at the antique silver spirit level, decorated with line drawings of lilies, that Gii had brought over. Gii had casually mentioned that it had been handed down to him by his mother and was part of the legacy left behind by the diplomat who had lived in the house on the north shore, the one who'd designed the beds in the style of rustic Eastern European furniture.

The Fireflies were called over to carry the triptych to just below where the nails had been set. Gii leaped nimbly on a stepladder, set the level on the top of the painting to be sure it was hanging straight, and signaled to the Technicians. The way Gii maneuvered the little tool had all the winsome- ness that Kizu had sensed the first time he met the young man, and he could feel the pride Ikuo had as he looked on.

When they'd set the painting right where they wanted it, Ikuo returned to the piano. A sheaf of copies of Morio's compositions lay there. Ikuo chose one piece and began playing, freely changing the speed, emphasizing the lower register as he played it through twice. Instead of sitting beside Ikuo as one might expect, Morio was up and moving about, silent and agile despite his impaired legs. Absorbed in the music, he moved in diagonal lines, tracing a pentagon in the circle of the chapel walls, as if stepping on the shadows cast by the aerial dome of the ceiling.

Since the chapel was built as a perfect circle with a radius of fifty feet, ordinary sounds would focus on one point and a flattering echo would be produced, which originally made it impossible to hold concerts. All sorts of changes had been made to modify this since the building was first built- porous boards placed to absorb sound on the ceiling and up to about twelve feet above the floor; the walls all redone to diffuse sound evenly. Even the windows and the entrance door were set slightly out of alignment with one another to improve the acoustics. But now in the midst of this carefully de- signed space they were about to hang a six-by-sixteen-foot painting, plus two side panels each half again as large. So the first thing they wanted to do after hanging the painting was to have Ikuo play the piano while Morio, with his sensitive ears, checked for a flattering echo.

Soon Morio, his whole body showing a sense of relief, went back and sat beside Ikuo. He tucked his legs up under him like a monkey settling in and listened to the rest of his composition. He couldn't have been happier.

The rest of the people standing about here and there in the chapel also turned their attention to the music, all the while gazing up at the triptych.

Gii came over next to Kizu and said, "Morio doesn't hear any echoes."

One of three Technicians sitting nearby said to his companions, "If they put it in a heavy frame with glass it might have a different effect altogether."

"We won't be using a frame," Gii said, speaking as an equal to the older Technicians, "so go ahead and attach it permanently."

The three of them watched as the painting was being moved, and every- one could hear Gii express his unease to Isamu and his other companion.

"Why do they have to say such pointless things?"

"It's not pointless, is it?" Isamu was concerned that Gii's voice might carry to those in front.

"It is too pointless," Gii insisted. "We know that sound isn't reverberat- ing. What's the point of suggesting we put it in a frame and glass and see if we can make it echo? Let's go," he said decisively.

As Gii, Isamu, and the other Firefly got up to leave, Ikuo, who was straightening up the copies of Morio's music, called out to them. "Would you please go over and tell Dancer to come and take a look at where they've hung the painting?"

"Will do," Gii replied. He'd been twirling the silver spirit level in front of him, between his thumb and middle finger, but stopped as he answered.

The Technicians' body language, too, showed how close they felt to Ikuo, and they politely acknowledged Kizu as they departed. Thanking them, Kizu could tell-compared to before he'd gone into the hospital-that Ikuo had come to play a much more vital role in running the church.

Dancer appeared, accompanied by Ogi and Ms. Tachibana. The people already there, and these newcomers, all gathered in front of the turpentine- redolent triptych. Kizu was worried about how people would react to the first work he'd done after being discharged from the hospital, the two portraits in the foreground of the central panel. The screech of cicadas, which he'd for- gotten about while Ikuo played the piano, now came back in full force.

Dancer gazed up at the painting. "If you look carefully you'll see that Jonah and Patron are not really facing each other directly. I was expecting them to be questioning each other, trying to persuade each other."

"Maybe they've been debating but haven't arrived at a resolution, so they're looking off to one side and thinking things over," Ms. Tachibana commented.

Kizu had been waiting for Dancer or Ms. Tachibana, who knew about Patron's side being healed, to say something about his portrayal of the wound. But neither one of them seemed about to touch on it. Before long Ms. Tachibana spoke up.

"The piano a while ago was simply lovely," she said to Morio.

"There weren't any echoes at all," Morio replied.

"At the summer conference we'll use a microphone and play it over speakers, but when we play it like this without any amplification, can people really hear it all over the Hollow?" Ikuo asked.

"We were in the office," Dancer said, "with the windows on the lake side open, and we could hear it echo off the north shore."

"At first we played with the windows shut," Morio said, "but then we opened them."

"So we must have heard the last half," Dancer said.

"The Quiet Women requested that at the morning meetings we just let the piano sound all over the Hollow, without using any speakers," Ikuo said.

"Morio, why don't you go back to Patron's place with your sister and tell him the acoustics in the chapel are fine. And then take a rest; you've worked hard today."

"Can I take back all the sheet music?" Morio asked.

"Of course. And thank you."

2

After Ms. Tachibana and her brother left, the others all sat down around Kizu, who'd stayed rooted to his chair, and gazed up again at the triptych.

Kizu could feel them holding back any comments on the painting. A faint whiff of turpentine wafted toward them.

Dancer was the first to speak.

"In the right part of the painting, in the upper right corner, do you see that strangely balanced girl wearing tights? I think Ogi's the only one I need to explain this to, but this young lady-young girl, really-is modeled on me.

That's how old I was when I met Professor Kizu and Ikuo. If I hadn't en- countered Ikuo, and Professor Kizu hadn't observed it all, I wouldn't be here with you today.

"The events of that day long ago threw me off track of being a normal girl, so I didn't care anymore that I wasn't a quote-unquote average Japanese.

Which makes me all the happier that that memorable day has become part of the painting."

Ikuo sat there in a depressed silence. Ogi naturally couldn't grasp the whole context, so Kizu explained.

"Dancer, in tights there," he said, "and Ikuo, when he was a young boy, had a bit of a collision that I witnessed. A long time after that, when I met Ikuo, I remembered what had happened, and that led to our getting in touch with Dancer. Through this we got to know Patron and finally ended up moving here."

"Ogi needs a little more explanation than that," Dancer said. "There was an awards ceremony sponsored by a newspaper, and as one of the attractions I was hired to dance while a children's choir sang. I put on my costume and was about to appear onstage when I got entangled in one of Ikuo's creations.

He was one of the candidates for an award. It went right up inside my little skirt, so I was sort of hanging there in midair, hurt and embarrassed, and the boy glared at me with his puppy-dog eyes and I wondered how angry he'd be if the model was wrecked.

"The way I was standing was quite bizarre, a much harder pose to hold than a plié, but child though I was I decided to tough it out. We were back- stage, but it made me wish we were out on stage, under the spotlights.

"This painful yet wonderful situation was resolved when Ikuo threw his model on the floor and destroyed it, but I was left with regrets. Someday, I thought, I'd like to reenact that scene in front of an audience. I think that was the reason I continued dancing even after we moved to Hokkaido.

"After I moved to Tokyo, and Patron and Guide began looking after me, I had the feeling that eccentric people like them would understand my idea. That's the reason I continued working in Patron's office. When Profes- sor Kizu showed up with Ikuo I was certainly surprised, but happy too. I felt sure that my premonition was entirely correct-that being with Patron and Guide would open up a path for me. With Guide by his side helping out, Patron's power had made my dreams come true… And now in this trip- tych Professor Kizu has painted the day it all began."

Dancer stopped speaking and held her left hand, as if pushing against something heavy, out toward the small painting on the right side of the trip- tych. Everyone's eyes were drawn upward. Only Ikuo, after looking, turned his large, sunken eyes toward the nearby window and the trembling oak leaves with the sun shining through them.

"I'd heard from the young boy what that day meant to him," Kizu said, "but this is the first time I've heard what was going on in the young girl's mind.

I was just an outside observer, but it really was a special event, wasn't it… You've been able to meet again with Ikuo, but what do you think-would we be able to prepare a stage for you to use to finally express yourself the way you'd like?"

"I think you and Ikuo have already begun to do this for me," Dancer replied. "I'm an adult now, and I don't fantasize about being in the spotlight anymore. I just want to walk, once more, toward that great light I saw as a child.

"Now that you've recovered from your illness, Professor, I know you're doing everything you can to move in that direction-the summer conference, that is, that Ikuo's working so hard for. I have a feeling that Ikuo's going to make that event into something quite incredible. Patron's anticipating this, trying to figure out exactly where he stands. I don't think Ikuo's plans for the conference are entirely set, but they'll definitely include the Fireflies, right?

And won't the Quiet Women and the Technicians be in the mix as well?

"Even with the way you've built up the Fireflies, Ikuo, I don't think you'll be able to redo the Church of the New Man according to your own color scheme. Which means we have something quite extraordinary to look for- ward to, but what it is no one can say. So there's something I'd like to say to you, Ikuo, in front of everybody here.

"Ogi and I and the church office will do whatever we can to help you carry out your plans for the summer conference. We're in charge of taking care of all those who'll be attending, which includes staying in close touch with the Kansai headquarters, dealing with the media, negotiating with the town, consulting with the police about security-we're handling all of that. So even with the Fireflies on your side you won't succeed without our help. If Patron asks us to oppose your unilateral activities, we already have enough partici- pants that you'll be expelled from the Church of the New Man. As long as you understand this, we'll help you."

Ikuo bowed his large head, the shadows of the setting sun etching the tension on his darkly chiseled face. Very slowly he opened his mouth, only to say a few words. "I'm not planning anything with the Fireflies."

"We don't know what Patron's planning," Dancer shot back, "so we need to stay receptive, right?"

"That's right," Ikuo said.

"But you have found out more than anyone else about the Technicians and the Quiet Women. And you've been giving a lot of thought about how to deal with them, correct? I only hope you're not thinking of some stupid plan such as throwing your weight behind one side, or getting the two powers to compromise their positions. That's why I'm talking about your plans. I'm only going to say this once. That's where we stand."

Dancer's lips were slightly open in her flushed face. Ogi was silent, but his expression showed he agreed. Kizu was impressed by Dancer's frankness, though he detected a hole in her logic.

"I understand Dancer's intention of supporting Ikuo without taking sides with either the Technicians or the Quiet Women," Kizu said. "And I'm sure Ikuo is encouraged by this. But what would you do if, say, Patron agrees with one of these sects and throws his support behind them?"

Ikuo glared at Kizu, his eyes fairly burning. "You really think that's why he proclaimed his Church of the New Man?" Ikuo asked.

Just then Dr. Koga came in, banging the door shut behind him. While this conversation had been going on, the breeze from the lake had grown chilly, so Ogi went over to close the oblong windows. The windows weren't latched, so they each made two separate sounds as they shut, making a nice airtight seal.

In his usual youthful way Dr. Koga was wearing a T-shirt, one of the shirts Mayumi made to sell at the summer conference that had a print on it of Kizu's sketch in red and yellow of the wound in Patron's side. Dr. Koga strode right over to the painting on the wall, looked up at it, and then turned to express congratulations to the artist.

"It's amazing how well you were able to complete it, even though you're still recovering. I noticed the Technicians had a satisfied look on their faces after they helped hang it up."

"Every time they set up some new equipment somewhere-be it the Hollow or the Farm-they think they're racking up points, don't they?"

Dancer's face was still flushed, but her voice was calm. "It makes me wonder whether they think they can take charge of everything. "

"It's the democratic way, though, isn't it, for people to step to the plate and take responsibility?" Dr. Koga said, parrying her remarks. "And you have to admit it's nice they're happy about it. Professor Kizu, I'm not up on art very much, but isn't this a rather ambiguous design?"

"Before we hung it on the wall, Mrs. Shigeno and Ms. Takada came to see it," Ikuo said. "The Quiet Women seem rather cautious in giving their opinion."

"What about Patron?'

"When he went to the studio to see it before it was completed," Dancer replied, "he said that the painting is the starting point of how we're going to create the Church of the New Man."

"Before long we'll need to have you paint another triptych for this wall, Professor," Dr. Koga said. "One that looks back happily on how the Church of the New Man was built."

"You're pretty optimistic sometimes, aren't you, Doctor?" was all Kizu could say.

"I don't know, it just makes me excited seeing people get together like this and get going," Dr. Koga said. "The enthusiasm of the religious/social movement we had at the research institute is still with me, I suppose. I know this is the exact opposite, though-I guess I was brainwashed in Izu."

"What you're saying is that Guide was quite the educator," Kizu said.

"He certainly was. But don't forget Patron's role. Sometimes he looks like he's not doing anything, but don't be fooled into thinking he's passive.

Even now that's true, right, Ikuo? In your own preparations for the summer conference, and in what the Technicians and the Quiet Women are doing, you're all working together for Patron's new church, aren't you?"

"For me, too, everything depends on how Patron wants things to de- velop," Ikuo said, sounding much older than Dr. Koga.

"I'm sure Patron has an idea of how the Technicians and Quiet Women should fit in and what roles they should play, but I'll have to admit that when I compare those two sects there're some things I just don't understand,"

Dr. Koga said. "What do you think about the secrecy the Quiet Women have in regards to the Technicians? I don't want to be one-sided in my criticism here, though; the Technicians have been having their own closed meetings to decide what tack they're going to take."

"Since last week Ms. Oyama has asked me not to attend the Quiet Women's prayer meetings," Ikuo said. "Including playing the piano. I find it encouraging, though, to see how excited they are about the conference. The Quiet Women want to meet the whole lot coming from the Kansai headquar- ters only after they're good and ready. But isn't that a natural attitude to take?

The Technicians feel the same way."

"Along with your overall preparations for the conference, I imagine that you and the Fireflies are laying out some plans of your own? " Dr. Koga asked.

"Still, I'd have to say you've been dealing fairly with both the Quiet Women and the Technicians. The Technicians trust you, at least."

"The Quiet Women trust him, too-according to Ms. Tachibana,"

Dancer put in.

"That being the case, I hope you'll reveal all the information you get to us," Dr. Koga said. "How about it, Professor Kizu? Apart from any sects in the church, wouldn't you say older fellows like us are the church elders? Not that we'll be doing anything unilateral either. We'll clear everything with the office first, of course."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Kizu replied, and then asked, "I was wondering, when you're treating Patron does he talk about whether he sees the Fireflies as-to use your terminology-a third sect in the church?"

"I think the Somersault is still critical to Patron," Dr. Koga said. "On principle he's doesn't want to undo his previous apostasy by apostatizing again.

Which means his stance toward building this new church should be quite simple, shouldn't it? This new church will be a church of the Christian God- the-Father, right? With Patron insisting he's an antichrist, there's really no outward position for him in the church.

"In building up this Church of the New Man, he's resigned to the fact that he himself is an Old Man. So for him it's actually a positive sign for the church to be run by many different sects. Competition between different sects will help it develop into a multifaceted entity. He'll be watching all this from the sidelines, but not taking a leadership role.

"Getting back to your question, Patron told me that when he and Ikuo talked, Ikuo came to an understanding of Patron's position and said he'll support Patron's relativistic way of doing things while they build up the new church. Patron told me, quite happily, that Ikuo said he wants to work so Patron can be unencumbered."

"I don't remember being so high-and-mighty in the way I phrased it,"

Ikuo said, "but basically that's what I said. I've wanted to speak with Patron for a long time, so I spoke directly to him. I have no doubt whatsoever that he was in face-to-face communication with something very special-God, if you will. I only met Patron for the first time after the Somersault, but I leel more and more sure of this every time I talk with him. But he ended up making a fool of this very transcendental partner he was so deeply tied to. And now he's building a new church, without having erased the Somersault, and I find that intriguing. So people could understand where's he coming from, he gave himself the title of antichrist. It's a refreshing attitude.

"You'd better believe that when Patron talks about this in his sermon at the summer conference, it is going to turn off those who followed him from before the Somersault. There'll be a lot of people coming from the outside, the media included, and I'll bet there'll be some reporters who'll mock him just as they did at the Somersault, calling it all antichrist syncretism or some- thing. Still, I find a reality in him as a religious figure, a reality that includes the feeling that-before much longer-he's going to find himself in a bind all over again. He's an extraordinary person. And basically I think that the Quiet Women and Technicians sense the same thing. At the summer confer- ence it'll be those people who really believe that the new church will produce New Men who will get the ball rolling. Isn't this exactly what Patron's hop- ing for?"

After Ikuo finished his deliberate explanation, Kizu felt a rush of pride.

Dr. Koga turned his deep set, darkly shaded eyes, with a glint of the impish in them, toward Kizu and said, "Your painting predicts this new relation- ship between Patron and Ikuo. I can't think of anything better to have hang- ing in our chapel!"

3

After the "miracle" of his cancer disappearing, and after having com- pleted the triptych, Kizu became aware of a harsh reality: He had a massive amount of time left to live. He still remembered how, after he was told his cancer was back, he had felt the richness of each and every moment. But what he felt now was something else again, a complete powerlessness in the face of all this newfound time. He'd felt the same thing on sleepless nights, but this was much more overwhelming. The sense of confusion hit him most in the early morning and late at night.

In the mornings, the sound of birds chirping from behind the house was enough to wake him. And at night he felt oppressed even more when he'd awake soon after going to bed. Though he knew it was a strange reaction, he found that at times like these the most appropriate attitude was to pretend he was already dead.

In the early morning all he had to do was stay in bed, half propped up, for two or three hours and wait for the first stirrings of activity in the monas- tery across the lake. The retired diplomat who'd designed his bed might have spent the early hours of each day in much the same way, he mused. When there were still four or five hours left till dawn, though, Kizu fell into a space where he couldn't just leave everything up to the passage of time.

He started going to bed early, as the church members in the Hollow were wont to do, except when he'd sat awake until late reading a critical work on Dante, donated to the junior high by the later Brother Gii, which he'd bor- rowed from Asa-san.

For times like these, when he went to bed late and woke up after sleep- ing only a short while, he kept the shutters open, of course, but also a space between the curtains so he might gaze out at the lake right after awakening.

When he woke up he'd take the conductor's baton the former diplomat had used to practice with, spread the curtains wider apart, and spend his time gazing at the chapel and monastery on the far shore.

Ever since the night when he and Ikuo had talked for hours, Kizu had a special affection for moonlit scenery, but even on moonless nights the chapel and monastery floated up faintly in the lamplight, and he found it enjoyable to drink in this scene with the eyes of an artist.

This particular evening, Kizu woke up in the middle of the night, check- ing the long, narrow fluorescent clock face sunken in the headboard of the bed, itself another leftover of the late owner. He propped himself on one elbow and pushed the curtains aside to get the widest possible view of the dark scene outside.

A light was on in the chapel across the lake, and something was moving inside. Kizu peered intently through the two oblong windows with their glass slightly out of alignment. He saw shadows of a person moving up and down.

Kizu remembered that stepladders had been placed there; the shadows seemed to climb up, then down, then move the ladder, then climb up again. The shad- ows were of two people merging together, only to break apart.

Kizu's heart beat violently. Was it two people about to hang themselves?

One of them helping the other get to the proper height to do the job, then once the first person was dangling from the rope the second person follows suit? Is that what was going on? The movements seemed furtive yet bold.

Kizu had been holding his breath; and now he let out a ragged stream and pondered the situation. If he got Ms. Asuka up, she could call the office on her cell phone. But the office beside the chapel was dark, the monastery a pitch-black mass rising up in the lamplight.

Kizu adjusted the shade on his lamp so the light would shine straight down and switched it on. He got up from bed, but in the small circle of light he couldn't locate his underwear. Flustered, he pulled on his trousers right over his pajamas. If he raced over to the chapel, yelled out to wake up some- body, they'd be able to get the person down from where he was hanging by the neck. If only he was in time to revive him!

Even if there wasn't any emergency, they couldn't blame him for hurry- ing over to the chapel simply out of fear that his newly displayed painting was about to be stolen.

Kizu shone his flashlight before him as he cautiously walked down the hard dirt and gravel path; then, as he came to the newly paved road from the dam to the north shore, he went faster in the lamplight. He was filled with a sense of gratification that he'd regained his strength so quickly.

He took the walkway behind to the back of the bleachers, ascended a short staircase, walked through the hushed monastery courtyard, and found the door of the chapel half open, light spilling out onto the base of the big cylindrical building. If there really were thieves inside about to make off with his painting, they'd make short work of an old man showing up out of the blue like this, but this didn't deter Kizu.

Still, he trembled as he leaned forward in the open space and peered inside. Two beings were there, like big and little stuffed bears, one crouched at the top of the stepladder, the other clinging to the ladder supporting it. A moment later, Patron, who was standing on the floor, turned to face Kizu, while Morio, on top of the ladder, very carefully turned to gaze down. The two of them were dressed in identical thick yellow and dark green striped pajamas.

"It's dangerous to turn around like that when you're on a ladder, so face the wall again and climb down," Patron said, his voice echoing in the cham- ber, and Morio, ever faithful to instructions, did exactly that. Then Patron spoke to Kizu for the first time.

"You're up very late, aren't you? Were you worried about your painting?"

Kizu waited until his heart stopped pounding before he replied. "From where I sleep I could see people moving around in here… So you were examining the painting up close, you and Morio?"

"Yes, both of us have bad eyesight, you see. We were discussing the painting as we were getting ready for bed and decided to take another look.

So, Morio, what do you think?"

"Ikuo in the painting looks just like the painting in the book."

