by Kenzaburo Oe
At an unexpectedly steep slope where they could look down at the villages and the river in the bottom of the valley, there was a square meadow jutting out like a stage. Ikuo was standing there, talking with three of the Quiet Women.
To the left below them was a sparse stand of red pines, a path cutting through it that went down to where they could see—through a large bamboo grove just before the path went uphill again—half of the lake in the Hollow and the Plexiglas skylights on the roof of the chapel reflecting the sunlight. In the midst of this wonderfully placid scenery, the bypass to the cross-Shikoku highway cut through a mountain one hill over. The whole scene was so bucolic it made Ogi want to tell Gii that he understood the feelings of the Fireflies, ready to fight to defend the legends of their land.
Before he could say anything, though, Ikuo saw the two of them approach and abruptly waved Gii off.
“Go guard the car,” he told him abruptly. “The key’s in it, so if a truck comes and wants to pass, move it so he can!”
Ikuo led Ogi and the three women over to an old tree in the west corner of the meadow, bursting with dark green berries hanging down on long stems. There was a place constructed out of thick logs where they could sit.
Ogi found Mrs. Shigeno and Ms. Takada, whom he hadn’t seen in a while, full of the same sense of incongruity he’d felt yesterday morning in Ms. Oyama, who rounded out the threesome. Their skin was equally pale and lusterless, but what was even more noticeable was the clumsy, amateurish way the Quiet Women had done up their hair. The hair behind their ears and at the napes of their necks was newly shorn. What’s more, a dark, solemn shadow had fallen over their expressions.
As the three sat side by side on the log seat, with the river on their right, Mrs. Shigeno, at the end, looked up at the small orange-red berries on the branch above her and said, “Whenever I see this many berries it always makes me think of when the Chinese matrimony-vine wine we used to make was ready to drink. But that doesn’t move me anymore. My interest in trees and plants is entirely practical.”
Ogi was the only one who responded to this by gazing up at the thin stalks of the matrimony vine and its bell-like berries. He realized that her statement was merely a prelude leading up to the main theme of their talk.
“Ogi is helping Professor Kizu write a history of Patron’s church, and I want him to witness all the decisions that are made and the events that take place,” Ikuo said, as if making sure the Quiet Women understood. “I’ll be talking with the Technicians next, and he’ll be accompanying me there as well.… Ogi, I’d like you to remember that the Quiet Women were followers of Patron years before we first came across him. As junior members, then, you and I have to do whatever we can to help them, no matter what they ask of us. They’re not looking for our input, and it would be out of line to object to anything they say. Okay, this being said, we’d like to hear what sort of program the Quiet Women propose.”
“Do you understand, Ogi-kun?” Ms. Oyama said. “Ikuo’s told us you’re the church’s chronicler, but we’re the ones responsible for the events you’ll chronicle. Before Patron’s sermon, after seven P.M., we’d like to have the whole chapel set aside for us to use. At yesterday’s press conference there were people who said that was unfair, but I’d like you to give your word one more time that you won’t say anything. In terms of time, this should overlap with part two of the Spirit Procession.
“I’m sure there’ll still be people who want to come see Professor Kizu’s triptych or who’ll want to take refuge inside the chapel to listen to Patron’s sermon without all the bugs flying around them. Our old friends might insist on coming inside. Despite this, just before seven P.M. the Quiet Women will enter the chapel and barricade it from inside. The Technicians will be outside, standing guard.”
Before Ogi could say a thing, Ms. Takada, who ever since moving to this area no longer seemed bothered by having only one eye, and who was in charge of business affairs for the Quiet Women, spoke in a calm, composed voice.
“At that time, blessed by Patron’s sermon, we will ascend to heaven. In the sacred ground of the church, listening to Morio’s music, the Quiet Women will pass away.”
Aghast, Ogi turned around to look at Ikuo. His rough-hewn, brawny face stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged. Only Ogi’s heart was pounding, his face flushed. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out the cicadas screeching all around them. Mrs. Shigeno tried to explain things further.
