Occupied City

The Fifth Candle — The Curses & the Spells of the Man in the Shrine

The city is a curse, this city is a spell;

webs of curses, weaves of spells.

For this is the oCcULT CITY.

But I am its nemesis —

Here to break its spells, to exorcize the curses,

IN THE oCcULT CITY …

IN THE oCcULT CITY, in the shadows of my private shrine, beneath the branches of its winter trees, they are unloading the trucks outside the bank. One, two, three, four. They are stacking the coffins along the side of the bank. Five, six, seven, eight. They are waiting to take them away again. Nine, ten. I tear open the box of Hiropon. I take out a syringe. And another. I take off my hat. And my cape. My jacket. I unbutton the left cuff of my shirt. I roll up the left sleeve of my shirt. I shake the bottle. I twist off the cap. I break the seal. I attach the bottle to the needle, the needle to my arm, to my vein, my blood. And I press down. Down, down. Now I remove the needle from my blood, from my vein, my arm. I throw away the needle. The bottle. I roll down the left sleeve of my shirt. I button up the left cuff of my shirt. I put my jacket back on. And my cape. My hat. Now I lean back against the trunk of a winter tree. I light a cigarette. In the shadows of my private shrine, I cough. They are loading the ten coffins into the trucks. One, two, three, four. They are stacking the coffins in the backs of the trucks. Five, six, seven, eight. They are taking them away, again. Nine, ten …

Under a blood-red moon, low in a dirty-yellow sky,

sirens across my city, sirens through my night.

Here among these branches, here among these limbs,

I am lost in a forest of broken bones and dead skin,

in my defeated city, now occupied,

I shuffle through this forest,

the broken bones and the dead skin.

I stain the trees,

the branches and the limbs.

IN THE oCcULT CITY, in the shadow of the scene of the crime, across the road from the Shiinamachi branch of the Teikoku Bank, I have formed a local organization. I have named it the Mejiro Security Association — Nagasaki Shrine Branch. I have established a Civil Investigative Headquarters. I have opened an office for business in the back of the Nagasaki Shrine, Shiinamachi. I have cut out the articles, the reports. I have stuck them onto paper, into notebooks. I have pinned a map of the oCcULT CITY to the wall of the office in the shrine. I have plotted the points on the map; the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank, the Nakai branch of the Mitsubishi Bank, and the Shiinamachi branch of the Teikoku Bank. The three points to date. To date, for there will be six points; Six Points to His Evil Star. For I will map the Six Points of His Evil Star in the oCcULT City and I will stalk the steps of the Killer through this oCcULT CITY. I will track His trail through this oCcULT CITY. I will talk to the witnesses, the women and the children who were here, the women and the children who saw the aftermath of the crime. I will record their testimonies. I will take their testimonies to Mejiro Police Station. For I am here to help, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for I will not sleep. I will take six Hiropon injections every day. I will do my very best, I will go beyond my best, until the Killer is caught, until His curse is lifted. For I will lift the curse of His crime from this neighbourhood, the curse of all the crimes from this city, for I have come to solve all crimes, I have come to MURDER all curses and spells.

I am here to assassinate MAGICK –

To break its seal.

He is here, He is here, He is here,

and He smiles and He says,

‘Leave this place! Leave this city,

this oCcULT CITY,

for this is not your city,

this is my city!’

But I am not afraid, not afraid of Him,

and so I smile and I say,

‘Be gone from this place! Be gone from this city,

this oCcULT CITY,

for this is not your city,

this is my city!’

IN THE oCcULT CITY, across the road from the Nagasaki Shrine, there are workmen, inside and outside the Teikoku Bank. Through the doors of the bank, I hear the sound of hammers, the hammers and nails to hide the stains. Down the corridors of the bank, through its doors, the smell of new tatami mats, the new tatami mats to cover the stains. Out in the streets, I see policemen, their hats soaked black and their boots stained white, trampling over our neighbourhood; our neighbourhood cursed and stained by His crime; His crime that poisoned and murdered our neighbourhood. North to South, they are tearing apart the entire city. East to West, twenty thousand detectives searching for the Killer. For clues. Top to bottom. Following up every lead, following up every report. Banging on doors. Every hint, every rumour. Inside and out. Every shadow, every whisper. Upstairs and down. Interviewing and talking. Street after street. Bullying and shouting. House after house. But they do not know. For they cannot know. So I put on my cape. I put on my hat. I go out into the streets. To the houses. To bang on doors. To interview. To help. For I know. I know the face of the Killer. For I have seen His face. In my dreams.

