Somersault

by Kenzaburo Oe

  “What Asa-san said made me think very deeply. After the martyrdom of Patron’s indispensable colleague, like Virgil he undertook both roles—that of Patron and of Guide—when he returned to be in our midst. Did he do this to lead us to the highest point of purgatory and then say farewell and return alone once more to hell?”

  Mrs. Shigeno stopped at this point and turned around to see what the audience was gazing at; the drawing of the recumbent Patron with the wound on his side on top of the barber’s chair shook ever so slightly, startling her. Mai, a sensitive girl, was weeping. As if to soothe the poor young girl, Mrs. Shigeno signaled to Ms. Tagawa, today dressed quite fashionably, her hair in a mannish Takarazuka dance-troupe cut, and ended her sermon.

  As if waiting for this opportunity, one of the Technicians who had been sitting behind Ogi—a scientist who, it was said, was an expert in astrodynamics and who’d done orbital calculations for NASA satellite launches—signaled that he wanted to speak. Mrs. Shigeno nodded to him, and he made the sort of comment one might expect from a rocket scientist.

  “I’m sure many of you have seen, when a rocket launched toward the moon reaches a certain altitude, that the propulsion device separates and inscribes a track like a burning leaf. I can picture Patron/Guide as a rocket inscribing a huge arc as it strays away.”

  Mrs. Shigeno picked up where she left off, tying her sermon together with what had just been said.

  “I think that’s exactly right,” she said. “I believe Patron is resolved to help us to the very end to reach our apogee, even if it means he’ll descend to hell once again, burning up as he reenters. Doesn’t this explain what he meant when, after the Somersault and losing Guide, he returned to be with us and announced he’s an antichrist?

  “After the Somersault, the Quiet Women resisted a host of temptations that befell them. We maintained our faith in heaven, with Patron as our mediator. And now we know, more than ever before, that this was the right thing to do! Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!”

  Answering Mrs. Shigeno’s almost pleading cry, the Quiet Women took up the same prayer, and then all at once switched to silent worship. Mrs. Shigeno turned toward the drawing of Patron and bowed her head.

  Desperately emotional again, Mai seemed about to drop the drawing on the footstool. She grasped the upper edge of the frame as hard as she could in her little red hands and, unable to cover her face, sobbed. The Quiet Women gathered around her, heads bowed, and continued to pray.

  Ogi and the Technicians around him were overwhelmed.

  3

  Ogi had lunch the next day in the office, during which he had a good talk with Dancer. Having been out of the office for a day, he had a lot of e-mails, faxes, and phone messages to take care of. The idea to have a meeting that summer in Shikoku to commemorate the founding of the new church was in full swing. Believers from before the Somersault who had clung to Mr. Soda’s Kansai headquarters were urging Patron on now, and one of Ogi’s tasks was to gather together all these communications and deliver them to Patron.

  There was something else that he urgently needed to talk with Dancer about, but she didn’t show up at the office until just before noon. As soon as she could, she told him that the concentration of antibiotics had reached the optimum level and Patron’s fever had broken. The wound wasn’t as inflamed as before. And Dancer had reported to Patron that all the believers who’d moved to the Hollow were now aware of the Sacred Wound.

  “Patron didn’t seem concerned about how his followers were taking the news. He did remember, though, that Kizu sat next to him and sketched him when he was half conscious, and he wanted to see the drawing. After the Quiet Women’s prayer meeting, the drawing was taken over to the farm and the Technicians apparently held their own meeting in front of it. I imagine Ikuo saw it there too,” Ogi concluded. “I wonder what he said about the wound being kept secret all this time.”

  “I haven’t seen him since this uproar began,” Dancer said worriedly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d sound him out about it. They’re going to bring the painting back from the farm to the studio this afternoon, and of course Ikuo will accompany it. Would you stop by then? I don’t think Ikuo needs to know every last detail concerning Patron, but I’m sure he will have his own take on things.”