“After Guide passed away, Patron announced that he would be returning to his religious activities. At that point we took this to mean that he was laying the preparations for ascending to heaven. That’s why we had our children sing ‘Hallelujah!’—to praise Patron’s decision. We were so happy he allowed us to move here right away, thinking he was giving us the go-ahead sign. After moving here and getting to know Ms. Tachibana and Morio better, our resolve is firmer than ever.
“As it turned out, though, we were leaping to conclusions. The confrontation two days ago between Patron and Ikuo convinced us of this. Patron was afraid that more than a thousand people would be burned to death. He was going to make an announcement over the speakers to tell everyone to flee, but Ikuo stopped him. It was like he was insane. We think he was merely afraid.
“When we heard this news, we thought Hallelujah! as a scene flashed through our minds of seven hundred believers all passing up to heaven along with Patron in this glorious holy place. But Patron was afraid. He lost consciousness and had to be comforted by someone of limited intelligence. When we heard this, we decided we’d have to do things our way.
“The Passion in this holy land that seven hundred couldn’t realize we’ve decided to carry out with twenty-five. Wasn’t the illusion Patron had—that the Fireflies were about to burn to death a thousand people, curious onlookers included—something that bubbled up out of his dread, out of the depths of his very being? If Guide were alive I know he’d correct Patron’s mistake. But the only way we can correct him—and educate him—is by taking action.”
Mrs. Shigeno’s confident tone quickly drew Ogi’s imagination away from the three women seated in front of him to a place, some ten hours later, where he was dealing with the dead bodies of all the Quiet Women. Strangely enough, this made him picture, quite intimately, the face of Mrs. Tsugane, her features, perhaps because of her age, sharply outlined, as she arranged a tryst between them deep in the woods of this very same north slope. Ogi sought refuge in the scent of her living body, so very different from the smell of death.
As he thought all this, Mrs. Takada, totally indifferent to the smooth skin covering the spot where her right eye should be, said, “I’ve had this for quite a long time.” She pulled out a thick glass bottle, four inches high, from a paper bag. “They told me it’s enough cyanide to kill fifty people. I’ll divide it into twenty-five portions. Dr. Koga would help me, don’t you think?”
Ogi flinched from the proffered bag, but Ikuo stretched out a long manly arm and snatched it up.
Ogi, feeling helpless and alone, couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “People call me an innocent youth, and I’m not sure but what you’re pulling my leg here, but why do all of you have to pass away? Can you imagine the impact it’s going to have if all the Quiet Women commit mass suicide right when Patron’s about to launch his new church?”
Ikuo and the three Quiet Women all looked disgusted. Even so, Mrs. Shigeno tried to respond.
“I’m getting on in years and I want to settle things while I’m still in my right mind, while my body still is able to function. I’m not speaking for all the Quiet Women, though.… To put it in a more general way, don’t you feel that the world is fast falling apart? In twenty years it will be even worse, and everyone then will have to consider the problems I’m thinking about now. When you picture this, you realize that the coming end time will be just like Patron used to preach about before the Somersault. What we’re going to do is revive the message of Patron’s old sermons and pass away first.
>
“From the bottom of our hearts, we wish Patron well in establishing his Church of the New Man. Some of the media reported that after he and Guide left the church we lost all hope and Patron feared we would commit mass suicide. So he made statements making fun of our belief, saying it was ridiculous, so we no longer seriously considered dying. That was his plan all along, the articles said.
“When we read these articles we couldn’t believe them. It was just too simplistic. We were outraged, because if what they said was true, it was an insult to the Quiet Women. But after what just took place, we’ve had to rethink our position. Patron didn’t calculate anything. He was simply afraid.… This time were going to take the initiative and pass away. After that, if Patron makes another calculated Somersault, it won’t have any meaning.”
Ogi was at a loss for words. He felt hopelessly naive and impotent. He told himself over and over he couldn’t cry in front of Ms. Takada, with her pale smooth skin over one eye.