Kizu couldn't understand what Morio's slow, confident words meant.

As Patron held on to the ladder and Morio climbed down, he thrust out his firm jaw and pointed to a faded old book on top of the piano. Kizu walked over and picked it up. It was Wolynski's Das Buch vom Grossen Zorn, trans- lated by Haniya Yutaka: an edition put out during the war, apparently, with a crudely done cover.

"Do you see the page slipped in as a frontispiece?" Patron asked, his voice gentle again. "Long after the war they came out with an edition that includes that frontispiece, and it's important to have that frontispiece in order to under- stand the text. The edition you have there, though, is not bad, and ever since I first found it on my father's bookshelf it's been a favorite of mine, so I made a copy of the frontispiece in the revised edition and stuck it in."

Kizu looked at the print. The background was a sculptured group like a relief of a scene from the Bible, and in the foreground there was a dark stand- ing figure, a man facing forward, arms stretched out. His eyes were brim- ming with despair and rage, his mouth like an open hole, the barely suppressed outlines of his face with its broad manly forehead and strong jaw, all of which clutched at Kizu.

"The painting is Watts's The Prophet Jonah. When I heard you were going to use Ikuo as your model for Jonah, I immediately remembered this drawing.

Because before this, even, I'd projected Ikuo onto that drawing by Watts.

"You were released from cancer, Professor," Patron went on, "and com- pleted the triptych. And when Morio saw it he said that the face in the paint- ing was the same as in The Prophet Jonah. After dinner this evening he didn't seem to be able to get this out of his mind, and as we talked about it we de- cided, finally, to go over and see the painting again tonight. I think Morio's right. Ikuo's features do look exactly like that, but that's not all there is to it.

Morio understands things through hearing, rather than visually, and he says he hears the same chords, the same dissonance, emanating from both paint- ings. You, on the other hand, Professor, are a visual person, with a painterly intuition that sees down to the core of Ikuo's being. That's where you and Watts have something in common.

"Actually, I've wanted for some time to talk with you about this. And here you are in front of us in the middle of the night. It's fitting, don't you think, to say I summoned you here? If so, Professor, then I think your-"

As if noticing that he wasn't making much sense, Patron stopped speak- ing. Kizu thought, That's right! It is right to think of him as the one who made my cancer disappear! Patron made Morio sit down on the barber chair set back near the light on the wall, and stroked back the sweaty strands of hair cling- ing to his forehead. Kizu found the scene of the three of them-two in match- ing yellow and green pajamas, one sunk back, face up in a barber chair, joined by Kizu himself in a pink and gray striped pajama top-like clowns in some old woodblock print. And, he thought, my painting of Jonah is definitely like that frontispiece of the prophet Jonah.

Before speaking, Patron waited for Kizu, who was poring over the book, to look up.

"When Ikuo first came to see me, just before I got to know you, Pro- fessor, I thought that the Jonah combined in Wolynski's words and Watts's drawing had come to life right before my eyes. When he started talking about the book of Jonah I was less surprised than struck by the feeling that it was meant to be… Ikuo's question was quite simple: Was it right to repudiate God's decision to destroy a city and his order to carry that out?

He asked this as if he were taking Jonah's place. As the Fireflies say, it was Jonah-like.

"When Guide was still alive I couldn't understand why he didn't handle this troublesome young man himself. But what Guide did was coax Ikuo into questioning me. And you wrote the cover letter for his petition to me, didn't you, Professor? I'm not sure I gave him a satisfactory reply, but at least he's still with me, trying to get his questions ultimately answered. Didn't you paint this picture sensing all this from the sidelines?"

This question-though not entirely unexpected-left Kizu at a loss for words. Patron didn't pursue the point further. The topic was deep, but his manner was serene.

"At the summer conference where we launch our new church, Ikuo isn't the only one who'll press me for an answer," Patron said. "The Tech- nicians, who wanted to reverse the Somersault so much they ended up tor- turing Guide to death, are now helping me, the one who played dumb about the whole Somersault. I have to steel myself to the fact that they're now going to turn the questions they had for Guide on me. And of course, there are the even more potentially troublesome Quiet Women ready and waiting in the wings."

Patron said all this in a burst of speech; then he stopped and, pondering something, ran his fingers through Morio's hair.

"Ah, Professor-could you pass me that book? I marked some lines in it. Jonah's finally come to Nineveh to act as a frightening prophet. Jonah curses them in the name of God, saying they will all be destroyed, so it wouldn't be surprising if they tore him limb from limb. But what about Jonah, who dared do something like that?

"However, here a great disillusionment lay waiting for him. When he saw the people of Nineveh repent, and God forgive them, he couldn't grasp the complex elusive nature of the heavenly dialectic, the workings of divine wisdom, so filled with a mysterious dissension, and the infinite, all-encompassing divine nature-so Jonah was spurred on to resistance and anger.

"And thus he spoke to God this way.

" 'Now, O Lord, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.'"

"Aren't Ikuo and the Technicians and Quiet Women pressing me hard with that very same cry?

"There's another thing I'd like to say, taking off from Wolynski's theme, about Dostoyevsky. I find it fascinating that Ikuo is driven by these Jonah- like thoughts and takes so much time looking after the Fireflies. What I re- call is a passage written by Wolynski's translator, Haniya, about Aloysha's love for the boys, and the boys'

'Hurrah!' in response to this. I copied this down in the margins of this book.

"Not just Aloysha, who thirteen years hence is supposed to be crucified for being an assassin of the Tsar, but the lustful Dimitri, who carries the burden of a crime he didn't commit, as well as the Grand Inquisitor Ivan, who cries out in his thirst for life-all of them make a complete change from their positions and reach the sublime at the chorus of shouts from the boys of'Long live Karamazov!'

"Into what terrible state will our country's people have to descend in order to spark a worldwide repentance?" Patron said. "How far will Jonah have to step forward?… Oh no-this won't do at all. I've gotten so excited, Morio's having one of his attacks! Professor, let's call it a night. You can bor- row the book if you'd like."

Patron offered the book, then put his hand on the footrest of the barber chair and turned it around. He knelt down on the floor in front of Morio, who with a sweaty, stern look on his face lay slumped over, limp in the chair.

Sweat trickled down from Patron's pale neck to his back, and though he faced away from Kizu, unmoving, Kizu knew he was being urged to leave.

4

As Kizu cut across the courtyard's flagstone path, he saw a slim woman standing erect under the lamplight beyond the reviewing stands. A strange sight to see, considering the hour. Taking care not to startle her or take her unawares, Kizu deliberately rattled the loose iron railing on the stairs as he descended, and as he did so he realized that the woman was Ms. Asuka, who must have awoken at the sound he made going out and come to look for him.

Actually, when Ms. Asuka came out from behind the reviewing stands to where the lamplight reached and turned toward him, though she didn't show a bewildered smile, her body language showed she was, indeed, flus- tered, and she reluctantly raised a hand in greeting.

"Well, imagine a young woman standing all alone like this in the middle of the night, beside a mountain lake," Kizu said, answering her gesture. "No- body just saunters up here-aren't you afraid of wild animals?"

"Wolves are extinct here, and otters don't attack people," Ms. Asuka replied quietly, her voice mixed in with the hearty sound of cicadas. "I was worried about you."

"I saw a light in the chapel and went to investigate. Patron was there and we talked for a while. Ah… I see. You were imagining a depressed old man jumping in the lake? But I'm a lucky old man, whose terminal cancer has disappeared!"

"These past few days, though," Ms. Asuka said, "this lucky old man has been a bit gloomy."

Something black moved at Ms. Asuka's feet. Looking carefully they saw three or four small frogs at the base of the streetlamp.

"At any rate it doesn't look like I'll be drowning myself anytime soon,"

Kizu said. "Once you understood this you turned your attention to observ- ing these frogs, didn't you? You're quite the visual artist."

"Once I came down, the thought of climbing up into that shadowy grove of trees gave me the creeps. I heard voices from the chapel so I decided to wait."

The frogs sat there silently, heads up, the pulse in their necks visible.

Bugs were descending toward them in black streaks or flashes of iridescence.

One frog closest to the bugs suddenly moved, gulping down a bug from the air. Looking up at the streetlight one could see a clump of bugs like a single dark spot. Only a few of them were swooping down toward the frogs, per- haps finding the strength to fly again once they descended to the top of the light, or maybe being wafted away on a breeze rising from the lake.

Out of the group of frogs, all neatly maintaining their positions, one frog held a small gold bug that had fallen and lay upside down on the dam and, suddenly agitated, clawed at its throat with his front legs; one of the other frogs turned to face the spit out bug, but before it could anything about it the bug spread its wings and inscribed an arc into the dark night air.

Ms. Asuka, a smile clearly showing on her long face now, started to lead the way.

"What did you talk about for so long?" she asked, shining a flashlight to light the way for Kizu.

"We talked about how the Jonah in the triptych looks like the Jonah drawn by an artist named Watts. Patron showed me the book and I think he's right. It was Morio who originally pointed it out."

"I'd like to hear more and don't plan to go to bed right away," Ms. Asuka said, "so how about joining me for a drink?" And by the time they arrived at the home on the north shore, they'd agreed to do so.

They pulled two chairs over to one end of the study desk in the bed- room, and Ms. Asuka brought out two cans of cold beer and two double shot glasses of whiskey. They each mixed the beer and the whiskey in whatever proportion suited them.

Ms. Asuka spread open the book Kizu had borrowed from Patron and, sipping her drink with her thin lips, gazed at the copy of the inserted frontis- piece. She read a little of the text, her smile replaced by a serious, almost sul- len look.

Then she raised her face. "My, did the prophet Jonah really end up doing all these things? It's different from the book of Jonah that Ikuo doesn't like, the one that ends with Jonah accepting the Lord's harmonious sermonizing."

She passed the book over to Kizu, who read aloud a part that Patron had underlined.

"The theologian Gregorius recognized one more special characteristic of Jonah, saying that 'Jonah foresaw the fall of Israel and sensed that the blessings of the prophets would pass to the heretics. He withdrew from evangelizing, questioned the state of his church, discarding the ancient high place and position of the tower of rapture, and threw himself into the sea of grief.'"

"No matter which Jonah is the real one, persons named Jonah are born to suffer," Ms. Asuka said, holding the copy of the frontispiece between her slim fingers. "This drawing really shows that kind of Jonah. Almost too clearly, in fact… The part about the heretics is pretty important too, don't you think?"

Kizu couldn't grasp the point of her question.

Even before the medical researcher at the institute in the United States had pointed out the possibility that he had cancer, Kizu had felt something not quite right inside him and wasn't able to take strong drink anymore. Now, in the feeling of relief after being liberated from the disease, he was drinking whisky cut with beer, but he knew he couldn't hold his liquor like he once could. Ms. Asuka's face, though, took on a nice rosy color, an uncharacteris- tically youthful clinging gaze in her eyes as she forcefully made her point.

"Ever since Patron quoted from the letter to the Ephesians, everyone's started studying it. While you were in the hospital, Mrs. Shigeno's study group was particularly popular. I'm not a Christian, but even I joined in. Accord- ing to what I heard there, what's important about this particular letter, one of the epistles attributed to Paul, is that it's a letter aimed at proselytizing the Gentiles-heretics, in Jewish eyes. The New Men at this time were the ones who were able to overcome the discord between Gentiles and Jews. Jonah ran counter to this trend.

"Deep down, Ikuo may very well not agree with the direction this Church of the New Man is taking. Though as the twentieth century draws to a close, the Japanese are still all heretics."

"If the prophet Jonah were alive today," Kizu said, "he'd say the whole planet's run by heretics. With groups of heretics attacking each other, skirmish- ing over who's more legitimate. And even among the heretics in this little out- of-the-way mountain area we find groups like the Technicians, the Quiet Women, and Ikuo and the Fireflies trying to establish themselves with Patron."

"The summer conference promises to be stormy, doesn't it?" Ms. Asuka said, pouring the last of her whiskey into her glass of beer. "Also while you were in the hospital, Professor, I heard a lecture by Asa-san about this person called the Former Gii and how he was stymied at every step. Which is why when I saw you go down to the lake tonight I had some troubled notions about what might happen."

"I heard the same thing: that Asa-san pulled up Brother Gii's body from the surface of the lake the day after a storm."

"I wouldn't have the strength to do something like that," Ms. Asuka said pensively, "but at least I'd have wanted to video it. In the morning, as long as there was enough light."

Kizu poured the remaining whiskey into his beer. "The corpse, you mean? It does seem like it's true what they say about the power ofthe land stimu- lating the creativity of newcomers!"

The two of them were silent, drinking their whiskey-darkened beer, draining their glasses in time with each other. The area around Ms. Asuka's eyes grew faintly pink, something Kizu found erotic.

"I apologize for going on about my own personal fantasy," she said.

"That's all right. I'd have to say I have even more intense fantasies than that," Kizu said, feeling his face flushed with drink. "Once I found that can- cer was no longer controlling my destiny, it made me feel uneasy, as if the bottom had dropped out of my life. If Patron hadn't been in the chapel and I'd made my way back here-and with the Fireflies looking after the dam the water's filled it all the way to the edge, well…"

"Sometimes the water in the Hollow turns black, which Asa-san says is an evil omen. And the water does seem darker than when I arrived." Saying this, Ms. Asuka gave her usual close-lipped smile, shook her head, gathered up the glasses on the tray, and withdrew.

A lot of lessons learned today, Kizu mused. All he had to do was re- move his trousers. Back in his pajamas, he laid his drunken body down to rest.

1

It was decided to hold the summer conference the first week of August, with registration beginning on Friday morning and the conference running through Sunday at the Hollow. A preliminary meeting was scheduled for July 10 at the lodge run by Maki Town to explain the plans for the confer- ence to the local authorities and some of the young leaders of the area, par- ticularly those involved in the river preservation movement. Newspaper and TV reporters from Matsuyama were also slated to attend.

On the day of the meeting Ogi remained behind in the office, though he and Dancer were the ones in charge of arranging the meeting. New mem- bers of the Fireflies, who had helped out the day Kizu was released from the hospital, were formed into a security squad, which was also put in charge of transportation to the Old Town. It took less than thirty minutes to drive from the Hollow to the lodge in the hills surrounding the basin where Maki Town lay. Still, with Patron participating, the security squad left nothing to chance and came up with a detailed plan.

The car with Patron and Dancer was sandwiched in between two oth- ers, this followed by a minivan carrying Ms. Tachibana and Morio, Ms. Asuka, Dr. Koga, Mrs. Shigeno, and Mr. Hanawa (who was in charge of production at the Farm) and, bringing up the rear, Kizu in a car loaded with security squad members and with Gii in the front passenger seat.

Maki Town had already had a hotel at the time a national soccer tour- nament was held there but built this lodge in addition; the word was that after that one tournament the place had never again been full. Now, though, all two hundred and fifty rooms were booked solid for the three-day conference.

The head of the Kansai headquarters of the church, Mr. Soda, had been in charge of construction of the lodge and had close connections with the town leaders.

A banquet hall, spacious enough for a wedding reception, was set aside for the meeting. In front of the chairs lined up on the main floor was a low raised platform for the church members to sit on. The media were assigned seats behind the town authorities and other interested parties.

The mayor made a few opening remarks, and then Dr. Koga, seated on the dais between Patron and Dancer, took the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are the Church of the New Man, the name given to the church by the leader we call Patron. This summer conference has given us the opportunity to meet with the town authorities and future local leaders. We are grateful to you, Mr. Mayor, and all of you, for taking time out of your busy schedules to join us today; we're also joined today by mem- bers of the media.

"We'd like to proceed with a question-and-answer format. However, please be advised that Patron will not be directly answering any questions. In his stead, each of us will field questions based on our own area of expertise.

Now I'd like to turn things over to the young woman called Dancer, her pro- fessional name within the church, who works most closely with Patron."

Dr. Koga started to pass the microphone to her in front of Patron, but she leaned back to take it from behind, and the audience burst out laughing.

Kizu understood what a popular local figure Dr. Koga was through his work at the clinic in town.

Dancer's hair had been dyed by Mrs. Tagawa with brown mixed in with the natural black, and she had on an open-collared floral-print blouse.

The comic role Dr. Koga had just played in this mix-up, and Dancer's calm reaction, underscored all the more the dignified way in which she pre- pared to speak.

"There is a reason Patron has on sunglasses," she began. "Those of you in the media taking pictures, please retrain from using a flash.

"The upcoming summer conference will be the first national meeting of the Church of the New Man, as well as an opportunity for the local com- munity to get to know us, so Patron is preparing a sermon for the occasion.

The concentration required for this is the same needed for the trances that used to be at the core of his religious activities and is one of the ascetic prac- tices he's engaged in at present.

"Those of us in the inner circle of the church are eagerly anticipating Patron's sermon, which will be the climax of the conference. We have the deepest gratitude and respect for Patron for undergoing the emotional and physical strain involved in concentrating as deeply as he is now. This intense concentration every day makes his eyes overly sensitive to light, thus the dark glasses. Despite this sensitivity, Patron has been kind enough to join us here today. He's doing this because there are two points he'd like to make clear to you. They are as follows: "Item one is that our church is not being threatened by any opposing groups. I'm sure all of you have read this in the newspapers and elsewhere, but a combative stance by a radical faction over certain issues led to the sacri- fice of a person very dear to us, Guide; these issues, however, have been partly resolved.

"The so-called former radical faction, people who were at the Izu Re- search Institute, are here now, devoting themselves to building our new church. Dr. Koga is one of these people, which should give you an idea of the sort of group we're talking about. So rest assured there's no danger of any attack by an opposing group that will throw the summer conference into confusion. Nevertheless, we do want to take precautions regarding security. In this regard we're receiving help from a local organization called the Fireflies.

"Item two is that we do not intend to use the summer conference as the opportunity to proselytize or expand our church. The members who attend from all over Japan will not be remaining here after the conference.

"Now I'd like to turn things over to Dr. Koga, who will handle the question-and-answer session."

"I've been working with the church's farm production and Maki Town special products to come up with a plan to sell our goods in Matsuyama and the Kansai region," said the first person to stand up and ask a question, a man Kizu had seen visiting the church. He owned a sake brewery and had par- ticipated in the movement of the Fireflies to restore the natural environment along the banks of the Kame and Maki rivers. "I've talked to quite a few people in the church, and I get the feeling that I can work with them. It felt like a regular church, with the Fireflies that were just mentioned often attending.

Some parents were concerned about this and came to discuss it with me, so I checked things out. The conclusion I reached was that the Fireflies and the church are two independent groups that have an amicable relationship. My opinion of the Fireflies went way up, in fact, and we're actually considering some joint projects.

"What I'm hearing now, though, is that the church is solidifying itself around its existing core. Doesn't this mean that it will exclude outsiders? And if that's true, won't this cause difficulties between the Farm and all of us?

Instead of being cut off from their present loose connection with the church, our hearts is also part of God's design. And through this we can actively par- ticipate in the end of the world. That is true repentance.

"After Patron's Somersault, we Quiet Women were struggling to find a way in which we could participate. We've been able to meet up with Patron again and live under his guidance, which has borne fruit in this new Church of the New Man. We feel blessed to be included in this official launch of the new church at the upcoming summer conference."

Mrs. Shigeno gave a charming little gesture, and a burst of applause followed. The applause came from the floor, from a group of interested local residents, but several of the church members sitting across from them also joined in, including Kizu. Dr. Koga, who didn't join in the applause, leaned over to Kizu and said in a low voice, "Let's not forget that the Quiet Women were also one of the sects that drove Patron to do the Somersault."

Dr. Koga then turned to face the audience and said, more loudly, "Our meeting here to discuss the upcoming summer conference of the Church of the New Man is now concluded." He ignored a few raised hands from the reporters. "Details of the program for the conference are as stated in the handout.

"Next on our schedule is a visit to the basement hot-springs pool, which had been closed and is now reopened for the use of our guests. It's just been cleaned, and we've been invited to try it out today. Getting a little carried away, perhaps, we'd like you to see for yourselves Professor Kizu's miraculous re- covery that I know you're all interested in. As a special favor to the TV crews, we've arranged to have Professor Kizu swim in the pool.

"One other point. During the conference, the triptych that Professor Kizu painted of Patron's Sacred Wound will be on public view in the chapel, and we encourage you to visit it."

Kizu preceded the participants, who had begun to get up, down to the basement. The pumped-up feeling he got he took as another sign of his re- covery. As he was changing into his swimming suit, Ms. Tachibana came in, dressed like a woman swim-team member of a generation ago. She was guid- ing Morio. Unusually for her, she was telling him to get a move on. As Kizu scrutinized the scars from his two operations in the mirror, Ms. Tachibana said encouragingly, "If you keep a towel wrapped around your shoulders until you get in the pool, you'll have nothing to worry about. You're not planning on doing the backstroke, are you?"

As he came out of the changing room and walked across the concrete floor where the shower nozzles were lined up on one side, Kizu recalled how the first thing he did when he came to stay in Japan was join an ath- letic club, and how it was at the drying room of the club that he had run across Ikuo again. So much had begun right there-and brought him here, to this point.

The pool was in the basement, but since the lodge was on a slope the five lanes of the pool looked out a window to a stand of trees, and the cloudy sky still let in a lot of sunshine. Dr. Koga was already at poolside, having passed through the shower and the small pool one rinsed off in first; he carried a portable blood pressure monitor with him. Kizu wiped his dripping chest with his bath towel and Dr. Koga measured his blood pressure and heart rate. A long narrow row of seats along the mezzanine was filled with reporters and curious onlookers.

