David Peace - Occupied City

I slide open the wooden door. I step inside the genkan to the bank. I take off my dirty shoes. I put on my cold slippers. I go down the corridor into the bank. I say good morning to Miss Akuzawa. But we do not talk about the weekend and we do not talk about the weather as we change into our blue uniforms. We do not talk at all. Then we go down the corridor into the main room of the bank.

In the warmth of the heater, in the light from the lamps, I take my seat at the counter and I wait for the bank to open, for the working day to begin, the working week.

Just before half past nine, Mr Ushiyama makes his usual speech which starts every week and we all bow and the clock chimes half past nine and the bank opens and the working day begins, another working week, but I know something is wrong…

For the police come every week, every day, to take me away from the bank, back to Mejiro, for more interviews and more books of photographs. And then the press come and the photographers. And I spend more time with the police and with the press than at work in the bank. And sometimes he comes, Takeuchi Riichi of the Yomiuri . And sometimes he takes me for coffee. And sometimes he brings me flowers. And sometimes he invites me for dinner. But every night I go back to my room, back to my quilt, and every night I close my eyes tight, tight, tight and I remember I AM THE SURVIVOR

But of course I know: only through luck

Have I survived so many friends.

But night after night

In dream after

Dream

I hear these friends saying of me: ‘Those who survive are stronger.’ And I hate myself

I hate myself

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, I wake up. It is hot now, summertime in the Occupied City. And there is banging on the door and I am walking through the house and I am opening the door, hoping and praying that he will be here, here to take me away, to save me from the Occupied City, but it is only Takeuchi Riichi with another car, another car come to take me to Ueno Station, and so I sit in the back of another car and I stare again at the hot, humid Occupied City, the hot, humid Occupied City which stares back into the car at me and whispers, ‘In due time, in due time

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, in Ueno Station, Mr Takeuchi leads me through the crowds, through the crowds that have come to see a man, a man who everyone believes is the man who murdered my colleagues and my friends, the man who tried to kill me, a man called Hirasawa Sadamichi. But I cannot see this Hirasawa Sadamichi. For this Hirasawa Sadamichi is hiding his face beneath heavy blankets. And then this Hirasawa Sadamichi is gone, lost in the crowds, and I am holding on tight, tight, tight to Takeuchi Riichi, my eyes closed tight, tight, tight because

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, a young woman. Help me. On her hands and on her knees, she crawls through the Occupied City. Help me, she says. In the mud and in the sleet, on her hands and on her knees, in the Occupied City .

Please help me

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, at the Sakuradamon Police Station, the detectives lead me into the interrogation room, and Hirasawa Sadamichi looks up from the table at me and now I stare back at him. I look him in his face and now Hirasawa Sadamichi looks away, back down at the table, and then the detectives take me away, away down the corridor, away to another interrogation room, another interrogation room where I say, ‘When the killer began to distribute the poison, I looked him in his face.

‘I will never forget that face.’

‘We know,’ they say.

‘I would know it anywhere.’

‘We know,’ they say again. ‘And this is that face …’

But now I shake my head and I say, ‘This man is not the killer. The killer had a round face. Very round, like an egg. That man in that room has a square face. Very square, like a box. He is also too old. He is not that man. I am sorry. He is not the killer. I am sorry.’

‘But your colleague, Mr Tanaka, is convinced that man in that room, that man Hirasawa, is the killer …’

‘I am sorry. He is not the killer.’

‘But Mr Tanaka swears he is.’

‘I am sorry.’

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, at the Sakuradamon Police Station, three times the detectives lead me into the interrogation room, and three times Hirasawa Sadamichi looks up from the table at me and three times I stare back at him. Three times I look him in his face and three times Hirasawa Sadamichi looks away, back down at the table, and three times the detectives take me away, away down the corridor, away to another interrogation room, another interrogation room where three times I say, ‘When the killer began to distribute the poison, I looked him in his face. I will never forget that face.’

And three times they say, ‘We know. We know. We know.’

‘I would know it anywhere.’

Three times they say, ‘And this is that face …’

But three times I shake my head and three times I say, ‘This man is not the killer. The killer had a round face. Very round, like an egg. That man in that room has a square face. Very square, like a box. He is also too old. He is not that man. I am sorry.

‘He is not the killer. I am sorry.’

‘But your colleague, Mr Tanaka, is convinced that man in that room, that man Hirasawa, is the killer …’

‘I am sorry. He is not the killer.’

‘But Mr Tanaka swears he is.’

‘I am sorry. I am sorry …’

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, a young woman. Help me. On her hands and on her knees, she crawls through the Occupied City. Help me, she says. In the mud and in the sleet, on her hands and on her knees, in the Occupied City .

Please help me

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, I wake up. It is still hot, September now in the Occupied City. And again there is banging on the door and again I am walking through the house and again I am opening the door, and again I am hoping and again I am praying that he will be here, here to take me away, to save me from the Occupied City, but it is only Takeuchi Riichi, Takeuchi Riichi come to tell me, ‘He’s confessed! Hirasawa has confessed!’

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, in early November, I marry Takeuchi Riichi. The wedding ceremony is coordinated by Riichi’s closest friend, one of Police Chief Kita’s principal deputies.

And I know something is wrong, very, very wrong…

But I close my eyes tight, tight, tight, and try to forget. But every night I close my eyes tight, tight, tight and I remember:

I AM THE SURVIVOR

But of course I know: only through luck

Have I survived so many friends.

But night after night

In dream after

Dream

I hear these friends saying of me: ‘Those who survive are stronger.’ And I hate myself

I hate myself

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, and later in the Liberated City, I wake up. I wake up tired all the time. For they never leave me alone. I have given them interview after interview. And now I am tired all the time. I had hoped they would go away, but still they come and ask their questions. Once a year, every year, every January, they come again with their questions. Every 26 January, on my second birthday; the day I pray for my three fellow survivors. The day I pray for my twelve murdered colleagues. The day I pray for someone to come and take me away, to save me from the Occupied City, but no one comes.

For there are no white horses, no white horses any more …

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, I wake again. And I look again for him; in the doorway, at the window, at the table, by my bed, opening a small bottle, dripping its liquid into a teacup

And now I am reaching for that cup

Lifting it to my mouth

But then I stop. For he is not here. He is never here. Never

In due time, in due time …