Giving Ogi’s shoulder an almost cruelly strong thump, Ikuo addressed the three women. “The sun’s getting a little hot, and I think we’re about finished here, so we’d better be getting along. Please excuse Ogi for not keeping his promise about not interrupting. As everyone says, he’s terribly innocent.… Please take Gii’s car back to the Hollow. I’m going to go with Ogi to the Farm. Don’t worry, he won’t break your trust anymore.”
“At last night’s party, backstage, we settled things with Mr. Hanawa,” Ms. Oyama said. “If they were really to oppose us, our occupation of the chapel wouldn’t last very long.”
Mrs. Shigeno turned to Ogi, who was flushed and completely unnerved by what he’d heard. “Trying to get in touch with the police would be even more futile,” she warned. “We’ve given a lot of thought to the arrangements for our ascent and have come up with several possible scenarios. If you try to do something, first of all Ikuo will stop you. But even if you get through to the police and they show up, we’ll just hole up in the chapel that much earlier, with the Technicians standing guard. If there isn’t time for the poison to work, the windows in the chapel are just the right height for hanging. There are footstools in the chapel already, and we’ve laid in a stock of rope.”
2
Many cars were parked inside and outside the Farm, cars not left over from the party the previous night. Three RVs were parked in the meadow opposite the entrance, all with curtains drawn. Activity had begun at the Farm, with nothing left over from the party. Some young people in the open space in front of the buildings were cleaning up, others were transporting mountains of garbage bags, while still others were removing the party decorations from the roof and side walls of the barn. Technicians were supervising each of these groups. Visitors were walking around, looking at the meat-processing plant from outside, checking the enlargements being made to the chicken coops.
Before Ikuo and Ogi could get out of their car, a young Firefly whose face Ogi remembered came over, eager to carry out his assigned duties.
“Mr. Hanawa is working behind the warehouse,” he said, “and told me to tell you to meet him over there.” On the north side of the grassy meadow, where all sorts of activities were going on, stood a food manufacturing facility, but Ikuo and Ogi walked on the west side, which was deserted except for two large warehouses, and continued down a narrow path between them, coming out to a spot like a garden in a mountain retreat between a quiet grove of oaks and beeches. One could sense the calm life of the person living there.
On the north side stood an old two-story western-style house, which was where Satchan, the farm’s owner, lived. The well-tended land sloped gently down from west to south to a woods with evergreen oaks, and in the midst of the dark foliage they could see the roof of the house where Gii and Mayumi lived.
Below the eaves of the house was a pile of thick pine logs, each about twenty inches in diameter. On their near side, Mr. Hanawa was working. Working might not be the right word for it, for there was a calm about him as he squatted there, as if it was his habit to be lost in quiet contemplation. From the slope there was a line of thick birches and oaks as a windbreak. The foliage of the trees, higher than the roof of the house, cut off the sunlight, making a cozy little spot just perfect for Mr. Hanawa to do simple tasks and to meditate.
Before Ikuo and Ogi approached him, Mr. Hanawa stood up, holding a wooden-handled tool with a metal Y at the end. At his feet in their canvas shoes, long stumps of finger-width-size roots lay scattered.
“A motorized weed cutter would make short work of these. Mountain azaleas put out buds again before you know it,” Mr. Hanawa said, explaining what he was doing. “Yesterday and today we have guests staying at the Technicians’ office, so let’s talk here.” He threw Ogi a look.
“I want Ogi to know everything that’s going on,” Ikuo explained. “The Quiet Women are on track with their plans, though they may occupy the chapel a little earlier than planned. If they have to do that it’ll be a bit troublesome to kick out any visitors who might happen to be there.”
“If the police find out we’ll have to mobilize the Technicians,” Mr. Hanawa said. “The Fireflies will have their hands full with the Spirit Festival.”
At this point Ogi couldn’t help but break his promise again. Standing beside Ikuo, who was so businesslike, Ogi said, his emotions bare, “The Technicians aren’t going to intervene in what the Quiet Women are planning to do?”
