"The gathering where they debated Guide aggravated the opposition within the group and forced them to split in two. They all agreed to the debate, and even members who had never shown their faces at our liaison office showed up for it. But once the meeting started it was the more radical group that took over. The moderate faction's motivation for attending, to hear about Patron's recent religious activities, went out the window. In the recording of the brutalizing that Dancer spoke of, there was a proposal made to let Guide go. I sided with the moderate faction on this. But a dispute arose and we were kept from further participation, after which the tragedy unfolded.

"With the interrogation of Guide still continuing at that point, it's no wonder people say it was irresponsible for the moderates to withdraw. Espe- cially for me, as a doctor. But Guide really wanted us to leave. I think deep down his attitude was similar to that of the moderate faction, myself included, who wanted somehow to express ourselves after Patron's ten years of silence.

I think he let them interrogate and torment him at will because he wanted, if worse came to worst, to let them find shelter in a place where the authorities wouldn't pursue them.

"Guide accepted the invitation for the meeting, after all, but was less concerned about me and the moderate faction than in searching out some accommodation, some third way, with a group that even after ten years was still pretty radical. Wasn't it precisely because those radical members would be there that he accepted the invitation at such short notice? But Guide's third way and the expectations of the radical group were completely at odds, which explains what took place."

"The more I listen to you," Kizu said, "the more I feel the reason Ikuo got close to you all was because he was attracted to these more extreme rem- nants of the radical faction."

"To me," Dr. Koga said, "Ikuo is a Jonah-type personality, which leads me to hope you'd express this in your painting. I guess I'm hoping your paint- ing will help me grasp who he really is. He's going to play an important role in Patron's new church, but there's one thing about him I don't quite under- stand that I'd like to-"

The two calm men at the open entrance door next to the reception area had finished their preparations for bringing in the chairs from outside.

Dr. Koga's expression became brisk and businesslike as he turned his atten- tion to the practical matters at hand, and Kizu bid him a swift farewell and withdrew from the clinic.

3

Kizu, painting in hand, had gotten a ride to the clinic from Ogi, who was on his way to the Old Town, but on the way back he had no choice but to walk home along the river. Groups of two or three junior high school stu- dents were coming toward him, the boys in matching smocks, the girls in navy blue uniforms and wine-colored mufflers. Their clothes struck Kizu as shabby.

On the heights on the other side of the Kame River was the cross- Shikoku highway bypass, with a ceaseless flow of huge trucks racing down the road. On the road on Kizu's side of the river, in contrast, there was only a scattering of cars and light trucks. With its view of the lush greenery be- hind the homes on the mountainside, the road was pleasant enough to walk down, but the children's rough and violent ways wiped the area's unique qualities away.

After he'd passed the T-shaped intersection that led to the bridge, Kizu located a general store that, while its frontage was the same as the stores to both sides of it, extended, as he could see through the glass door, much far- ther back. Thinking to buy something for the next day's breakfast, he went inside. Dancer had told him that this little market carried ham and bacon, as well as vegetables and eggs, produced by the Flaming Green Tree Farm.

To the right of the entrance was a cash register of the kind Kizu remem- bered seeing at the entrance to the public bath he frequented as a student, next to which squatted a person facing the interior of the store. This white-haired old woman showed no interest in Kizu as he entered. He was hit by a wave of nostalgia as he gazed at the simple displays. The shelves had the usual items- snacks, instant noodles, meats, fish, and pickled vegetables-but instead of appealing to the shopper, the products seemed shoved back in the shadows.

The fresh produce section was especially cramped, as was the meat sec- tion, with only packages of pork cut into bite-size chunks, slices of salted salmon, and half-dried, darkly glistening sardines. Every time Kizu returned to Japan he felt something akin to car sickness when confronted with the overflow of goods in Tokyo supermarkets. Used to life in America, he always found him- self stirred up by the vitality of Japanese consumerism. The vast gulf between that and this village market made Old Town look like a ghost town.

However, as he made one circuit of the chilly, dusty aisles, he came across a shelf and stand set apart in one corner, the only display that seemed alive.

On the shelf were packs of hams and bacon, butter in glass jars, eggs, and mounds of cabbages, carrots, onions, and other vegetables, as well as still warm-to-the-touch freshly baked bread, the kind sold in the supermarket in Aoyama as French Country Bread.

Kizu picked up a jar of butter; the label on it had a colored woodblock print ot a tree and the logo FRUIT OF THE RAIN TREE. Kizu selected some meat, butter, eggs, and vegetables from that display shelf, and when he took his shopping basket over to the register the old woman lifted her gray head, her wizened face still lively, and said proudly, "You won't find roast ham better than this in the city!"

"It does look good. Why do you keep it shoved back in the corner?" Kizu asked.

"It's not shoved in a corner; it's just that only certain people buy it. Since new people are moving here from the city now, I was going to increase my order, but Satchan from the Farm-not a very friendly type, I can tell you- said she's going to negotiate directly with the new church's cafeteria!"

Kizu paid for his purchases. As he was about to collect his paper bag of groceries, the old woman lifted rheumy eyes that seemed to cling to him and said, "You're the painting teacher, aren't you? I understand you're famous! The junior high is very happy such an important person's come to town, but they also say to keep the door open when they're alone with you, Professor. The as- sistant principal said this, and to the boys, no less! What a distressing thing!"

Kizu was taken aback by the old woman's sudden comment. But with the good grace of a man his age, he was able to roll with the punches.

"Well, it's only natural," he said, "that people who've lived here for a long time want to keep an eye on people from the city bringing in their own religion."

The old woman suppressed a faint smile, but went with the tack Kizu was taking.

"If you go upriver from here and over the pass, just before the Hollow, where you all are, there's a house above a tall stone wall, right? We call it the Mansion to distinguish it from the other houses. A lot of unusual people have come out of that line, including one man who went on to college and became a diplomat, and then his son came back here to start a church! The ham and butter you just bought were made by people related to that diplomat's son.

Their church isn't around anymore, so if you build this new church you can expect people to say things for a while."

"I suppose it's only to be expected that we wouldn't be very welcome,"

Kizu said, trying to put an end to the conversation. He was finding her a bit too much, but the old woman wasn't about to let him get away so easily.

"No, no. We're not that kind of people! People in Maki Town came here with handbills. I put them up for a day but then took them down. I buy goods from them, so I had to post them, but I'm not opposed to a new church being started here! All the food you bought-and you bought a lot, didn't you?- was made by former church people; this woman named Satchan who runs the Farm, they say her son got his power from his father, the one who built the old church here!"