  Ogi was surprised that Dancer could be so nervous when it came to Ikuo. As for himself, except for that comical and pathetic incident in the bathroom, Dancer probably would never have mentioned the wound to him, either.

  “I attended the Quiet Women’s meeting, and they have a pretty set way of thinking about the Sacred Wound,” Ogi commented.

  “Ms. Tachibana told me all about it,” Dancer said. “She also talked with Patron, and said he seemed depressed. She wondered if he was feeling that his efforts all these years were wasted.”

  “Meaning. . .?”

  Showing her tongue, as lusterless as her skin, she returned Ogi’s gaze.

  “Since I only starting working for them after the Somersault, I don’t have the right to say anything about that, and I don’t want to either,” said Dancer. “But I did read the articles in the weekly magazines about the Somersault, and they bothered me, so I asked Guide about it. The media had a field day reporting the Somersault: How Patron sat down in front of the cameras and announced that their religious activities weren’t for real and it was all an elaborate joke. When I asked Guide why he did that kind of performance, he said Patron wanted to avoid having the kind of situation you have in America with fundamentalists, when overwrought followers protest the pressure brought to bear on their leader or grow too pessimistic because they were hung out to dry. Seeing Patron play the fool before all of Japan, anyone could see it was pointless to take it seriously.

  “But doesn’t it put Patron in an awkward position to have people who empathize with him so much thrust aside and then, as he’s rebuilding his church, to find them still offering their pathetic prayers to him?”

  “The Technicians at the meeting seemed to be deeply sympathetic to the Quiet Women’s position,” Ogi said, “but I wonder how they’d react to what you just said.”

  “What I’d rather do is have you sound out Ikuo about the Technicians’ ideas,” Dancer said. “What concerns me most is how he’s taking the fact that the Sacred Wound was hidden all this time.”

  4

  When Ogi went up the road to the north shore of the Hollow and arrived at the studio, Kizu and Ikuo were looking at the sketch that Ikuo had just brought back from the farm. Ogi stood next to them, concerned about Ikuo’s reaction, but Ikuo soon cleared away his anxiety.

  “When we looked at the drawing of the Sacred Wound,” Ikuo said, his use of the term already revealing his reaction, “we spoke of how terrible it must have been for Patron to have had it all this time. For Dancer, too, it must have been tough. It was bound to come out—it was just a question of timing. All in all, I think this was the right moment.”

  The three of them turned their gaze to the framed drawing on the floor. There was the reddish-black hole that Ogi had inadvertently seen in the bath. He remembered the contrast between this hole and Dancer’s protruding pudenda.

  “I talked with Professor Kizu about this recently,” Ogi said. “I think I’d like you to go ahead with Ikuo’s plan to have Patron pose for you. There’s no reason to hide this anymore, what with the Quiet Women en masse claiming it’s a Sacred Wound. If this sketch helps you complete the triptych, this little affair will have done some good by having helped boot up our new church in the Hollow.”

  Kizu raised his eyebrows in surprise at the computer term boot up. “When you and Ikuo reach my age, you’ll discover that not everything has to be meaningful,” Kizu said, pondering the triptych anew.

  “I understand Ikuo as the model for Jonah, but what theme would Patron express, with the wound showing in his side?” Ogi asked.

  Ikuo was silent.

  “The Sacred Wound fits in nicely with the person who acts as mediator between us and God,”
Kizu said. “But instead of having this wounded mediator trying to persuade Jonah, I’m beginning to see him more on Jonah’s side, protesting with him, refusing to surrender to God.”

  “I like the ambiguity involved—having Patron model for a figure that can be interpreted in more than one way,” Ikuo said. “The followers praying in the chapel can read it any way they want.”

  “It also gives me a certain freedom as the artist,” Kizu said.

  He picked up the framed sketch and returned it to the dining table as Ikuo brought over a chilled bottle of mineral water and cups, and the three of them sat down and quenched their thirst.

  “Dancer said that when she went to explain to the Technicians about having kept the wound a secret, she didn’t quite understand their reaction,” Ogi said to Ikuo. “How do you see it?”