Mr. Hanawa clearly shrank back from Ogi’s words, but Ogi didn’t flinch. He waited, making it clear he wanted an answer. Finally Mr. Hanawa settled down enough to respond.
“I never really knew the Quiet Women until we moved here,” he said, “but during these past ten years aren’t they the ones who’re most exhausted by it all? Even if we try to prevent them by force, I think eventually they’re going to do what they want to do, so they might as well carry out their plan at the same time as the inaugural sermon announcing the Church of the New Man. It’s ideal timing for them. Who are we to mess it up?
“With the Church of the New Man as our base, we Technicians plan to reconsider what we tried to do in Izu. Patron and Guide’s Somersault made those earlier plans fizzle out, but we don’t think we should simply abandon the idea of a millennial kingdom to follow or our plan to bring the Japanese people to repentance. Patron has his Church of the New Man, and likewise we have our plans that we’ve reworked over the past ten years. Their Somersault gave us time to let these ideas mature. Since we’ve faced these issues head-on, we want to respect the freedom of the Quiet Women to take whatever actions they’ve thought long and hard about, so we’re going to help fulfill the atonement of these twenty-five women.”
“You idiot!”
Groaning this out, Ogi lunged at Mr. Hanawa, who, with his free arm—careful not to touch Ogi with the metal-tipped tool he held—lunged back and blocked him.
“Hear me out,” Mr. Hanawa said, not at all out of breath. “At the time of the Somersault we were going to blow a nuclear power plant to kingdom come, and we didn’t mind passing away in the process. Why should we cling to this degenerate world? But we couldn’t just abandon the plan for a millennial kingdom of repentance. So we were exposed to ridicule.
“This shows how innocent we are, perhaps, but we believed that our decision and Patron’s plans deep down had something in common. Once we had that troubled meeting with Guide, though, our illusions vanished. The only option left for us was to lead the Church of the New Man as a starting point for our reign of repentance. We’re going to have Professor Kizu paint a fourth panel depicting the atonement of the Quiet Women.”
This time Ogi lunged at Mr. Hanawa without a word. Never having fought anyone before, he missed, punching the air, while his exposed neck was slammed with a cudgel-like fist and he collapsed to the ground.
When he opened his eyes, his saw Mr. Hanawa’s canvas shoes moving right in front of his eyes. He hunched his neck to avoid the kick he thought was coming, but the boot tips were merely poking at what looked l
ike an inlaid bat in the short cut grass. Once he realized that dark object was a neatly cut stump, Ogi staggered to his feet.
Rubbing his upper right arm, Ikuo calmly assessed the situation. “Another promise down the drain.… Mr. Hanawa, we’re going to go speak with Patron. That’s the only way Ogi will be convinced, don’t you think? I’ll have the Fireflies report in detail on the Quiet Women’s movement up until they enter the chapel. Thanks in advance for your help.
“Before we see Patron, though, there’s something the Quiet Women asked me to do,” Ikuo said to Ogi. “First we’ll stop by Dr. Koga’s clinic. He’s working independently here, though of course he’s originally a colleague of the Izu research guys, and I know he keeps in close touch with Mr. Hanawa, not to mention the Quiet Women. So no more going out on your own and breaking your promise, okay?”
The reception area in the clinic was empty. Dr. Koga was sitting alone in front of a desk in an examination room, the one with Kizu’s watercolor. He watched Ikuo come in with his paper bag and then frowned when he saw Ogi bringing up the rear. Hesitantly he said, “Mrs. Shigeno called me.”
“Ogi knows what the situation is,” Ikuo began. “I came over to leave this with you. Ogi is opposed to the Quiet Women’s decision, and opposed to having the Technicians guard them, but he’s not going to be scheming to outmaneuver them or anything. Could you take a look at his head?”
Ogi was once more aware of the pain in the back of his head, but he remained seated. Dr. Koga came over to look at him from behind and touched the tender part.
