A Shinkansen bullet train rounds the bend on the nearest of a viper’s nest of rail lines, slowing for Tokyo station.

It is a dramatic white snake, with its inquisitive dropped nose.

And it is right outside my window.

The window itself is the height and width of the considerable floorspace here in room 515 of the Four Seasons Tokyo at Marunouchi. I march across the timber floor. One, two . . . seven good paces.

To my right there is a small table and chair. Then a pace to the bed, flouncy in white cotton and with a collection of square and rectangular pillows. It has a long upholstered bench across its foot. Then two more paces to a quite sizeable ovaloid light timber table, with its designer chair. The far side of this, there is an L-shaped lounge.

By the lounge is a bespoke contemporary dresser, with top doors that push in like wings, revealing the tea and coffee station.

There is a sizeable walk-in hanging, storage and luggage room. Then there is the bathroom — more precisely, a double-basin toilette area, a separate Japanese high-tech toilet, and a separate wet room, tiled in stone, with the shower and a full bath.

A successful friend in Tokyo, who is director of a department, tells me he is living with his wife and young son in the best two-bedroomed apartment he could find and afford. It has a floor area of 67m.

By Tokyo hotel room standards, room 515 is exceptional. (Come to that, by hotel standards in any city, it is unusual.)

The Four Seasons Tokyo at Marunouchi is right next door to Tokyo station — so the view is of this throbbing heart of the transport system which is the pride of Tokyoites. Unlike other great cities in Japan and elsewhere, Tokyo has developed with, and because of, its railways. Tokyo largely only works because of its railways.

There is an enormous emotional connection to trains in general and the sight of a Shinkansen in particular.

They certainly make a moving pastiche outside the enormous windows of room 515, though I can hear them pass over what I think are points almost adjacent to the hotel (it takes them up to eight seconds to cross them, as I count) and I end up sleeping in earplugs.

The view is also dominated by a new fluted tower, with a dimpled, matt metallic paint finish which looks very “Gotham city” and I come to like it a lot. It strikes me as emblematic of this place — that so much design, construction and finish should be put into turning a practical construction into what, essentially, is now a landmark artwork.

But that’s just me.

Four Seasons Tokyo at Marunouchi reopened on April 29 after major construction work. Rooms, suites and public spaces are all new.

Designer Andre Fu was given the brief to completely reimagine and transform the hotel, and he set out, with his Hong Kong-based Andre Fu Studio behind him, to blend contemporary Japanese aesthetics with the simple warmth of home.

And he has achieved it.

Reading through the design materials, I see phrases like “intimate luxury” and “transformative renovation”, and agree that these have been accomplished.

This is indeed “a thoughtful evolution of boutique luxury in the heart of Tokyo”.

There are just 57 rooms and suites, and I look through many more, each of which has the same sort of residential-style feel.

But I have to say that the overall impression is created by the blending of individual details. In the hallway of my room, there is a plump, leather upholstered stool on dumpy legs that looks like a sized-up version of one of the hotel’s deliciously arty dessert sweets.

The cabinetry either side of the bed has curves, rather than straight edges, which are mirrored by the sofa.

Across the hotel are cast bronze lights, Sakura floral marquetry and washi panelling. Each piece is bespoke, adding to the curated whole.

“Our goal was to create a space that feels both distinctly Japanese and unmistakably cosmopolitan,” Andre Fu says. “A sanctuary where guests can connect with Tokyo in a deeply personal way.”

By comparison, its signature Sezanne restaurant is completely muted. Shades are drawn and there is very little colour. Its palette of mineral blues, dusty pinks and warm greys provide a muted canvas upon which food can appear like colourful jewels.

It was designed by Fu in partnership with chef Daniel Calvert.

Sezanne is much awarded, and at the centre of some controversy as it is currently undergoing a re-evaluation process for its three Michelin stars. They were removed when chef Daniel left in April 2026. The three Michelin stars were awarded in the 2024/2025 guide under his leadership.

I dine in Maison Marunouchi, an all-day French bistro. Fu (rather oddly to my mind) introduced a raised timber floor to the bar and a portion of the dining area. The staff kindly and continually point out both sides of this edge to guests as they come and go into the bar and restaurant.

“Do mind your step,” says the staff member showing me to my table.

“Please sir, the step,” as I step back off the other side of it.

Well, at least it creates a talking point.

The whole room has a railway view, and I dine in here for breakfast and a charming dinner, but high tea is surely the highlight. Afternoon tea is embraced in Tokyo, and we will publish a separate story on that soon.

For now, replete after three tiers of savoury and sweet treats . . . and was it really two scones and a madeleine . . . I am returning to room 515, to watch the serpentine white Shinkansens come and go, shed my skin, and soak in the bath with the Bang and Olufsen speaker playing.

+ Stephen Scourfield was a guest of Four Seasons. They have not influenced this story, or read it before publication.

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For reservations, contact res.marunouchi@fourseasons.com or visit fourseasons.com