Shinjuku, Kabukicho Ichi-chome.
Every time night falls, neon signs flash on both sides of the street, young girls dressed as anime characters or in sexy outfits waving at passersby in front of blazing posters.
Those lines of young girls make a stunning sight—calling this place a paradise for men is no exaggeration.
The surging crowds prove just how bustling Kabukicho is after dark, pulsing with a strange pink-hued energy.
But it's in this lively place that Shinjuku's dualities of light and darkness stand out the most.
In the ultra-busy Kabukicho Ichi-chome, you might just turn a corner and step into a dim, deserted alley.
The silence inside seems to wordlessly repel would-be intruders.
If a passerby knows what's good for them, they just don't go in—no risk at all.
If they blunder in out of curiosity, well, bad luck might get them some real bad results.
Matsushita Toshihiro stood in a silent alley, guarding a door.
No lights at the entrance.