  “Because of all that went on in the last ten years, the Technicians have become quite cautious,” Ikuo replied. “It’s hard to read their reactions. But they do have a definite response. Mind you, I’m still an outsider, but I get the impression that they’ve been able to overcome the split that began with Guide’s interrogation and ‘trial.’ One thing the Technicians always agreed on was not accepting the meaning of Patron’s Somersault, agreeing that it was the wrong way to go. But beyond that there’s a difference of opinion concerning Patron and Guide’s lifestyle that surfaced when Guide was put on trial and died.

  “On the one hand, you have those who wanted to execute Guide for betraying the Technicians. On the other, you have those who regret that this unfortunate accident happened just as a repentant Guide was opening up a dialogue. Seen from a different angle, you have those who’ve come here hoping that Patron’s restarting of the church will link the time pre-Somersault with the time after—as if the Somersault never took place. And you have those who want Patron to somehow make a comeback and are struggling to find a new direction, different from the way they did things before the Somersault.

  “And while all this was going on, Patron’s Sacred Wound became public knowledge. It shows the direction the new church will take, I think, the real nature of Patron’s appeal to society and the world. Patron is always calling for those who’ve sinned to repent, and the wound has opened up as a sign, a constant reminder of this. If you think about it, Patron could be a suitable leader for either faction of the Technicians to rally around. I’ve also heard some of them saying that they’d like to raise up the banner of Patron’s Sacred Wound and become the strike force of the new church. I haven’t seen them this excited in a long time.”

  When Ogi returned to the office he reported Ikuo’s words to Dancer, allaying her concerns by telling her that Ikuo had not dwelled on her secrecy regarding the Sacred Wound.

  Dancer was silent for a while. “I’m really happy that the Quiet Women and the Technicians are taking the Sacred Wound so seriously,” she said finally, “but I don’t think Patron would be too pleased, either with the Quiet Women’s excessive emotionalism or the way the Technicians are already laying plans for action.”

  “Professor Kizu spoke with Dr. Koga,” Ogi said, “who told him how surprised he was to see the intensity with which the Technicians are dealing with the wound. He also said he’s concerned that they might ignore Patron’s will and use this as a pretext for reviving their radical activities.”

  “But what about Ikuo himself?” Dancer asked. “Didn’t he join this church in order to hear Patron relay the order God wants him to carry out? Ikuo’s close to the Technicians in a different way from Dr. Koga. I wonder sometimes if he might join them and rush headlong into something rash. If Ikuo and the Technicians joined forces, Patron might not be able to resist them.”

  “Professor Kizu kids him about how training the Young Fireflies is his main thing now,” Ogi said.

  The wet interior of her mouth had a much healthier hue to it than it had earlier in the day, as Dancer sat there contemplatively. “Since Ikuo’s childhood was so unusual,” she said, “he can’t restrain himself when it comes to dealing with children. Don’t you think he would have made a good school-teacher, instead of making a half-baked effort to carve out a life for himself in normal society? Not that I have any right to say that.”

  Ogi felt it was he, more than Dancer, who had no right to criticize Ikuo in that way.

  5

  Late that night another unexpected event took place, which made this the busiest week since the church had moved to the Hollow. Kizu suffered a massive bloody discharge and sharper pain than ever before and was carried to Dr. Koga’s clinic.

  There were portents that this might be coming, especially when Kizu told Ikuo, as he left the studio, that he was too exhausted to go out to dinner and asked Mrs. Shigeno to prepare a light meal to be sent over to his residence. Ms. Tachibana, along with Morio, had yet to see the sketch of Patron’s Sacred Wound, so she brought over Kizu’s meal, which consisted of the same menu as everyone else’s, minus the meat.

  Ms. Tachibana’s face was almost frighteningly pale, but Kizu was happy to see that there was an understanding between her and Ikuo and the office staff. Kizu was also impressed at how intensely Morio studied the sketch, the same intensity he usually applied only to listening to music. It was also nice to see that his eyes and ears were perfectly fine. Ms. Tachibana was worried, though, because Kizu didn’t touch his meal while they were there, and on the way home she found herself also concerned when Morio, with his perfect pitch, told her that Kizu’s voice had been one note flatter than usual.

