Apparently, it was a rule that normally, outside observers first had to attend the “literature research” that took place every Wednesday. Thus, the two solicitors appeared uncertain what to do with me. I continued to entreat them, “It must be today! Please, take us to the meeting today!”
After I begged them for a few more minutes, they finally gave in. They disclosed the location of the “Imperial Hall” and the meeting time. “It starts at six o’clock in the evening. If you tell them you’ve come ‘on Kaneda’s sponsorship’, you'll be allowed to enter.”
***
It was early evening. Having disguised ourselves in strange clothing, we quickly walked up the road toward the Imperial Hall.
My reason for infiltrating the meeting was to observe Misaki’s private life, so I could figure out her real motivations. This was the reason that I decided to disguise myself. In the beginning, Yamazaki stubbornly resisted my attempts to get him to join me, but I finally convinced him. “Infiltrating a religious organization is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you know! It’ll be interesting!” Eventually, he yielded to my half-assed argument and, in the end, happily disguised himself.
I wore the black suit I had bought when I entered college so that I would look like a prize recruit. I pulled a tulip-pink hat down low over my eyes and donned dark purple sunglasses. Even I thought I looked ridiculous.
For his part, Yamazaki wore platform shoes to make himself about four inches taller, put green contacts in his eyes—and on top of all that, bleached his hair gold. I had no idea why he even owned such an idiotic thing as platform shoes. Still, it was the perfect disguise.
Yet, I remained a bit anxious. I was afraid that our voices might expose our true identities. “What do you think, Yamazaki? There’s no way we can change our voices, is there?”
When I expressed my worry on this point, Yamazaki dragged me into the department store near the station, and we headed toward the fourth-floor toy store. At the party goods section, he picked up some helium gas. It had been popular a while ago because if you inhaled it, your voice would sound like a duck.
“Ah! You’re smart!” I thumped Yamazaki on the back.
He stuck out his thumb and grinned. He was having a great time.
In this way, we completed all our preparations and triumphantly headed toward the Imperial Hall, which was located at the edge of the shopping center near the station. People passing us—clearly a shady pair, squeaking in high “duck” voices—threw perplexed glances in our direction. Normally, we would have been intimidated by their stares; but only for today, we weren’t scared of other people. My dark glasses blocked the glances, and I had a friend in Yamazaki, who bravely walked beside me.
More than anything else, the “energy-giving drug” I had bought through the mail was working quite well. Only half a day earlier, I had been suffering from anxieties I couldn’t imagine escaping—but now, I was suffused with energy. Apparently, just a few milligrams of generic drugs could drastically change people’s emotions.
“Is this it?” Yamazaki asked in his duck voice once we had exited the narrow alley that ran next to the tracks, pointing at a four-story building next to a convenience store.
I checked the map the solicitor had drawn for me. The information board at the building’s entrance also announced, “Third Floor, Imperial Hall.” There was no mistake; this was it. It was great that we had arrived at our destination, but I felt unexpectedly let down.
Contrary to its powerful-sounding name, the Imperial Hall was a rather worn-out old building that rented out office space to small businesses. The first floor was a real estate company and the second floor housed a tax attorney's office, leaving only the third floor to be occupied by the religious group. Colored red by the sunset, the rental space looked even more faded. I had imagined a huge temple decorated in gold leaf and the like, so I was taken by surprise.
Still, it was about time to start our infiltration. “L-let’s go, Yamazaki.”
“Yeah, let’s, Satou.”
Fortifying our will, we climbed the narrow stairs of the building.
***
In the end, our infiltration of the hall succeeded easily.
No one we passed even obliquely mentioned our strange disguises. Although I had told yet another gigantic lie: “Actually, my eyes are so bad, I need my sunglasses.” I said this despite not having been asked. And everyone said, “Oh my, how terrible”, and took pity on me.
That’s right: They were actually good people.
“Good evening.”
“Welcome.”
“Thank you for coming.”
A housewife, a female middle school student, and a businessman greeted us with invigorating smiles on their faces. Bowing our heads to them, we continued up the narrow stairs and stepped into the meeting hall. And once again, we tasted disappointment.
The interior of the hall lacked any religious atmosphere. Adornments such as candles, crosses, and altars were nowhere to be found. Instead, inside the room, a podium like those found in school auditoriums occupied center stage, faced by rows of evenly spaced metal folding chairs. The room could accommodate about one hundred people. The floor and walls were painted uniformly in a soft cream color, and the fluorescent lighting was bright. This relaxed space, the meeting room, basically resembled a normal town hall.
For now, we sat in folding chairs at the very back, hunching down to make ourselves as invisible as possible. However, that attempt soon failed miserably. Yamazaki and I were surrounded by hospitable, smiling people—young and old, male and female. It looked as though the young solicitor we’d seen the previous day had told everyone to expect visitors beforehand.
“I hear you’re interested in the Bible”, said a housewife with a child in her arms. “After all, faith is an issue that everyone has to face.”
A young man about my age said, “Please, take your rime and watch.”
A high-school-aged girl said—
They were all speaking to us at the same time.
