Somersault (49 page)

Right after descending to the river from the temple they came across the newly completed bridge connecting up to the bypass leading to the cross-Shikoku highway. Mr. Matsuo explained how in crossing it they would pass by the road leading down to the Hollow, but today, since he wanted them to remember the lay of the land as it used to be in this region, they drove along the old main road on this side of the riverbank.

The Kame River is lined with dikes now, he said, and is no longer a wild river—it used to flood its banks every year—yet if the water filling the man-made lake to its brim overflowed, Old Town would be flooded. According to Mr. Matsuo, this fact lay behind the wariness with which the residents of Old Town viewed the followers of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree—who lived, at that time, in the chapel and in tents in the banks of the lake—and also lay behind the movement opposing this newest church.

Besides introducing them to the special topographic features of the region, Mr. Matsuo also related some of the highlights of local history. Dancer didn’t say anything while she sat next to Mr. Matsuo in the front passenger seat, but when she was alone with Ogi she complained. “That priest thinks that since our church is moving to these woods we have to revere their history just like he does. But aren’t Patron and all of us going to create a
new
history in this region?” she grumbled.

All complaints aside, when they crossed a ridge filled with red pines, began descending a slope, and cut through a dark road filled with tall bamboo trees, Dancer looked up to the rise above her, filled with layers of windswept deciduous and coniferous trees, and felt her breath taken away.

The road began to climb up again. Although it was paved, it was more like a mountain path, with wild grasses on either side, and with raindrops
dripping down from the thick oaks and beeches it felt like they were cutting through a deep forest. As soon as they emerged into the open, they came across a dam, like a huge wall blocking the way. Beside it, Asa-san, who’d preceded them, was parked in a flat spot and stood beside her car, umbrella open and extra ones under her arm.

They opened up the umbrellas, each of which had the mark of a tree done in the style of a woodblock print—umbrellas left over, it turned out, from the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. Asa-san told them that there were plenty of extra raincoats and high boots too, items essential to life here between river and woods, stored in the shed at the monastery, and they should feel free to borrow them. They all then trooped up a railless stairway carved out of the outer wall of the dam.

“This lake that was made when the water was dammed up was also the work of some young people in this area involved in a group called the Base Movement. They flooded the plain, leaving the trees standing to make the lake, and one huge tree we call the Hollow’s Cypress rises above the water on a bit of land, like some island that’s been there forever.”

“Asa-san was a main actor in one act of recent history that took place there,” Mr. Matsuo said, as he brought up the rear.

Asa-san, who was first to the top of the dam, riveted her eyes on the rain-pounded misty surface of the lake and the overgrown island with its huge cypress, but she didn’t follow up on what Mr. Matsuo said. All of them—Dancer, Ogi, and even Mr. Matsuo, who scrambled up on top of the dam last—fell silent for a while as they gazed at the scene.

In the now unimpeded field of vision, the rain fell on the conifers, raising a mist around them and on the dark green of the broad-leafed forest, making its darkness brim with vigor, sending up splashes on the slightly clouded surface of the lake. On the small island near the north shore, the unusually large cypress towered upward, so high the top disappeared in the fog swirling about it, with only its charred trunk near the lake’s surface and the thick, intertwined branches, the life force of the tree, visible.

On the east side of the lake, to the right, stood a wet, bright gray-blue cylinder with a gently sloping, conical roof: the chapel. On each side of the roof a half-globe skylight swelled out, showing a faint golden luster. To the west of the chapel an ancient-looking stone wall ran up to the southern edge of the dam, and above this loomed a Western-style shed-shaped monastery—the dormitories, in other words—a courtyard between them, with two parallel rows of roof tiles, the one nearer the forest slightly higher than the one in front.

As Ogi and Dancer stood absorbed in the scenery, Asa-san spoke contentedly to them in a way that left no doubt what a basically decent person she was.

“The huge cypress is trying its best to be as full of greenery as the stand of camphors on the slope to the north, isn’t it? If you stand at a different angle, though, it looks horrible, like a blackened, charred pillar. Even from here you can see that a little. Fifteen years ago, the withered branches were burnt, you see. I find it hard to believe now, but that was Brother Gii’s one and only savage act.”