After Dr. Koga reported that all the readouts were within normal range, Kizu did a few warm-up exercises and got in the pool. The water was warmer than he was used to, either in the on-campus pool in America he'd used for many years, or the pool in the Nakano athletic club. He adjusted his goggles and started doing the crawl, and though at the first turn he stopped momen- tarily, resting his hand on the edge before turning, his body took it all in stride and at the end of the next lap he changed to a quick flip turn.

Kizu swam up and down in his lane. With a twinge of nostalgia he re- called how the term flip turn was actually an Americanism, something in keeping with the American character, he mused, while in French the same move was called saut périlleux-in other words, a somersault. Kizu was tak- ing Patron's place, performing one somersault after another to entertain the crowd, but he didn't mind.

On his way back, as he turned to breathe he caught sight of the crowd of onlookers and Dr. Koga talking with the leader of the TV crew, who was leaning forward from the railing. He looked around for a moment at Kizu, then looked up again and shook his head decisively. The TV crew reacted casually to that and started to pack up to leave, though the rest of the crowd, including the young editor of the local bulletin, remained behind.

Beside the pool Ms. Tachibana was still running Morio, palely chubby like a sweet rice cake, through some warm-up exercises. Kizu could tell that Ms. Tachibana had been on the swim team in both junior and senior high school, but actually what she ended up doing, after leisurely getting Morio in the water up to his shoulders and instructing him to walk up and down the lane, was begin swimming the breaststroke herself in the nearer lane, her form and powerful strokes impressive.

Kizu stood up at the end of his lane and watched her swim. Dr. Koga was struck by her swimming too. After four or five laps, without missing a beat, Ms. Tachibana changed over to Morio's lane. She skillfully had Morio float up, securing his body with a thin but muscular arm held around his chest up to his shoulders. Paddling with one hand and doing a scissors kick, Ms.

Tachibana carried Morio over to the side. As if they were watching the mas- terly practice rescue of a drowning man, a stir of admiration rose from the mezzanine.

3

When August rolled around, the number of people coming to visit the Hollow suddenly shot way up and Kizu hesitated to leave his house. Mostly men and women in their late thirties, these newcomers would appear at the dam like a sudden summer rain, clamber up the flagstone pathway, and dis- appear into the monastery courtyard. Then they would walk back down to the east shore down the tunnel formed by the overhanging young leaves of the cherry trees at the eastern edge of the chapel, and along the corridor that had been made there. Some of them would look up at the summer sun re- flected off the plastic globular canopy that had been attached to one side of the chapel's dome, some would gaze off toward the giant cypress in the is- land on the lake, and others would slowly make their way closer to the studio window where Kizu stood observing them.

Some of the visitors ate a light lunch looking down on the nearby tents set up in the square below the dam. Even from a distance you could make out their Fruit of the Rain Tree lunch boxes and plastic bottles of Rain Tree Water, bottled from the spring behind the chapel-evidence that the visitors had gone to the Farm first and bought lunches and water bottles at the little store run by Satchan's two adopted daughters.

According to what Ms. Asuka had heard, the majority of these visitors were believers from the Kansai headquarters. They all had their own jobs but were taking a week's vacation in order to visit this holy place and enjoy breath- ing the same air as Patron. Some of them had volunteered to work at the Farm in exchange for room and board. Others had booked rooms well in advance at the lodge where Kizu had put on his swimming demonstration, while others, unbeknownst to Kizu, who had any number of times walked along the path below it, were using the Mansion that now belonged to Mr. Soda of the Kansai headquarters. Through his long-term relationship with those in the Hollow as the builder of the chapel, Mr. Soda had purchased the Mansion, which had been slated for demolition, and rebuilt it so that it was once more livable.

Kizu had been in charge of any number of symposiums at his research institute and knew firsthand the troubles involved, so he had a vague anxiety about the summer conference. But Ms. Asuka, who started to help out at the office after the middle of July, reported to him that the participants were ex- tremely cooperative and the outlook for the conference was bright.

The believers who came early to the Hollow didn't make many demands on the church; indeed, they volunteered to help out, and at the dining hall they were allowed to use, they renewed old friendships-admittedly not very deep ones-with people they knew in the Quiet Women and were happy when they spotted faces they recognized among the Technicians.

According to Ms. Asuka, the office's efforts in organizing the confer- ence were paying off. The grounds of the elementary and junior high schools in the Old Town were being used as parking lots from Friday to Monday.

The Fireflies, organized as a security squad, were busy too, with preparations for their Spirit Festival, and didn't have the energy left over to take charge of the parking lot, so the task fell to some older youths who were continuing the local Village Association group; they too were unpaid volunteers.

The Kansai headquarters leader, Mr. Soda, arrived in the Hollow at the end of July. He invited Dr. Koga, Ms. Asuka, and Kizu for dinner at the Mansion, where he was staying during the conference. On the day of the din- ner there were none of the city folk around the dam or on the flagstone path, and in the midst of the loud buzz of cicadas and the cries of wild birds, Dr.

Koga and Asa-san appeared in the parking lot from the road leading to the prefectural highway. Rather than turn to wave to Kizu in his studio window, they looked out at the giant cypress tree, its leaves stirring with the faint breeze blowing in from the woods around the lake.

When Kizu saw the well-bred city boy Dr. Koga with a linen sports coat on, he put on a lightweight jacket himself. As a present for Mr. Soda, he took a watercolor he'd done of the view of the chapel and monastery from the north shore, put it in a frame, and left the house.

When Kizu got down to the dam, Dr. Koga and Asa-san-the latter all dressed up in a summer-weight wool skirt and navy blue blouse-were talking with one of the Technicians, who was setting up the microphones in the reviewing stands. Several of the Fireflies were sitting on the dam itself, undoing a huge coil of cable and threading it through plastic tubing to keep it waterproof. Apparently they were going to run an electric line underwater out to the island with the huge cypress.

Kizu and the others walked down to the tents, crossed over the surging waterway, and took a flagstone path that ran all around from the traditional gate in the long wall to the main house. When they arrived at the main gate, shaded by the lush overhanging leaves of the camellias, a smaller side door in a corner of the main gate was open to the inside.

With Asa-san leading the way, they ducked through the side door. On the broad concrete floor was something they'd heard about from Asa-san on the way over, a gold-and-copper alloy pipe-afuigo, as they called it-to carry smoke from the sunken hearth that now was faintly glowing. Mr. Soda was standing on the wooden floor below that and led the three of them over to the natural stone flooring, where they removed their shoes. With his pinstripe dress shirt and gray vest, all Mr. Soda needed was a coat and jacket and he'd be ready for a business meeting, though his collar was casually open.

"Hey, looks like your blood pressure's not acting up," Dr. Koga said, as if speaking to a good buddy. "So you prefer staying in the annex more than the main building? I guess this was originally a place for people to live in, wasn't it. You have a large kitchen, too. This fuigo pipe running out of the oven is nice.

"It's like a pipe in a pipe organ, don't you think? It was specially ordered, and since Former Gii named it, I've respected his wishes," Mr. Soda responded, turning to greet Kizu and Asa-san. "I'm glad you could come. Koga and I were in the same class for our first two years of college. The guys who were going on to medical school were all kind of snobbish and someone like me in engineer- ing found it hard to get along with most of them, but Koga was okay."

On the left-hand side, in the back of the concrete floor, set off at a gentle right angle, was a sink and a stove. A large man was working there, bathed in the reddish light coming in from the west window, but Mr. Soda didn't introduce him, instead leading his guests to the side around the sunken hearth.

Kizu passed the watercolor painting to Mr. Soda, who turned his stylishly crew-cut head and taut face toward it with a word of thanks. He didn't give any opinion about the painting, though, which Kizu found totally refreshing.

Mr. Soda told about how as a young man he and Dr. Koga were on the same rugby team at the Komaba campus of Tokyo University and how Koga was fast enough to break through his opponents easily but wasn't brave enough to attempt a goal and would just keep running, all bent over.

"The first one to make a touchdown in the church, though, was Koga, who was the one who invited me to join," Soda went on. "He had those troubles with his mother, and went through a terrible time until his aunt took him to see Patron."

A complex expression showed on Dr. Koga's face, but he said nothing.

They could hear the sound of the cicadas that came out at twilight, and a twilight bird call Kizu was familiar with: a gray thrush, perhaps. The naked beams of the building loomed darkly above them; beyond the packed dirt floor of the proportionally large kitchen was a long window from which one could doubtless see the waterway they'd crossed on their way here. The wind blew in through the shutters. The air was moving enough to raise a sound from the gold-copper alloy fuigo.

The man who'd been working in the kitchen preparing dinner brought over a series of small plates on a shallow wooden box, something Kizu knew was called in the local dialect a morobuta. The man, past middle age, wearing a white collared shirt and cotton khaki trousers, turned out to be the former principal of the junior high school who'd done the trimming around Kizu's house. Asa-san hurriedly brought over the lacquer trays stacked up in back and lined up on them the dishes that her husband passed her.

Mr. Soda stood up and went over to the kitchen to a bucket of water and lifted up one of two bottles of sake inside it, provided by the activist sake producer whom Kizu and the others knew. The four-go bottle appeared to have been frozen and then thawed out, and the label had come off, the only bit of decoration the wire cap that held down the pressure built up by the fermentation.

"Tonight we have steamed chicken with a sesame sauce, chilled tofu with grilled eggplant, which we eat here with soy sauce, and then chopped bonito," the former junior high principal said, sounding as if he was some- one who liked to talk a lot but was purposely keeping his words to a mini- mum. "I'll be preparing some salt-grilled fresh-water trout as well, and for the final dish a specialty of this region, grilled sea bass in chilled miso paste.

You eat this over rice, so I brought over mortars along with the rice."

"He's been studying cooking shows on TV to prepare for tonight," Asa- san explained as she laid several small dishes of condiments beside each of the trays.

"Please have as many helpings of rice as you'd like," her husband said.

"The sake tastes really good when it's like sherbet so we kept it in the freezer, but the mouth of the bottle sometimes gets stopped up--that's why I've laid three chopsticks at each place setting, so you can use one to unstop the bottle if need be."

They watched his broad back as the former junior high principal went back to retrieve the trout.

"My husband has some curious ideas," Asa-san said. "Believe me, we don't ordinarily put three chopsticks down for each person."

4

What Kizu found interesting was that Mr. Soda and Dr. Koga, seated respectively on the north and east side of the sunken hearth, said a silent prayer before eating. Since he'd come here and had meals with church members, Kizu had never noticed this custom before. Perhaps the Kansai headquarters was actively preserving the way things were done in the church before the Somersault.

Next Mr. Soda poured a good amount of sake, now melted into some- thing less viscous than sherbet, into each of their matching cups, cups used for dipping sauce for soba noodles, a set he'd purchased as part of what came with the Mansion. After they'd downed this he filled each cup again, and everyone understood that was all they were going to get.

Asa-san took away the two sake bottles and went over to her husband, seated in the western corner of the room eating the same meal as the others, and refilled the cup he was just draining. She didn't, however, come back with any new bottles.

"This is a lot different from the usual way people drink in the country- side in Japan, isn't it-drinking themselves into a stupor," Kizu said, impressed.

"At the time he started the Base Movement in the Mansion, Former Brother Gii transformed the way drinking bouts are held among the young people," Asa-san explained. "Tribes in Africa do the same, he told them, drinking till they pass out, but things aren't so tough here that you need to do that." Her eyes, with their dense layer of sunburned wrinkles, turned red as she said this.

"The young local fellows I used to help in the construction of the chapel and monastery followed Brother Gii's custom," Soda put in, "and I'm trying to emulate that."

The former junior high principal brought over the rice, still in the rice cooker, and Kizu was amazed by the main dish in a large mortar. Asa-san scooped rice into each bowl, added some thick pieces of grilled sea bass and crumbled tofu, finally pouring over it the chilled miso paste the former prin- cipal had made, then passed a bowl to each of them, noting that they should add as much of the thinly sliced condiments-scallions, green shiso leaves, ginger buds-as they wanted. The former principal took his own large bowl back to his spot, and when Dr. Koga said in admiration, "This is fantastic!" he smiled happily and motioned to him to help himself to another serving.

Mr. Soda was the first to finish, and, as if planned ahead of time, he launched into a long-winded but organized monologue about Guide. Kizu was surprised by his frankness.

"I became a member of the church a little while after Dr. Koga, by which time the church was pretty well established. For me, though, the church was more Guide's than Patron's. Patron went into his trances, was able to open a corridor to the other side, and then related the visions he had there. This was the religious foundation we all relied on. As we stood on this foundation, though, it was Guide who urged us actually to go out and do something.

Without Guide the church's activities never would have gotten off the ground.

I'm not saying there could have been a coup d'état with Guide as the chief instigator, because Guide really needed Patron. Without the two of them in partnership, neither Patron nor Guide alone would have been able to do a thing.

"So both of them were our leaders, though in actual fact we looked to Guide. One time, when Patron wasn't there, we all gathered around Guide and peppered him with questions. We were very earnest about this. 'Why do you put Patron ahead of you when it comes to running the church?' we asked.

'What he says may be profound, but it's equally vague, isn't it? We need some- one like you who has clear-headed ideas leading us if we're actually going to do something. To borrow terminology from the Japanese Constitution about the Emperor, isn't Patron better as a symbol of the church, a symbol of unity for the believers?'

"Guide spoke quite openly to us then, and I thought it must be true. 'I had strong feelings toward my father who disappeared,' Guide said, 'so ever since I was a child I wanted to participate in a religious organization. I was kicked out of a lot of churches, though, and with no clue as to how to proceed I reached adulthood, and when I was teaching in night school I happened to run across Patron. His habit of falling into these trances convinced me he was a unique fellow. I knew he was the one, and that's how it all started.

'"Patron had nothing to do with ordinary people and eked out a living as a clairvoyant, but when I started living with him,' Guide said, 'his trances were on a different level from what I'd been led to believe. He'd come back from the other side more dead than alive and would mumble something in- comprehensible. As soon as I started being his listener-not just a listener but his adviser-I started getting actively involved. I'd gather together all his rambling statements, contextualize them, and give them back to him, and this formed the basis for some of the mystical things he then said. Gradually a clear narrative developed out of this. I had no doubt that on the other side Patron had otherworldly visions, and I became a loyal follower. In short order I began to tell all the followers what Patron had communicated to me. That's how I became Guide.' But did Patron have the ability to lead these followers in the kind of organized activities you expect of a church? 'Sometimes I had my doubts,' Guide told us.

"Once we heard this, those of us sitting around debating with him got all excited. Patron's visions had led all of us into a deeper spiritual understand- ing, but there were bigger trends to consider. As repentant souls we wanted to actually do something. Unless we prepared for the end of the world that Patron envisioned, there would be no reason for us penitents to live. 'These thoughts are making us suffer,' we complained to Guide.

"Our suffering boiled down to the same sort of frustrations that Guide had. 'Just as you take Patron's incomprehensible mutterings and convert them into intelligible language,' we told him, 'why don't you set up a springboard and make him take a huge leap off it? Once he jumps, we'll all leap off behind him!' That's as far as we took it that particular time, but this led to the cre- ation of the Izu Research Institute. You were part of this, too, weren't you, Dr. Koga-you who ran and ran but could never score!

"As for me, I had a pretty responsible position in the company I was working in. Putting aside the question of whether I could score a touchdown, from the get-go I wasn't the type to run full speed and break through the other team's defense. Also, once the Izu Research Institute was launched and grew by leaps and bounds as an elite group, I became more involved with keeping the whole church organization up and running. Once I even went to speak to Guide to complain about how high the institute's budget was. That was when we started to think about letting Kansai headquarters make independent financial decisions. I'm a conservative person, and quite persistent.

"In the end the radical faction was completely betrayed by Patron and Guide's Somersault. It wasn't just the radical faction that suffered because of this, of course. The Quiet Women would be a typical example. As I indicated in my talk with Guide, we had a plan to keep going and decided to let the church survive centered on the Kansai headquarters."

"I can see you're a person of vision, but at that stage did you think your plan would be the basis for building a new church someday?" Dr. Koga said.

"At the very least, we always thought Patron would return."

"And what we did was kill Guide for nothing," Dr. Koga said.

"But you're not just some ordinary member of the radical faction, Mr. Soda said soothingly, but Dr. Koga remained with head bowed.

Kizu intervened bravely. "There's something I don't quite understand, he said. "Something Ikuo doesn't understand either. I know he's talked with Patron about it a few times… There's always something missing from every- thing you've just been saying: namely, the actual strategies and tactics of the radical faction that were called off on account of the Somersault. There've got to be things that haven't been publicly discussed yet. If these tactics really existed, what were they? That's what I'd like to hear."

Mr. Soda hesitated. Once he began, though, he didn't hold anything back.

"What they had in mind was the same sort of terrorist assassinations the right wing carried out before the war, plus a postwar phenomenon: de- liberately causing an accident at a nuclear power plant. And if they were to survive that, they planned to create a millennial reign of repentance.

"After Chernobyl the Japanese government and the power companies announced that such a large-scale accident in a power plant could never hap- pen in Japan. NHK and the major newspapers all agreed. A national consen- sus grew up, in other words, that a nuclear power plant accident could never be a likely scenario in Japan. The Japanese people had too much belief in the information and technology the system controls. I'm sure someone like your- self. Professor Kizu, who's lived abroad, would tell us it's the same in other countries as well.

"Anyway, it was left to the experts on nuclear issues at the Izu Institute to figure out how to shake Japan and the Japanese people's fixed ideas about nuclear power by figuring out which nuclear plant they should target and what scale of accident they should cause. The radical faction's plans weren't just some pie-in-the-sky idea but went as far as suggesting a complete destruc- tion of all the nuclear power plants concentrated on the Japan Sea coast-in order to set off the end of the world.

"The assassinations were a much simpler affair. Members of the radi- cal faction planned to assassinate top leaders in the government, the bureau- cracy, and the financial world. The assassins would all officially resign from the church so they could take individual responsibility for their acts. They did, though, curry favor with a citizens' relief organization by making con- tributions so they'd help out in court. They came up with a long detailed list of targets. The list of bureaucrats was compiled by a fellow who graduated from the law department at Tokyo University. The list was confiscated later, but the authorities and police never made it public. They were afraid of the effect it might have if the media ever got hold of it.

"A hundred assassins murdering a hundred leaders in a short space of time. Accidents at two or three nuclear power plants. Once this was done the church members would all take to the streets to announce the coming end of the world and set off an all-out insurrection. Imagine how dangerous it would be, and how much courage it would take, at a time like that to be out on a street corner seeking repentance. Insurrection wouldn't just be some vague term anymore. Then, with no leadership in place and the government para- lyzed, they would establish their millennial reign of repentance. Actually, one or two years would be enough, because it wouldn't survive Armageddon. In the final analysis it would be a reign of repentance that focused on the end time: in other words, on dying and ascending to heaven.

"Since the Kansai headquarters followers were to be mobilized in this all-out insurrection too, I didn't know what to do. This morning I looked at the triptych hanging in the chapel, and I know it's based on the book of Jonah, but looking at the background of Nineveh up in flames I remembered the fear that gripped me back then.

"The whole church felt cornered by this crisis, because if you followed the church's doctrine you couldn't very well oppose this plan. That was the situation. In my opinion Patron's Somersault was the appropriate response.

The reason the followers at the Kansai headquarters didn't feel their faith shaken was because we made sure all our members understood that the dras- tic reaction of the Somersault was necessary to put an end to the radical faction's violence. Patron and Guide, who made this painful decision and thereby saved the followers from being entangled in the radical faction, would take responsibility through the Somersault but would, after a time, rebuild the church. This is what we all believed."

5

Just as a chilly damp wind blew in through the window on the valley side, raindrops began to pound on the slate roof. In the far corner of the wooden floor, the former junior high principal stepped down to the dirt floor and shut all the windows he could reach and, turning a handle, shut the win- dows higher up as well. From deep inside the fuigo the roar of the wind from the forest flowed back in. As the former junior high principal approached the dirt floor, he came over to the piece of wood along the entrance, one step lower than the sunken hearth, and waited for the four people seated around the hearth to turn their attention to him.

When they did, he pointed toward the little kamidana shrine farthest back in the dirt-floor kitchen above the stove with its old-style tiles. A moment later he called their attention to a kind of box like a sea chest in the shadows of the shrine.

"This is where Meisuke-san is enshrined," he told them. "A second kamidana, as we say here. You'll be seeing this in the Spirit Festival proces- sion, but there are two kami-gods-one in a light place, the other in a dark place, and Meisuke-san represents the second kind. He was the leader of the first of two insurrections around the time of the Meiji Restoration, died an untimely death, and was enshrined here.

"I think it's significant that a person like that can become a kami, so I don't feel like criticizing the extreme tactics your church was unable to put into practice. Truthfully, when you get to my age the idea of a millennial kingdom that focuses on repentance is quite an attractive notion. However, there is one practical fact I'd like you to be aware of. Not far from here is the Agawa nuclear power plant. I have nothing to say about some new blood brotherhood pledged to carry out terrorist assassinations, but if the remnants of the radical faction dust off their plans and try to blow up the Agawa nuclear plant, I don't care what it takes, I will stop them. It's only twenty-five miles from the power plant to Maki Town. As the crow flies-but radiation won't neatly follow all the winding mountain roads in order to get here!