He is here, He is here, He is here again —

He shuffles through the forest, He shuffles through the trees,

for He has brought their carcasses to this place,

here to parade their meat,

their flesh to hang from the branches,

their blood to drip from the leaves,

IN THE oCcULT CITY.

But I am here, I am here, I am also here —

For I am stalking His steps. I am on His trail,

through the forest, through the trees,

for I will bring His carcass to this place,

I will parade His meat,

hang His flesh from the branches,

drip His blood from the leaves,

IN THE oCcULT CITY

IN THE oCcULT CITY, they will burn the dead today. So I walk up Shinobazu-dōri. I come to the Gokokuji Temple. The mass funeral begins at three. These temples are their sanctuaries, their last sanctuaries from Him. For here they are safe, here I am safe. In these temples He cannot see through the smoke, in here He cannot smile His evil smile. Not like in the shrines, the shrines He likes. For the shrines of Tokyo are now evil shrines. Magnets for evil, repositories of evil. The Evil Magick now victorious, the Holy War now lost –

The Holy War which began in 1873 when the Ministry of Religion forbade the practices of all exorcists, faith-healers, fortunetellers and shamans. The War which continued with the 1880 Meiji Criminal Code and its prohibition against our talismanic prayers, and then the Revised Criminal Code of 1908 which further criminalized and imprisoned, ‘Those who spread gossip and wild rumours or false alarms which deceive people. Those who without authority tell fortunes; or who conduct exorcisms and incantations; or who otherwise mislead people by conferring on them things resembling talismans. Those who conduct spells, exorcisms, and incantations for the sick; or who impede medical care by giving amulets and holy water…’ Those like me; Shimizu Kogorō, the Occult-Detective –

But their Holy War, their Crusade against the likes of me, found its bloodiest battlefield in the shrines of Japan. For their War, their Crusade sought to control all the shrines of Japan and destroy any that would resist their Crusade, their control and their codes –

For in their Holy War, in their Crusade, there could only be one winner, only one victor; the unbroken Imperial line, descended from Amaterasu, and enshrined at Ise –

And so began the shrine mergers of 1906 to 1912, and the destruction of the People’s Shrines, the rule of just one shrine per administrative area, and the birth of Yasukuni; Yasukuni –

The centre of the Six Points of His Evil Star…

From 1905 to 1910, the spirits of 88,243 War Dead were forcibly enshrined in the Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo –

88,243 spirits who were thus denied a final repose with their ancestors, forbidden the memorial rites of the Buddhist dead, and robbed of their last return to their homes –

Denying, forbidding and robbing their families of the care and the company of their spirits –

Their spirits imprisoned at Yasukuni in Tokyo, hundreds and thousands of miles from their homes and their families, at Yasukuni, in the oCcULT CITY –

The oCcULT CITY which trembles with the spirits of these restless Dead, the oCcULT CITY which shook with the cries of these imprisoned Dead in 1923, and which trembles now, with so many more dead from so many more wars, and which will shake again –

Shake and fall again, unless I can free the Dead and fetter the Evil, the Evil that now runs amok in the oCcULT CITY.

For all their new codes and all their official shrines have given free rein to Evil Magick and its practitioners, outlawing the old Folk Magick and its old believers, the ordinary and the good –

Those like me; Shimizu Kogorō, the Occult-Tantei, with my pockets full of coins, coins full of holes, holes and only holes; my pockets full of holes, holes and only holes. For I am here to cleanse this city of all its shrines and all their evils, their curses and their spells, their magick and their murder. For I am here –

Here to liberate these restless Dead –

To free them from their chains –

The Dead, Dead, Dead.

IN THE oCcULT CITY, they have burnt the dead. The mass funeral has ended. They are safe now, safe from Him. But not me, never me. I leave the Gokokuji Temple. I leave this sanctuary. I walk back up Shinobazu-dōri. Here there is no sanctuary, no sanctuary from Him. Here I am not safe, not safe from Him. In His city –

In His city of shrines, the shrines He likes –

The Evil Magick victorious for now –

The Holy War lost, lost for now –

IN THE oCcULT CITY.

The oCcULT CITY is a séance,

a city of cries, a city of pleas,

of prayers and of whispers.

In this forest of broken bones and dead skin,

among these branches, among these limbs,

I listen for their voices.

I touch the branches, I touch the leaves,

I taste their stains,

their bones and their skin.

