An Essay | Named Tokyo

I am riding the subway's Fukutoshin Line.

The subway, which stretches out like countless veins beneath the ground of Tokyo, where various buildings—starting with those of a dull, leaden color—tower high above. Among them, this is the most recently opened line.

When the announcement was made that it would open, I believe it was widely covered in national news across television. However, at the time it was being reported everywhere, I was still a student living at my parents' home in my hometown, and since I had absolutely no opportunity to go to Tokyo, it was a matter that had nothing to do with me.

No matter how much an announcer tried to explain the convenience brought about by through-service, listing the names and topics of Tokyo's central hubs like Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Ikebukuro, I could only respond with things like 'Oh, I see' or 'Is that so?'

In the first place, with the only knowledge I had being that trains equal JR, as a person from the countryside, I had no way of knowing anything about the internal affairs of the metropolitan area's rail network, where not only subways but various private railway companies were competing to lay down tracks.

A few years later, could I have ever imagined that the day would come when I, who had once acted so nonchalant as if it were unrelated to me, would be riding that very line?

Or even more so, that I would leave my hometown alone and eventually move to Tokyo. I likely would not have thought of it for a second, as if telling myself that such a thing was a dream within a dream.

However, after I became a working adult and started my career, perhaps I had been fearing it somewhere deep down. That if I continued to stay in my hometown, I would spend my entire life until the day I was buried without ever touching the world of the unknown, including the changes I desired.

Thinking back, perhaps I had been disgusted by the days when I was a student, where everything remained unfulfilled. Added to that was the helplessness of feeling uncomfortable in the place where I was, yet having no way to resist anyone and simply having to follow along.

In any case, a flat way of life where one walks along a track laid by someone else does not suit me. If I only have one life to live, no matter how much those around me might mock it as reckless, I found myself unable to help but seek adventure.

No matter who tries to block my path, as long as my heart does not break, I will crawl back up and stick to my guns as many times as it takes. Above all, because no matter how much I have been immersed in despair, I have been able to live until today by my own will.

How many times have I listened to 'Heart of Cosmos' by PRIMITIVE ART ORCHESTRA until now?

Ever since I first heard it playing in the background of a live camera feed of the Shibuya Scramble Crossing on Abema, which I started watching a few years ago, it has become my habit to keep it on heavy rotation whenever the occasion arises.

Now, as I stroll through the various streets of Tokyo that I have become accustomed to through my frequent visits, or travel using the subway and the like, the piano, bass, and drum performance flows from the earphones in both my ears, as if to stir my heart that had completely withered away.

And on this day too, amidst the noticeable morning commute rush, I am boarding the Fukutoshin Line. Seeking to find something I lost within myself, I head toward a certain destination while shouting in my heart.

"Lead me out into the swarm of light once more!," he said.