"The buildings in the Hollow were first built by the Church of the Flam- ing Green Tree, which was quite active for a short time. The peak of their activity was when the congregation all marched out of the Hollow to this very nuclear power plant. When they arrived, all of them, from the Founder down, prayed, and the plant suddenly shut down. There must have been some small malfunction or something.

"In your case, those who were followers before the Somersault make up the core of the new church. I heard from my wife that Patron's policy is to accept even the former radical faction. Most churches end up excluding a minority. They push one group to the point where they end up creating a small extremist faction. This sort of intolerance is a common fault of movements in this country, so my wife was quite impressed by your church's level of for- bearance. I'd like to be a tolerant person myself. But there is an absolute line beyond which tolerance is impossible.

"I respect people who are preparing for the end of the world, I really do.

And I feel the same way about believers who value a millennial reign of repen- tance more than their own lives. I'd like to return the vegetation and plant life around here to the way it used to be and put a brake on the decline in the local people's diet. I'm just a simple old man, but in a way I do think about the end of the world. But if the former radical faction attempts to collect on their old IOUs, then as I just said you can be sure I will put a stop to it."

His hair was white as an old man's but full, and he shook his head to punctuate each phrase. Her prominent freckled cheeks shining, Asa-san took up where her husband left off.

"My husband did the cooking tonight in order to let you talk freely without being under the watchful ears of the local women. Another reason was he wanted the chance to tell you his opinion-as he just did! He's had a bit too much to drink, but it hasn't affected him, and I know he gave this some careful thought. Even if you hadn't come here, there still would be a history of Patron, Guide, and the church, wouldn't there, before and after the Som- ersault? My husband and my history can't be separated from this land here.

The Former Brother Gii's Base Movement, the New Brother Gii's Church of the Flaming Green Tree-these are all part of the history of this land."

"Don't forget Meisuke-san's insurrection," her husband added, now definitely showing signs of drunkenness.

"There's this history that clings to the land," Asa-san went on, "but this doesn't mean that history repeats itself. My older brother, who's a novelist, has written that most things people do is a kind of repetition-with-slippage.

Not just a simple repetition, in other words. Starting with the two insurrec- tions connected with Meisuke-san, through the Base Movement of Former Brother Gii to New Brother Gii's Church of the Flaming Green Tree, each one was a repetition-with-slippage. The slippage, then, is productive.

"And now here's Patron and all of you about to build your new church in this land. It's possible to see it as a repetition of previous events. Or maybe a repetition of things you all have done elsewhere. Either way, it will end up a repetition-with-slippage. In other words, there will be new elements in whatever you end up doing. As my husband was lamenting, your church shouldn't just have to repeat what it was trying to do before the Somersault."

An emotion appeared in Dr. Koga's eyes, now even more dark and shin- ing than usual, and as Asa-san paused he called out to her.

"Ma'am, I think the principal and you are truly outstanding people.

When I opened the clinic here I had the same misgivings the principal spoke of. But wouldn't it be a little too obvious if the remnants of the former radical faction tried to deceive Patron once again into doing what they planned be- fore the Somersault? For the time being I'm relieved that Patron has put forth his concept of the Church of the New Man. That's the slippage you spoke of.

He's an obstinate person. He isn't criticizing his own role in the Somersault, nor is he going to set the clock back to before the Somersault. He's trying to introduce some slippage."

"The liquor's gotten to me, I'm afraid," Mr. Soda said, "and I can't make any proper comment, but I do agree with Dr. Koga that the slippage that Patron has carved out over the past decade is powerful. As long as that holds true, we at the Kansai headquarters made the right decision to lay the ground- work for him here.

"What do you say we follow the principal's lead and go down to the floor level? The space below Meisuke-san's kamidana was wasted space, so we made a cellar for storing sake. It's a wine cellar, but we also have some very nice whiskey there. It would appear that we haven't maintained the good drinking habits of the Base Movement, after all. Would you join me for a drink? Koga, be a good guy and bring some glasses for us. There s water in the cellar."

"I'll take care of the glasses," Asa-san said in a spirited voice. The former principal told her to rinse them out first, so she went over to the sink to do what he said.

Mr. Soda turned on a light in the dirt-floored area and the four men, looking down through the window that looked out over the valley and the shiny rain-dewed leaves of the nearby branches of the birches and elms just outside, sat down in a row and began to drink their whiskey and water. The former principal expounded on the topic of the island region where this malt whiskey originated.

For the first time Mr. Soda expressed his reaction to seeing Kizu's trip- tych. "Dancer sent me an e-mail saying that Patron quoted from the letter to the Ephesians. I reread it myself, and it says, 'He has made the two one and has destroyed the dividing wall of hostility through his own flesh,' right?

When I saw your painting in the chapel, Professor, I thought it shows exactly that: the Old Man and the New Man in one painting. Old Men like us still want to have hope, don't we?"

"That's right, Mr. Soda. Guide died as one of the Old Men, and even though we're all Old Men ourselves, we want to believe we can coexist with the New Men."

Dr. Koga, too, was starting to show signs of being drunk, and when Asa- san, who'd quickly finished the dishes, slipped on her sandals and joined them, he reverently poured out some whiskey into a new glass for her, asking how much water she'd like.

1

Registration was to begin at 10 A.M., on the first Friday in August, at the temporary office set up below the dam. Under the clear sky a line had already formed before seven. Kizu heard that by the time the official regis- tration began, the line extended all the way to where it could be seen from the Mansion, where Mr. Soda was staying.

The temporary office was set up in the square below the dam with two red and green vertically striped tents that looked like overturned bowls. A festive summery feeling swept through the line of people, making the atmo- sphere all the more lively.

Ms. Asuka brought over a Fruit of the Rain Tree lunch box and soup in a paper container for Kizu and was uncharacteristically excited as she re- ported that by afternoon the number of registrants had topped five hundred.

Events planned included the Fireflies on Friday night and their Spirit Pro- cession on Sunday afternoon, followed by Patron's public sermon, all of which could be seen from the bleachers set up on the newly prepared path around the lake in the Hollow. Plans for the conference were based on the number of seats there, including areas for people to stand. Sightseers from Maki Town and surrounding areas, however, were allowed free entrance with- out registering.

Registration cards with numbers were distributed that allowed partici- pants free access to the dining hall in the monastery and to the chapel to view Kizu's triptych. Having people register was a way for those who'd dropped out of the church after the Somersault to declare their intentions now that the new church was about to be launched.

The office estimated that over seven hundred people would register on the first day, and since they'd all come from far away there was a need to find lodgings beyond what had already been arranged. They checked at the Maki Town Inn and other Japanese inns that they'd originally left off their list be- cause of the price. They also had to increase the number of shuttle buses taking people from their lodgings to the Hollow. Followers who'd arrived ahead of time helped out as volunteers at the temporary office, but the whole first day was chaotic, to say the least.

"Patron's public sermon of course will be one of the highlights, but the small-group meetings tomorrow and the next day at the monastery, where people will talk about their sufferings over the past decade, seem quite popu- lar as well. The Quiet Women are running those.

"Other followers who haven't gotten in touch with us have talked with their former fellows in the church and will be holding their own independently organized small meetings," Ms. Asuka added. "The office has to find rooms for the meetings, so we've asked the Farm, the Mansion, and Fushoku temple to provide space, and we've had to increase the number of smaller gatherings.

Dancer's been very quick to take on this task and is quite the negotiator."

There was one more important reason that brought Ms. Asuka to walk up to Kizu's house on the north shore of the Hollow. Among the people who registered were those with no previous or present connection with the church, she reported, but who were cancer patients or family members of those who were too ill to make the trip. They wanted to be cured by Patron-or at least have him agree to try-and also hoped to hear directly from Kizu about his miraculous experience.

It would be impossible to have Patron do anything like that while the conference was in session, and Kizu couldn't be asked to participate in all these small-group meetings. Patron wouldn't be participating in the press conference the following day, but could Kizu attend and say a few words?

He couldn't say no.

Ms. Asuka did everything with great enthusiasm. Undaunted by the heat, she was dressed in short-sleeved khaki work clothes and high laced shoes.

She also talked about how she'd been allowed to videotape the Fireflies' pro- cession scheduled for that evening.

"Asa-san told me that the Fireflies are children who carry lanterns with candles in them, and other children carry extra candles, and they all climb up into the woods with some object that a soul has been transferred into, which they lay at the base of a selected tree. These small lights moving through the forest are hard to see, and it would take a lot of time, so I'd given up on trying to film it.

"But what happened was the Maki police and fire department said they wouldn't allow children to play with fire like that, so Gii drew up a revised plan, and they were given the go-ahead. Which also made it possible to video- tape it. I can really see why Ikuo expects great things of Gii!"

The twilight sky was still brightly reflected on the lake's surface, though the woods were completely dark, when Kizu heard Dancer's voice from speakers on the island in the middle of the lake giving an explanation of the Young Fireflies. Kizu sprayed insect repellent all over his arms and legs, turned out the houselights, and sat down in front of the open window to watch the proceedings.

Before long, as the sky was just losing its reddish tint and the chapel, monastery, and dam sank into the gloom, two groups of children, one quite young, the other junior high age, appeared in front of the reviewing stands, where they put lighted candles inside lanterns. As they descended from the stands, illuminated by the lanterns, the bobbing lights flickered on the lake's surface, drawing a sigh of admiration from the crowds of onlookers on the darkened shores.

The two groups with their lanterns made it safely up the stairs from the dam. Just as they were about to step onto the flagstone path, though, the lan- tern lights disappointedly vanished. A sigh went up again from the crowd, along with laughter. A moment later, though, lights reappeared, the same lanterns as before, it seemed, on the slope in back at the same height as the chapel roof; they moved horizontally toward the east, dipping in and out of view in the thick foliage. As soon as it seemed they'd vanished completely in even denser foliage, they'd pop up a few moments later at the same height, farther along the course they were taking to the slopes of the east bank, like some persistent beast moving in the night.

Fellow Fireflies no doubt awaited them farther down the path they all followed in their morning training sessions. The leader of the whole proces- sion, situated in a spot where he could see all the proceedings-Gii, who had crossed over to the island with its cypress tree-would signal to all the kids on the ubiquitous beepers junior high school children all carried, and have them remove the covers from their lanterns and set off once again.

Kizu was interpreting the proceedings this way when the Fireflies pro- cession turned to the north slope and left his field of vision. He groped his way to the kitchen, opened the fridge, found a can of beer in the lighted inte- rior, popped it, and returned to his chair. As he drank, he waited for the pro- cession to arrive back at the dam and again make its way to the reviewing stands. Gii must have found it too simple to have them settle the soul at the base of a tree way up in the forest, everything taking place in the dark.

Even though the lanterns were far away, whenever they disappeared the dark forest and lake slipped back into monotony and the passage of time slowed down. As the crowd surrounding the lake looked up at the movement of the lanterns cutting across the north slope and descending ever lower, an occasional child's shout could be heard, but otherwise no loud voices at all.

The crowd of onlookers wasn't just being patient, but awaited further devel- opments with an air of great expectation.

High up on the eastern slope a cuckoo called out, and another cuckoo answered. A kyororon-kyororon melody of some other bird Kizu heard quite often recently-a call that reminded him of a Vivaldi guitar concerto- echoed loudly across the still lakeside.

Finally the lanterns began to ascend from the north corner of the dam.

The young children holding the lights, and the junior high school pupils with them, lantern light glittering in the high water along the shore, marched on toward the reviewing stands. They turned their backs on the lake as they began to climb up the wooden stairs above the reviewing stands, and after a moment of darkness, the space above the stands was filled with the light from all the lanterns held by this crowd of children. Right above them was a banner, illu- minated by their lanterns, that read: Church of the New Man.

Music came from the speakers on the island, a melody Kizu recognized as Morio's "Ascension," parts 1 and 2. The burst of applause of the onlookers at this display of light quickly faded out of respect for the subdued music.

Lights went on in the chapel and the monastery, and the lamppost outside went on as well. It was already past nine.

2

Friday night's Fireflies procession was a resounding success. From early Saturday morning on, the people who gathered around the Hollow were abuzz with talk of how much they'd enjoyed it.

Ogi was in charge of public relations for the conference, so he heard a lot of these opinions from people outside the church. One fiftyish man from the Old Town introduced himself, undaunted, as someone who'd been active in the movement opposing the move of the church to the Hollow, and came out with the following ambiguous words of praise: "I asked the deputy mayor why they allowed a procession like that carrying fire over such a wide area, and he said that although it was well planned by some young guy, the important thing was that one of the young people from the fire department was in charge, so they couldn't very well call a halt to it! You all are very calculating in what you do, which I find rather frightening!"

On Saturday at 9 A.M. a press conference was held in the dining hall of the monastery for all reporters, including foreign correspondents. Dancer got in touch with Ogi, underscoring her desire for all the leaders of the church, with the exception of Patron, to attend. Dancer herself would be busy at the office, responding to faxes and e-mails and anything unexpected that arose, and wouldn't be able to participate.

Ogi was to be the emcee at the press conference. The church represen- tatives all sat together, their backs to the window looking out on the lake. Ogi was in the middle, Kizu on his right, and next to him was Ikuo, thin and haggard, who sat with his chair pushed back a little. He looked as if he wasn't planning to make any comments but, if need be, was ready to help out.

Next to Ikuo sat Dr. Koga and Mr. Hanawa of the Technicians, while on Ogi's left sat Mr. Soda, Ms. Oyama of the Quiet Women, and finally Gii.

Before the press conference began, Ms. Oyama was speaking with Mr. Soda in a low voice, but Kizu could catch what she said. Mr. Soda's reply was to the question of the canceling of the Quiet Women's children's participation as a group. The women had been looking forward to spending the summer vacation with their children, but with the unexpected problems in finding lodging for all the conference participants, they'd decided at their prayer meeting to give up the idea of having their children join them.

One of the people attending the press conference was Fred Parks, the reporter for the New York newspaper who'd originally told Kizu about the modern buildings in the Shikoku woods. In order to keep reporting from Tokyo, Fred was now a freelance journalist and had expanded his areas beyond the architecture and art fields.

The middle-aged woman Fred had hired as an interpreter turned out to be Ogi's old friend Mrs. Tsugane. Ogi was surprised to see her, but tracing back the connection it made sense that she was here. Ms. Asuka, official videographer of the summer conference, had invited members of the Moosbrugger Commit- tee, and Mrs. Tsugane had answered the call. But since Ms. Asuka already had two assistants handling lighting and sound, Mrs. Tsugane had to find work elsewhere and had replied to a notice on the bulletin board in the monastery courtyard from a reporter seeking an interpreter. Since Ogi had last seen her, she'd divorced her architect husband, and she thought this would be a good opportunity to make some money to cover her traveling expenses.

Just before the press conference started, as Ogi settled down in his emcee's chair, a letter arrived for him, the envelope written on the Japanese washi paper that was a specialty of the Old Town, decorated with a woodblock print. The letter read: After not having seen you for so long, I'm so very pleased to see you're doing well. I'm with a foreigner here to check out the local legends. I'm looking forward to the Spirit Procession today. I understand that if you go deep into the woods on the north side of the valley there's a place called Sheath. In the local legends they say that's another word for vagina. As the name implies, when young men and women go in there they can't help but give in to sexual passion. Putting aside the question of whether I'm young enough to belong there, what do you say? It's been a while.

Why don't we give our passions a run for their money? I was divorced not long ago, so any moral issue that might restrain you has vanished. I have some free time before Patron's public sermon.

You Know Who.

The press conference began, the opening question coming from a fe- male reporter, a third-generation Japanese named Karen Sato from the Los Angeles Times who was also helping a TV team with its coverage. She was in her mid-twenties, and her question was directed to Kizu.

"Professor, since you've given lectures on cross-cultural symbolism, there's something I'd like to ask you," Ms. Sato said, in rapid-fire English, relying too much on what the publicity pamphlet said about Kizu's back- ground and his abilities in English. (Ikuo, who had sat beside Kizu for this very reason, could tell how nonplussed he was and explained basically what the woman had asked. Kizu was typical of his generation in that he could speak English but often had trouble catching what others said.)

"I heard that the children carrying the chochin lanterns last night," the woman continued, "went up into the woods carrying the souls of the dead.

And that these souls return to the valley and enter the bodies of newborn babies. The souls, in other words, in a Neoplatonic way, travel back and forth between the profane world of the valley and the spiritual world of the moun- tains. But if the souls keep on doing this over and over, it reminds one of Buddhist transmigration. So do you interpret it, Professor, from a western or an oriental viewpoint?"

"I know a little about Neoplatonism from the commentaries on Blake's paintings," Kizu replied, "where the soul when it ascends to heaven returns to God's presence and a community of souls. According to the legends of this region, the soul rests in solitude at the base of the selected tree until the time comes for it to be reborn. In Buddhist transmigration, human souls are also reborn in animal bodies, which is different from souls being reborn inside newborn babies. I see the Young Fireflies' view of life and death, based on the premodern life of the people of this region, as something quite unique.

"Imagine, if you will, a solitary village springing up in the midst of a vast forest and coming up with its own legends as if it were a remote island.

The souls of people who live in the village after physical death still remain in the forest that overlooks the valley. And they come down to the valley any number of times. I interpret it as the world of the living and the world of the dead forming, in this topography, a single unit."

"If it's that unique a view of life and death, then I guess it is a religious philosophy, isn't it?" the woman said. "As people with an anti-Japanese reli- gious philosophy coming into the area and building a church, didn't you ex- perience opposition?"

Ms. Sato's question seemed to want to probe further. Ogi picked up the ball and responded.

"I've heard that there was a movement among the townspeople to oppose our move," he said, in the English he'd learned in college, "but since we've actually moved here there's been next to nothing in the way of harassment."

"Your statement implies there was some. Could you give us some examples?"

"Young people from along the river in the valley, and from hamlets in the forest, had formed a group to revive some of the cultural legends of the area. One element of this group made a sort of… installation in the chapel designed to menace us. But that was the end of it. There are almost no local people participating in our church, nor have we been proselytizing in the hope that they would join us. In fact, this conference is the first official opportu- nity for us to get together with the local community."

"I heard that last night's wonderful demonstration was done by young people from the community," the woman reporter went on. "Is this an ex- ception, then, local people who participate in the church?"

"That's correct," Ogi said. "And they aren't members of the church, mind you. As you know, last night's demonstration was a revival of an ancient rite.

Actually they're the group I was talking about that confronted us early on. The church is very pleased that now our relationship is on the right track. A repre- sentative of that group is here today, so why don't you ask him directly?

Gii made an endearing yet not frivolous move, as if he were caving m and wanting to flee, which brought on a sympathetic burst of laughter from the others. Kizu wondered whether he was just pretending to have such a negative reaction to English, but Karen Sato accepted this at face value and added a final comment in Japanese to wind up her questions.

"Your demonstration was-subarashikatta-wonderful!"

3

The next person who stood up to ask a question was a Japanese woman who looked to be in her late forties. She was dressed stylishly, but her man- ner was unassertive, and when she began to speak Kizu was struck by her tone of voice, deeply dyed as it was with an emotional and physical exhaus- tion resulting, no doubt, from the hardships she'd gone through.

"Patron's teachings have sustained me over the years," the woman began.

"So much so that at the time of the Somersault, when many people were all upset and left the church, I couldn't understand why. After his trances, Patron and Guide would craft a message for us. Just hearing a fraction of this I knew how beautiful a person Patron was, how lovely his soul was, and I became a believer.

"Then Patron announced that, though he'd been preaching repen- tance, he'd been mistaken, that the people of this country had no fundamen- tal relationship with the God who was in charge of the end of the world.

Borrowing the God that Westerners believe in, and thinking that we too must do something in order to show our repentance, was no different from children dressing up as adults and putting on a play. You can't take it seri- ously, in other words. 'And all I did,' Patron went on, 'was enjoy directing this little children's play.' He also said it was laughable that we thought- by acting out some cute little children's play-that their God would deign to pay us a glance. When I saw this announcement on the TV news I thought, Ah, so that's what's been going on! Because I'd never felt comfortable with the western God, either.

"Despite all this, though, I saw him-the laughingstock of Japan-as still a beautiful person, with a beautiful soul. Could anything be as painful as this: denying everything about yourself?

"I accepted what he said, that everything he'd told us up till then had nothing to do with God. That being the case, a thought struck me. If those weren't the words of God, they were still the words of a beautiful person, of a beautiful soul. Even if he said he'd only been fooling around, he had the right to do that. He said he knew he was crazy but he still kept on talking and talking, and if that's the case I think he had even more right to fool around like he did.

"I thought, it's okay that I was so struck by this unsurpassed, even painful joking, by the words of this unhappy, crazed person. I even felt that what this world needs is a beautiful person just like him, a beautiful crazed soul. Once I'd decided that, my heart melted, and all I hoped was that Patron would be able to find a place where he could be free. And the Somersault no longer bothered me.

I stayed in the church, holding dear to me the words that he'd given to us.

"And now, just a little over ten years later, Patron is back. Guide met with a painful death, but that makes it even clearer to me how precious a person has returned. I'm so happy he's survived to this point. The reason I could be so calm back then, I think, was because I had a premonition that, happily, things would work out as they have.

"I don't really have a question; I just wanted to tell you all of this. There is one more thing I'd like to say, though. Patron has come back to the Church of the New Man and we're all together again, yet I find the attitude of some of the Quiet Women quite incomprehensible. Yesterday they all gathered in their rooms in the monastery and prayed. The curtains were all shut, the place was dark, and even if you wanted to talk with them you couldn't because there were men standing guard at the door.

