Pedestrians were crossing the crosswalk at the south exit of Shinjuku Station all at once

Pedestrians crossing pedestrian crossing in chorus — Shinjuku Station South Exit

I find myself in Shinjuku, a colossal labyrinth of steel and glass where skyscrapers scrape the heavens. Standing on a cold, concrete pedestrian bridge straddling the Koshu-Kaido highway, I cast a casual glance toward the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. From this vantage point, the lush greenery of the gardens is completely hidden, swallowed by an imposing wall of glass and concrete blocks that dominate the horizon. Today, Shinjuku carries itself with the arrogant air of Tokyo’s undisputed heart. Yet, during the Edo period, this entire area existed strictly outside the city limits. The official gateway to Edo was the Yotsuya Okido gate; beyond that point lay nothing but a lonely, desolate countryside.

It was out there, in that bleak wilderness just past the border, that a temporary post town was born: Naito-Shinjuku. Carved out of a portion of the Naito clan's suburban estate, it served as the very first stop on the Koshu-Kaido, one of the five major highways of old Japan. The "shuku" in Shinjuku—meaning "inn" or "lodging"—remains a modern scar of that historical origin. Because it sat right on the doorstep of Edo, it quickly became a magnet not just for weary travelers, but for city slickers looking to escape the stifling realities of daily life. Where there is a post town, there are inns, teahouses, and inevitably, okabasho—unlicensed red-light districts. In that sense, Shinjuku was never a place of pristine virtue. From its very inception, it was a pleasure quarter fueled by a raw, shady, and intoxicating energy.

From my perch on the footbridge, I look down at the modern Koshu-Kaido highway, which still cuts directly through the heart of what was once that hotbed of chaotic energy. The traffic is unexpectedly light today. Yet, as the traffic light turns red, two white buses pull up to the stop line and come to a disciplined halt. As if waiting for that exact cue, an endless sea of pedestrians spills from both sidewalks, flooding the crosswalk all at once.

Shinjuku Station on Google Map

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