They are here, they are here, they are here now —

IN THE oCcULT CITY,

and they are crying, and they are pleading.

But now they are gone, they are gone, they are gone again,

for now He is here, He is here, He is here again,

here again to parade their meat.

And I say, ‘If I die, I die …’

And He smiles, and He says, ‘You will die, you will die …

‘I promise you.’

IN THE oCcULT CITY, in the shadows of the shrine, the sound of their feet in the snow, the sound of their fists on my door. In their black hats and their white boots, they knock me from my chair and they drag me from my office. They push me down the steps of the shrine, they bundle me into the back of their car. They drive me to their police station, they carry me into their interview room. They sit me on a chair, they shine a light on me. They talk about conspiracies, they talk about coincidences. But they do not know there are no conspiracies, they do not know there are no coincidences. They do not know there is only Magick; Good Magick and Evil Magick; Evil Magick & Evil Plague. For they have forgotten and so they no longer understand. But I have not forgotten, so I still understand. For I know my destiny, I know my future. For I have seen my future, all our futures, from a fortune-teller, at a makeshift stall, in an ancient alley, a fortune-teller who smiled at me, and who told me, ‘You will save this city, Shimizu Kogorō. You will cure this city …’

‘Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …’

And so I tell them I am Shimizu Kogorō, I am the Occult-Detective. I tell them I am only here to help them, I am only here to save them. Here to catch their Killer, here to close their case –

‘Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …’

But they laugh at my words, and they slap my face. They knock me from their chair, they kick me down their stairs. They throw me through their doors, they leave me in His streets. In the snow and in the sleet, the echoes and the whispers –

IN THE oCcULT CITY –

‘Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …

‘Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …’

I can hear Him laughing at me, I can hear Him mocking me,

but I have a new plan, so I will set a new trap,

and then I’ll have the Last Laugh!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …

For to catch a demon, I must become a demon.

So I will dress as a demon dresses, and I will do as a demon does,

and I will become His doppelgänger,

His double-goer.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha …

So I cut my hair short. I dye my hair grey.

I tattoo two brown spots to the left side of my face.

I buy a brown lounge suit. I buy a spring rain coat.

I buy burnt-orange rubber boots.

I buy a white cloth band to put upon my left arm —

‘LEADER OF THE DISINFECTING TEAM’

Now I stand before the mirror. Now I laugh before the mirror —

Ha, ha, ha … Now my plan is laid, now my trap is set;

now who’ll have the Last Laugh,

Ha…?

IN THE oCcULT CITY, it is Wednesday 4 February 1948, and it is almost light, and the moon and the stars have all gone to sleep now. But I do not sleep, for I cannot sleep. In the oCcULT CITY, in my Civil Investigative Headquarters, in the back of the Nagasaki Shrine, I stare at the map I have pinned to the wall of my office. I stare at the points I have plotted on the map; the three points to date — the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank, the Nakai branch of the Mitsubishi Bank, and the Shiinamachi branch of the Teikoku Bank — and I trace the three points to come. To come, for there will be three more points to complete the Six Points of His Evil Star. And I have mapped these three points to come. And so today I will stalk the steps of the Killer through the oCcULT CITY. Today I will track His trail through this oCcULT CITY. And today I will catch the Killer in the oCcULT CITY. For today is Wednesday 4 February, 1948 –

And today is the day of Setsubun –

The festival marking the end of winter and the beginning of spring, according to the old lunar calendar, the cleansing away of all the evil spirits of the former year, the driving away of all disease-bringing spirits for the year to come …

In my brown lounge suit, in my spring rain coat, in my burnt-orange rubber boots, with my white cloth band upon my left arm –

‘LEADER OF THE DISINFECTING TEAM’

With my hair cut short, with my hair dyed grey, and with the two brown spots tattooed to the left side of my face, I leave the office of my Civil Investigative Headquarters, I leave the Nagasaski Shrine, and I leave Shiinamachi. For I have stared at the map, I have plotted the points, and now I know where He will be today.