"The same thing's happening today. And tomorrow evening, when we'll all be sitting around the lake listening to Patron's sermon, aren't the Quiet Women planning to take over the chapel to hold another prayer meeting?

"The Technicians, who also moved here along with Patron, will be lis- tening to the sermon along with everybody else in the stands around the lake.

Why do the Quiet Women alone have these special privileges, and why do they ignore their former colleagues who've come from so far away? With the Church of the New Man about to be launched, is this really a good idea? I'm asking this for all the women believers from the Kansai headquarters, all of whom have their doubts about this."

Her question finished, the woman remained standing, awaiting a reply, and Ms. Oyama, who'd been taking notes, raised her head. Normally what struck Kizu about her was her strong-looking body and her no-non- sense look, but now she and the woman asking the questions seemed to share a common fatigue.

"I'm not sure if I can give a satisfactory answer as a representative of the Quiet Women," Ms. Oyama said, "but I'll go ahead and try. Ms. Kajima, it's so nice to see you after so long. I understand how you were able to main- tain your religious life at the Kansai headquarters, and it's through the efforts of you and others like you that we're able to open our new church in such wonderful facilities. Seeing as how you're the ones who've stayed in the church all along, it might be strange for me to say that I'm happy you've come here. but I do want to convey my heartfelt thanks to everyone who's participating in the conference.

"When those of us who share the same faith left the church and made the decision to live collectively, we were counting on your joining us. When, at the last moment, you decided not to, I must say we were quite bewildered.

After the Somersault, when we were confused, doubting our faith, and suf- fering, it was you, Ms. Kajima, who encouraged us. With Patron and Guide no longer in the church, we were trying to live on our own, relying solely on our faith. Everyone believed you were crucial to our success. When we learned that you wouldn't be joining us, several people actually dropped out of our group, and even after we started our communal life together as the Quiet Women, we never forgot you. We were distressed and talked over why you didn't join us."

"I'd like to be allowed to explain," said Ms. Kajima, who had remained standing. "Just a moment ago I said I felt it was completely up to Patron where he would go after the Somersault. Truthfully, though, I still had an attach- ment to him, which is why I grew close to your group, Ms. Oyama. I was convinced that you were still in secret contact with Patron and Guide and that, with no other place to go, they might join you at your commune.

"The last day I was with your group, Mrs. Shigeno gave a sermon-I haven't had a chance to see her here yet, but I'm happy to hear she's well. I can never forget how she said she would never forgive Patron and Guide for having done the Somersault. She said that through their communal life they would get an even firmer grasp of the God that Patron and Guide rejected and would show them a thing or two. Everyone was quite stirred up by this.

"I had no ill feelings toward Guide, of course, nor toward Patron. Even having done the Somersault, he was still a beautiful soul. At the same time, I saw him as someone forced to suffer to the point where the Somersault was unavoidable. But someday wouldn't he come back to us? I kept the words he had told us in mind and tried not to be self-destructive. He said himself that it was all a joke, but once the words were out there, in the public domain as it were, they were mine to deal with as I felt best… Just around that time I met Mr. Soda and heard that the Kansai headquarters was planning to keep the church organization going.

"I'll rephrase my question so a practical and bright person like your- self, Ms. Oyama, can answer directly. This is what I want to know: After the Somersault, what kind of spiritual process did the Quiet Women go through to forgive Patron and be able to rejoin him here and become part of his new church? Unless I know this, your secrecy will continue to bother me. I'd also like to ask the Technicians a similar question."

"We've managed to live our communal life for more than ten years now," Ms. Oyama replied. "As you said, at first we did hate Patron and Guide.

The power of hatred, in fact, helped bind us together. But in time we over- came those ill feelings, though I'm afraid it's beyond my ability to analyze the process of how this happened. I say this because each person conquered her feelings in a different way, consistent with how she became converted and the way she had lived her life since.

"Still, there was one impetus all the Quiet Women shared that helped them overcome their feelings of animosity. This was the information that Mrs.

Shigeno brought to us-the report that after the Somersault Patron and Guide had descended into hell. We too felt we'd been abandoned, left in a place where we were anxious and suffered. When we heard this information we thought, very naturally, that it made perfect sense. That being the case, we also clung to the hope that Patron and Guide would someday climb up out of the hell they were in and lead us in a new direction.

"Then a terrible thing happened: Guide was murdered, a truly awful event, but we received the notice of the memorial service for Guide, sent from Patron, and for the first time in ten years there was something hopeful to cling to. It was a straight path from the memorial service to this present conference from then on.

"This only means that we Quiet Women need to talk together even more. These past ten years we've been in the habit of holding some deep dis- cussions to come up with a group consensus. We're supposed to see this con- ference as former church members overcoming the Somersault to launch a new church, right? In our decade of communal living this has got to be the most critical situation we've faced.

"That's why we hold our discussions. And these discussions-of people who've lived together for ten years, sharing their pain-we like to hold in private. We really need to talk together-just us and no one else. I hope you'll allow us to do so. And when we meet by ourselves next time, I'm sure one of the topics we'll be discussing is this very question you've put to us."

"Still, though, I find it ironic that we're excluded from your discussions,"

Ms. Kajima commented.

"Once again, I ask your indulgence," Ms. Oyama replied. "The Quiet Women will be working, though, at the party being held tonight at the Farm.

So if you'd like to talk with us individually, that would be a good time to do so.

Ms. Kajima didn't pursue her questioning any further. Instead, she turned her attack to the Technicians.

"The Technicians were the elite at the Izu Research Institute, people I never met or spoke to directly. Which led to me having a one-sided view of all of you. Forgive me for saying this, but the extreme tactics of some of your colleagues pushed Patron and Guide to the wall, forcing them to do the Som- ersault. That's the view of those of us who remained in the church. And then later some of your colleagues-I'm not saying all, mind you-put Guide on trial and ended up causing his death. To us it seemed that the years after you left the church didn't change your way of thinking or your tactics one iota.

That made us disappointed and angry.

"Now, though, we find the Technicians in charge of everything at this conference for the new church. Mr. Soda, the head of the Kansai headquar- ters, discussed this with Patron and agreed to it, and since he's our leader we accept it as a fait accompli. But there are many people in the Kansai head- quarters who feel the way I do-that there's a lot going on here we can't understand. Some people say they find it outrageous. So I'd like to hear from some of the Technicians as to how they feel about this."

A piece of paper was passed to her at this point, and she sat down, and a small stir went through the audience as they speculated as to what was going on. This soon calmed down, though, as the American reporter Fred Parks, who was sitting beside Ms. Kajima, stood up and asked a question.

"I'd like to ask a follow-up if I may," he began.

His question was translated into Japanese by Mrs. Tsugane.

"As you can gather from my asking in English, I'm a foreigner, but at the time of the Somersault I was especially interested in the Izu faction that you just mentioned, because they had a plan for radical social change. Until just before the Somersault, neither Patron nor Guide seemed opposed to this and provided funding for their activities.

"Still, Patron and Guide eventually negotiated with the authorities and sold out the radical faction. I wonder how the remnants of the group, the Technicians, feel about this. How do all of you evaluate the killing of Guide and Patron's return to the church? Thank you."

4

Kizu knew only that Mr. Hanawa was a research scientist. In Mr.

Hanawa's attitude as he silently surveyed the audience, all the while taking notes at the long table, Kizu was reminded of the head of the student council in his college days, a group under the sway of the Communists. This impres- sion was reinforced when Mr. Hanawa spoke.

"It would take quite some time to discuss how we felt at the time of the Somersault, and since I don't think that's particularly relevant at this point, I'll talk about how we feel about it now, ten years down the road.

"We were completely turned inside out by Patron's Somersault, but we already knew at the time that our plans would have been a total failure. So we were betrayed by Patron and Guide through the Somersault, which was okay because it helped avoid a massive blunder, right? People might say that, but if you look at history you'll find that even in what appears to be stupid, failed insurrections, often something significant emerges. Aborted insurrec- tions, however, lead nowhere.

"Even now we wonder whether the Somersault was really the only option open to Patron. In a similar vein, we talked over what Asahara, the leader of Aum Shinrikyo, did or didn't do when the police raided his hideout at the base of Mount Fuji, and we all agreed that was Asahara's own Somersault.

"If Asahara hadn't done a Somersault, what options did he have? Assume the lotus position, back straight and eyes closed, leap out of the highest window in thtsatyan, and levitate toward Mount Fuji? If he really couldn't fly, he should have just leaped out the window and crashed to the ground. With his senior disciples already shot, the CIA or the Japanese police or religious organizations antithetical to Aum would insist on shooting Asahara-floating in a lotus position toward Mount Fuji-out of the sky. Like a single fish egg in a stormy sea, this may very well have led to a single grain hatching and a new Aum myth.

For the church that remained behind a new history would be born.

"We haven't wavered from our conclusion that the Somersault was a mistake. But we also recognize it was a mistake to have driven Guide to such a tragic death. In other words, we won't be pushing Patron anymore to take responsibility. The reason we've returned to be with Patron and help him build a new church from the ground up-and please note that we're not managing things in the Hollow; we're providing security for the Quiet Women's prayer meetings, at their request, and will be helping out at tonight's party at the Farm-is because we have great hopes for the new church and for Patron, whom we know is an outstanding, inspiring leader. We're not asking that he reverse the Somersault of a decade ago. We're hoping for a brand-new Somersault."

The next question didn't come from the reporters and TV crew occu- pying the front half of the audience but from a man, sitting with some oth- ers, apart from the ordinary participants, along the aisle on the west side of the hall. The man stood up. These people had come in late, and Kizu had seen Ogi ask the Technicians, already helping out here at the press conference, to move some extra chairs in for them.

The middle-aged man who wanted to speak had a deeply lined, reced- ing forehead, a penetrating look, and a very poor complexion. He was very low key, with a hoarse, muttering way of speaking; Kizu realized it had been some time since he'd met a Japanese person like this. The question, it turned out, was directed to him.

"The questions I'd like to ask may have nothing to do with the launch- ing of the new church," the man said. "Still, I hope very much that you'll understand why I have to ask them. Professor Kizu, did you come back to Japan because you heard that the Founder had the power to cure cancer? Did you not get any modern medical treatment because the Founder instructed you not to? How did the Founder treat you, and how long was it before it started to take effect? My next question is best directed at the Founder him- self: Is this treatment also available to people outside the church?"

Ogi passed along a piece of paper with these questions all neatly printed out. Up till now the church members responding to questions had relied on the notes they were taking.

"I don't know if this will help you or not, but I'll tell you about my experience," Kizu began. "While I was living in America, a professor of medi- cine in my institute told me he suspected I had cancer. He recommended a complete examination and said he himself would do the pathology. I resigned myself to this being what I'd been fearing, a recurrence of cancer, and using the sabbatical leave I had coming I scurried off to Japan.

"Five years ago I had an operation for colon cancer. And this last year and a half I haven't been feeling well. Seven years ago my older brother, who also had had colon cancer surgery, found it had spread to his liver, and two years later he passed away. When I came back to Japan to see him before he died, he told me about the symptoms, and they were the same symptoms I was having, so I resigned myself to suffering the same fate. Still, I didn't go into the hospital for all those tests, because I remembered all too clearly how awful the ones they'd run on me before had been, the abdominal artery con- trast test and all the rest.

"My U. S. specialist had referred me to a clinic in Tokyo, and I consulted with the doctor there about how to deal with the disease as it progressed, par- ticularly how to deal with the pain. After doing a CT scan, this doctor concurred with my own assessment of my condition. I thought a biopsy was pointless so I refused to have it done. And when we moved here, the Tokyo doctor passed along all his information to Dr. Koga, who was traveling with me.

"After that, on two separate occasions the pain became so unbearable that the second time they put me in the Red Cross Hospital and removed my gallbladder. I thought the cancer had spread-only to be told that it never was cancer to begin with, which reminded me that I'd never had another biopsy done after the first operation. The doctor at the Red Cross Hospital told me the pain must have been from gallstones and not from any recurrence of cancer. But looking at the symptoms my late brother had, there was defi- nitely a reason for me to think the cancer had recurred and I didn't have long to live. Even now, after doubting it many times, I always come back to that belief.

"Since I moved here I've been living communally with Patron-the Founder, as you call him. I'd met him-and Guide-about a year before in Toyko, and we'd had a number of chances to talk. After we moved here our relationship has gotten closer and Patron modeled for my painting. Still, I never felt he was intentionally treating me. I remember once he told me he'd take responsibility for my physical condition, but he never did anything that made me feel he was consciously working on it, and I can't say that Patron is prepared to treat anyone, either those in the church or those outside. Even so, to answer your question, I feel I did have a recurrence of cancer, which is now cured. And I've found myself believing that moving here and becoming closer to Patron had an effect on what has happened to me."

Kizu stopped speaking, and though he thought nothing he'd said was very well put, the man who'd asked the questions and those around him un- expectedly broke into applause. And then, from beside them, standing because there weren't enough seats, an elderly man, slightly built, but whose chest under a dark blue shirt was unusually muscular, spoke out loudly without waiting to be called on.

"I don't have one of those tickets you need to ask a question, but I'm a blacksmith and farmer from the outskirts, and I think people from out- side might not fully understand what Professor Kizu's saying unless I add something!"

Ogi went over quickly to have a few words with this man who, although it wasn't yet noon, was obviously a bit tipsy. He didn't make him leave but made it quite clear that certain guidelines had to be followed.

"Okay, I get it!" the man said. "I'll cut to the chase. My son Kaji died of lung cancer and a brain tumor. At one point, though, Brother Gii, who built the chapel in the Hollow, used his touch to heal my son's liver cancer. The doctor at the Red Cross Hospital said the cancer had shrunk an incredible amount.

"I believe there's a power in the Hollow that raises people up who have a healing touch and draws them in from elsewhere. Wasn't it this power of the land that brought out the Founder's healing power? In this new church, too, you should make this healing power available to all those suffering from cancer! From his grave I'm sure Kaji would want this."

The man who asked the first questions, not paying any heed to this sec- ond man, interrupted. "We're really counting on the sermon tomorrow. But if at all possible, either before or after the party today, can we meet with Patron? We've all come a long way, hoping we could." And he bowed his head, as did the tipsy blacksmith-cum-farmer whose pronouncements had been cut short.

That was the end of the press conference, and in the stir as the report- ers, TV crews, and participants all stood up, the American reporter, Fred Parks, who was accompanied by Mrs. Tsugane, came over to the long table where Kizu was still seated.

"I think it's very wise the way you've allowed the interested parties to debate the internal issues of the church in front of foreign reporters," Parks said. "I've attended Aum press conferences, and they never let any problems they might be having among themselves see the light of day."

"That's right, Fred," Kizu replied. "Our church is different from both Aum Shinrikyo and from your country's insistence on sticking to principles no matter what."

"Those cancer patients are so sad," Fred said. "It struck me that maybe you never had cancer to begin with. If that's the case, you're one sly fellow- sitting there with a straight face like one big billboard for the church."

While the two of them were talking in English, Mrs. Tsugane tilted her newly permed head toward Ogi and whispered something. Kizu had wanted to ask Ikuo if there was anything he could do to help out between the after- noon program and the evening party at the Farm, but Ikuo had disappeared while Kizu was talking with Fred.

After Mrs. Tsugane left the dining hall with Fred, Kizu went over to where Ogi was standing with Dancer-who'd come in near the end of the press conference-facing the window on the lake side, deep in conversation.

Despite their intense tête-à-tête, Ogi saw Kizu, turned around to him, and said, "Would you talk with Dr. Koga for us? He has a problem the office can't deal with."

Ogi was so tense as he said this it made Kizu turn to look around him.

With a worried look, Dancer glanced up at Kizu but didn't say anything and looked away. As Kizu walked over to where Dr. Koga stood, surrounded by cancer patients, and others who were no doubt family members. Dr. Koga cut off his talk with them and made his way out of the crowd toward him.

Kizu had never seen such a serious expression before on Dr. Koga's well- formed features.

Ogi went out ahead of them. In the courtyard between the two build- ings of the monastery there were enormous mobs of people, not just those leaving the press conference but other participants, talking in groups, stroll- ing the grounds. Kizu and the others headed toward the chapel. The necks and arms of everyone they passed were sweating profusely. Dr. Koga, too, walking just in front of Kizu, kept wiping his neck with a soiled handker- chief. The sunlight was dazzling, and the clamor of cicadas poured down on them from behind Patron's residence.

Ogi unlocked the door to the office, let the two of them in, told them to lock the door behind him, and left.

Dr. Koga cut across the first room to the room nearest the lake, and was standing by the fax machine, a pile of faxes beside it, about to reach out for them automatically when he stopped short and fixed an unsmiling gaze on Kizu.

"Ever since he saw the Fireflies last night, Patron's been quite fright- ened and not himself. Ikuo restrained him and calmed him down, but Patron's quite strong and gave him a hard time. And that's not all."

5

Dr. Koga explained that the night before, as the Fireflies were perform- ing, Ikuo had visited Patron to show him the plan for enlivening Patron's sermon on the final day.

A ceaseless line of people, headed toward the chapel and back, was pass- ing in front of Patron's house, and the constant stir had Morio on edge. Two Fireflies stood guard outside the front door, which stood about five yards up a slope from the courtyard, and with people posing one after another in front for souvenir photographs, the normally unflappable Ms. Tachibana, too, was uneasy.

Patron spent quite some time preparing for his sermon on the final day.

He wasn't scheduled to appear at any other functions until then, but at that time he would be speaking in front of an expected crowd of some one thou- sand people, seven hundred registered participants plus casual visitors from Maki Town and its surroundings. Even during the heyday of the church before the Somersault, Patron had only spoken to such a large crowd a hand- ful of times.

The plan that Ikuo brought over to discuss with Patron was a proposal he'd received from Gii's mother by way of Gii. Satchan was grateful to Ikuo for taking the Fireflies under his wing and helping them expand to the point where adults in Maki Town approved of the group. She was also allowing the church to use the cypress island in the Hollow, land she owned, in their conference and had made the church a proposition.

The giant tree, half destroyed, was awful to look at, even though new leaves appeared on it every year. The cypress was the remains of what hap- pened when Brother Gii, planning to dissolve the Church of the Flaming Green Tree and leave the area with his wife, Satchan, burned down the tree in place of the chapel. The next morning, as Brother Gii set off with a small group of pilgrims, he was stoned to death by attackers.

Fifteen years later, it still pained Satchan to look at the horrible sight of this burned and mangled tree still standing. "If you cut down the tree and use the land as a small park," she said, "I'll give the island to the church."

Gii added his own idea, saying that if the tree was to be cut down they should incorporate this as a rousing end to the conference. How about burn- ing it down completely? Since it was on an island in the middle of a lake full of water, the fire department shouldn't have any objection. They were plan- ning to burn all the spirit dolls anyway, once they'd been used in the proces- sion; if they piled the dolls up at the base of the cypress and burned them together, two birds with one stone, it would be a spectacular finale.

Patron immediately approved of this proposal when Ikuo presented it to him. After they finished discussing it, Patron, Ikuo, and Morio went over to the window that looked over the lake to watch the Fireflies as they were just setting off in their procession. The three men soon moved over to the east window and followed the children with their lanterns as, the older boys accompanying them, they swiftly walked up the forest slope that, in the dark- ness, seemed all the more close. A second group was waiting for the proces- sion, and the first group lit the second's lanterns and then began to run toward the eastern bank of the Hollow in a large curve.

Ikuo had already sensed, along with Morio's being on edge, that Patron had lost his composure when all of a sudden Patron turned to them anxiously and began to speak. Weren't the Fireflies preparing to spread kerosene all over the area along the animal trail they'd been taking, he said worriedly, a lot of kerosene? Weren't they all set to light the kerosene that was running down the forest slopes, and weren't the boys running with the lanterns already set- ting fires in places you couldn't see from here and then passing the batons one after another to the next groups crossing the forest?

At first Ikuo thought this was some kind of joke. But Patron's in- sistence wasn't normal. All of a sudden Patron leaped up and yelled for Ms. Tachibana, who was downstairs. When she showed up, a worried look on her face, he ordered her to get his clothes ready so he could go outside.

"Morio's coming down with his shoes on," he yelled out, "so get the same clothes ready for him!"

Though there was no need to, he shouted at Ikuo in the same fearful voice. "If the Fireflies set fires and the whole forest surrounding the Hollow goes up in flames at once," he shouted, "there'll be a panic among the thou- sand spectators! We have to do something to stop this tragedy!"

Ikuo tried to calm him down, telling him this was just a ridiculous fan- tasy. But Morio was even more hysterical than Patron, and as Patron was being dressed by Ms. Tachibana, his vehement words pouring out unabated, Morio clung to his waist, crying. Patron upbraided him, urging him to change his own clothes as quickly as he could.

Seeing that Ikuo was still seated calmly, Patron had changed his tack, announcing that he was going down to the reviewing stand to take the micro- phone and urge the spectators to evacuate the area. "You and Ms. Tachibana take Morio, he can't walk well!" he shouted, "and run past the parking lot and escape to the bypass!"

Patron had pulled on his shoes right on top of the rug and was about to head downstairs alone. Not knowing what else to do, Ikuo physically re- strained him. If Patron's call was amplified by the microphone and rang out in the darkness, imagine how much more of a panic this would throw the spectators into, Ikuo argued. "People will be thrown into a worse panic, thinking they'll be burned alive in a forest fire," he said, trying to calm Patron down.