“There’s no need to recite the whole of recent history, now, is there?” Mr. Matsuo gently chided her.

Asa-san readily turned to more practical matters. “That patchwork-colored area just in front of the camphors used to be a tangerine orchard,” she said. “And do you see that prefab building off to one side? We haven’t taken as good care of it as we should, so the branches all around are overgrown and you can only see the roof. I inherited that house, and your church asked to buy it from me. I’ve decided to accept their offer and have it fixed up so you all can use it. The monastery will have to be thoroughly cleaned, I’m sure, before it’s livable. In the meanwhile you can live in that prefab building on the north shore.”

“When she decides to support something, Asa-san doesn’t fool around,” Mr. Matsuo added, putting Ogi’s thoughts into words.

Asa-san turned her face, the freckles standing out on her prominent cheekbones, toward the lake and directed a languid look at its surface. Her expression looked sad, but when she spoke her voice was full of conviction.

“I’m already old, having spent most of my life right here,” she said, “and I’ve seen a lot of tragic but compelling things happen here in the Hollow—everything from the Base Movement to the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. After the church disappeared, though, the young workers in this area just seemed to shrivel up and die, and even a staunch supporter like Mr. Matsuo went back to his temple.

“I was worried that the local spirits might get too frustrated. That’s what happened just before and after the Meiji Restoration, when the riots took place. The local spirits here have a history of stirring things up. And just while I was thinking these things, look what happened—you all decided to take over the chapel and monastery! I feel revitalized now, and I’m hoping that before I pass away something exciting will happen, just like the old days! Admit it, Mr. Matsuo, you feel the same way, don’t you? The other day I stopped by the Church of the Flaming Green Tree Farm, and things seem much livelier than before. You all don’t know about the Farm yet, but Mr. Soda has been interested in it for quite some time. The wife of the church’s founder, who helped build the chapel and planned the monasteries, is running it with a small number of friends.”

The rain continued to strike the surface of the lake forcefully, sending up a thick material, neither mist nor fog, rising up toward the dam. The splashes from the raindrops at their feet grew higher.

“Let’s go inside,” Asa-san said. “It’s silly of me to expect you to sympathize with my feelings regarding this land. Besides, Mr. Matsuo’s trying to keep me from getting too worked up.”

“As if I had the strength to do that,” the chief priest demurred, but this time he went first, leading Ogi and Dancer into the grounds of the compound.

At the end of the dam there was a metal staircase skirting the end of a stone wall that, old though it was, had been put to good use. At the top of the stairs a cobblestone path ran straight to the east. On both sides were Western-style wooden structures that looked like school buildings. As it had appeared from the dam, the roof of the building on the forest side was just slightly taller than the one nearer the lake. Ogi and Dancer walked around the monastery, a fitting name at least from outward appearances, and peeked into the kitchen, the laundry room, and the storage rooms.

The lakeside corner of the east dorm, the part of the building fronting the courtyard that led to the chapel, was set up as an office, while its counterpart in the forest-side dorm was a detached wing with a high watchtower-like roof. Hesitantly yet persuasively, Asa-san suggested that Patron and those who helped him might live there. A passageway connected the dorms and the chapel, covering a concrete ditch down which a roiling swath of water flowed to the lake.

Looking down at the water, Asa-san said, “It’s raining a lot today, but even when it isn’t there’s a spring on the forest side always flowing into the lake. If there’s anybody in your church who’s done some farming, they could grow something there, since there’s so much water. Behind the building on the forest side there’s a fairly substantial piece of land running east and west. That’s part of the building’s grounds and part of your land.”

With Asa-san leading the way, Ogi and Dancer went into the chapel. The rainy sky and the half dome on the conical ceiling were bright, but only a dim light—like a collision of intersecting prisms—filtered into the rest of the building from the windows on the wall of the cylinder that were uncovered. There was enough light for them to look around the interior, however. Muffled rain beat against the solid roof. In the faint light, over two hundred chairs lined up in a fan shape threw shadows on the floor, and at the focal point stood a solid-looking lectern. Mr. Matsuo, coming in later, appeared at the entrance.

