“Snake!”
A middle-aged woman blocked my path in the valley between the towering skyscrapers in front of Nakano-sakaue Station. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.
“Snake!” She declared, staring at me again. Reflexively, I slung the bag I was holding in my right hand over my shoulder and got ready. With the change of seasons, it’s easy to encounter eccentric people. I would hate to be suddenly stabbed with a knife.
“I’m not a snake,” I suppressed my voice and tried to sound intimidating.
“Snake, snake, at my feet.” With bloodshot eyes, she pointed at my feet in an excited tone.
“Whoa!” I jumped up and quickly ran to her side.
There, at my feet, was a green snake, less than three feet long, squirming eerily, twisting its body in a creepy, swaying motion.
“Yes, it’s a snake,” she replied. “You’re right, it’s a snake,” I replied, completely defeated. We huddled close, watching the snake’s movements as it wriggled.
“Maybe it’s because of the abnormal weather.” She tilted her head and took out her smartphone, trying to take a photo of the snake. “Why don’t you take a photo with the snake? I’ll take it,” I offered, to which she shook her head, “No, thank you.” Before we knew it, we had become close, like familiar friends, but then, as if taking advantage of a moment of casual conversation, the snake fled into a gutter and disappeared.
Nakano-sakaue is a mysterious place. It’s a big city in a corner of Shinjuku’s subcenter, but when it rains, frogs swarm, lizards appear, and even snakes. It’s like a wild kingdom. I wouldn’t be surprised if a bear or deer suddenly appeared. I don’t know if it’s because of the abnormal weather, but how can so many wild animals live in the middle of a big city? There seems to be something more to it than just being a “Nakano Sakaue specialty.” Incidentally, this was the first time I had ever seen a wild snake up close. (Kei Kitajima)

※Translating Japanese articles into English with AI