"Well, that's not rapid at all," a high school student remarked to his friend as the Special Rapid chugged by. Though no one else spoke, everyone shared the sentiment as we waited. A small crowd had formed in front of the railway crossing by the Ōzeki supermarket near Shimokitazawa station, where Ichibangai, one of the neighbourhood's many shopping streets, once crossed the Odakyū Line. In a previous newsletter on Tokyo's relationship with time, I praised the virtues of waiting patiently at the ōdan hodō (横断歩道), or pedestrian crossing, viewing these moments as opportunities to rest, observe the urban scenery, and enjoy Japan's distinctive chirping audio signal as it drifts through the city soundscape. A fumikiri (踏切), or level crossing, provides a similar moment for reprieve.

The high schooler at the Shimokitazawa fumikiri had a point. The train was the third to pass since the crossing barrier had lowered, an exceptionally long Special Rapid crawling by at a comically slow speed. To underscore the irony, the train line's name, Odakyū (小田急), is a portmanteau of Odawara (小田原), its terminus in Kanagawa Prefecture, and kyūkō (急行), meaning express. I remembered an infographic I'd recently seen at Shimokitazawa station, illustrated in a cute chibi style, with a layout split in two: on one side, people fumed with frustration as they waited at the fumikiri; on the other, in an alternative future, they jubilantly crossed as trains were rerouted underground. The poster announced a planned redevelopment that would significantly disrupt local life.

Akazu no Fumikiri (開かずの踏切), which translates to level crossing without opening, refers to fumikiri where the barriers remain closed for extended periods due to the high frequency of passing trains, making it difficult for vehicles and pedestrians to cross. These crossings are common near busy train stations or along multiple parallel tracks. The term is unique to Japan, with no direct English equivalent. The Japanese Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport, and Tourism defines an Akazu no Fumikiri as a crossing where the barriers are down for 40 minutes or more per hour during peak times. As of September 2021, there were over 500 such crossings across Japan. They cause significant traffic congestion and frustration and can also lead to accidents, as people may attempt to cross even when the barriers are down. Indeed, not everyone finds time for reflection at the fumikiri.

Shimokitazawa station's infographic presented a trade-off: medium-to-long-term inconvenience in exchange for a future free from Akazu no Fumikiri. That was about thirteen years ago. Shimokitazawa's residents no longer face long waits—they can stroll through Ichibangai and most of the neighbourhood's other former fumikiri sites unimpeded. The Shimokita Senrogai (下北線路街), or Railroad Street, opened in 2022 as part of a large-scale urban development project by Odakyū, transforming the former railway land between three stations: Higashi-Kitazawa, Shimo-Kitazawa, and Setagaya-Daita. This project followed the undergrounding and quadrupling of railway tracks, which freed up approximately 1.7 km of land for development. The need to resolve the ongoing issue of the Akazu no Fumikiri was one of the drivers behind the project.

I visited Shimokita this spring for the first time in years. I found it challenging to recognise the area immediately surrounding the station despite once using it regularly as a local. The redevelopment has been extensive—Senrogai is just one component. I recall considerable grassroots opposition to the neighbourhood's planned transformation. Since construction finished, I haven't spent enough time in the area or spoken with enough locals to form a clear opinion. Still, the changes appear to be more about commercialisation than gentrification—the area was already progressive and affluent. Residents who were opposed to the plans from the outset criticised them as excessively commercial, a sentiment that is now unmistakable in the newly laid streets.