Three of Hearts: Part 1
A soft sigh escaped him as he stood on the crowded Tokyo subway, headed from Narita
airport to the Shibuya district, on a Sunday afternoon in mid autumn. His only piece of luggage
consisted of a leather brown bag tucked in between his feet; everything else was being sent later.
He gazed around at all the faces that reminded him of his mother as he drew out a scrap of
yellow paper from his jacket pocket.
"Naoto Matsumoto," he read quietly to himself. "Flower Residence, apartment number
352, Shibuya, Tokyo." Sighing again, he tucked the paper away, waiting for the train to arrive at
the station.
Ken Tsuzuki, previously known as Ken Thompson, was the product of an American
father and a Japanese mother. He was a mix of both parents with fair reddish-brown hair and
dark eyes; thanks to his father, he was a little on the tall side. A businessman, Ken was good at
his job and possessed a knack for persuasion. Ken had lived in America for the last twenty-six
years, growing up speaking two mother tongues. But recent, unforseen events motivated him to
assume his mother's maiden name and move to her country of birth. Now, he was on his way
from his arrival at Narita to share an apartment with someone he had never met before.
"Now arriving in Shibuya," an overhead speaker announced. Ken retrieved his bag
before filing out with a throng of other people at the Shibuya main train station. It took less than
a minute for his tall frame to ascend the double set of stairs leading to the sunlit street overhead.
Once there, he found a crowd of pedestrians and the cylindrical Shibuya 109 building staring him
in the face. All around he could hear the sounds that made a busy, heavily populated city come
alive. Cell phones on the left, fast talking teenagers on the right; Tokyo was almost like New
York but not quite.
Following the directions he had been given and memorized earlier, Ken turned to the
left, deftly passing people as he headed for a structure he could just make out in the distance. It
took him little time to reach the seven story Flower Residence apartment complex. He whistled
as he stared up at the building, amazed at the simple yet intricate architecture.
"This guy must be good at his job to live in a place like this," the businessman muttered
to himself as he entered, brushing past rows of metal mailboxes to find an elevator. As he waited
for the doors to open to the third floor, Ken couldn�t stop his mind from wandering. He had
learned from a cousin that a guy named Naoto Matsumoto would be more than glad to take him
in. Ken wondered what kind of person would accept a total stranger into his home.
It didn�t take Ken long to find the apartment he was looking for once the elevator doors
parted, allowing him to enter the whitewashed hallway. He glanced at the name plate on the side
of the door, mildly surprised to find his name already neatly written next to that of his roommate.
Shrugging his surprise off, he rang the doorbell and waited.
"Just a minute!" a voice answered. Ken frowned; his cousin had said Naoto was in his
early twenties, but he sounded much younger. His thoughts were broken as the door opened and
Ken got his first good look at the guy.
"Ah, you must be Ken Tsuzuki." Ken simply nodded, unable to stop staring at the man
standing on the other side of the threshold. Naoto Matsumoto was indeed young, having aged
only twenty-two years. He looked like a teenager in his faded jeans, white shirt, and barefeet; his
raven black hair was cut short in the back but hung slightly long in the front, adding to the effect.
Like Ken, he was a little taller than most Japanese but was still a few inches shorter than the
half-American. Ken hardly noticed the smile that broke out across the other man�s tanned face as
he continued to stare.
"You plan on standing in the hallway all day?" Naoto teased.
"Ah, sorry," Ken said, brushing past Naoto, who stepped aside, as he entered. He was
amazed at the large, cleanly kept apartment. His eyes made a full sweep of the place before he
spoke again. "This place is bigger than Issei said it would be." Naoto smiled as he closed the
door and made his way towards Ken.
"Issei�s never been in the apartment before," he replied. "He�s been as far as the lobby
but that�s about it. Guess he never felt the need to see the place. Come on, I�ll show you to your
room." Ken nodded, turning to follow Naoto down the short hallway. "Your room�s at the end
of the hall. My room�s here, on the right; the bathroom is on the left. The closet next to the
bathroom is where the towels are kept."
"Not easy to get lost around here, is it?" The only response Ken got was a soft chuckle
before Naoto opened a door. Peeking in, Ken found a bare room with only a neatly made bed,
dresser, and desk.
"Your things haven�t arrived yet," Naoto said. "I called the airport this morning. They
said your stuff should be here within a week."
"No big deal. I have enough to last me till they get here." Naoto nodded before
motioning for Ken to follow him. Placing his bag on the floor near the door, Ken turned and
watched as Naoto opened the door to his own room. He found a tidy room with a few framed
pieces of artwork filling a couple of the walls. Some photos cluttered the dresser and desk top
next to a still warm, but closed, laptop and an empty cup. What amazed Ken the most were the
three almost filled bookshelves lining the farthest wall of the room.
"Whoa..." was all Ken said. Naoto simply smiled before sheepishly rubbing his nose.
You can use my computer until you get your own. In fact, you can use anything you
need till you get settled."
"Thanks. I really appreciate all this."
"Not a problem. The fridge is empty so I�ll have to go out to get something for tonight.
You going to be okay for a little bit?" Ken nodded as he moved about the room. Grabbing his
keys and wallet, Naoto waved before heading out. The faint thud of the door indicated he had
left, leaving Ken alone in the apartment.
Damn, this guy is amazing, he thought, walking slowly around Naoto�s bedroom, taking
in everything. He paused to gaze at an open notebook on the bed, neat even handwriting
decorating the faint, blue lined page. Ken leaned over, reading a few lines; it appeared to be the
beginning of a new chapter to a story.
Wow, never knew a school teacher could write this well. Hey, I wonder what this is.
Between the pages of the notebook peeked the corner of a folded piece of paper. Curiousity got
the better of him as Ken pulled it out, unfolded the creases, and read the short note written in a
woman�s neat handwriting.
"Nao, don�t forget our meeting on Tuesday to discuss the next chapter of your book. I�ll
meet you at the usual place at 4. See you then. Sayaka." Nao? He has the nickname Nao? Isn�t
that a girl�s name? I wonder what she means about a book. Replacing the note where he found
it, Ken turned to one of the bookshelves. He was surprised to find a scattering of romance novels
among the books. He peered closely at the spine of one of the romance books, reading the title
and author�s name out loud.
"Sleepless Beauty by Nao Matsumoto." He blinked then read the name again, and again.
Wait a minute. No way. He can�t be...can he?