“I turned on the electricity,” he said to Asa-san. “Shall I turn on the lights or keep it as is?”

“Why don’t you turn them on. We’re transferring this over as a
building
I’ve taken care of, rather than as a church, so there’s no need for us to get all pious about it.”

“I just thought it would be nice to look outside from the chapel without any lights on,” Mr. Matsuo said disappointedly, and threw the main switch.

Once the bright lights were on, the cylindrical building looked just like a modern concert hall. The walls were as Mr. Soda had said, lustrous from a high-tech high-pressure paint job. In contrast, from a set height up to the ceiling, the walls turned decidedly rough, with porous soundproofing boards overlying the concrete. With everything brightly lit, the windows and entrance door seemed to match, though they had had an odd look earlier in the dimness.

“What a magnificent hall!” Dancer said in admiration. She’d been silent up till then. “There’s a piano, too, and wonderful audio equipment.”

“The control room is next to the entrance,” Mr. Matsuo replied.

“The floor is solid too.”

“Most people ask about the acoustics,” Mr. Matsuo said happily. “But you’re right. The floor
is
solidly built.”

“She’s a professional dancer, you see,” Ogi interjected, and Asa-san, as you might expect someone from the country to do, gave Dancer a careful once-over.

“I’m hoping you’ll make full use of all the chapel’s facilities,” she said, a more formal look on her face now. “Will Patron give his sermons here? The other church had its sermons here, but also concerts open to the public that everyone could enjoy. Though it seems ages ago.… There hasn’t been a single concert here in the last fifteen years. As I said before, once the Church of the Flaming Green Tree was gone, everyone seemed to shrink back into their shells. Which is another reason why I’m so happy that new people will be coming here.”

The light inside hit some broad-leaf tree branches, blown by a gust of wind, scraping against the east windows. Mr. Matsuo half turned to check out the movement and took up from Asa-san, his tone changed from before.

“The Base Movement had us all excited as kids, and the Church of the Flaming Green Tree movement, too, inspired the entire valley. I was so wrapped up in it from day to day I had no time to consider how it all fit into the history of this region.… Now that I look back on it, though, I can see Asa-san is right—it may very well have been on the same scale as the insurrections in 1860 and 1871. Even people who weren’t directly involved got swept up in it. And after things settled down everyone became indifferent to
the church. If it hadn’t been for the funding from your headquarters, the extension of the monastery and even the chapel itself would have gone to wrack and ruin. Despite Asa-san’s Herculean efforts, it’s beyond one person’s strength to keep them all up.

“Asa-san, here’s what I think. I understand how happy you are that new people will be using the buildings for their activities. But as of today our roles as managers of the chapel and the monastery are over. We need to accept the fact that the beliefs of the people who will be coming here are different from the other church. After everything’s been handed over, I think it would be better if we take a step or two back. Of course, if you find yourself in sympathy with this new movement, that’s a different story.”

“I wasn’t even a follower of the Church of the Flaming Green Tree,” Asa-san said. “I just helped them from the outside. Have you forgotten that? The reason I was attracted by what the young people were doing in the Hollow was just what the architect who designed this chapel said: ‘There’s power in the place.’ I believe there really
is
such a thing as the
power of a place
. People have used the expression
power of the land
down through the ages.

“Ever since I was little, whenever I climbed up to the Hollow I felt a strange power here. The Base Movement created its so-called Lovely Village here. It sank beneath the water, of course, when the man-made lake was built, and now, like an emblem, that huge cypress stands on the island.

“After that came the Church of the Flaming Green Tree. The church died out, but now, with people from the city moving here to start a new church, I feel power in the place all the more, a power that moves people to gather here. This happened in 1860, and even earlier—in the Middle Ages, in fact. Whether it was dormant or not, I don’t know, but I’m happy that the
power of the place
is back. That’s why I took care of these buildings for fifteen years—because I wanted to care for the
power of the land
in the Hollow. And I want to make sure the young people who’ll take over understand that.”