Returning their greetings in my duck voice, I felt increasingly anxious. This is bad. At this rate, we’ll stand out. Or rather, we’re already standing out plenty, Misaki doesn’t seem to have arrived yet; the way it’s going, though, it’s only a matter of time before she sees through our disguises.
For the moment, we decided to retreat temporarily. Asking the housewife where the bathroom was, we hurried from the meeting hall.
“This is no good, Satou.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it, Yamazaki?”
We caught our breath while relieving ourselves in the sparkling clean bathroom.
“Why are those people being so friendly to shady people like us?”
“I’m kind of moved.” I was somewhat surprised by myself. This was the first time in my long life that I had ever experienced anything like this. A large number of people had openly welcomed me with smiles on their faces. I had no idea how to deal with it.
“Ha ha ha, maybe I should convert!”
I heard Yamazaki, who had gone into the private stall, suddenly burst into laughter. Next came the sound of toilet paper unrolling. I heard him blow his nose, and then he came out of the stall. The pupils of his eyes had dilated behind his colored contacts. White powder stuck to his sleeves.
“How about you, Satou?” Yamazaki held out a plastic packet filled with the drug. I gently refused. As my espionage activities were about to begin, I couldn’t afford to lose my level-headed judgment.
Putting tissues inside my mouth, I changed the contours of my face, creating an even more perfect disguise. Yamazaki, an off-the-chart smile plastered across his face, meanwhile busied himself walking in circles around the bathroom.
A short time later, we heard a choral hymn coming from beyond the bathroom walls. The assembly seemed to have begun.
Casually, we headed toward the meeting hall.
***
As I mentioned, the meeting hall’s interior lacked any sort of religious atmosphere
at all. It looked like a youth training center. Even so…
Why had I gotten goose bumps up and down my spine? I was moved. It might have been a side effect of the drugs I’d taken before leaving the apartment. My emotional amplification might have been nothing more than a side effect. But…
Almost one hundred people had gathered in this hall, and they were singing without hesitation, with remarkable spirit. Older men, older women, young men, young women—they had turned in unison to face the lectern and single-mindedly sang a hymn praising God. Here, I could certainly feel holiness. Oh, this is true religion! This is wonderful!
Anyway, wrapped up in the hymn, I moved quickly along the wall of the meeting hall and arrived back at a seat along the very edge. When the hymn ended, a middle-aged man standing at the podium began to pray. He seemed to be the most important person there.
“Great Creator, who made the heavens and this Earth, too, along with us humans, may praise and glory be returned to your great name.” Everyone looked forward, listening attentively to his prayer. No one looked at us.
It was going as planned.
Or so I thought. As he was finishing his prayers, the important man at the podium said something like, “Thanks to the aid of the Holy Spirit, you were all able to gather here again today. Many children, as well as new people…”
New people? Who? Who are they?
They were us.
Everyone’s gazes immediately turned toward us. I pulled the tulip hat even farther down over my eyes. Yamazaki, as though competing with everyone else, flashed his insane smile.
At the edge of my peripheral vision, I could see Misaki. She was in front of me, in the seat closest to the pedestal. She hadn’t realized we were there. Relaxing, I stopped Yamazaki, who was trying to wave to everyone.
“Well then, we give you all our thanks in the name of the Son, Lord Jesus Christ, and give you our prayers.”
“Amen.” The congregation spoke as one. Only our duck voices stood out terribly in the chorus.
***
The purpose of this meeting was to improve proselytizing techniques. This was why it was called “missionary school.”
First, a veteran male follower stood at the podium and spoke as an example to follow. After that, the missionary students expounded on various subjects for six minutes at a time. At the end, the “director” gave a three-tiered assessment (“good”, “work harder”, or “needs improvement”) to each student’s discussion.
At least, that's how the housewife sitting next to me explained it.
Bowing politely to her, I casually assessed the scene. Even though it was a weekday evening, a decent number of people had gathered. What caught my eye first was the huge number of housewives. They were all extremely normal, middle-aged women, like the kind you’d find shopping at any nearby supermarket. In addition, there were businessmen, coming straight to the assembly on their way home from work. Finally, there were young people on their way home from school. A wide variety of people had gathered in this meeting hall.
The more senior male followers wore serious expressions at the podium, and I was fascinated by their discussions. Some people even wrote down the contents of these lectures in their notebooks. The speeches once again contained the sort of vocabulary that made normal peoples heads hurt. “Armageddon” and “Satan” and other such wonderful terms kept coming up, and so my stomach began to ache.
At any rate, I was certain that there were about one hundred people gathered here, and that they were all very, very serious.
“The birth of mankind was six thousand years ago.”
“Noah’s Ark is on Mount Ararat.”
“Satan’s war will begin soon.”
“According to the Book of Revelations…”
Are you all from Gakken Mu?! [25] I wanted to yell, but Yamazaki and I were vastly outnumbered.
