18 hours later — Kyoto Airport, Japan
I breathed in the air of the new airport and thought:(Who would've imagined building an airport near one of Japan's oldest cities? The beautiful, traditional, and charming city of Kyoto. Though it was once the capital of Japan, it remains so peaceful.)
(Its stunning temples, picturesque landscapes, and ancient architecture make it a wonderful place to live. Well, as long as you avoid certain areas.)
As I walked in a reflective mood, I spotted a familiar figure waiting for me... it was my aunt, my father's older sister, Muzashi Aoki.
(She looked just as beautiful as the last time I saw her. I've always found her impressive, and even at 49, she still radiated an energy many her age had long lost.)
As soon as our eyes met, she greeted me confidently with a warm smile.
Aoki: "Look how much you've grown. You're a man now, Brian-kun."
"You're still as lovely as ever, Obasan. Time hasn't touched you—a true immortal flower."
Aoki: "Oh, and you've clearly grown more shameless. I remember you haven't visited since..."
"Since Grandpa… I haven't seen Bãchan since then either."
Aoki: "She wants to see you. My daughter too. We've missed you."
"I know. I've missed you all as well."
Aoki: "Your Japanese has improved so much. Now your charming voice sounds even better... Your father told me you're staying here for a while. What did you do, Brian-kun?"
"I'm not exaggerating when I say I pick up languages easily. And don't worry, Obasan, the thing with my father wasn't anything serious."
Aoki: "Hmpt... let's get going. They're probably waiting for us."
Right.
We got in the car and headed toward a temple just outside the city. As we drove, the sky grew darker and heavy rain began to fall.
While the rain poured down, I thought about my grandfather and the stories he told me when I was little—especially my favorite one.
The story of the Muzashi and Dreifus families began with a shared family tradition.
My grandfather told me the tale countless times. It all started with my great-great-grandfather, Stephens Dreifus, who chose to hide his family's identity starting with his son, Steven Dreifus, back in the 1930s. He decided the safest place for his son to grow up was San Francisco, California.
During his student years, my great-grandfather became close friends with a Japanese boy...
My other great-grandfather, Muzashi Ito. Everything was fine until World War II broke out.
Japanese residents in the U.S. faced horrific segregation (and I'm not exaggerating—it was worse than what African Americans went through: extortion, espionage accusations, property seizures, etc.).
The Muzashi family was no exception… and my great-grandfather did everything he could to protect Ito.
But his efforts were in vain. The Muzashis suffered like all Japanese Americans at the time.
After the war, Ito's family returned to Japan, and they lost contact.
It wasn't until 1954 that my great-grandfather took over the Dreifus family affairs and tried to reconnect with his old friend.
After a year of searching, he found him in Kyoto, living in a temple that had been in the family for generations.
The connection was rekindled, and thanks to that, the Dreifus family traveled to Japan.
In 1962, my grandfather was born. Then, in 1967, my great-grandfather, deeply inspired by Japanese culture, entrusted his son Bryant Dreifus to the Muzashi family, who accepted without hesitation.
My grandfather grew up and studied in Japan, where he also fell in love with my grandmother, Muzashi Aoi.
Despite my grandmother being four years older, my grandfather won her over with his boldness, outgoing nature, strong character, and kind heart.
But there was a problem: my grandmother was the firstborn daughter of Ito and the heir to the temple. By tradition, she could never leave Japan (and the Dreifus family was based in the West).
Moreover… (and more importantly) my grandfather wasn't Japanese by blood, and back then, interracial marriages were still frowned upon—even today, those views linger.
Their love wasn't accepted. The Muzashi family tried to arrange a marriage with a man from a prestigious Japanese family.
But my grandfather was persistent and bold. He convinced my grandmother and they tried to elope.
Of course, they failed. The arranged wedding was set to happen.
A week before the ceremony, my grandfather begged my great-grandfather to intervene.
He refused. Revealing his and his son's true identity was dangerous. From his perspective, what would the Muzashi family think? How would Ito react to being deceived all those years?
But… seeing how deeply in love his son was, my great-grandfather intervened two days before the wedding and revealed everything.
Both sides were stunned—my grandmother, my great-grandfather… The Muzashi family was known for valuing words and honor above all, and had upheld these principles for generations.
My great-great-grandparents tried to persuade everyone to continue with the original wedding, arguing they had given their word to the Nagatomo family. But my great-grandfather silenced the room and walked up to his daughter.
He asked her directly if she wanted to marry.
To everyone's surprise, she said yes.
The room was stunned, as everyone knew she was in love with my grandfather. But… she clarified that she wanted to marry him.
Then, my great-grandfather Ito spoke a legendary line:
"Honor is important, a word is sacred... But if one lives without love, life is not worth living."
Both families agreed. My grandparents married in early 1980. My aunt was born mid-1981, and my father in late 1982.
But my grandfather didn't take over the Dreifus group until 1986. And honestly, I still believe he lived through a full-blown romance drama.
The agreement made between my great-grandparents was that the firstborn child of my grandparents would inherit the temple and carry on the Muzashi family traditions.
They also agreed that the child would choose their own name, carry the Muzashi surname, and grow up and study in Japan. That child turned out to be my aunt, Muzashi Aoki.
Finally, after getting stuck in traffic, we arrived at the Muzashi family estate.
It was a beautiful temple, passed down through generations.
I hadn't been here since my grandfather passed away ten years ago. I saw other parked cars, and hurriedly got out, rushing toward the temple, getting a bit soaked by the rain.
I took off my shoes and left them at the entrance. As I slid the door open and stepped inside, I looked around and was suddenly surrounded by familiar faces I hadn't seen in ages.
It was a kind of welcome celebration, and everyone greeted me in unison:
"Welcome home, Brian."