  Also, in the middle of the night, as she got Morio up to use the toilet—he’d been wetting his bed since he was a teenager—she noticed a light on in the house on the north shore, reflected on the surface of the lake. She woke Dancer up, and they talked things over with Ogi. Kizu’s place didn’t have a phone, so they decided to go over to check for themselves. As soon as Ogi entered the unlocked house, he found Kizu collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet.

  Ogi raced back to their house on the south shore, phoned Dr. Koga, and went back to help Dancer take care of Kizu. Kizu was conscious as they carried him to his bed, though he couldn’t respond and just groaned. All they could do while waiting for Dr. Koga was to stand watch at Kizu’s bedside. At the same time they noticed that their palms were dappled dark red, like the painting of the wound in Patron’s side.

  Ikuo drove Dr. Koga over. The doctor seemed more energetic than ever as he bustled around. Ikuo, in contrast, was tearful and helpless, yet somehow he blurted out that he’d like them to take Kizu by ambulance to the Red Cross Hospital in Matsuyama. Dr. Koga scolded him, however, saying that a patient in such pain might very well have a heart attack and that transporting him such a long way would be signing his death warrant. He would treat Kizu at the clinic.

  The next day the Quiet Women held another prayer vigil, this time for Kizu’s swift recovery. The Young Fireflies, profoundly grateful for the donations Kizu had made to them and wanting to cheer up Ikuo, put back the partition they had taken out in Kizu’s house to make the studio, to partition off a living room, again, on the east side, and a bedroom on the west for Kizu to convalesce in.

  Kizu came home from the clinic one week later and was carried up to his house from the car they parked below the dam. As he was carried inside on a stretcher, Kizu noticed Morio among those lined up to welcome him back and said a word of greeting to him. Morio, solemn and serious, paused a beat before replying.

  “Your voice is small, but it’s the right pitch now!”

  The people gathered there had heard how Morio had related Kizu’s physical condition to the pitch of his voice, and an animated stir rippled through the group. Ogi realized how indispensable a person Kizu had already become to those who’d moved here.

  Asa-san was among the local residents who were happy that Kizu was back home. Ogi learned that, even though she was among those who smiled peacefully at Morio’s words, she was also a realist unmoved by the upbeat mood of those around her.

  Watching as Kizu was
carried up the slope, gazing steadily at the greenery, which had deepened in color in the week of his absence, Asa-san spoke to Ogi, who stood beside her.

  “I’m not saying that Professor Kizu needs to return to America, but wouldn’t it be best if he chose a real hospital in Matsuyama or Tokyo and settled in there? I think coming back to the Hollow means he’s resigned himself to the inevitable.”

  Ogi went over to the home on the east side of the monastery occupied by Patron to report to him that Kizu was back from the clinic. Patron asked about Kizu’s condition and about any new symptoms and was dissatisfied that Ogi wasn’t able to give more details. Before long Patron announced he’d be paying Kizu a visit. Ogi returned to the office to consult with Dancer, and in the evening, with Dr. Koga joining them, they discussed how to carry out this request.

  The sky was dark and threatening rain as Ogi and Dancer walked single file through the dark silent woods to Kizu’s house, shining their flashlights at Patron’s feet. Contrary to the usual feeling one got that the darkness was pushing down to the lowest reaches of the woods, the chapel and the monastery across the lake seemed to recede and somehow it felt entirely natural that—despite the large number of people living there—there wasn’t a sound.

  Kizu was sitting in his angled bed, propped up by cushions, and in front of him were three dining room chairs. Dr. Koga was already ensconced on one of them. Patron and Dancer sat down on the other two, while Ikuo and Ogi stood at the foot of the bed, their backs to the dark window.

  “I’m sorry to have caused all this trouble with such dramatic events,” Kizu said, in a voice that, as Morio had pointed out, was small but lively.