Kenzaburo Oe - Somersault

"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.

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.