Patron's complexion darkened suddenly, like the sun disappearing behind clouds. His previous vitality and ceaseless speech were now hidden, a transformation that struck Kizu as odd.

Guide's reddened, comical face twitched sporadically, and he slowly licked his chapped lips. Soon he fell asleep and began to snore lightly, the white of his left eye showing. Patron's large head hung heavily; Kizu could see the thinning hair on top.

Dancer, who'd come in unnoticed and was standing behind Kizu, reached out the ball of her thumb, wet with saliva, and closed Guide's one open eyelid.

Drawn by Patron's pitiful look, Kizu turned around and watched as, still gaz- ing down at Guide, she stuck her wet thumb in her mouth again and sucked it.

Soon Dancer wiped her wet thumb on the paper apron each visitor was given, and straightened the clothes around Guide's bare chest and legs. A steel ball the size of a tennis ball dropped down from the hem of his yukata, star- tling Patron and Kizu, but without a word, Dancer picked it up and showed them how it was used to strengthen one's grip.

She then spoke to Patron, whose back was hunched up.

"Let's all go back to the office now," she whispered, and then explained things to Kizu in a composed voice. "Yesterday he was much better, and when the nurses called to him he made a V-for-victory sign, something he never does. Patron was ecstatic. But even today the doctors are amazed how strong his grip is. Try gripping his hand."

She looked alertly at the mister that was spraying disinfectant near the entrance of the ward. Kizu stuck his hands out toward it and misted his hands wet again. Guide's right hand did squeeze Kizu's hand back with a crude strength. Patron reached out and laid his plump palm on top of where the sharp joints of the two men's hands touched.

After this, they all headed back to the office. As Ikuo pulled up the minivan in front, Dancer, clearly the one in charge of their little group, straightened Patron's muffler and coat collar.

"You've been up and about since morning," she said to Patron, "so I'd like you to rest for a while. I know you have things to talk about with Profes- sor Kizu, but I want you to wait a little. Professor, you don't mind waiting for a while in the living room, do you? Ikuo, you'll give him a ride home later, right?"

Patron acquiesced silently. If meeting Patron for the first time in so long wasn't going to lead to any substantive discussion, Kizu felt he might as well have hailed a cab in front of the hospital and gone home alone. He didn't mind waiting for a time, though.

Since Guide suffered his calamity, the front gate of their residence had been bolted, so when he heard the van pull up Ogi came out to greet them and let them in. Supported on both sides by Dancer and Ogi as he walked into the house, Patron had none of the vitality he'd displayed in front of the nurses' station; watching him leaning his entire weight on the two young people, Kizu was cut to the quick.

2

In the corner office, Ms. Tachibana was sorting the letters they'd received from people who'd learned of Patron's new movement through newspaper reports of the incident involving Guide. When Kizu stopped by to ask her how the work was going, she merely said she'd taken over because Ogi was busy, her eyes remaining glued to the computer screen.

After leading Patron to his bedroom study and letting Dancer take over from there, Ogi came back and stood beside Ms. Tachibana's desk, but he didn't seem to have anything new to report. Ikuo had parked the car in the garage, reset the bolt in the gate, and come to sit down beside Kizu, silent, his arms folded over his massive chest.

Not long after, Dancer appeared in the office, leaned over, and whis- pered something into Ogi's ear. Usually Ogi played the role of younger brother to Dancer, but now she seemed to rely on him more than the other way around.

After listening to her, Ogi shared her confusion. Before long he spoke up.

"If that's what Patron wants, there's nothing you or I can do about it.

Why don't you just tell him exactly what Patron said?"

Dancer looked like a little girl who had been slapped in the face as she walked over to Kizu. "Patron says he wants you to be the new Guide," she said.

"New Guide? That's pretty unexpected!" Rather than replying to Dancer, Kizu seemed to be muttering to no one in particular. His words were like a pebble thrown down a deep well without response, but after some time Dancer finally spoke up.

"Whether you accept or not, you need to tell Patron yourself. I tell you, it's been one surprise after another. I have no idea what to do."

Dancer's voice was different from its usual piercing whisper, more muffled now; Kizu could catch a hint of her Hokkaido accent seeping through. Most likely this was the way she spoke when, years before, she was struggling to convince her family to let her study modern dance. At the same time, Kizu felt Ikuo's tense gaze clinging to him.

The person waiting for him, lying in bed, blanket and down comforter up to his chest, was neither the unusually vigorous person of the first half of their hospital visit nor the plainly exhausted person of the second half. Patron had a sort of composed strength about him now. He looked up at Kizu with dis- tant eyes and, with a solemn movement of his head, motioned for Dancer to leave them.

"In my new church," he said, "I'd like you to succeed Guide in his work.

To repay you, I'll help you overcome the terrible thing that's assailing you spiritually and physically."

Kizu answered at once, "If you have that kind of power, then you should fix Guide's brain!"

Patron didn't react to these mean-spirited words but lamented instead, in a voice so full of grief it was comical, "Ah-if only I couldV Taken aback by Patron's directness, Kizu felt deflated. Having lost his chance to continue by Kizu's interruption, Patron looked away, a dark look on his brow. Then he pulled himself together and began to speak in a more prosaic way, quite the opposite of the enthusiasm with which he'd invited Kizu to take Guide's place.

"With Guide the way he is now, maybe I'm just an old man who can't do a thing, and maybe I should just forget about this new movement and spend the rest of my days taking care of Guide. Isn't that what you're think- ing? When we read R. S. Thomas that topic came up, as I recall. I'd like to talk with Guide about it, though I have no idea if he'd understand what I say. At the time of the Somersault we'd already imagined that sort of future for us.

"But Professor, with Guide in the hospital, I can't just abandon my role as Patron and spend my time pushing him around in his wheelchair as he goes through rehabilitation; Guide was injured facing up to a group that held him against his will and put him through a trumped-up trial to get him to admit that the Somersault was a mistake.

"I don't think he'll ever be able to communicate with us again. But even if he were to die without regaining full consciousness or the ability to talk, he's fulfilled his mission in life. He has suffered as a true prophet.

"But I have to live on. Having done the Somersault and now unable, without Guide, to put my visions into words, I still have the audacity to keep on living. But if I just grow decrepit and senile and die, my life will have been in vain. And then what would being Patron amount to? Nothing-just one big joke.

"Only after I've lived a life befitting Patron do I want to die. Those people held Guide prisoner, gouging out what wounded him most, a more abominable act than actually killing him. That being the case, I want to rise up again to the point where they have to choose me as their target."

Patron turned sharp birdlike eyes to Kizu.

"Professor, please. You don't need to say a thing. You can be a Guide who just paints!" Patron implored. "You can express things in a way I can- not. Your painting can clarify what my visions mean. If you turn your eyes in the direction of my beliefs, that's enough. With Guide in the shape he's in now, can you really refuse? I have only a handful of young people around me. Other than you, what mature person can I count on?"