Although usually mild-mannered, Patron had become like a frenzied child, foaming at the mouth, his face bright red and swollen as he resisted, trying to wrench himself free of Ikuo's grasp. When he couldn't, he twisted to one side and boxed Ikuo on the ears. "Satan, Satan!" he screamed.

Likewise, Morio jabbed at Ikuo's thighs, yelling out the same thing.

With Morio wrapped around his lower half, Ikuo grasped Patron tightly so he couldn't pound him anymore and dragged him backward toward the bed in the next room, faintly visible in the gloom. The momentum sent Morio tumbling down the hallway that led to the staircase. He let out a cry, and Ms. Tachibana came running.

Ikuo had finally managed to hold Patron down in bed, but he kept on resisting, spitting out hard flecks of foam as he shouted, "You faggot Satan, you!

As Dr. Koga was leaving the chapel annex with Kizu, Ogi, who had the key with him and was waiting for them, called out. Ms. Tachibana wanted Dr. Koga to come over to Patron's place right away. Kizu watched him walk up the short slope to Patron's residence, raise a hand in greeting to the Firefly secu- rity guards, and, looking down, walk inside. As Kizu turned his gaze toward the overflowing crowds of people, Ikuo showed up, his sweatshirt and cor- duroy trousers sweaty and smelly.

"I'll take you over to the north shore," he said.

Leaving Ogi behind, Kizu and Ikuo walked off, a two-man security guard from the Fireflies clearing a path for them through the milling crowds.

As they got to the narrow place where the lunch menu was posted, the black- smith and a woman who looked as if she were fighting illness were waiting in ambush. They passed so close to Kizu and Ikuo they could smell the li- quor on the man's breath, but Ikuo ignored the man when he called out to them and put his thick arm protectively around Kizu as they strode away.

The smell of Ikuo's sweat made Kizu feel calm and protected. A fear still lingered, though, as to what the blacksmith might say to the woman- perhaps not ill herself but with a husband ill with cancer-as they stood bathed in the direct sunlight beside him.

The security guards led them from the crowded dam, along the broad road connecting to the north shore of the Hollow, to the path leading up to Kizu's house. Ikuo was in a hurry but he was careful to go in first, and as Kizu headed straight for bed to lie down, he opened up the windows from the stu- dio to the kitchen to disperse the heated, stuffy air.

Kizu laid his head back at an angle on the high part of the bed and watched. Ikuo sat down at a chair in front of an empty easel, picked up a drawing of himself and Patron on top of a box of paints, and gazed at it. The strong light shining in from outside emphasized the contrast even more, but Kizu had already noticed how haggard and beastlike Ikuo's face looked, com- pared to the sketch.

Ikuo didn't look back at Kizu. He hadn't said a word on the walk over to the house, but now he spoke.

"I went over to see the triptych again, and I'll tell you it's a big hit," he said. "Of course, the part showing Patron's wound is the main thing people are interested in."

"You knew the wound in his side has disappeared, didn't you?"

"Yes, Dancer told me. Just as she hid its existence from everyone for so long, now she plans to keep the fact that it's gone a secret from everyone."

"It must be tough on Patron, too… Do you think things just built up inside him that led to last night's incident?" Kizu asked.

Ikuo was silent, but he came over to stand next to Kizu, the drawing still in his hand. "I knew the way I felt about the triptych was different from everybody else, and now that I see this preliminary drawing I know exactly what I was feeling. About what kind of Lord that Patron is to me-me as Jonah, as the Fireflies call me."

Ikuo was silent, sunk in thought. Kizu thought he caught a glimpse of a dangerous imbalance between the expression on Ikuo's face, all bones and dark skin, and the look in his unmoving eyes.

"I've gone any number of times to see the painting. After the press con- ference this morning, when you and Dr. Koga were talking, it worried me, so I went to see it again, and now I finally understand what it all means."

Ikuo drew his eyebrows together over his penetrating, still unmoving eyes. It was his habit, after examining what he wanted to say in his mind, to push aside any hesitation or doubts about whether his listeners would under- stand what he was getting at and just forge full steam ahead, speaking like some fanatic.

"Even after last night's incident I still believe Patron is a very special per- son. He's an extraordinary person, one who definitely journeys to the other side and has mystical experiences. I think that characteristic of his came out in a strange way last night. What happened last night was quite out of the ordinary.

"Even after he was no longer able to sink into a trance, he's continued to suffer as the mediator between the world and his own special God- whether a personified God or something else, I don't know. He's resigned to never escaping that role. What I find more extraordinary is how he made a fool of the God he had such an intimate relationship with and abandoned his followers. And now, without thoroughly reflecting on what he did, he's wel- coming back these hundreds of people.

"But what was even more of a shock for me was how crazed with fear he got, positive that these believers and onlookers are going to be burned to death. That's a human way of looking at things, but since I'm the one they've dubbed Jonah, I'm not expecting ordinary human behavior from him."

"Since I drew both of you in my painting," Kizu said, "you as Jonah, Patron with his wound as the Lord, I suppose I could be accused of having a hunch that your relationship with Patron would follow the lines of the book of Jonah, with Jonah being persuaded, in the end, by God. This has bothered me for a long while.

"When Morio and Patron went in the middle of the night to see the painting, Patron told me the person you're modeled after, according to Wolynski's book, never gives up protesting to God, ends up in despair, and leaps into the sea himself. When I heard this, I felt freed from the concerns I've had for so long. Your relationship with Patron might very well develop in a different direction from that of Jonah and the Lord in the book of Jonah.

Not that I had any idea what path this particular Lord would lead Jonah in… • • At any rate, Ikuo, you are a person who has led a consistent life. From day one you've been the Jonah who protests."

"I suppose you're right," Ikuo said, turning his face to the surface of the lake, glittering in the noon sun, and once more squinting his eyes shut in the brightness. "I felt the same thing about Patron last night. He's a person who's been consistent his whole life, and always will be. Even after the Somersault, he suffered because of a very human sense of integrity. I don't think calling what he experienced a descent into hell exaggerates the kind of suffering he endured. Still, he insisted on being consistent with what he had done in the Somersault. He never attempted a Somersault in reverse."

"And now you've given up hoping for Patron to be the mediator for you and the Almighty?" Kizu asked. "Though you're still quite young, you've lived your whole life seeking God-who will tell you, Go ahead and do it!- and the mediator between you and that voice. And now you've found that Patron isn't the one.

"Does this mean you'll wash your hands of him? That you'll return this Founder, overflowing with love for humanity, to his followers at this confer- ence, and make a clean break with him? Whatever your decision, I want you to know I'll follow you-wherever you go. If that's how things end up, though, with Patron curing my cancer I'd say I was overpaid for the triptych."

"No, I'm not planning to leave right now," Ikuo said. "After our struggle last night, Dr. Koga rushed over and gave Patron a shot to calm him down.

He was probably still feeling the aftereffects of this, but this morning before the press conference he called me over and asked me to exert still more effort to help him with the final event in our program, his sermon.

"He had called me Satan and worse, but he didn't take it back or apolo- gize. He had a new idea for the direction of his sermon, connecting up with the pageant on the cypress island we'd talked about last night. He told me he got the idea from a strangely realistic dream he had, and he'd like me to help him make it happen.

"Patron's going to deliver his sermon from the reviewing stand, and he wants to do this wearing a doll made to look like Guide. The other new dolls for the Spirit Festival he wants taken over to the island and burned up with the giant cypress. Guide's doll should be burned there too, so he wants an- other Guide doll, a much larger one, made for him to wear. His concept is to have himself wearing the same sort of thing as these dolls that are burned up in a requiem ceremony.

"I said I'd help him. As we speak, the Fireflies are out in the hot sun now working on the island, constructing a wooden frame in front of which we'll stand the doll of Guide and a microphone, the same way Patron will be standing in front of a microphone, and placing several kerosene tanks among the cypress leaves.

"They're putting everything they have into the job. Since it'll be a pub- lic demonstration, a continuation of last night's Fireflies procession, I'll make sure they do a great job."

A beat or two of silence ensued. Then Ikuo turned his back to the bright window. For the first time in quite a while his expression was gentle, even bashful, as he said, "How about a shower? I'm all sweaty from last night and I'd like to take one myself. Let's take the afternoon off, in preparation for tomorrow. Pretty soon we're not going to have much to do with them any- more, so let's skip the party at the Farm tonight and leave everything up to the Technicians and the Quiet Women."

1

On Sunday morning the green leaves of the trees and the summer grasses sparkled in the strong fresh sunlight, and clouds reflected whitely on the sur- face of the lake. Ogi was out with some young workmen sent over by a local company that had contracted to build additional temporary toilets, trying to decide where to locate them. From their experiences on Friday, the night of the Fireflies procession, it was clear that the portable toilets provided by Mr. Soda weren't enough. So they set out to dig out holes in six spots around the grounds that would then have a wooden framework built around them- knowing they had to finish in time for tonight's meeting.

They selected a relatively flat spot, on the mountain side of the path through the grandstands that circled the lake, and set to work. Once the con- ference was over they'd wait until the ground at the bottom of the holes had absorbed all the liquid before filling them in. The holes the motorized shov- els scooped out were deeper than Ogi had imagined. Once they'd decided on the locations and work had begun, Ogi was left with little to do. As the shovels continued their loud clang, he walked down the path from east to north, to the point closest to the island with the giant cypress in the middle of the lake.

The branches of the giant cypress had been trimmed back to a height of about twenty feet. The lopped-off larger branches and the smaller ones with green still on them were piled up on a two-tiered wooden frame surround- ing the trunk-the middle of both the upper and lower tiers left empty for the dolls to be added-and leaned up against the lower tier. Along with the stack of firewood in the island meadow, this was enough to make a spectacu- lar firestorm.

The entire structure was like some sturdy square building. Even if kero- sene was poured on and lighted, it wouldn't collapse to one side but would end up a huge bonfire, safe for all spectators to enjoy.

Another wooden frame was set up apart from the one around the cypress but of the same height, made up of two or three logs with speakers set on top.

Beside it lay a sturdy bamboo ladder, the kind used by lumberjacks, to be used later to place the dolls that were going to be burned on top of the wooden frame.

Sensing someone behind him, Ogi turned around to find Gii, his sun- tanned face looking much older now, leaning against the tiny light-green leaves of a maple and watching him. Gii said, unhurriedly, "Yonah's going around this morning, talking to everyone to make sure everything's set for the evening meeting. He'd like you to go with him; he's already settled the matter with Dancer."

"Right this moment?" Ogi asked.

"My truck is in the little park beyond the parking lot."

They turned back to the east shore, greeting the young workmen they passed, and walked down the aisle, a little shoddily laid out, below the chapel and the monastery. Unconcerned about all the trampled-down spots on the path's shoulders, Gii strode on.

"Where did he say we're going to talk?" Ogi asked.

"We'll be meeting the first group, representatives of the Quiet Women, in the hills. After the party last night, some of their friends stayed at the mon- astery, and we can't very well make them leave so early in the morning. The women will drive over in Yonah's car."

"You drove over here, right? So I'll drive from here. The prefectura! police haven't shown up yet, have they?"

"They don't view the church as dangerous enough to warrant sending the riot police here this early."

As Gii had said, there weren't any other cars at the little park. Despite Ogi's insistence, though, he didn't make any move to hand over the keys. Ogi caught a glimpse of a doll wrapped in cloth bags in the loaded truck bed.

"I'd heard about these dolls, but the ones used in the Spirit Procession are really big, aren't they?" Ogi asked.

"The one in back was made to Patron's special order; Mayumi had to stay up all night to do it. It's the Spirit of Guide. She said it wasn't so hard since she'd already made one, though the larger size did cause her a little trouble."

They drove down the Shikoku highway bypass, down to where the older district road leveled out, and crossed the bridge over the Kame River, the water sparkling below.

"We're going to drive up to a piece of worthless meadow my mother inherited," Gii explained, "at the intersection of two logging roads. One road goes up past the entrance to the Farm; the one we're going to climb goes past the junior high."

As the truck turned the corner and entered the glen, a woman teacher from the junior high, out sweeping the decorative shrubbery in front of the school, looked up in surprise at Gii, driving without a license. For his part, Gii remained totally cool and collected.

He parked the truck at the base of a red pine tree, branches trimmed back to quite high up, the greenery near the top shining in the brilliant sky.

A red Ford Mustang was parked in front of a clearing leading to another log- ging road. As Ogi stepped down the narrow path down the short slope, clutch- ing at branches to steady himself, Gii said to him, "Better not touch the wax trees. He Who Destroys planted wax trees from here up to the ridge to use as raw material for the Fireflies' candles. Do you suppose he really planted them so he could pour hot oil over his enemies?"

At an unexpectedly steep slope where they could look down at the vil- lages and the river in the bottom of the valley, there was a square meadow jutting out like a stage. Ikuo was standing there, talking with three of the Quiet Women.

To the left below them was a sparse stand of red pines, a path cutting through it that went down to where they could see-through a large bam- boo grove just before the path went uphill again-half of the lake in the Hollow and the Plexiglas skylights on the roof of the chapel reflecting the sun- light. In the midst of this wonderfully placid scenery, the bypass to the cross- Shikoku highway cut through a mountain one hill over. The whole scene was so bucolic it made Ogi want to tell Gii that he understood the feelings of the Fireflies, ready to fight to defend the legends of their land.

Before he could say anything, though, Ikuo saw the two of them approach and abruptly waved Gii off.

"Go guard the car," he told him abruptly. "The key's in it, so if a truck comes and wants to pass, move it so he can!"

Ikuo led Ogi and the three women over to an old tree in the west cor- ner of the meadow, bursting with dark green berries hanging down on long stems. There was a place constructed out of thick logs where they could sit.

Ogi found Mrs. Shigeno and Ms. Takada, whom he hadn't seen in a while, full of the same sense of incongruity he'd felt yesterday morning in Ms. Oyama, who rounded out the threesome. Their skin was equally pale and lusterless, but what was even more noticeable was the clumsy, amateurish way the Quiet Women had done up their hair. The hair behind their ears and at the napes of their necks was newly shorn. What's more, a dark, solemn shadow had fallen over their expressions.

As the three sat side by side on the log seat, with the river on their right, Mrs. Shigeno, at the end, looked up at the small orange-red berries on the branch above her and said, "Whenever I see this many berries it always makes me think of when the Chinese matrimony-vine wine we used to make was ready to drink. But that doesn't move me anymore. My interest in trees and plants is entirely practical."

Ogi was the only one who responded to this by gazing up at the thin stalks of the matrimony vine and its bell-like berries. He realized that her statement was merely a prelude leading up to the main theme of their talk.

"Ogi is helping Professor Kizu write a history of Patron's church, and I want him to witness all the decisions that are made and the events that take place," Ikuo said, as if making sure the Quiet Women understood. "I'll be talking with the Technicians next, and he'll be accompanying me there as well… Ogi, I'd like you to remember that the Quiet Women were follow- ers of Patron years before we first came across him. As junior members, then, you and I have to do whatever we can to help them, no matter what they ask of us. They're not looking for our input, and it would be out of line to object to anything they say. Okay, this being said, we'd like to hear what sort of program the Quiet Women propose."

"Do you understand, Ogi-kun?" Ms. Oyama said. "Ikuo's told us you're the church's chronicler, but we're the ones responsible for the events you'll chronicle. Before Patron's sermon, after seven P. M., we'd like to have the whole chapel set aside for us to use. At yesterday's press conference there were people who said that was unfair, but I'd like you to give your word one more time that you won't say anything. In terms of time, this should overlap with part two of the Spirit Procession.

"I'm sure there'll still be people who want to come see Professor Kizu's triptych or who'll want to take refuge inside the chapel to listen to Patron's sermon without all the bugs flying around them. Our old friends might in- sist on coming inside. Despite this, just before seven P. M. the Quiet Women will enter the chapel and barricade it from inside. The Technicians will be outside, standing guard."

Before Ogi could say a thing, Ms. Takada, who ever since moving to this area no longer seemed bothered by having only one eye, and who was in charge of business affairs for the Quiet Women, spoke in a calm, composed voice.

"At that time, blessed by Patron's sermon, we will ascend to heaven. In the sacred ground of the church, listening to Morio's music, the Quiet Women will pass away."

Aghast, Ogi turned around to look at Ikuo. His rough-hewn, brawny face stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged. Only Ogi's heart was pounding, his face flushed. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out the cicadas screeching all around them. Mrs. Shigeno tried to explain things further.

"After Guide passed away, Patron announced that he would be return- ing to his religious activities. At that point we took this to mean that he was laying the preparations for ascending to heaven. That's why we had our chil- dren sing 'Hallelujah!'-to praise Patron's decision. We were so happy he allowed us to move here right away, thinking he was giving us the go-ahead sign. After moving here and getting to know Ms. Tachibana and Morio bet- ter, our resolve is firmer than ever.

"As it turned out, though, we were leaping to conclusions. The confron- tation two days ago between Patron and Ikuo convinced us of this. Patron was afraid that more than a thousand people would be burned to death. He was going to make an announcement over the speakers to tell everyone to flee, but Ikuo stopped him. It was like he was insane. We think he was merely afraid.

"When we heard this news, we thought Hallelujah! as a scene flashed through our minds of seven hundred believers all passing up to heaven along with Patron in this glorious holy place. But Patron was afraid. He lost con- sciousness and had to be comforted by someone of limited intelligence. When we heard this, we decided we'd have to do things our way.

"The Passion in this holy land that seven hundred couldn't realize we've decided to carry out with twenty-five. Wasn't the illusion Patron had-that the Fireflies were about to burn to death a thousand people, curious onlook- ers included-something that bubbled up out of his dread, out of the depths of his very being? If Guide were alive I know he'd correct Patron's mistake.

But the only way we can correct him-and educate him-is by taking action."

Mrs. Shigeno's confident tone quickly drew Ogi's imagination away from the three women seated in front of him to a place, some ten hours later, where he was dealing with the dead bodies of all the Quiet Women. Strangely enough, this made him picture, quite intimately, the face of Mrs. Tsugane, her features, perhaps because of her age, sharply outlined, as she arranged a tryst between them deep in the woods of this very same north slope. Ogi sought refuge in the scent of her living body, so very different from the smell of death.

As he thought all this, Mrs. Takada, totally indifferent to the smooth skin covering the spot where her right eye should be, said, "I've had this for quite a long time." She pulled out a thick glass bottle, four inches high, from a paper bag. "They told me it's enough cyanide to kill fifty people. I'll divide it into twenty-five portions. Dr. Koga would help me, don't you think?"

Ogi flinched from the proffered bag, but Ikuo stretched out a long manly arm and snatched it up.

Ogi, feeling helpless and alone, couldn't stay quiet any longer. "People call me an innocent youth, and I'm not sure but what you're pulling my leg here, but why do all of you have to pass away? Can you imagine the impact it's going to have if all the Quiet Women commit mass suicide right when Patron's about to launch his new church?"

Ikuo and the three Quiet Women all looked disgusted. Even so, Mrs.

Shigeno tried to respond.

"I'm getting on in years and I want to settle things while I'm still in my right mind, while my body still is able to function. I'm not speaking for all the Quiet Women, though… To put it in a more general way, don't you feel that the world is fast falling apart? In twenty years it will be even worse, and everyone then will have to consider the problems I'm thinking about now.

When you picture this, you realize that the coming end time will be just like Patron used to preach about before the Somersault. What we're going to do is revive the message of Patron's old sermons and pass away first.

"From the bottom of our hearts, we wish Patron well in establishing his Church of the New Man. Some of the media reported that after he and Guide left the church we lost all hope and Patron feared we would commit mass suicide. So he made statements making fun of our belief, saying it was ridicu- lous, so we no longer seriously considered dying. That was his plan all along, the articles said.

"When we read these articles we couldn't believe them. It was just too simplistic. We were outraged, because if what they said was true, it was an insult to the Quiet Women. But after what just took place, we've had to re- think our position. Patron didn't calculate anything. He was simply afraid…??

This time we're going to take the initiative and pass away. After that, if Patron makes another calculated Somersault, it won't have any meaning."

Ogi was at a loss for words. He felt hopelessly naive and impotent. He told himself over and over he couldn't cry in front of Ms. Takada, with her pale smooth skin over one eye.

Giving Ogi's shoulder an almost cruelly strong thump, Ikuo addressed the three women. "The sun's getting a little hot, and I think we're about fin- ished here, so we'd better be getting along. Please excuse Ogi for not keeping his promise about not interrupting. As everyone says, he's terribly innocent… Please take Gii's car back to the Hollow. I'm going to go with Ogi to the Farm.

Don't worry, he won't break your trust anymore."

"At last night's party, backstage, we settled things with Mr. Hanawa,"

Ms. Oyama said. "If they were really to oppose us, our occupation of the chapel wouldn't last very long."

Mrs. Shigeno turned to Ogi, who was flushed and completely unnerved by what he'd heard. "Trying to get in touch with the police would be even more futile," she warned. "We've given a lot of thought to the arrangements for our ascent and have come up with several possible scenarios. If you try to do something, first of all Ikuo will stop you. But even if you get through to the police and they show up, we'll just hole up in the chapel that much ear- lier, with the Technicians standing guard. If there isn't time for the poison to work, the windows in the chapel are just the right height for hanging. There are footstools in the chapel already, and we've laid in a stock of rope."

