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.