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.