Today I take the long roads through the oCcULT CITY, the long roads of the oCcULT CITY which were once its rivers and its canals, but the rivers and the canals of the oCcULT CITY have all been filled in with the ashes of the Dead, so where once there was water, once there was life, now there is only ash, now only death –

Death and the Dead, the Dead under the ground –

The Dead, the Tokyo Dead –

The Tokyo Living Dead –

For I can hear them scream, scream from under the ground, the Tokyo Living Dead, who scream this day, every day and every night, from under the ground. And I can see them now on every street, on every corner, at every junction, at every station, the Tokyo Living Dead, the war-wounded in their white-wear, on every street, on every corner, at every junction, at every station, with their blind-eyes and their deaf-ears, their burnt-skins and lost-limbs, they come up from under the ground, up from out of the ground, to lean on their sticks, to squat on their mats, their caps on the floor and their hands outstretched, on every street, on every corner, at every junction, at every station, I hear them and I see them as I take the long roads –

The long roads, in my brown lounge suit, down Yamate-dōri, in my spring rain coat, along Mejiro-dōri, in my burnt-orange boots, up Shinobazu-dōri, with my white cloth band upon my arm, right on to Kasuga-dōri, with my hair cut short and my hair dyed grey, on the long roads through the oCcULT CITY, with my two brown spots tattooed to the left side of my face, till I come to Kanda –

For I have stared at the map and I have plotted the points. And so I know where He’ll be today, today He’ll be here –

‘Demons be outside! Fortune be inside!’

At the Kanda Myōjin Shrine –

‘Oni wa soto!’

Here among the crowds, the crowds who have come, come in their thousands, in their thousands to exorcize the evil spirits of the old year, to ward against the evil diseases of the new year, in their thousands and in their masks, their masks of demons –

‘Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!’

Demons with their pictures of Him –

‘Oni wa soto!’

And now the crowd sees me, in my brown lounge suit, in their thousands, in my spring rain coat, in their masks of demons, in my burnt-orange boots, with their pictures of Him, with my white cloth band upon my left arm, now they see me, LEADER OF THE DISINFECTING TEAM, and they grab handfuls of roasted beans, with my short hair, in their thousands, my grey hair, in their masks of demons, my two brown spots on the left side of my face, and now they throw their handfuls of beans at me, handful after handful –

‘Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!’

In their thousands, in their masks –

‘Oni wa soto!’

Handful after handful, my face stung, swarm after swarm, my face bleeding, in their thousands, they are putting their arms through the arms of my brown lounge suit, in their masks, they are lifting my burnt-orange boots off the ground –

‘Oni wa soto!’

IN THE oCcULT CITY, I am flying now, past the mid-night, through the blue-sky, the moon and the stars all out tonight and they look good, so good tonight, and now they put me down, down where the tall grass grows, down among the branches and the leaves, the sky a dirty yellow now, the moon a bloody red, in this forest of broken bones and dead skin, He is coming now, shuffling through the forest, He is here, shuffling through the trees, He is here, He who has brought my carcass to this place, to this defeated city, here to parade my meat, in the occupied city, my flesh to hang from its branches, my blood to drip from its leaves, to stain the trees, the branches and the limbs of the oCcULT CITY, in this place where the flies begin to gather now, this place where death will come as a wasp, a wasp in the Wintertime, in its light that sheds no light, with its sunfall and rainshine, where I will be but shadow, shadow at the side of the road.

And now He lays me down, and He stretches me out, and He smiles and He says, ‘This city is no séance. This city is a mirror.’

And He holds the mirror up to my face, the nails to my hands, my hands to His door, and now He laughs,

the Last Laugh, ‘Ha!’

Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, the door falls, the medium falls, and now the fifth candle is extinguished,

another candle, another life, out, out, out,

and once again you are alone,

alone in the occult circle,

alone in the light

of its seven

candles,

with no new words and no new book, among the rivers of ink and the mountains of paper, the bonfires and the ashes,

you crawl, in circles, on your hands

and on your knees, you crawl, through old words and old books, and you pick up the books and then you drop the books, drop the books and then pick up your pen, pick up your pen and now you write, write more and more insincerities, again and again, more and more lies, day after day, the same insincerities, the same lies, over and over, day after day, again and again,

until now you drop your pen,

drop your pen again, here –

Alone by the rivers of ink, alone on the mountains of paper, on your hands and on your knees, in the smoke and in the ash –

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the occult circle of its seven candles,

among the flurries and the flakes, the paper flurries of paper flakes, these now-black and white flurries

of news-paper flakes,

spinning, spinning

and spinning, deaf again to the steps on the stairs, the sirens and the telephones, startled anew by the hand on your shoulder, you look up from your ink, up from your papers, and you see a smile, a smile that says, that says, ‘My dear, sweet writer –

‘I know this river, I know this mountain. The smell of these fires, the taste of these ashes. I know all about insincerities, I know all about lies. For I am a Master of Insincerities, a Master of Lies. For I trade in insincerities, I trade in lies. For I am a journalist and these are my stories …