Finally, the first lecture ended. In summation, this was its message: The decay of this world is spreading visibly. Political corruption is unending, disputes break out ceaselessly around the world, and brutal urban crime just goes on and on. Youths are addicted to licentious relationships, adults seek only material worth, and morality falls further and further by the wayside. In short, this is Satan’s doing. Those in this world ruled by Satan are unaware that they do his bidding, and this is precisely why Armageddon draws near. Before Armageddon arrives, we must save as many people as possible from damnation. This is the goal of our mission.
Apparently, an antagonism between God and Satan existed, and those without faith would fall into hell.
The student lectures that followed seemed to have similar themes. “Praise God, hate Satan” appeared to be the general policy. They all seemed to have practiced quite a bit for this day and skillfully referenced passages from the Bible, speaking without hesitation. I could see some signs of nervousness; even so, they spoke proudly. Each time the bell rang, marking the end of the allotted six minutes, everyone clapped. I clapped, too. Continuing in this way, eventually, the young people’s speeches ended.
Next… Yamazaki and I exchanged glances: Misaki’s turn had come.
I was expectant. I wanted her to use ridiculous lines like those I heard each night at counseling. I wanted her to make me laugh and feel cheerful.
However, Misaki, at the podium, was shaking slightly, her face pale. During the entire time, she had nothing interesting to say. In a vague, flat monotone, she merely gave a passable speech about the Bible, staring at her shoes the entire time.
She seemed to be in pain. Her demeanor reminded me of a girl who, from elementary school on, everyone had bullied.
***
Missionary school ended.
After a ten minute break, a “service meeting” was scheduled. During the break, everyone chatted amiably—a group of housewives, boys, and young men. Each group gathered together, talking and smiling happily.
“Kazuma is in Bethel—“
“—servants volunteering—“
“Anyway, in the reclamation work we did before—“
“—the Satomi sisters finally were baptized.”
Specialized, technical terms were used often, so I couldn’t really follow the conversations well.
I looked toward the corner of the meeting hall where Misaki sat alone, stooped over on a steel chair. She was making herself small, trying as hard as she could to not stand out. There, in the corner of the room, she was destroying any trace of herself. She really was pale. Each time someone passed her, Misaki looked downward. It appeared as though she feared someone might try to talk to her. During the break, no one spoke to her. That seemed to be what she wanted.
In the friendly meeting hall, she alone stood out from the surroundings.
“Let’s go home.” I nudged Yamazaki toward the door.
“What are you saying, Satou? The service meeting is about to start!”
Yamazaki’s eyes were bloodshot, and I had some idea why. In the technical terms we were most familiar with—that is to say, in the vocabulary of erotic games—service was defined as “a special type of loving massage that a maid in an apron performs for her master.”
“This is a service meeting! Those girls over there will perform their services for us!”
“There’s no way that’s going to happen!”
Putting the angry Yamazaki into a full nelson, I muscled him outside. As we approached the building’s main exit, a voice called out from behind, “Hey, you!”
It was the younger of the two solicitors we’d encountered earlier, the middle-school-aged boy. His hands thrust in his blazer pockets, he glared at us. “You guys are really here just to make fun, right?”
Suddenly, Yamazaki took off. He ran away without even glancing back. Once again, I was left alone.
However, the boy didn’t yell at me. In fact, we started walking along the dark road together. Even though it was already summer, the night wind was unseasonably chilly. The boy was smoking a cigarette. He exhaled, “Ah…”
“That’s against the commandments, I think.”
Forestalling me, the boy drew a Zippo from his pocket and lit another cigarette with what seemed to be a practiced hand.
Walking on my right side, he explained, “Sometimes, people like you want to see something weird, so they come to observe the meetings. Stupid students, like you guys. Well then, what did you think? Was it funny?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I’m not doing this religion thing because I like it, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s my parents. Both my mom and dad love religion. In our house, I’m the only one with a decent head on his shoulders. If I ever said that I wanted to leave the church, what do you think would happen? I once said to my mom, ‘I want to join a school activity, and I want to play at friends’ houses.’ When I did, that old hag started screaming, ‘You devil!’ She wouldn’t even make me lunch for days.”
The boy laughed. “I go along with my parents enough for them not to get mad; and then, when I’m outside the house, I do what I want.”
He spent his time at school like a normal kid, I concluded, and while at home, he lived as a devout, religious person. He was living a double life.
“What I’m saying is, you guys should be sure not to make the mistake of joining up.” He sounded serious. “Everyone made a fuss over you today, right? Everyone seemed happy, right? You probably thought something dumb like, ‘maybe I could get along with nice people such as these’, right? You’re wrong. That’s their trick. They’re not acting out of any kind of selfless love. It’s a way to get you to convert.
“Once you’re on the inside, it’s just like any other normal society. Everyone wants to be the leader. Everyone wants to go to the holy land. My father is desperately trying to set things up for himself to advance—sending presents to the leaders, trying to raise his position, no matter what. It’s really idiotic. You saw what happened today, didn’t you? That girl who presented last was just a nondescript researcher until recently, but her family kept telling her to enter missionary school until, finally, she did. When she, a family member, presents at the missionary school, her aunt gains status.”
Welcome to the NHK! Page 12
