Today’s walk, from Shinjuku to Ryōgoku, is intentionally shorter. I chose a modest distance to allow for a slower crossing of Tokyo’s centre, with less of the urgency of longer hauls. It’s also a chance to offer my body brief relief after three consecutive 30,000-step days. The footsteps mount, and with each kilometre, the same backpack feels just a little heavier.

I began the morning under pale skies, leaving Kabukichō behind. The haze of last night’s revelry had lifted, replaced by delivery trucks, municipal workers, and tourists wheeling suitcases from the scene of the crime. Nothing looks the same in the light, especially the neon. Its spell breaks, and what remains is exposed: circuitry, plastic, and wiring, stripped of illusion.

I head to Shinjuku Sanchōme for breakfast, then cross to the west side of the tracks toward Keio Shinjuku to run an errand. Shinjuku is in full swing now, crowded, unrelenting. The short passage through Yoyogi marks a shift, and by the time I arrive in Sendagaya, a quieter Tokyo re-emerges: low-rise apartments, the occasional shrine gate, and streets that move at a gentler pace. Not much stirs here.

If Shinjuku is the crest of a fierce wave, then Sendagaya is where it breaks, falling back into calm. It offers a reset before the day ahead.