If you missed the previous journey, you can check out [Tokyo Research Part 2] here.
In the evening, I visited Shinjuku. The streets here offered a stark contrast to the typical image of Japan as a purely clean and safe environment. With Kabukicho—an entertainment district notoriously known for its intense nightlife—nearby, the area felt like a playground strictly reserved for adults.
A prime example of this unique character is the Golden Gai district in Shinjuku. This area consists of several hundred tiny bars packed into an incredibly narrow, labyrinthine neighborhood. These establishments are so cramped that they can often only accommodate 3 to 5 customers at a time. Perhaps because they strongly evoke the nostalgic “quaint and narrow shop” image associated with old-school Japan, the area was teeming with international tourists and curious locals alike.
Moving deeper into the district, various clubs began to appear. I had long heard that host club culture is uniquely and highly developed in Japan. While these specific types of social venues likely exist in other cultures, it seems quite rare to see them advertised and operated so openly in the public sphere as they are here. As I briefly touched upon in a previous post, I get the distinct sense that Japanese individualism is strictly separated from the public domain. Nightlife is nightlife, and an individual’s private life remains just that—deeply personal and guarded.
When we think of Asia, and particularly Japan, we often hold a preconceived image of rigid collectivism. However, observing these subcultures reveals a significant gap between Japan’s international image and its actual reality. The idea of individuals sacrificing themselves entirely for the group appears to be an image maintained in the public sphere; ultimately, individuals must find a place to release their repressed stress. This applies regardless of gender. The Japanese culture of respecting this private release seems quite different from other East Asian cultures where individual desires are often hushed up or ignored. While this might seem like a mature societal approach, it remains a double-edged sword, as such subcultures can inevitably become clandestine, eventually leading to complex social issues.
Next, I headed to the heart of Kabukicho. This area was once internationally notorious for being quite dangerous, with persistent rumors that it is still influenced by the Yakuza to this day.
In particular, the area in front of the TOHO Cinemas is famous for being a frequent gathering spot for “Toyoko Kids”—often delinquent youths in their teens and twenties. Although their visible numbers have reportedly decreased due to recent government crackdowns and increased security, I could still see them loitering in the area, observing the passing crowds. The issue of juvenile delinquency in Japan follows a significant historical trend tracing back to the collapse of the bubble economy, making it an essential theme for me to explore in my novel. Many deep-seated social issues stem from economic instability, which in turn often originate from macroeconomic shifts arising from complex international interests. The Toyoko Kids are a prime example of this phenomenon. In a sense, they are not merely individuals acting out, but rather victims of a dramatic shift in the socioeconomic paradigm. When a society becomes unstable or begins to crumble at the edges, problems tend to erupt first among these vulnerable, overlooked groups.
The TOHO Building, where TOHO Cinemas is located, is one of Kabukicho’s most recognizable landmarks. If you look closely at the building, you will see a massive Godzilla model installed on the side, with its head and claws protruding outward, almost as if it is watching over the district.
Other than that, the streets were surprisingly not much different from any other part of Tokyo. There were far more tourists and ordinary people than I expected, making it feel relatively safe, and the streets were kept surprisingly clean—though perhaps that’s because I chose not to engage with any of the persistent customer solicitors lurking in the alleys.
On my way out, I took photos of the Sophia Building and the Alpen Building. Both are large, imposing commercial buildings and iconic landmarks of the area. I captured them specifically because they were incredibly bright and colorful against the night sky. While Tokyo as a whole is generally flashy, buildings with such a chaotic, overwhelming density of neon signage seem to be mostly concentrated here in Kabukicho, creating a visual signature that is impossible to ignore.
This concludes my report for Day 2.
*This field research is part of a pre-production phase for this website’s multimedia project. All analyzed locations are selected based on their socioeconomic relevance to the target market.