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.