2

Many cars were parked inside and outside the Farm, cars not left over from the party the previous night. Three RVs were parked in the meadow opposite the entrance, all with curtains drawn. Activity had begun at the Farm, with nothing left over from the party. Some young people in the open space in front of the buildings were cleaning up, others were transporting mountains of garbage bags, while still others were removing the party deco- rations from the roof and side walls of the barn. Technicians were super- vising each of these groups. Visitors were walking around, looking at the meat-processing plant from outside, checking the enlargements being made to the chicken coops.

Before Ikuo and Ogi could get out of their car, a young Firefly whose face Ogi remembered came over, eager to carry out his assigned duties.

"Mr. Hanawa is working behind the warehouse," he said, "and told me to tell you to meet him over there." On the north side of the grassy meadow, where all sorts of activities were going on, stood a food manufacturing facil- ity, but Ikuo and Ogi walked on the west side, which was deserted except for two large warehouses, and continued down a narrow path between them, coming out to a spot like a garden in a mountain retreat between a quiet grove of oaks and beeches. One could sense the calm life of the person living there.

On the north side stood an old two-story western-style house, which was where Satchan, the farm's owner, lived. The well-tended land sloped gently clown from west to south to a woods with evergreen oaks, and in the midst of the dark foliage they could see the roof of the house where Gii and Mayumi lived.

Below the eaves of the house was a pile of thick pine logs, each about twenty inches in diameter. On their near side, Mr. Hanawa was working. Wording might not be the right word for it, for there was a calm about him as he squat- ted there, as if it was his habit to be lost in quiet contemplation. From the slope there was a line of thick birches and oaks as a windbreak. The foliage of the trees, higher than the roof of the house, cut off the sunlight, making a cozy little spot just perfect for Mr. Hanawa to do simple tasks and to meditate.

Before Ikuo and Ogi approached him, Mr. Hanawa stood up, holding a wooden-handled tool with a metal Y at the end. At his feet in their canvas shoes, long stumps of finger-width-size roots lay scattered.

"A motorized weed cutter would make short work of these. Mountain azaleas put out buds again before you know it," Mr. Hanawa said, explain- ing what he was doing. "Yesterday and today we have guests staying at the Technicians' office, so let's talk here." He threw Ogi a look.

"I want Ogi to know everything that's going on," Ikuo explained. "The Quiet Women are on track with their plans, though they may occupy the chapel a little earlier than planned. If they have to do that it'll be a bit trouble- some to kick out any visitors who might happen to be there."

"If the police find out we'll have to mobilize the Technicians,"

Mr. Hanawa said. "The Fireflies will have their hands full with the Spirit Festival."

At this point Ogi couldn't help but break his promise again. Standing beside Ikuo, who was so businesslike, Ogi said, his emotions bare, "The Tech- nicians aren't going to intervene in what the Quiet Women are planning to do? "

Mr. Hanawa clearly shrank back from Ogi's words, but Ogi didn't flinch. He waited, making it clear he wanted an answer. Finally Mr. Hanawa settled down enough to respond.

"I never really knew the Quiet Women until we moved here," he said, "but during these past ten years aren't they the ones who're most exhausted by it all? Even if we try to prevent them by force, I think eventually they're going to do what they want to do, so they might as well carry out their plan at the same time as the inaugural sermon announcing the Church of the New Man. It's ideal timing for them. Who are we to mess it up?

"With the Church of the New Man as our base, we Technicians plan to reconsider what we tried to do in Izu. Patron and Guide's Somersault made those earlier plans fizzle out, but we don't think we should simply abandon the idea of a millennial kingdom to follow or our plan to bring the Japanese people to repentance. Patron has his Church of the New Man, and likewise we have our plans that we've reworked over the past ten years. Their Somer- sault gave us time to let these ideas mature. Since we've faced these issues head- on, we want to respect the freedom of the Quiet Women to take whatever actions they've thought long and hard about, so we're going to help fulfill the atonement of these twenty-five women."

"You idiot!"

Groaning this out, Ogi lunged at Mr. Hanawa, who, with his free arm- careful not to touch Ogi with the metal-tipped tool he held-lunged back and blocked him.

"Hear me out," Mr. Hanawa said, not at all out of breath. "At the time of the Somersault we were going to blow a nuclear power plant to king- dom come, and we didn't mind passing away in the process. Why should we cling to this degenerate world? But we couldn't just abandon the plan for a millennial kingdom of repentance. So we were exposed to ridicule.

"This shows how innocent we are, perhaps, but we believed that our decision and Patron's plans deep down had something in common. Once we had that troubled meeting with Guide, though, our illusions vanished. The only option left for us was to lead the Church of the New Man as a starting point for our reign of repentance. We're going to have Professor Kizu paint a fourth panel depicting the atonement of the Quiet Women."

This time Ogi lunged at Mr. Hanawa without a word. Never having fought anyone before, he missed, punching the air, while his exposed neck was slammed with a cudgel-like fist and he collapsed to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, his saw Mr. Hanawa's canvas shoes moving right in front of his eyes. He hunched his neck to avoid the kick he thought was coming, but the boot tips were merely poking at what looked like an in- laid bat in the short cut grass. Once he realized that dark object was a neatly cut stump, Ogi staggered to his feet.

Rubbing his upper right arm, Ikuo calmly assessed the situation. "An- other promise down the drain… Mr. Hanawa, we're going to go speak with Patron. That's the only way Ogi will be convinced, don't you think? I'll have the Fireflies report in detail on the Quiet Women's movement up until they enter the chapel. Thanks in advance for your help.

"Before we see Patron, though, there's something the Quiet Women asked me to do," Ikuo said to Ogi. "First we'll stop by Dr. Koga's clinic. He's working independently here, though of course he's originally a colleague of the Izu research guys, and I know he keeps in close touch with Mr. Hanawa, not to mention the Quiet Women. So no more going out on your own and breaking your promise, okay?"

The reception area in the clinic was empty. Dr. Koga was sitting alone in front of a desk in an examination room, the one with Kizu's watercolor.

He watched Ikuo come in with his paper bag and then frowned when he saw Ogi bringing up the rear. Hesitantly he said, "Mrs. Shigeno called me."

"Ogi knows what the situation is," Ikuo began. "I came over to leave this with you. Ogi is opposed to the Quiet Women's decision, and opposed to having the Technicians guard them, but he's not going to be scheming to outmaneuver them or anything. Could you take a look at his head?"

Ogi was once more aware of the pain in the back of his head, but he remained seated. Dr. Koga came over to look at him from behind and touched the tender part.

"This is pretty bad. Hit by a fist, were you? You have an abrasion."

Ogi had thought he'd been sweating, but it was blood dripping down.

Dr. Koga brushed aside Ogi's hand as he reached out to touch his head, and after applying pressure for a time he took the bottle Ikuo had given him and disappeared into the deserted pharmacy.

Dr. Koga came back with some antiseptic and treated Ogi's wound; then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked Ikuo to show him his right hand. Ikuo ignored him.

"Do you really think this is for the best?" Ogi persisted, but he was so upset he choked up and couldn't go on.

"The Quiet Women have given it a lot of thought," Dr. Koga replied, sitting down at his desk again. "The Technicians have had some bitter expe- riences these past ten years too, but I'm not about to make any presumptuous remarks. Don't you think we should respect the intentions of people who de- serve our sympathy? What should the Technicians do? If the Quiet Women ask them to stand guard, that's all they can do… When all's said and done, I'm going to stick with whatever Ikuo's planned. This isn't just some spur- of-the-moment idea, mind you. Not that the Technicians would allow me to act on my own, anyway."

"I don't know the legalities of it, but can't you be charged with aiding and abetting a suicide?" Ogi asked.

"With these women putting their lives on the line, would that really be such a big deal?" Dr. Koga asked. "Ikuo, haven't you talked with our inno- cent youth here about the other path?"

Ikuo turned to Dr. Koga and let his large head slump forward. When he spoke, he seemed to be feeling his way through what he wanted to say.

"I don't think I have the right to express any misgivings about what these church veterans-both the Quiet Women and the Technicians-are plan- ning," Ikuo said. "The same holds true for Dr. Koga. But I do still believe that what Patron decides is even more important. If there's another option based on what Patron wants, I'd hope we can get the Quiet Women to switch over to it in time. I'll be the one who does that-with your help, of course, doctor. As for you, Ogi, I'd like you to watch from the sidelines. There's no need to explain every detail."

"That's exactly right, Ogi," Dr. Koga said. "I'll bring over the package at exactly noon, Ikuo… And whatever you do, don't mix up the two bags."

Ogi noticed that the way Dr. Koga carried himself, his expression, and the tremor in his voice were all something new. Ogi also caught a whiff of distilled spirits. On Dr. Koga's desk he saw a flask and an empty glass. Ikuo stood up. Ignoring this, Dr. Koga reached out for the flask. Standing up him- self, Ogi couldn't help but say something.

"The Quiet Women say that they've seen now what a coward Patron is.

If that's true, why don't they just leave and go back to their children? If they feel they've seen through him, why in the world do they feel they have to take poison? What good will that possibly do?"

"What's important for them isn't Patron's character but his being,"

Dr. Koga said enigmatically. "Though I'm sure there are still some women in the Kansai headquarters who don't think that way."

3

As Ogi sat next to Ikuo as they drove off toward the Hollow, the sky, which had been clear all morning, suddenly grew overcast. With one part of the Spirit Festival scheduled for that afternoon, the road going down to the Hollow from the Shikoku highway bypass was already crowded. Ikuo chose the road that went up below the Mansion. The cloudy sky looked ominous, and the road below the pass, covered with its thick canopy of overgrown branches of evergreen oaks and beeches, was gloomy and dusky. Finally, heavy raindrops began to fall.

Headlights were coming down toward them, but they couldn't very well pull off to let the vehicle pass with the shoulder on the river side so obviously uncertain. The lights turned out to be those of a truck that had gone to dump some of the garbage containers hastily set up below the dam. Ikuo docilely reversed the car. After backing up for a long while, he stopped against an old horse chestnut tree to let the truck pass. The driver, a town employee Ikuo knew, had his window rolled down despite the rain, and he shouted out to Ikuo that another truck was following him, so Ogi and Ikuo waited under the shadows of the large branches.

"You're pretty deeply involved with the Quiet Women and with the Technicians now, aren't you?"

When Ogi said this, Ikuo made an unexpected face. "Even though I was told not to," he replied slowly.

"But even if you hadn't gotten involved, you can't say the Quiet Women wouldn't have gotten that idea in their heads or that the Technicians wouldn't have helped out, for whatever ulterior motives they might have. All I'm say- ing is that you got deeply involved with them."

Ikuo was quiet for a while, before responding patiently. "I was inter- ested in the Technicians from the first," he said. "I did have a very strong im- pression of the Quiet Women, though, from when Professor Kizu and I visited their commune and saw how pious they are. I developed a close relationship with them because that's what Dancer told me to do. It wasn't some office consensus but more Dancer's own idea. I realize now she was right to do this; she'd foreseen danger for Patron in opening a new church here, so she or- dered me to get a handle on the two groups. Dancer's top priority is and al- ways will be Patron's safety. That's just the way she is."

A second identical light truck came down the slope toward them, gave them a wave, and passed by. Ikuo pulled their car out from under the shelter of the horse chestnut tree and drove off uphill in the blinding rain. When they arrived at the square below the dam they found conference participants cross- ing over on flagstones since the ground had been flooded by water that ran from the lake and overflowed the watercourse. Some people had small um- brellas, but the majority just held plastic sheets or cardboard boxes over their heads. Everything was finished at the red and green tents, so these people were making their way to the chapel.

Gii, who apparently had been waiting for them all the while in the park- ing lot in front of the tents, ran over with two umbrellas. Dressed in a rain- coat and rain hat, he was oblivious to the downpour, and as he walked beside Ikuo he reported that the Spirit Festival would go on as planned. No prob- lem, he said, summer-morning rains blow over soon, and since Ikuo looked doubtful he reassured him that in this region that was indeed the way it was.

Gii managed expertly to protect Ikuo and Ogi from the crowds of people in front of the dining hall, and they soon arrived at Patron's residence, where some of the Fireflies were standing watch. Gii wanted to go inside with them, but Ikuo asked him to take a message to Ms. Oyama to the effect that Dr. Koga would do what they had asked and would deliver at twelve; showing no re- gret at not going with them, Gii retraced his steps.

The temperature had dropped quickly because of the rain, but when she opened the front door Ms. Tachibana's hair was plastered to her pale fore- head. The house had been shut up tight and was humid with a close lived-in odor.

Since the incidents two nights ago, Patron was holed up in his bedroom on the southwest side, unchanged from when Ikuo had been summoned to see him the day before. Ms. Tachibana showed them into the shadowy room, where they were met by an even more musky animal smell.

Patron was lying in bed. He sat up and opened the curtain on the south- ern window. Light spilled into the bedroom through the rain-swept foliage of the oaks outside. Morio was curled up like a dog at the foot of the bed and didn't acknowledge the newcomers. A sense of the dark confinement he'd shared with Patron still clung to him.

Ikuo sat down in the low-backed armchair brought from Patron's Tokyo home, while Ogi sat down in a straight-back wooden chair and faced Patron, whose cheeks were sunken.

"Late last night after the party, Dancer stopped by and told me about the Quiet Women's plans," Patron said in a low voice. "This morning Ikuo was to hear their final intentions and make certain of the Technicians' re- sponse. There's been no change. Am I correct?"

"Yes, that's right," Ikuo replied.

"Ever since I announced at the memorial service for Guide that I would be restarting the church, and I decided to allow the Quiet Women and the Technicians to join first, Dancer has had her doubts. If after they returned to the fold the Quiet Woman and the Technicians recognized the Somersault- and recognized the new church as developing out of the Somersault, rather than out of a denial of it-these groups would be powerful allies to have. But that's not the case, she said. We moved here to Shikoku with all that still up in the air. So I entrusted you, Ikuo, with the task of getting to know both groups better and trying to discover what's really going on with them."

Patron's speech was getting noticeably slower.

"That's right," Ikuo said. "My two responsibilities since coming here have been that and supervising the Farm. Meeting the Fireflies, admittedly, led to other activities."

"Knowing now what the Quiet Women are planning plus the fact that the Technicians will be indirectly helping out, I can see that Dancer was right to be suspicious," Patron said. "The Quiet Women and the Techni- cians immediately denied the Somersault that Guide and I did, and nothing's changed. They haven't altered their stance in ten years. Dancer tells me that at the meeting where I'll announce the launching of our Church of the New Man, they're planning to take me captive and act as if the Somer- sault had never taken place.

"After the Quiet Women have made sure that the Somersault has been canceled, they plan to pass on joyously. They'll be the martyrs who saved the church, and a great Hallelujah! will ring out. And the Technicians, bearing the atonement of these twenty-five saintly women, will take over the church and run it the way they have always wanted.

"If that happens, it doesn't really matter whether I truly canceled the Somersault or not, does it? All they have to do is take care of me until the day I die. Our summer conference would then be remembered as the time when Patron canceled the Somersault and the Quiet Women ascended to heaven and became divine. Dancer told me she could already sense this at the party at the Farm. Is that a good summary?"

"Gii told me he felt that too," Ikuo said. "As far as the order of events is concerned, it wouldn't really matter if you deny the Somersault after the Quiet Women passed on, would it? Applauding the atonement of the Quiet Women, God would-Hallelujah!-forgive you for making a fool of him.

"Before they pass on tonight, the Quiet Women are praying that they can atone in your place for what you did. They're also praying that you're repentant after having fallen with Guide into hell and after Guide had to atone with his death. They're cleansing your image so you can be an appropriate leader for the new church. They've already typed up a prayer on a word pro- cessor and prepared a thousand copies. It's a direct prayer to God but also an appeal to their former colleagues in the church and an announcement aimed at the media. To the Quiet Women you are no longer the Patron who medi- ates between man and God. They're trying to reestablish the bond between you, repentant, and God.

"In their discussions so far, the Technicians recognize how inscrutably adroit you were in doing the Somersault. They're optimistic that after you hear about the Quiet Women passing on you'll deliver a sermon responding to that and cancel the Somersault once and for all."

The window started to get lighter. The leaves were still dripping, but the rain had let up.

Patron closed his eyes and lay back down, while Morio, who was awake all this time, didn't move a muscle. Ogi felt sorry for both of them. But Patron's words after a long silence didn't reflect any of these empathetic feelings.

"Dancer feels very strongly that this is beyond her," he said. "I'm afraid I've dragged her into some foolish things. And you too, Ogi. I imagine that the church from now on won't be the same Church of the New Man that I was hoping to make with you two. When you leave the Hollow, Ogi, I'd like you to take Dancer with you."

It bothered Ogi that Patron hadn't mentioned Ikuo, but Ikuo didn't respond to this. Instead, he spoke of other things, his tone changed.

"Friday night convinced me that the popular interpretation of the Som- ersault in the media was absolutely correct," Ikuo said. "In other words, you feared the mass suicide of your followers, so you took humane steps to pre- vent it. But if the Quiet Women commit mass suicide now, that will just add insult to injury. So I'm going to make sure that not only will their plan fall through but also they'll be so sick they'll give up any alternate ideas too. I've got it all set to go.

"Dr. Koga will be helping me, but I don't think I'm making him feel he's a traitor to his fellow Technicians. I have two plans, Plan A and Plan B. Which of the two it'll be is up to me, not Dr. Koga. While the Quiet Women are recovering, I'll put one of those plans into effect. All you need to do is persuade people in a humane way. Once the Quiet Women aban- don their mass suicide of atonement, I suspect the radical elements of the Technicians will be so deflated they'll leave. Then the followers reunited at this conference will support your humane church, with the Quiet Women, who've given up on passing away, at the center.

"In order for all this to happen, you'll need to use the sermon today to set the direction you'll be going in. Emphasize this humane approach. The name of the church, Church of the New Man, should help."

"This Plan A and Plan B you mentioned, let's say what you do tonight is Plan A. Well, what is it?" Patron asked, sitting up in bed. Morio sat up too and gazed at Ikuo with the same expression on his face as Patron.

"It's as much of a farce as your Somersault. Dr. Koga's going to give me twenty-five doses of a powerful laxative."

At this Ogi couldn't help but let out a high-pitched giggle.

"Dr. Koga will also prepare twenty-five doses of a second kind, as part of these two plans. There's no toilet in the chapel, so they'll have to break their siege. But after they've had such terrible diarrhea, they won't have the strength left to climb high enough to hang themselves, will they?"

Patron and Morio both looked as if they loathed the faint smile that played around Ikuo's now-silent lips. But this didn't bother Ikuo. He turned his gaze first to Patron, then Morio, and finally to Ogi-who was holding his tongue after his previous slipup-as if appraising their reactions one by one.

"I'd like you to make sure that plan succeeds without fail," Patron said.

"On your way out, would you ask Dancer to come in here? If Ogi takes her place, I think she can leave the office for a while."

"I'm going to let Ogi go for the clay," Ikuo said. "Even if he were to go back to the office, we're not expecting any important calls today, so I think it's okay for him to sneak off for some R and R with his friend."

Once more Ogi was flabbergasted.

"There's something else I'd like Dancer to tell you," Patron said, in undisguised disgust for Ikuo. "She's the one-not Professor Kizu-who has the greatest influence on you now."

4

Late in the afternoon-in another little innocent tale-Ogi, thinking he might as well go along with what Ikuo suggested, vanished for a while, and then, after he got back, received a proposal from Ms. Tachibana, who'd been awaiting his return. She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't be able to take Morio to hear Patron's sermon in the special seating set up between the grandstands and the area below the monastery.

The music played for Part One of the Spirit Festival was captivating, with its exaggerated changes of rhythm, but there'd been some capricious disparities that Morio, with his sensitive ears, couldn't stand. (During Part One of the Spirit Festival, innocent young Ogi, too, had heard the music loud and clear as he and Mrs. Tsugane were trysting deep in the forest.) Ever since the incident, two days ago, Morio had been upset and didn't seem able to re- cover. Ms. Tachibana said that during Part Two of the Spirit Festival she was going to make him lie down in Patron's bedroom, ear plugs in place. Right after Part Two was finished. Patron would begin his sermon, but by that time it would be impossible lor them to push their way through the dense crowds to get to their reserved seats.

Even after the rain cleared up it still wasn't very hot, and the evening was pleasant. Just before Part Two of the Spirit Festival was to begin, Asa-san and her husband, the former junior high principal, had planted themselves in the special roped-off seating, where Ms. Tachibana and Morio would normally be, and the principal was explaining to Ogi about the music used in the Spirit Festival. The rhythm was the same you'd find in boat dances in fishing vil- lages along the Shikoku coast and on the islands of the Inland Sea, he said, which lent credence to the legend that the pioneers who settled this land had rebuilt the boats that used to sail down the Maki and Kame rivers to the sea and used them to sail upstream.

Since he'd left the office untended during his afternoon R and R, Ogi was busy until Part Two of the Spirit Festival began. With the Quiet Women using the chapel exclusively after 7 P.M. on this, the last day of the conference, he was inundated with one complaint after another.

The conference participants were planning to enjoy watching Part Two of the Spirit Festival from the seats set up on the path that circled the lake and then listen to Patron's sermon. After that, some of them complained, shouldn't all the believers be given equal access to the chapel for prayer?

Another complaint came from a group that had been lined up in the court- yard, talking and waiting their turn to view the triptych, when the Techni- cians roughly pushed ahead of them.

