4

Thus the press conference fizzled to a close. On the way out, Ogi over- heard the dark-skinned reporter speak to Dancer, whom he'd gotten to know, and what he said struck Ogi as entirely reasonable.

"I understand that Patron will be restarting his movement," the reporter said, "but there doesn't seem to be any shared point of view among his fol- lowers. Though I suppose if I put Patron's sermon and the comments of the communal women's group together I can come up with some sort of article."

After seeing the members of the press to the side entrance, and thank- ing the security staff, who, along with Dr. Koga, were about to leave, Ogi stuck his head in the dining hall. The partition was back in place, and in a corner of the wall next to the window there was an upright piano. Ms. Tachibana and her brother had brought over folding chairs and sat facing each other.

Ikuo was standing beside them, talking with Ms. Tachibana's brother.

"That man was an unintelligent, stupid man, wasn't he?" Ikuo said, slowly, pausing between phrases. As proof that his words got through, Ms. Tachibana's brother, one eye fixed on Ikuo's mouth, nodded.

"The newspaper reporter gave his opinion about your music, didn't he? "

Ms. Tachibana added. "Ikuo's saying that that was the opinion of an unintel- ligent, stupid man."

"I could sense that Morio was surprised by how ridiculous that guy's opinions were. Or was he angry? Somehow it seems that way."

"When people laugh at my brother," Ms. Tachibana said, "or show they don't take him seriously, he does get angry, but he just looks like he has a stom- achache. Most people don't realize he's angry."

"Just a moment ago when I saw Morio's expression, it reminded me so much of myself as a child," Ikuo said, with such fervor it took Ogi by sur- prise. "When I got angry it felt like the space between my chest and stomach was being wrung in a knot. It was such a strong feeling that people mis- understood and thought I was crying, and I ended up lashing out at the arro- gant bullies around me, which got me in a lot of trouble."

"Well, I never!" Ms. Tachibana's brother said, with a sigh of criticism.

"Morio knows exactly what you're talking about," Ms. Tachibana said.

"He doesn't do anything violent, but when he's angry it's painful for him, and sometimes he even vomits."

"You don't need to!" Morio said, evidently meaning she didn't need to explain things that far, but it was clear he was wasn't upset.

"That asinine reporter mentioned Bach and Mozart," Ikuo said. "Would you let me listen to that tape again? I want to check to see what part of the piece he means by that."

Morio stood up, took the tape recorder out of a paper bag beside him, placed it on the table, and switched it on. As the music filtered out, Ikuo lis- tened intently. He was silent, but, sensing his request, Morio rewound the tape and played it again.

Ogi was surprised at what happened next. Ikuo pulled a chair out from under the piano that was by the window, sat down, unlocked the keyboard, and played a phrase from the music. His playing was confident, not the hesi- tant touch of someone feeling his way through a piece. After a pause he be- gan to play a short melody that, to Ogi's ears, sounded similar but different.

After this, adding chords as he went, he painstakingly repeated Morio's com- position.

"It's not Bach, and certainly not Mozart either," Ikuo said to Morio, after carefully closing the piano lid. "It's entirely your own music." His quiet voice contrasted with the tone of the piano he'd just played.

"I think so too," Morio said in a low voice, sounding as if he meant to encourage Ikuo more than himself.

Ikuo locked the piano-he'd borrowed the key for this very reason from the building superintendent-and turned his fierce-looking face, all angles and depressions, to gaze out the window. With smooth motions, Ms. Asuka filmed the scene with her video camera, first shooting Ms. Tachibana and Morio, then Ikuo's profile and the large trunk of the wych elm and the ex- panse of lawn. Before her camera turned in his direction, Ogi hurriedly wiped away a tear.

It was getting late, so the three young people-Ogi, Ikuo, and Dancer-re- turned to the office in Seijo, where Dancer put Patron, who was tired and didn't feel like eating anything, to bed, and then they set off for a Chinese restaurant in a narrow street along the Odakyu Line.

Inside the restaurant was a staircase on the left leading to the second floor and a kitchen that jutted out to just below the staircase going off into the back of the restaurant; on the other side of the counter, on the right-hand side, were four tables along the wall. There were no other customers, and the three of them chose the table farthest from the entrance. Ogi and Dancer sat on one side of the table, Ikuo on the other, his bulk overwhelming them.

Dancer had asked the reporters at the memorial service to fax her cop- ies of their reviews for the next morning's papers. Inside a paper bag she carried faxes from those who'd conscientiously kept their promise. As she examined them, they ordered beer to celebrate the successful conclusion of the service. Ogi began to talk about the piano with Ikuo. Ogi was surprised to know that Ikuo played, since there was an Ibaha piano in the annex where Guide had lived but Ikuo had never once shown any interest in it.

Ikuo talked about his musical background, starting with how he took piano lessons from his mother, a graduate of Tokyo Arts Institute who'd been a music teacher in high school. His mother hadn't encouraged him to take music further, though. Ever since he was small he'd shown an aptitude for science, always making models and conducting experiments of one kind or another. One other reason was the scary look he had had ever since he was a child, a face that was bound to unsettle any panel of judges if he were to take the stage as a pianist.

"Ikuo, I think one can say you're certainly a pianist in your fingers, they have such strength and beauty," Dancer said; she'd just finished looking over the faxes and had caught only the tail end of the conversation.

She passed around three articles about the memorial service that were to appear in the morning papers. Two of them were just short pieces discuss- ing the obvious, how this church gained notoriety ten years ago when its lead- ers renounced its teachings and how at a memorial service to one of the leaders who had suddenly passed away the surviving leader had declared that he was starting his religious movement again.

On the other hand, the dark-skinned reporter's article appeared in the second section of the general news pages as a five-column sidebar. The head- line read AFTER AUM SHINRIKYO, WHY HAS PATRON RETURNED? First there was an explanation of the Somersault by the two men, named Savior and Prophet at the time, and how this nipped in the bud the terrorist plans of the church's radical faction. However, ten years later, while the two men, now known as Patron and Guide, were formulating their program for restarting their move- ment, the former radicals had kidnapped Guide, held him against his will, and roughed him up to the point of death.

Yesterday, the article went on, a memorial service was held for Guide at which two noteworthy events took place: Patron announced that he was restarting his religious movement, and two groups of followers who had con- tinued in the faith even after being abandoned by their leaders had both ex- pressed their desire to participate. Among these was part of the former radical faction. Patron's explanation for starting a new religion in the climate of intense criticism after the Aum Shinrikyo affair was quoted: When there is a great desire on the part of young people for spiritual salvation, nothing will be solved by crisis-management measures taken to crush new religious groups just because one group that absorbed these young people committed a blunder. Our attitude is to be open to any and all young people searching for salvation. With none of the established religions, including Buddhism and Christianity, offering this, I believe there is a place for us to care for these young people.