Gazing upward, I saw that the branches of the trees encircling the Saya were aglow with fresh new leaves of yellowish green, dull red, and every shade in between. I couldn’t be certain from a distance, but there might have been some subtle buds beginning to form as well. Even the mountain cherries looked as though they might be on the brink of bursting into a pale canopy of blossoms over the next few days. Beyond the cherry orchard was a dense backdrop of evergreen trees. They were younger than the tall trees we had seen on the mountain ridge on our way here, but the varieties were the same: the Japanese iterations of cypress and cedar (also known as cryptomeria).
As I was swiveling my head around, I noticed that the bag beneath it felt somehow higher and bulkier than it should have. When I sat up and peered inside, I saw that Akari’s soiled trousers had been stuffed into a trash sack and that bundle (along with a summer blanket I’d added to the emergency kit as I was leaving the house) was taking up a great deal of space. I took out the blanket and went over to where Akari was lying down, then spread it over him from neck to toes. He didn’t move a muscle in response and he kept both palms in place, completely covering his large face.
As I was walking back to my own space, a line of poetry floated through my mind: You didn’t get Kogii ready….
I could see now, more clearly than ever, that “Kogii” was meant to signify Akari. I saw, too, that I was the person — right here, right now — whose job it would be to send him into the forest when the time came. But how was I supposed to go about laying the groundwork for that inevitable process? I hadn’t even begun to make my own preparations for the next step; how on earth was I supposed to facilitate the transition for someone else? I didn’t have a clue. In essence I was still a powerless child, just as I was in the days when everyone called me Kogii. And what about the other long-departed Kogii — the elusive doppelgänger who abandoned me and wafted up into the forest, where the trees meet the sky? If he could look down and see me in my current state of confused fragility, he would probably find it hard to keep from laughing out loud.
By and by another thought drifted across my mind. In a few minutes Unaiko and Tamakichi (who was, of course, doing whatever he could to be of use to her as a stand-in for his absent mother) would be returning from their tour of the Saya, chummier than ever. At some point those two would probably induct Akari into their inner circle as well. And then wasn’t it conceivable that the three of them would somehow get together and conspire to do whatever was necessary to get me (yes, me) ready for my own final journey up into the forest? In that case, perhaps they would help me find a way to conduct myself appropriately during the transition and to move on to the next stage with a measure of ease.
Then I was struck by an even more radical thought: maybe what I had been perceiving as reality all along was nothing but a dream, or an illusion! I thought about everything I had labored so hard to accomplish after moving to Tokyo: all the endless striving, studying, thinking, and writing. Putting aside the question of whether I had accomplished anything worthwhile, what if those eventful years and those supposed achievements were nothing more than figments of my imagination? Suppose that in reality I never even left this village and had been living here all along, from birth until now: my seventy-fourth year. If that were true, I would no doubt be casually getting ready to die a perfectly ordinary death, in the traditional way the old people in this mountain valley surely know by heart, or in their bones. Indeed (I mused, half dreaming) at this very moment Unaiko and Tamakichi could be standing in the shadow of the great meteoric boulder at the top of the slope, talking about how they could help to facilitate my preparations for moving on to the next great adventure …
“Mr. Choko?” My eyes snapped open and I saw Unaiko hovering over me, looking down with a solicitous expression. “If you go on snoozing out here in the open air, you’re going to catch a cold! I mean, I certainly understand how you could be so worn out that you’d need a big nap, after the stress I put you through with the hysterical phone call and all.”
The newly returned twosome soon shifted their attention from me to Akari. Being very careful not to hurt Akari’s back, Tamakichi pulled his cousin to his feet and lifted him into a piggyback position. Tamakichi was a bit shorter than I was, but he was exceptionally strong and muscular from the physical labor of forestry work, and after getting Akari’s considerably larger body snugly ensconced on his back, he loped easily off toward the parking area where Unaiko had left the van. She and I followed a moment later, each carrying some components of the Caveman Group’s professional-quality (but still portable, barely) sound system.
“Tamakichi was telling me about the women Asa brought together at the Saya and how excited they were about being a part of the movie,” Unaiko said as we tramped along. Her weariness appeared to have abated and she sounded even more energized than usual. “When I remarked that supervising such a large group must have been a challenging task, Tamakichi said his mother had told him that the women around here seemed to feel as if they, too, were taking part in an insurrection of sorts, and she was able to coax them into letting those feelings out for the first time in a long while. I’m sure there was probably more to it, but Meisuke’s Mother Marches Off to War seems to have been an unforgettable experience for everyone who took part in the project.”
By the time we got to Unaiko’s van, Tamakichi had already set Akari down and was about to head up to the place above the Saya where he had left his truck. Unaiko thanked my nephew again and again for his help, and then we said our good-byes.
2
That afternoon there was a phone call from Maki. Apparently Asa (who was spending all her time at the hospital with Chikashi) was concerned about Akari’s recent episode and had asked Maki to call and find out how things were going. I suggested that Maki ask Akari directly, and I carried the cordless handset into his room. After what seemed to be a long, leisurely conversation, Akari brought the phone back to me. Maki was still on the other line, and she proceeded to tell me about her chat with her brother.
First, she had told Akari how worried she had been when she heard that he’d had a major seizure deep in the forest, when Papa wasn’t on hand to help. Akari’s response was to paraphrase a quotation from the My Own Words booklet. (He, too, had received a copy from Maki, and since he wasn’t currently engaged in reading musical scores he was probably applying his customary concentration to perusing the little book instead.)
“‘Cause I’m gonna die! Ahhh! I can’t hear my heart beating, even a little bit! I really think I’m dying! My heart isn’t making any sound at all!”
Maki knew that those mock histrionics were Akari’s idea of a joke, but even so, she responded to his concerns point by point in complete seriousness.
“No, Akari, you aren’t going to die,” she said. “The seizure is over now, isn’t it? I guess when you collapsed in the forest, you could probably hear your heart pounding very loudly, right? But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean you’re going to die. And there isn’t any danger when your heart is beating so quietly that you can’t hear it, either.”
Akari had responded with a calmer and more positive remark, which was also an echo of something from My Own Words: “The seizure really hurt a lot, but I hung in there!”