Ogi also had to listen to one well-intentioned report. When Mr. Matsuo of the Fushoku temple heard that Ogi hadn't seen Part One of the Spirit Festival, he described the whole thing to him from start to finish. Mr. Matsuo was in charge of lending out dolls, costumes, and props to the participants from his own temple and the Mishima Shrine, and he'd observed every detail.

Just as the Fireflies procession had been changed to a course running through the forest surrounding the lake on three sides, the procession in Part One of the Spirit Festival that started at 3 P.M. was also a revised performance.

They took the path the Fireflies had run down from the western heights, cut across the northern slope to arrive at the eastern slope, and then came down the glen to arrive beside the chapel on the western slope. They then passed right in front of the spectators and went up to the dam. Once they'd climbed up to the grandstands, they descended again to the dam and the performance came to a conclusion, the participants disappearing off in the direction of the Mansion.

Those who'd dressed as Spirits were now waiting in the Mansion for Part Two to begin. The Fireflies transporting the good Spirits would, fol- lowing the legend, go clockwise up the forest. And the bad Spirits, again following the legend-since they were ominous souls who had met untimely deaths-would descend in counterclockwise fashion. The Fireflies who would be playing the Spirits had done their homework.

Mr. Matsuo went on to describe each of the Spirits in detail, in particu- lar the one called He Who Destroys, the person who first settled this area, and his woman companion, also a gigantic figure, named Oshikome. And the giant named Shirime-"Butthole Eye," literally-an ostracized figure who, as his named implied, had a single eye looking out from between his buttocks.

These were the Spirits handed down as myths, while the Spirits recorded in history included Meisuke-san, the one who led a peasant rebellion and was executed; a postwar woman in the village named Jin who, because of Okura disease, weighed 300 pounds; then Former Brother Gii; and last New Brother Gii, who founded the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. The papier-mâché dolls this year were particularly well made. The brand-new doll of Guide was especially impressive.

Part Two of the Spirit Festival began at 7 P.M., right after the Quiet Women, ignoring all the protests, locked themselves in the chapel. In the Hollow, the twilight forest was dark, the sky alone painfully bright.

As the procession set off from the Mansion, the rhythm started up that had pained Morio earlier-dan! dan-dan! dan! dan-dan! beat out on gongs and drums of different sizes-and as the musical part of the procession leading the way made its way up to the dam, the flutes, which had been out of sync, played in a lovely unison.

The musicians were dressed in ancient kagura court-musician costumes with headgear-green and yellow, red and silver-and coronets on their heads. Their feet, though, were in canvas shoes, and the faces of the boys looked familiar. When they got to the grandstands they went beside them, lined up in a crescent shape, and continued the performance.

Next, the Spirits came up the dam, each half again larger than life size.

Eye holes and breathing holes were cut out of the chest area of each of the papier-mâché dolls. Clothes were put on over this, and some of the dolls car- ried spears and swords. Mr. Matsuo didn't explain why, but Ogi could guess the stories behind them.

After a while the Spirits, which had appeared at the dam in groups of three, passed in front of the grandstands, each with a unique way of walking that was part of the performance, and came down to the reserved special seat- ing. Western-style boats and Japanese boats used in river fishing had come up beside the highest step, which was submerged in water, leading down from the dam. The Fireflies reached out to steady the boats, as the Spirits climbed aboard, and then got in too, pushed off with poles from the dam, and rowed over to the island. Several bare lightbulbs were lit around the giant cypress, which was surrounded by its wooden frame, but they weren't enough to illu- minate the tree. In the midst of that dim light the Spirits took off their papier- mâché coverings. Using the bamboo ladder, they carried up the papier-mâché and laid it on both sides of the upper and lower levels. The former Spirits, now young men in T-shirts and jeans, returned to the water's edge and were rowed back to the dam.

Now a gloomy pall settled over the events. The music filtering down from above the stands was growing monotonous and lonely and, even worse, boring. Finally, though, a papier-mâché figure of Guide appeared, remark- ably larger than any of the previous dolls, dressed in the clothes of a South- ern European farm woman, and a cheerful stir swept through the onlookers once more. This Spirit, gesticulating in an exaggerated manner, was rowed out alone to the island.

Right after this, a papier-mâché figure of Guide, somewhat smaller than the one on the island, appeared in the grandstands where the musical proces- sion had made its exit. Some of the Fireflies brought a microphone over to where that figure was standing. Another mike had been set up right in front of the papier-mâché figure standing in the middle of the top level of the wooden frame on the island. The Spirit of Guide at the grandstands lifted the microphone up to his chest and stepped forward. He thrust out his chest and the stir among the crowd quieted down.

It was quite an unexpected entrance, but the thousand or so people sur- rounding the Hollow quieted down. This was Patron, dressed up as Guide, about to begin his keynote sermon. Speakers on either side of the stands and on poles on the island carried Patron's voice to his rapt audience.

"It's been a long time since I've seen all of you," he began. "I imagine you former members of the church who've come from so far away will under- stand why I'm inside this doll made up to look like Guide to deliver my ser- mon. As I need not remind those who are from this region, this papier-mâché covering is called a shell in the valley. Wearing this shell to talk is in keeping with your legends… Whenever Guide related my visions, I was in a sense clothed in his body. The shell covering my spirit was his flesh. Now that I've been left behind by Guide, I'm trying to re-create the past, at least on the sur- face.

"I would like to speak with all of you about the Somersault. And I'll begin by talking about a young man who was the first one to evaluate the Somersault in a positive light. He's the model for Jonah in the triptych in the chapel I'm sure you've all seen. He's so perfect a person to serve as the model that the Fireflies, following Japanese pronunciation, have dubbed him Yonah.

"After Guide and I did our Somersault and left the church, many people discovered the place where we had taken refuge and came to ask us what the Somersault was all about-its present and future meaning. But only one per- son and one group understood it as an inescapable calling. The person was Yonah, and the group was the remnants of the Izu radical faction. This group was essentially negative toward the Somersault; Guide was killed by them in place of me. The reason I'd like to begin with Yonah, as I said, is because he viewed the Somersault in such A positive way.

"Before that, though, let me speak of the interrogation that group did of Guide. They questioned him, grilled him, and he answered-or at least he tried to. I couldn't share in his pain; I could only listen to the recording made of this kangaroo trial. But throughout it, Guide never once lied, I can guarantee that. And after a long interrogation, Guide was tortured to death.

"This evening Guide has joined the procession of Spirits-those who have died untimely deaths in the midst of this forest. We will burn up all the shells on the island so the Spirits can return again to the forest. The real shell of Guide's Spirit is exhibited there on the tower. The papier-mâché I'm wear- ing is thus nothing more than a shell of a shell.

"Guide, who died this untimely death, thus joins the procession of Spirits in this land where our Church of the New Man will be built. He was an ex- tremely responsible man, who even took responsibility when I made mistakes, and I know that whenever the Church of the New Man goes through trials he will be there to help us. I am grateful to the Fireflies for letting Guide's soul join the Spirit Festival. And I'd like to express my respect for them for having the sense to come up with the name Yonah."

Applause rang out from three sides of the lake. On the wooden scaf- folding on the cypress island, Guide's Spirit thrust out his papier-mâché chest. Once more the Guide doll at the grandstands lifted up the micro- phone, and the crowd became so quiet one could hear the cries of insects for a moment.

5

"Now, this young man who first viewed the Somersault in a positive way came to me, as you see him in the triptych in the chapel, as Yonah. In addition to what he's actually said to me, I have also imagined the appeal he's making to me silently. What he really wanted to ask me, I think, was whether I did the Somersault in order to be the kind of Lord who could rewrite the ending of the book of Jonah. Even if I wasn't that sort of Lord, he wanted me to know that I could be--I could rewrite the book of Jonah.

"Here I'd like to re-create what I imagine Yonah's words to be.

"Since you are a person who can communicate directly with God, he'd say, isn't it possible for you to become another Lord yourself? You're the person who made a fool out of God. Even after God decided against de- stroying the people, children, and cattle of Nineveh, you're the Lord who can raise his voice in protest! You're the Lord who can call not just on Nineveh but on the whole world, to repent as it faces the end time-the Lord who can defend the original calling.

"When I was a child, Yonah would continue, I heard the voice of God telling me to take action! And I obeyed this voice. But afterward I never heard the voice of God again. I suffered, thinking the reason must lie with me. But it was God who erased this call. Just like Jonah, I have the right to protest.

"Transmit this protest to God for me! If God still continues to cancel out his call, then I want you-as someone with the courage to make a fool of God-to give me your own special call. Tell me to take action!

"Because you had done a Somersault, when I met you I thought I'd finally met a person who could rewrite the ending of the Book of Jonah, something I've longed to do for such a long time. Let me and my friends stand by, awaiting your call.

"I think this was the young man's appeal to me as Yonah.

"Yonah knew that the Somersault Guide and I did was a decision we were forced into by the tense situation between the Izu radical faction and the authorities, and that carrying it out, we knew, would have great after- effects on church members throughout the country. Over the past ten years this has become public knowledge through reports in weekly magazines and other media. Yonah had to be aware of this.

"But Yonah saw a relationship with God in this very dilemma Guide and I found ourselves in. If Guide had shot back the following question to Yonah, this would only have created the grounds for Yonah to question us: "Yonah, Guide might have said, have you considered one other possibil- ity? That even before the Somersault neither Patron nor I ever believed in a tran- scendental being? Just like most Japanese! Still less did we believe in the possibility that we were mediating for God. That this whole setup of Patron's coming into direct contact with God through his trances and me relating the visions he had is nothing but a bunch of nonsense we made up ourselves?

"Yonah would be shocked at first on hearing this. No doubt, though, he would come back with his own fearless response. By your Somersault, he'd say, you made a fool of God, Patron. But can you make a fool of something that doesn't exist? The fact that you had no choice but to do the Somersault is inescap- able proof that God appeared to you. Patron acted as he did in front of the TV cameras at the time of the Somersault, but if you think he did it for the viewers, you're greatly mistaken. He did it for the sake of God, a God who is real.

"Yonah's positive questions have made me ponder things, and I now recognize that I made a fool of a God who is real though silent, a God who is definitely keeping watch on me. And because this is so, the descent into hell awaited me after the Somersault. If Guide and I really broke all connections with the other side through the Somersault, why in the world would we have to suffer in hell?

"What was it like to live as Patron? I'd like to review this very briefly for you. Through the trances-that I couldn't willfully produce or distance myself from-I had visions that became a part of me. That's how I spent the better part of my life. Still, though, if people ask me if I saw God's face or heard his voice, or ask me what the face and voice of God are like, I can't say.

"I was asked this once by a lady who helped pave the way for our move here. The former diplomat who spent his final years in the Hollow after retire- ment tried his hand at writing a science fiction story. The plot apparently involved a being from another universe that covered the planet like a weather system and sent out messages. When I was in the midst of a trance it was like this-as if I were a mushroom in the middle of a wind stream.

"Friends, after I moved into my residence here in the Hollow I've been scattering sunflower seeds under the eaves of the second floor. The nuthatches have taken over, chasing away all other little birds. They eat a few of the seeds right there and take some away to hide for later. While they're gathering their sunflower seeds they're quite bold, but just as they're about to fly away they do a complete about-face, screeching as if they've been overcome by fear.

"When I awoke from my trances, the kind of mutterings I spewed forth were just like the screeching of those birds. Guide was the one who made them intelligible. That's how I became a mediator for God's word. Guide devoted his life to it. Then came the Somersault. Yes, Guide and I were driven into a corner, put in a real fix by the radical faction. But did I have to go so far as to make a fool of the God I was intimate with? It's become clear to me as I've mulled over Yonah's questions that this was absolutely necessary. There was no other choice.

"By making a fool of God, Guide and I made a confession of faith. It's clear to me now that fear of our followers committing mass suicide was just an excuse. If that's all it was, there would have been other ways out.

"Using that image of God as expressing himself through the weather, Guide and I, like tiny mushrooms shaking in the wind, had to suffer. But by making a fool of God, the existence of this wind-stream God took on an even greater reality.

"Before Guide was murdered, when he and I were living in seclusion, I had a pitiful little dream about the future. Time would pass, I dreamed, and the world would forget about us, and just at that point my trances would re- turn. I would go over to the other side with a sense of nostalgia, I'd come back in a weakened state, and while I recovered Guide would explain what all my senseless mutterings meant. And weren't we, at this moment, even more deeply, even more really, just small mushrooms in the rush of wind that is the Lord?

"Before this could occur, though, Guide was killed. Truthfully, I only made up my mind to rebuild the church after this happened. With Guide gone, I announced the rebuilding of the church to all of you-for all the world like one of those little birds giving out a scared, flustered screech.

"But having done the Somersault, and now without Guide by my side, would I really be able to lead the church? It was Yonah who made me push aside my hesitancy. This was the calling I got from him, to be the one who made a fool of God, the one who, still protesting against him, could continue to be a mediator. After Guide was murdered, I was searching for a new Guide.

Professor Kizu, Morio, and our young Yonah himself may all have been new Guides. That being the case, the triptych in the chapel is the most suitable painting for our church.

"Well, I don't have much more time. I've told you my story up to this point, but the story from this point on will be told by all of you. Launching the new church means its can't just be a continuation of the same old story.

We need a story that's entirely new. The Quiet Women are hoping I'll do a backward Somersault. Yonah was anticipating a Somersault that went even farther forward, done by another Lord who would make a fool of God. But even if that weren't as boring as going backward, I wouldn't do it. Even if I were trying to pretend to be another Lord, the Sacred Wound in the painting has now vanished from my body. I imagine that Yonah no longer has the illusion of setting me up as another Lord.

"So now I want to deliver my message as a person who can only stand on his own, who isn't the puppet of any sect or individual. All I can do is put the finishing touches on the launching of our new church, the Church of the New Man.

"At the end of the sermon it may confuse and anger some of you if I suddenly add a scatological comment, but even those of you without good hearing or sense of smell will detect-as sort of a basso continuo to my speech-the sound and smell of a group of women unable to hold back their farts and diarrhea, lending an earthy sort of foundation to my philosophy. I don't want these poor but wonderful women to have to hold back any longer, so their very human sounds will blend with Morio's music that points toward a pure ascension to heaven.

"Fireflies, you may begin your ceremony of returning the Spirits to the forest. I will pray now that the Old Man is sloughed off. With the end time upon us, I call on all of you to repent and to embark on becoming New Men. Finally, I leave you with the words of a foreign author, his earnest prayer for New Men: Three cheers for Karamazov!"

Right as Patron's sermon drew to a close-the moment when, clearly pressed for time he added this sudden prankish comment that threw his listen- ers off-one after another, clumsy-looking women, obviously in too much of a hurry to remove the barricades at the front entrance of the chapel, leaped out of the low open windows on the lake side of the chapel. As soon as they hit the ground some of them, either having sprained their ankles or just drained of energy, squatted there like hens. Of those who didn't, others sprinted straight for the temporary toilets set up on the eastern slope. Most of them, though, raced off to the dark thickets and shrubs. From the stands, where a stir went through the perplexed spectators, a call rang out, chorus- ing Patron's final words.

"Three cheers for Karamazov! Three cheers for Karamazov! Three cheers for Karamazov!"

Morio's piano piece "Ascending, Part One" spilled out from the speak- ers on either side of the stands and on the island.

The bare lightbulbs hanging down from the grandstands illuminated Ikuo's thick features as he stood up beside Dancer. The rest of his massive head, like a darkly shaded bull's, swayed violently, catching Ogi's attention.

Dancer was pushing something onto the back of Ikuo's left hand, which hung down straight. A gust of wind shook a hanging light that briefly lit up what it was: a box of matches. Ogi could tell that the matchbox, soon sunk again in darkness, was being forced on Ikuo. Holding one end of the match- box, Dancer was twisting the other end onto the back of Ikuo's hand. At the same time she stretched up on tiptoes toward that massive black head, whis- pering something… As the bare lightbulb lit them up again, the back of Ikuo's left hand still didn't budge, but finally he reached out with his right hand and snatched the matchbox away. He then set off for a boat lying in the shadow of the Japanese- style boats floating beside the stairs filled with dark water. The boat rolled as Ikuo got on board, and one of the Fireflies quickly shoved off and set the oars.

Dancer slowly moved backward to where Ogi stood. With a fierce look, she watched the boat set off. The darkened island was lit up by a floodlight from the stands. The floodlight lit up the Spirit dolls piled up on the wooden framework surrounding the giant cypress, particularly the conspicuously larger papier-mâché figure of Guide.

The doll that Patron was wearing above the grandstands, where he had now finished speaking, was closer, but strangely enough seemed smaller than the one on the island.

Ogi realized he'd forgotten the order of the program. Was Patron sup- posed to remain standing with the costume on by the grandstands, or was Ogi supposed to take him behind the curtain and have him rest on a chair there?

Dancer leaned over to whisper, so close to him that her skull banged his temple.

"Go ahead and do it! I told him," she said in a strong voice, like some angry young girl. "You're always bragging about how you'll do it if you hear the voice telling you to. Can't you hear the voice now saying Do it? That's what I told him! Even if you don't hear the voice, afterward you can always claim you did! That's exactly what I told him!"

Led by the floodlight, the thousand people surrounding the lake fixed their eyes on the island, their attention turning from the slapstick confusion still going on around the chapel to the papier-mâché Spirits that were about to go up in flames. No one wanted to miss this, the finale of the summer con- ference. Everyone anticipated that Patron, still above the grandstands, would once more call out in response to the conflagration.

The Firefly manning the oars in Ikuo's bow rowed strongly, the prow of the boat running up onto the shoreline of the island, a meadow inundated with water. The rower stepped into the water up to his knees and held the boat steady. Ikuo plunged decisively out of the boat and with the momentum of the landing ran toward the giant cypress, his head bent forward. He came face-to-face with the giant doll of Guide, standing behind the bamboo lad- der and the wood frame it was leaning against.

"Isn't he telling you to Do it? Up on the frame of the cypress. Do it!"

Dancer's hot breath brushed Ogi's cheek.

"That's not what's supposed to happen, is it?" Ogi responded, holding his rising anger in check.

"Do it! Do it!" Dancer said vehemently, ignoring Ogi's protest.

Morio's piano music had changed to "Ascending, Part Two" and then went back to Part One. It wasn't a simple tape loop but the recording of a performance that played the music in that order. The massive body of the skillful performer of this music now clumsily approached the wooden frame.

Before long this dark figure, his large head hanging down, slowly began to move. Finally he took something out of his pants pocket-Ogi knew it was the matchbox-and laid it on a low wooden bar on the wood frame.

Then, as if he'd forgotten something, he quickly retraced his steps. Even before the Firefly standing in the dark water could pull the boat closer, the dark figure stepped into the water and almost collapsed into the boat, the Firefly shoving oif the edge with both hands. As the boat rowed back, the dark fig- ure on board sat there unmoving, like some bulky cargo.

A moment later two more dark figures stood up at the water's edge on the chapel side on the island. Water dripped from both of them. One of them supported the other as the figure struggled to walk in the soft sand. The two figures stood side by side in front of the wooden frame around the cypress. The upright slim figure looked around a bit-Ogi realized it was Ms. Tachibana- and reached out a thin arm to the wooden bar on the frame. A match flared, and the wavering flame reached out toward the papier-mâché Guide that draped down from the lower level of the frame.

As soon as the flames lapped up the lower edge of the frame, a wide swath of red flames raced up to the wild hair of the doll's head. All at once a round of applause rose up from the broad circle of onlookers surrounding the Hollow, drowning out the piano music. The larger of the two shadows turned to face the grandstands and gave a respectful bow as if it were a per- former on a stage acknowledging the audience. The applause roared up cheer- ily, and the flames made small exploding sounds as they covered the entire wooden frame.

At the grandstands, the boat passed around the Japanese boats to arrive at the inundated steps, and Ikuo walked up them alone. Dancer ran up to him with such force she almost sent him falling back into the water.

"Murderer! Did you hear the voice telling you, Do it?" Dancer cursed him, slamming her body into his.

Probably no one else heard that besides Ogi, who'd come running after her. Now a different kind of stir swept through the crowd, mixed in with screams here and there, and the stir rose even louder. Seeing that Dancer was being restrained, Ogi turned to look back at the island, where the surprisingly high flames illuminated, at the base of the wooden frame, which itself was ablaze, the two shadowy figures from before crouched down, hugging each other, their free hands held up to shield their faces from the flames.

The papier-mâché Guide on top of the burning frame seemed to leap and, together with the other dolls around it, went up in flames. The fire now reached to the cypress branches piled there, to the luxuriant leaves of the smaller branches; then even the thick trunk of the tree, like a pillar rising up through all that was piled around it, began to burn.

In the midst of new screams, the mass piled up on the upper level that covered the wooden frame collapsed in a shower of sparks onto the two pros- trate figures. In the reddish glow of the flames things collapsed one after another. Shouts and crying voices rose up. The roar of the flames was rivaled by the sound of the wind rising up from them; the entire area around the lake was like a strangely clamorous festival.

Like the agitated crowd around him, Ogi's eyes were riveted on the flaming giant cypress, but he sensed some disturbance, spun around, and saw the Technicians' security detail grab the person wearing the papier-mâché figure of Guide and roughly rip off the disguise. Gii emerged from it, dressed in T-shirt and jeans. The young man was limp and dripping sweat as if a bucket of water had been poured over him.

An even greater scream went up as the papier-mâché Guide on the island fell to the ground from the blazing frame and bounced up, and out of the wreckage appeared a human body.