Early that morning a large ruddy-faced man with cropped white hair showed up on the north shore and with steady strides made a circuit of the grounds around the house. He seemed to be appraising the trees, washed to a brilliant green by the rains that had only ended two days before, and when his gaze met that of Kizu, who was reading in bed, they nodded a greeting to each other. The man was Asa-san's husband, the former principal of the jun- ior high school, who'd come to trim around the house. He looked a little chilly in his long-sleeved high-collared shirt, but once he started working he had to wipe the sweat away with the towel draped around his neck.
He started by pruning the trees visible from the window that faced the lake. As he trimmed, the rich white flowers of the camellia and the pome- granate, the latter a faded light purple due to lack of sunshine, emerged from the overgrown clump of greenery. Next year, Kizu thought, I won't be around to see these flowers. He turned his gaze outside from time to time, to find the petals of the camellias, wrapped in pods and now exposed to the sun, trimmed in a neat horizontal line that was attractive enough, but lacking its previous otherworldly feeling.
In the afternoon Ms. Asuka threw open the window facing the lake to see how warm it had gotten, and the room was filled with the volatile fra- grance of newly cut branches. For the first time since his most recent illness, Kizu had on the jeans and loose cotton shirt he favored when doing some serious drawing.
Patron arrived at Kizu's house at two-twenty. It had taken exactly twenty minutes for him to go from the south shore along the weir and up the slope on the north shore. Patron had been less concerned, it appeared, about his own physical condition than that of Morio, whose legs were slightly impaired.
Patron was in the best shape he'd been in in quite some time, and emo- tionally upbeat as well. Kizu had always thought of himself and Patron as virtual contemporaries, but now he had to admit that he was no match for Patron when it came to vitality. Patron had changed into summer clothing, which also added to this impression. Below the stiff collar a deep U-shaped depression was visible, and his maroon shirt stood out under his ice blue jacket.
Morio wore an identical set of clothes.
"I've really been looking forward to modeling for you," Patron said, by way of greeting. "Now that I see you I realize you're fit enough to go back to painting. Shall I sit down here? The sun was so warm I'll be glad to get out of this jacket and shirt. You don't want me completely nude, do you?"
Morio smiled happily as if he'd just heard an amusing joke. Ms. Asuka took Patron's jacket to the bedroom and then adjusted the chair and footstool for him. As he checked the reflected light off the lake, Kizu adjusted the cush- ion at Patron's back, while Ms. Asuka brought in another chair for Morio.
Preparations went smoothly, but when they reached the point where Patron was about to remove his shirt and tank top, Kizu couldn't help but tense up. Patron, though, cheerfully stripped down, removed the palm-sized gauze covering his wound, wrapped it up in fluttering strips of surgical tape, and tossed it on Morio's lap. Morio took out a plastic bag from his pocket and stuffed the gauze inside.
"This is the first time I've been able to get a good look all the way to the bottom of the wound," Patron remarked. "The antibiotic Dr. Koga gave me seems to be working. Before, I just had this vague notion of the hole being a certain size, wider than it is deep, but now I can see it's heading straight for the heart. I asked Dr. Koga about this and he said it's only to be expected- seeing as how it's a sacred wound.
"Well, how would you like me to pose? I understand I'm supposed to supplement Ikuo's Jonah."
"Just sit facing me is fine," Kizu replied, and began sketching. Ms. Asuka stood behind Kizu, videotaping the proceedings. The video camera was com- pletely silent and didn't bother Kizu. After some twenty minutes Patron spoke up.
"Modeling's hard if you don't talk. The last time you sketched me I was only half conscious. Is it all right to talk?"
"That'd be fine," Kizu said. "Though I'll mostly listen, if you don't mind."
"Seeing you after such a long time reminded me of something I'd wanted to tell you," Patron said. "It's delightful to have such a diligent listener."
Patron spoke smoothly and cheerily, though his topic was quite serious.
Kizu had somehow sensed that it would be.
"At the memorial service for Guide, I announced I was starting a new church. You'll recall how I also said that I'm one of the countless antichrists who will appear at the end of the world and vowed to oversee this new church as one of these antichrists. I didn't just blurt this out. It's something I've been pondering for the past decade. It's not surprising that I restart my church as an antichrist, but I was pretty worked up when I said it, and it's placed me in quite a predicament. It would be a lot easier if I'd kept this idea of being an antichrist to myself.
"So I had to think and think about the best way to rebuild the church.
The process of moving here alter the memorial service, getting everything ready, is very likely the final obstacle in my ten years of being in hell. Guide isn't with me, yet things are moving forward. I felt driven into a corner."
Listening to all this as he sketched, Kizu noticed Morio, seated diago- nally in front of him, begin to stir. His whole body, not just his legs, was im- paired, but his movements were always natural. Kizu was a moment late in sensing that something was wrong, but Patron responded immediately.
"I'm afraid I've said something to worry you, Morio. I'm just remember- ing the suffering I've had and am telling Professor Kizu about it, that's all."
"You've posed long enough-that's plenty," Kizu said, for the sake of Morio, who still looked up worriedly at the half-naked Patron. "I'd be happy if we could discuss how this sketch might be incorporated into the triptych."
As Patron slipped down from the high chair, Ms. Asuka passed him a freshly laundered dressing gown, helped Morio up, and led them to the din- ing table, which had been set up in the bedroom. Tea and pound cake awaited them. As the guests settled into their seats, Ms. Asuka brought the hot water for tea, while Kizu took the triptych panels down from the easel and lined them up in front of the partition. As he did so, Ms. Asuka said, "Why don't you lie down on the bed and talk? Painting wears you out. You look pale."
Looking back on it later, Kizu realized it was at this point that some- thing strange was starting to take place in his body. He reluctantly did as she said, though he wasn't about to let go of the excitement he'd felt since morn- ing or this chance to talk with Patron.
"The foreground of the middle panel shows Ikuo as Jonah. Are you planning to use my image in the open part on the left?" Patron asked.
"That's right."
"In other words, I'll be depicted as the Lord?"
"Since that's who Jonah quarrels with, yes, it would be the Lord, though my conception has changed a little since I first started. It doesn't have to be the Lord, exactly, though it does have to be someone who transmits God's will to Jonah."
"And he goes to all the trouble of showing this wound in his side to convince Jonah?"
"Rather than the biblical Jonah, I'm starting to see it more as the Ikuo- as-Jonah image the Young Fireflies have, Ikuo as the young man awaiting God's intermediary to give him the word to act."