Somersault (63 page)

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 privileged. 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 cancer.
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 competitor, 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. Dyeing, 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 himself. 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 telling 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 Fireflies,” 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 yourself 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 contradictory 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 members 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 youngsters. 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 Japanese 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 apparatus 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 definitely 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 himself 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 enthusiasm 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 undone 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 organization 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 of 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 forest—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 terminology, 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 happen 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 accomplish 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?”